Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré

Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré is the name of a cathedral (and the town by the cathedral) not far from Quebec City. ("Sanctuary-Shrine," its website says. And basilica. So…not a cathedral? I don't know.) We see signs for it every day, and we see the spires of it in the distance when we drive to L'Île d'Orléans or up the river toward Tadoussac. But we kept putting off actually visiting it…because it was so close and easy, I guess. I kept weighing it against other excursions and thinking, "Well, we can go to Sainte-Anne anytime…" Finally when the Fall weather was at its best I thought, "Won't we be sorry if we miss it altogether!" So we packed our obligatory picnic (truly, you have never known such picnickers as us on this trip…it borders on the absurd) and went.

The drive up is so beautiful. All those trees along the hills.

The church itself is really huge. You don't realize how huge till you get closer. It's been around since almost the beginning of the settlement here in Quebec in the 1600's—not this building, but a chapel here. The first one was built in honor of Sainte-Anne, the mother of Mary. (Sainte-Anne is now the patron saint of Quebec.) At some point they acquired a relic of Sainte-Anne (a finger bone, if I recall correctly) and it became a shrine. And then I think the church just kept building bigger buildings to accommodate pilgrims and worshipers. This current iteration isn't all that old. Started in the 1920's sometime after the old one burned in a fire, and not finished till after World War II.

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Healing power and hope

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Morning Session of the April 2007 Conference.

I remember Elder Oaks' talk from this session with a great weight of memory. When I read it, I immediately travel back to that time. It's not a happy time, not easy to write about. At the time of this conference, Sam and I were divorced. Yes, we divorced for a brief time. There is so much backstory and context I could put around that statement, but it's not something I've ever wanted to hide—just something that's hard to bring up out of nowhere, especially since our life has (thanks be to God!) moved on to such a happier place now. (And if you're thinking, "Well, I'm sure it wasn't her fault!"—it's not true. It was my fault.)

So when I heard Elder Oaks say his first words—"I have felt impressed to speak about divorce"—I knew he was talking to me. But not in the usual, benign way, "the Lord inspired this message and it feels like it could be just for me!"—no. You see, my parents are friends with Elder Oaks and I knew they had written to him about my circumstances. So I was pretty sure this talk was actually written because of me. As I listened to it at this difficult time, I didn't disagree with any of his points. I wasn't even offended when he said things like…

The kind of marriage required for exaltation—eternal in duration and godlike in quality—does not contemplate divorce.

and 

I strongly urge you and those who advise you to face up to the reality that for most marriage problems, the remedy is not divorce but repentance.

and

Think first of the children.

I knew he was right. I even agreed with him, in theory. But I felt great and far-reaching despair because I assumed I had already failed, already forfeited my chance at obeying these doctrines.

The story of the next few months and years is too much to be told here—I would tell you in person, if you asked me. For now I will just say that Elder Oaks' advice that in a marriage, both spouses

should balance current disappointments against the good of the past and the brighter prospects of the future

—felt literally impossible to follow for me at that time. I saw no brighter prospects and I could hardly believe in them. Only unbroken dimness ahead as far as I could imagine. I'm sure Satan was working as hard as he could to make me believe that was all there would ever be, and I believed him, for a time. But now I can see that Elder Oaks was right. There was a much brighter future ahead. And I also believe in this promise as I could not dream of believing it then:

Under the law of the Lord, a marriage, like a human life, is a precious, living thing. If our bodies are sick, we seek to heal them. We do not give up. While there is any prospect of life, we seek healing again and again. The same should be true of our marriages, and if we seek Him, the Lord will help us and heal us.

Re-reading this talk brings, as I said, a great weight of memory with it. In spite of all I've learned since that time, I'm still learning and processing my experiences. I still feel sadness thinking back on them, though the sadness has mellowed. Oddly, I found peace this time in reading the talk that came before Elder Oaks' talk, by President Faust about Forgiveness. He quotes Brigham Young as saying:

Every trial and experience you have passed through is necessary for your salvation.

I know this doesn't excuse sin and it doesn't take away agency and consequences. But it is comforting doctrine. I can see many so ways I have grown since this, and in part because of this, difficult time. Those lessons were necessary for my growth. There were significant blessings along the way. And Sam's and my marriage has grown too. I look back now, as I could not then, with the perspective that President Oaks described for couples who worked through marriage difficulties:

[They] emerged with their marriages even stronger. That prospect began with their mutual commitment to keep the commandments, stay active in their Church attendance, scripture reading, and prayer, and to work on their own shortcomings. They “recognized the importance and power of the Atonement for their spouse and for themselves,” and “they were patient and would try again and again.”

And I can be thankful for this most important lesson of all, one I began to learn from divorce many years ago and and am still learning now through my continuing experiences:

All who have been through divorce know the pain and need the healing power and hope that come from the Atonement.

I do know that. And I am grateful to know that. These experiences are leading me, as Brigham Young said, toward salvation, and I am so thankful that they are!

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Isle aux Coudres and the beautiful fall leaves

I've been trying not to panic over enjoying Fall here (or rather, over not enjoying Fall enough while it lasts) because it's fine, we are enjoying it, it will last however long it lasts and I'm trying to embrace the idea of winter as its own beautiful season too. Do you feel reassured? :)

However, considering how much I love Fall* in Utah, I knew I would love it here too and that's enough to have galvanized me into getting the family out-and-about even more than I would normally want to. Or, as Malachi described it in his letter home—"This week we picnicked like as we might have been teddy bears or something. We embarked into the cool fall weather to eat outside at least 3 times in 6 days." Yes. This is true. I just don't want to live a life of Quebec-Fall-regret!

*Have we discussed how the seasons really ought be capitalized, and yet for some unsatisfying reason [because they are "general nouns," not proper nouns, in fact] they aren't? I chafe at that rule. I rebel against it. Unless it suits my purposes not to.

We drove UP (in cardinal direction) or DOWN (in river-current direction) (I have discovered that many of the children are very confused about this and frequently think we visiting vastly different locations, geographically speaking, than we really are) to another little island, L'Isle aux Coudres. I won't bore you with the details* about why this island is "isle" while the closer island is "île", but suffice it to say that this island is smaller and farther away than our beloved L'île d'Orléans, and there is no bridge, so you have to ride a ferry to it. It's about two hours northeast of Quebec City.

*Much like how when a politician starts a sentence with "Let me be perfectly honest with you" you know he or she is about to start lying—when you read this phrase here you know I'm about to bore you with some details.

Pink arrow points to L'isle aux Coudres. You can see L'île d'Orléans down there at the bottom.

We stopped for pastries, of course, at our preferred bakery up toward Ste-Anne-de-Beaupré. Somehow the shop man thought I said "croissants" when I said "torsades," causing great disappointment in the ranks when I returned to the car with said pastries, but never mind, the construction worker outside (there was road construction right at the key point and I had to take my life in my hands walking in and out through a friendly crew of backhoe operators doing their best to make it impossible) saw our Utah license plates, welcomed me effusively to Quebec, sent me off to a nearby farm stand to pick up some apples, and then offered to carry my bags back to the car. Very kind people in these parts. The bakery man, to his credit (and the croissant/torsade mistake was no doubt my accent's fault anyway), remembered me from last time and asked if, in addition to the cheese bread I was ordering, I wanted a cheese-and-bacon bread—pour ton mari (for my husband)! Because real men want bacon in their bread, as we all know!

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Whale watching

It was so lucky we could reschedule our whale-watching trip when we had such rainy, foggy days! I don't suppose we could have seen anything beyond the boat in the fog, and we would have been so miserable and wet! As it turned out, the clouds cleared in early afternoon as we drove up the coast to Les Escoumins, and by the time we arrived the weather was sunny and clear!

I was surprised when I found out there were whales in the St. Lawrence River at all! Apparently they sometimes (rarely!) swim all the way even to Quebec City, but they love the estuary area up where the St. Lawrence widens and the fresh water from the river and salt water from the ocean start to mix. (You can see the fjord at Tadoussac, a little southwest of the red dot here. Whales and dolphins like that spot too.) I guess there are lots of plankton and other things to eat in these areas because of the turbulence of the mixing water.

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Charlevoix

We went on a little trip up the St. Lawrence River to the Charlevoix region. It was funny to go on an overnight stay to a different house while living at our Quebec house. For some reason it made us feel even more like Quebec is "home"—to go away, miss our house and our neighborhood, and then return to it.

Our main purpose for going was to go on a whale-watching boat—I had heard that this was a good place to do it and it just sounded fun! But it was fun to get to stay a little longer and see a little more than we would have had time for on just a day trip to Charlevoix, too.

It was a foggy, rainy day when we left.  The road goes up along the river for a while, but then it goes up through some mountains. It got SO foggy as we drove through the mountain roads! It was a little scary and I was glad Sam was driving, not me.

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Parc national de la Jacques‑Cartier

There is a national park only a half hour away from Quebec City and we'd been wanting to get out there. Finally we found a time to do it! When we got there, the main road into the park was closed and we were sad because the hike we'd wanted to do wasn't accessible. But the ranger recommended another hike and we ended up loving that one, so it was just as well. The weather was so nice! Not too hot. Not humid. Just beautiful.

The leaves were starting to change colors, but were still green in a lot of places. I love the mix of yellow and green in early Fall.

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Now is (still) the time

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Priesthood Session of the April 2007 Conference.

Probably the line from the most recent General Conference that hit me the hardest was President Nelson's counsel that "now is the time for us to make our discipleship our highest priority." Then I ran into a second witness—Elder Hales from 2007:

Now is the time to become a disciple of Jesus Christ, which means accepting His invitation to “come, follow me.” This is the decision we made in our premortal lives. Now we must make it again here in mortality, every day, in every situation by taking the Savior’s name upon us, remembering His atoning sacrifice, and keeping His commandments.

If it was the time in 2007, and it's the time now (and luckily also "it is neither too early nor too late for you to become a devout disciple of Jesus Christ,")—it seems pretty clear that this should be something I'm paying attention to!

Other posts in this series:

What does it profit?—by Rozy

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An expression of our faith

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Afternoon Session of the April 2007 Conference.

This session was the re-dedication of the remodeled Salt Lake Tabernacle. President Hinckley gave a brief dedicatory prayer at the end, and several of the speakers shared memories about things that had happened in the building, so that was interesting and different. But my favorite talk was Sister Bonnie D. Parkin's, about gratitude. She started with this quote from Eliza R. Snow:

From this pulpit in 1870, Eliza R. Snow asked thousands of women a question that I’d like to repeat today: “Do you know of any place on the face of the earth, where [a] woman has more liberty, and where she enjoys such high and glorious privileges as she does here, as a Latter-day Saint?”

That struck me because Sister Annette Dennis said something similar recently and a whole bunch of people got all up in arms about it. So silly. In my opinion there's absolutely no other possible answer to Eliza R. Snow's question than, "No. Nowhere." The gospel of Jesus Christ is the thing that gives women the most hope, the most power, the most purpose, and the most knowledge of our divine potential—even when the people trying to live that gospel are clumsy and imperfect. That seems so clear to me!

In Sister Parkin's talk, I liked her emphasis on expressing gratitude. She said:

Gratitude is a Spirit-filled principle. It opens our minds to a universe permeated with the richness of a living God. Through it, we become spiritually aware of the wonder of the smallest things, which gladden our hearts with their messages of God’s love. This grateful awareness heightens our sensitivity to divine direction. When we communicate gratitude, we can be filled with the Spirit and connected to those around us and the Lord.

I know feeling grateful is important, but I've noticed when I talk about my gratitude (or write about it), I feel it even more strongly. Sometimes in my thoughts I'm too strongly inclined to rush past gratitude like "yeah yeah, I know I should be grateful for everything, but this specific thing is super hard!" Or "of course I'm grateful for what I have, but what I wish I had is ______!" Expressing gratitude in words forces me to slow down and live within it a little more. I've often noticed that even when I'm talking only to Sam (to whom I can complain about things I wouldn't complain about to anyone else, and he listens and I'm grateful)—but even with him, when I focus on blessings and gratitude—about our children, about our home, about our families—I end the conversation feeling more uplifted and hopeful than the times when I just relieve my complaining feelings by giving voice to them.

I also liked this thought:

Luke chapter 17 records the experience of the Savior when He healed ten lepers. As you recall, only one of the cleansed lepers returned to express his appreciation. Isn’t it interesting that the Lord did not say, “Your gratitude has made you whole”? Instead, He said, “Thy faith hath made thee whole.”

The leper’s expression of gratitude was recognized by the Savior as an expression of his faith. As we pray and express gratitude to a loving but unseen Heavenly Father, we are also expressing our faith in Him. Gratitude is our sweet acknowledgment of the Lord’s hand in our lives; it is an expression of our faith. 

I like thinking that gratitude is not just acknowledging what I've been given, but also having faith that all the things I've been given are good. Since this talk by President Nelson, I'm always looking for faith-filled actions I can take to "move mountains" in my life, and if gratitude really is a demonstration of faith, it seems like an obvious choice. When I'm feeling bad about something sad or hard in my life, maybe trying to speak or write or think gratefully about it—even when I can't quite feel grateful for it—will be the faith-filled action needed to unlock God's power and help me move forward to the next step.

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Nice people

A non-exhaustive list of some of the people who have been kind to us, strangers in a strange land. Honestly so many people have been nice. I could include our entire branch and most of the people who have helped me out in various stores in spite of my mauvais français. Something about being new and unfamiliar with everything just makes me feel so raw and vulnerable all the time, so every time someone is especially nice I almost cry with gratitude. Thank heaven for good people all over the world!

1. The sweet owner at a children's clothing store where I was buying a dress for Clementine. She said she "loved to practice her English" and asked me all about life in Quebec, told me to visit the île d'Orléans, gave me some tiny macarons while we talked, and quickly steamed the little smocked dress because it had been folded and she didn't want it to have any wrinkles. She gave me her card and said, "Please call me if you have any questions or problems in the city. Not—you know—not just things about my store. But anything you might need. I would love to help you."

2. The man who came up to us excitedly after a meal at a restaurant and asked us in French, "you have eight children, yes? Four sons, four daughters? It is the same for me. My family—four boys, four girls. It is a beautiful way to grow up." He was so pleased about it, I saw him stop and tell the waitress too on his way out.😄 (Didn't have the heart to tell him we had a couple more boys at home…)

3. The lady who waved me down as I was driving along the street looking for parking in the van and told me about an open spot she'd seen one street over. "I see you often trying to park, and I think you are very brave to drive here in this vehicle." Ha ha. Thank you?

4. Our longsuffering downstairs neighbor, who has come up the balcony and leaned through the back door multiple times when only the children are home to tell them to please be a little quieter. "He's always so nice and apologetic," the kids told me. "He doesn't get mad, he just says, 'it's a little hard to concentrate, perhaps you could give a little less noise?'" Bless him for that. We have finally moved our magnatiles upstairs (they come crashing down, when they crash, with a terrific clatter and we finally figured out that it must reverberate magnificently through the floor) so we haven't heard from him for a few weeks now, and I hope it's been better! We have taken those neighbors a plate of cookies and two loaves of bread now, so I hope that will help keep relations smooth.😬

5. Frère Petryk at church, an older gentleman who is very short ("that tiny man," Clementine referred to him as, and then corrected herself to "he's a middle-sized man") and so, so friendly. He was the first person who came to meet us church, and he carries candies in his pockets for the children and jokes with them in the strongest, most twangy Quebecois French you could imagine. They all run up to him with saluts and bonjours now as soon as we get to church. 

6. The owner of the board game store who has made friends with Malachi and speaks enthusiastically in English with him about the latest games. He called Ky personally when he got a game in stock that they had talked about, and he lets Malachi rent games for a week to bring them home and try them out with the family. His store has been such a happy place for Malachi to go, and to bring Abe and Daisy to in a proprietary sort of way.

7. The lady at the English-language Morrin Library who sends me personal emails now that I'm a "member," to let me know about story time and local library-card discounts and other things I might not have discovered on my own.

8. The owner of the casse-croûte (a little restaurant or "snack bar") we visited near Montreal who sent an employee out to tell us that he thought we had a "beautiful family" and he would like to give us some free chocolate cake. This was after we had all trooped into the tiny dining area like a parade of monkeys, taken up three tables, spilled two cups of water, and failed to have a working debit card and so had had to run across the street to get cash at an ATM. It was surprising and humbling to suddenly have someone do such a nice thing for us. After we'd eaten the (amazingly delicious) cake (made fresh every day by the same lady for 20 years, the employee told us), the owner came out and told us again how "lovely" our family was and took a picture of us in front of his restaurant. We felt so special!

9. The firemen at the fire station on Rue Saint-Jean who let Teddy and Ziggy try on a helmet, sit in the fire truck, and even turn on the flashing lights! They spoke in their limited English to the little boys, and were very pleased with Ziggy's fireman costume (or "habit" as they called it😄). We see them out and about sometimes in their fire truck and they often give a little siren blast and wave to Ziggy.

10. Two men in Deschambault who became so invested in my getting out of a tight parking place that they wouldn't let me give up on it. I had parked for a farmer's market and been hemmed in by other cars while I was gone, and when I came back there were literally just inches between our van and the three cars all around me. I tried one angle and then another and finally decided there was no way to get out besides waiting for the other drivers to come back and move. As a curious crowd gathered (people gawk at our van here; I don't know why because there seem to be plenty of other biggish cars and trucks), two men positioned themselves at both ends of the car and started calling encouraging things and showing me how far I had to go with their hands. At that point I felt I had to keep trying, so with great embarrassment I inched back and forth, back and forth, back and forth about thirty times (I'm not kidding) to their encouraging shouts of "Allez-y!" When I finally cleared the other cars and swiveled over far enough that I could drive away, everyone clapped—for all three of us, I suppose!

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The Church of Joy

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week we skip ahead to the present day and write about the October 2024 Conference that just happened! Back to April 2007 next week.

I took almost no notes during this conference! (We have no printer here, so I was drawing coloring pages for the kids half the time, and coloring ones they drew for me the other half!) But I felt so peaceful and hopeful as I listened. Even though almost everything here in Quebec feels so different, Conference feels the same, like being wrapped in a blanket of goodness. When I walked out to the store between Saturday sessions, I felt so sorry for all the people that didn't know about it; who thought it was just a normal day instead of Conference Saturday!

On Sunday morning before Conference started (it starts at noon here; that felt funny because I've never watched it at anything but 10 a.m. before!), I went to attend Mass at one of the churches I've been wanting to go to in the old city. It's one of the few churches that actually still holds services, but they are always on Sunday during our church, so I haven't been able to go before! I walked over through the narrow streets and the parks and the hordes of people shopping and walking, made my way with difficulty across the course of the Quebec marathon going on, lines of people cheering and clanging cowbells all along the street, and finally ended up in the church with a bunch of other people (mostly tourists, from the amount of English I heard) waiting for the service to start. After a while a man went to the front and said that Mass was cancelled because of the marathon, and everyone dispersed rather anticlimactically. I heard one woman say to her husband, "…And just when I thought we'd beaten the devil!" Ha!

But when I got home and heard the familiar sound of the Tabernacle Choir and the organ and the voice of President Oaks—I felt like we had beaten the devil! I felt such hope and confidence in God's plan and how perfectly it is set up to work. I felt excited about preparing the earth for the Savior to come again. This really is the Church of Joy!

Here are some talks and ideas that stand out in my memory (and I'm excited to read the other ones I've forgotten! I definitely remember better when I take more notes!).

• The first talk, Elder Andersen's, about hope was so good! I have always been interested in hope, and it seems especially important lately! I've learned a lot about hope by reading Elder Maxwell. Now I'm looking forward to learning more.

• I loved the speaker whose voice sounded like Elder Kearon's—Elder Hirst, I think, talking about how we are all God's "favorite children" and how we can experience His love. This has been a theme in many recent conferences, I assume because it's something people are struggling with today, but I just read a bunch of talks on the same theme from 2006!

• Elder Renlund (the two compounds that give dynamite its power are like the church and the gospel) was good as always. My brother texted, "Elder Renlund is quickly moving up to my favorite-speaker spot" and I thought, "moving up? He's been there for years for me!" Ha!

• Elder Christofferson on rebellion. While listening, I thought what you are not supposed to think during a Conference talk: "I know some people that really need to hear this talk."😁 I'm sure I need it too!

• Elder Kearon (quickly moving up to my favorite-speaker spot! It's going to be about a ten-way tie up there) has the most beautiful, memorable phrases. And he delivers his talks so well! Commandingly. You can hardly look away from him. "Welcome to the Church of Joy." I love that so much. 

• The "A.I. Elder Gong" joke got the biggest laugh I've heard in Conference in years! Our family kept chuckling to ourselves about it for a long time even after he was into the rest of his talk.

• Sam's friend and former co-worker Sister Yee was really good. Her voice is so soft, but she speaks with power. I was kind of laughing about the idea that Heavenly Father allowed her to ruin part of her painting so she could paint it better afterwards. Not because it is really funny—I can imagine just how sick and awful she felt when it happened—but just at the idea of Heavenly Father thinking, "Hmm, this really isn't looking that great; how can I give her another chance at it?" It's interesting to think about the implications of that for my life. What apparent failures (and even really dumb mistakes) could surprise me by leading to greater goodness later on? And isn't that exactly what God promises when he says He'll turn "all things for our good"?

• I remember more of these talks than I thought! (I am consulting the published summaries to help me.) Oh, Elder Uchtdorf's was so good. Nourishing the roots. Everything else will flourish as we go back to the roots: Jesus Christ and His gospel.

• At least three talks made me feel more hope for youth (hope I need, because I have many worries about many youth!). 

     Elder Eyring's felt like it had a lot of wisdom I couldn't quite grasp yet. His talks are always ones I need to study beyond just hearing them.

     Elder Wilcox's analogy about being Children of the Covenant—chosen specially to be the ship's crew, with higher responsibilities and higher compensation—was great

     Elder Egbo said "Keep fasting and praying and don't set a timetable on God. Trust Jesus with your child." I loved that so much. Can't wait to re-read this one.

• What will the next decade hold for me, for our family, for the church? Intriguing to think about. I loved Elder Stevenson's hopeful thoughts on it.

• Elder Holland's raspy voice reminds me how he is getting older, and how close to death he was. I love him. I'm so glad he is still here to speak to us.

• Is it possible for President Nelson to give anything other than a powerful, inspiring, life-changing talk? No. Apparently not. There was such urgency, such real purpose, in his words—we all felt it. I felt his words about "make discipleship your highest priority" go right down into my bones. There is no time for me to waste worrying about anything else besides following Jesus in every single aspect of my life! I want so much to be His true disciple in word and deed, someone He can trust, someone who always points others toward His love.

Other posts in this series:

General Conference Retrospective—by G.

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The miracle of the parking place

I want to tell you about the miracle of the parking. I'm always a little hesitant with things like this, things so close to my heart. Someone could scoff at them and that would hurt. But also I feel the Historical Record would be so incomplete without it! And I feel like shouting Hallelujah every time I think about it! So here I go.

Last you heard, parking here in Quebec had become unexpectedly manageable. And so it remained, but moving the car all day was definitely an infringement on Sam's working time, and that made me feel bad. He kept reassuring me it was fine, but what he was worried about was when the weather got bad. A little walk to move the car in the lovely sunshine is one thing. In the pouring rain (as he knew from a few days when he'd experienced it) or ice and snow (we could only imagine)—it is quite another. The Danger: Chute de Glace signs everywhere, warning about falling ice, were not reassuring. Not to mention that many of our streets become No Parking Zones on snowy days so that snowplows can get through, and that would make finding a place even harder. Sam and I talked it over a hundred times without any resolution, but the threat of it was looming over us with every day that passed. 

Before we came here I had double-booked another house for the last couple months, one out in the countryside about forty-five minutes away. It was a cute little place and if I hadn't felt led so strongly here to this house, we probably would have ended up there to begin with. I had put off canceling it all this time just in case. I wasn't quite sure how getting out of our lease agreement would work, but I thought I understood that it would be possible with 30 days notice. So we started considering the other house as a way to get us out of the city when bad weather came. But I just could not feel settled about moving. The kids didn't like the idea. We were comfortable here and growing to love it more all the time. And I was nervous too, about the logistics of changing things up, having to drive an hour to church and Costco, re-assigning rooms and whatever else. Still—there would be a driveway to park in!

Finally, after much agonizing, and re-reading of the rental agreement, I got up the courage to tell our landlord we would need to leave sometime in mid-October. He replied the next morning with a polite "So sorry to hear that; the penalty for cancellation is 30 days rent after you leave." I felt SICK as I realized he was right—we would have to pay for not 30 days after "cancelling," i.e. telling him we wanted to leave (like I'd thought), but 30 days after we actually "cancelled," i.e. left the house. So basically…if we moved we'd have to pay for both houses for a whole month. UGH. I had felt sick about making the decision to go to the other house but I felt even SICKER now knowing we couldn't do it without a huge penalty.

So now what???

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Île d'Orléans

Twenty minutes away from Quebec City, there's a bridge across the St. Lawrence to an island called L'île d'Orléans. I kept hearing that it was a fun place to visit because it feels like the real countryside. They have kind of a microclimate out there and very rich soil that's good for growing crops, so there are a bunch of farms and orchards and vineyards there. (I think Samuel de Champlain first called it the "Isle of Bacchus," until they decided to change it to please the Duke d'Orleans.) 

Here is the island. It's fairly big compared to the size of the river in that spot (though when you are on the island, the other sides of the river still look really far away!). It has rapidly become one of our favorite places to go! It is so close, but it feels so far away! We have gotten some really good berries and vegetables at farm stands. One place sells blueberry pie that is absolutely amazing. Another place has goat cheese ice cream I just sit and reminisce about from time to time. We are planning to go pick apples at a farm sometime this month. And I wish we could go to one of the maple farms in the spring when they're making syrup! Such a lovely, idyllic spot!

These are a bunch of pictures of various visits we've taken to the island so far—some with all of us, some with Sam and me alone because I wanted to take pictures without a gaggle of impatient children waiting for me, some with just me and Malachi for one of our book lunches. I hope there will be many more!

From far away, you could almost think this was one of our church buildings, couldn't you? It's more ornate, though. There are five villages around the edges of the island, and every one has a pretty church in it. I love that about the towns here. You can always see a steeple soaring out above the trees.

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Confidence that He is near

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the April 2007 Conference.

I remember some of the talks from this conference pretty clearly, but even more than that I remember some of the circumstances of where I heard them and what I was thinking about. It was a hard time for me and I remember aching to feel what comfort I could from the words of the prophets.

Elder Scott's talk on prayer isn't actually one I remember, but I was happy to re-read it because it's so good! Every time I read his talks I marvel at his experience with matters of prayer and revelation, and the clear ways he finds to share what he's learned. I loved this insight:

Should you ever feel distanced from our Father, it could be for many reasons. Whatever the cause, as you continue to plead for help, He will guide you to do that which will restore your confidence that He is near.

I had never looked at repentance as this, exactly: something that God wants us to do so that we can feel more confident He is near. It's interesting to think about that. He is near, always; we know that. He is aware of us and loves us. But our confidence about that may ebb and flow based on what we are doing—how much we are thinking of Him, how much we are receiving His love, how much we are sharing His love. So, when we pray, God can guide us to improve in all of those things and thus guide us to a greater feeling of closeness with Him. I love thinking of that as His motivation!

I also related to Elder Scott's description of how prayer can bring inexplicable peace:

…For some time I poured my heart out in urgent prayer. Yet try as I might, I could find no solution, no settling of the powerful stirring within me. I pled for help from that Eternal Father I have come to know and trust completely. I could see no path that would provide the calm that is my blessing generally to enjoy. Sleep overcame me. When I awoke, I was totally at peace. Again I knelt in solemn prayer and asked, “Lord, how is it done?” In my heart, I knew the answer was His love and His concern for me. Such is the power of sincere prayer to a compassionate Father.

I have had almost identical experiences where all I can do is marvel at the miraculous peace God can send. That peace doesn't last forever, and soon enough I must plead for it again, but it is real and astonishing and I can't think of anything that can really compare to it. I need to remember, when I'm in that preliminary state of "seeing no path" out of fear or worry, that I don't need to understand how peace will come—I can just trust that it will come when the time is right and if I pray for it!

Other posts in this series:

More than a few good things—by Rozy

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