A Mormon Family Journal

The Joys of Service

2010-09-22T13:23:00.003-05:00

"I am careful not to confuse excellence with perfection. Excellence, I can reach for; perfection is God's business." —Michael J. Fox

Maybe it is because I spent so much time today reading the heartbreaking comments so many people have posted on Single Dad Laughing, that I feel so compelled to post today. The button on the bottom right will send you to Dan's amazing post, 'The Disease Called Perfection', a serious delve into the anguish caused by the pressure people put on themselves and upon others to appear as the media's contorted perception of beautiful, behave pleasantly, never feel lost or uncertain, never make mistakes, never feel anger, never doubt, never sin, never fail to meet the expectations of others or mold yourself into their misconception of you.

As Dan so poignantly points out, lives have been lost—lives of children—because a person feels encompassed in darkness, trapped in their horrible situations, and there is no hope of that ever changing.

They feel they have betrayed God or God has betrayed them, or they have disappointed their families or shamed them or angered them or whatever overwhelming despair overcomes them, and they take their own lives because they see it as their only means of escape. Because of the despair of imperfection in a society that demands it.

The point of Dan's post is to encourage people to stop castigating themselves that they are not the super model or the super mom or the ubber-dad or -kid they believe society demands of them; to be kinder to themselves; to know that they are not alone and that no one has experienced anything that has not been experienced by somoene else. The perfection in which they feel surrounded is only an illusion. That illusion distorts our vision. We see everyone else more perfect than they are, and ourselves far, far less.

In response to that blog post, readers have poured out their hearts to the great anonymous void of the internet, hoping to somehow connect with someone—anyone who will listen, receive some validation, or just get a virtual hug. In one day, almost 500 people have shared this post with their friends via Facebook, and almost 200 have made comments on the blog, either sharing their own sorrows or attempting to uplift those who so desperately stand in need of it.

I'm going to share my own comment here, just to follow Dan's example and be real, and dig up the courage to not do it anonymously.
At first, I thought I wasn't that brave, but the longer I wrote, the more I realized how important it was to be real enough to identify myself.

But, in the same token, the real me (not just the me I want everyone to see) is full of the light of hope which an unwavering testimony of Jesus Christ can bring. In Him and in my Heavenly Father I have never doubted. I have never been so encompassed by darkness that I felt utterly and absolutely abandoned. I have always known to whom I can turn for solace, even if sometimes I don't want solace and I just want to wallow in self-pity for a while. That said, here is my comment:

Sorry. I'm not perfect enough to admit to my imperfections other than anonymously. Too many of my family and friends read this blog. Those who know me well will recognize me, and I don't want to disillusion those who don't.

I HATE the illusion. I hate that people think that I'm perfect. Recently, a friend said, 'When I die and go to heaven, can I live in your mansion?' I tell people, I'm not what you think I am. There is so much that I don't do that I want to be doing—not because people expect it of me but because I truly believe in what I do and it gives me joy—but people believe I'm doing it all. It makes me feel like a fraud. I have gone so far as to tell them as much and I really feel uncomfortable when they heap on the praise, but they do it anyway. 'Oh, you're just too hard on yourself'. I'm NOT too hard on myself. I KNOW myself. Maybe that I don't know others as completely as they don't know me is the difficulty.

But, I won't stop trying to be better. I know myself well enough to know that the small successes I have are what give me joy. The greatest irony is, I need validation desperately and tend to fish for it.

My darkest shame: my husband has had a chronic illness for almost thirty years, one that is progressive and causes an immense amount of pain. There is no hope for any improvement. It will just worsen until it kills him, which could take a long, long, long, long time. He has never truly found the joy of life. His chronic illness and my own have drained our emotional and temporal resources. The first 20 years of our marriage were rocky. There were times when my children didn't understand why I didn't get a divorce. I didn't because the vows I made when we wed are sacred to me, and although he could be verbally abusive, nothing ever passed between us that could not be healed—which it has, years gone.

I know he (now) has joy in our marriage, children, and grandchildren, but living is not a top priority to him. He swore he would never live to 50. That's next year. Our faith is deeply grounded in Jesus Christ, and death to him has always been seen as relief, rather than something to be frightened of. Despite the large amount of narcotics he takes every day, the pain is scarcely bearable. His constant prayer is 'please, please, please let me die. Just let me die.' I know with my whole soul that he doesn't commit suicide because of what it would do to me. He gets up every morning and goes to work, endures excruciating pain all day as well as struggle with the somnolence the drug cause, and then comes home to sit in front of the computer or TV and sleep, with the wonderful prospect of doing it all again tomorrow.

He stays for me, plain and simple. I love him all the more for it because I know what a sacrifice he is making for me. He stays and constantly prays 'Let me die. Just let me die.'

But, sometimes that is my prayer as well. 'Please, take him to You, relieve him of his pain, he is such a good, loving man. His whole life is invested in our family. Isn't that good enough? Please, let him die.' . . . and then I start thinking of the cool things I could do if his comfort wasn't the ultimate determining factor in every decision I make . . . and when I have the life insurance. And, I hate myself because I do, because, who wouldn't? Who wouldn't feel those sensibilities some of the time, and who wouldn't hate themselves for it?

And I feel selfish and heartless for wishing that he would live decades longer because I'm not ready to do without him. Fini.

That is the real me, but there are far more important things about me that are equally real and help define me. In another person's comment, she stated that although she is a Christian and reads the Bible every day, she and her husband had come to the determination that either the Bible was not all correct, or that God was a vengeful God and she wanted nothing to do with Him. I replied by giving her the link for a free Book of Mormon at mormon.org and telling her she could find the God of love within. Another reader objected, urging the person to look elsewhere, that God wasn't in a book. The following is my response:

For me, the Bible and the Book of Mormon are road maps. I know God is our loving Heavenly Father whose glory is returning us to His presence. He created us so that we might have joy, and to truly appreciate that overwhelming sensibility, we must suffer the sorrow and sometimes even the despair that are its opposite. Our Heavenly Father loves us so much, He gave His Only Begotten Son to suffer as we suffer that He may know how to succor us in our sorrows. Heavenly Father's desire for us to return to Him is true and real, and He has not abandoned us to struggle through the highways and byways of this life on our own. He has given us prophets to teach us how to communicate with God personally. He has given us records of His dealings with men as proof of His love for us. These we call the Bible and the Book of Mormon. He has given us both, the better to convince us of the truth of Him, and to show us the way home.

I would not take my child, whether young or grown, out into a wilderness full of pitfalls and snares and all manner of dangers, then simply hope that somehow he manages to figure things out and make his way home again in safety. I would provide him with everything in my power to protect him and guide him out of peril. I would give him maps, a compass, a cell phone and a GPS. I would because to lose him to the wilderness would break my heart.

Our Heavenly Father loves us far more than we as mortals can comprehend. Why would he not do the same for us? My heart weeps most for those who feel like God has abandoned them, that He does not care what becomes of us, and that he's just a sadistic villain who gets his kicks out of watching people suffer. Nothing could be further from the truth.

If you don't want to find God in scriptures, if you don't trust them or men enough to put any faith in them, then seek Him out in yourself. There is nothing that will bring you more joy or that will help you understand God better than reaching out to those around you and lifting them, serving them, and helping them rise above their despair. Don't do it because you want people to think good of you. Do it because you want to feel good about yourself. As you do, the joy you feel will give you a small glimmer of the joy God experiences when He helps His children.

Sacrifice for someone else. Your love for them and for yourself will grow. The more you forget yourself in the service of others, the more you give up something of yourself, the greater will grow your understanding of Jesus Christ and why He suffered for our sins. His love is infinite, but that small taste of it which you begin to feel will overwhelm you.

The Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ. It proves the Bible and the Bible proves it. Truly embracing the GOSPEL of Jesus Christ, not the CULTURE of Mormonism, will lift you as nothing else can. The culture of Mormonism can be brutal, as many here have testified. But keeping up with the Mormon Joneses is NOT the Gospel. Too often it can be a horrible stumbling block for those who don't fit into that mold.

There are millions of Mormons of all shapes, sizes, ethnicities, and nationalities. They did not join the Church because they thought living in Utah was so peachy. They joined the Church because they found God and Jesus Christ in its precepts.

I'm just a white Anglo Mormon housewife who was born and raised in the Church but had to come to this knowledge on my own through a very long and very painful process. I have had reason enough to feel that God had abandoned me, but those trials have led me to the current strength of my faith and I would not trade them for anything. If you want to hear more from voices different from my own, visit mormon.org. Chances are, you can find someone there like you who can tell you their own story.

As I read the comments, I struggled to find the right thing to say to any of these people who so desperately need the calm and loving reassurance that Heavenly Father knows and cares about them. While I struggled, a wise lady by the name of Jeralee posted them, which I'm taking the liberty of posting here:

I am moved by the real pain that is all around us, when we share what is in our hearts. Life is a test, it was not meant necessarily to be easy, but I believe we all chose it knowing just that. I feel great love for each of you that have shared through these stories...

As I have read your stories, I have cried along with you. I understand the pain is real. We all experience it, and we are all at different places on our path in life...to become better human beings. It is clear just in this cross section of stories that none of us are without trials and pain in our lives, no matter how "perfect" a person's life may appear on the outside. Pain and sadness is a great human denominator. But there is also so, so much more...

With so many of you I share the struggle of feelilng less valuable due to being overweight. At times in my younger years I have done whatever it took to be considered 'thin and attractive" diet, aerobics twice a day, hardly eating because that is what it took to feel like I was at an acceptable weight. Truth is it did not make me any happier, so I finally decided to love me for who I am, shortcomings and all. I could/should be at a healthier weight, but I stopped beating myself up about it all. I could go on and list all of my trials and struggles, of which there are and have been many, but I don't feel it would be helpful. I do understand that I may have many difficult things in my life that still lie ahead. We don't always see heartache coming.

I have great faith in God, and I know and believe that Jesus Christ's Atonement is for ALL of us. It is something that does requires work and study to fully understand. It is for the sinner, and the sinned against alike. I have had to work long and hard to overcome deep hurt and pain, and hand my load to Him who has the ability to heal all hurt (if we let him), and to believe and begin to understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ...It is often in these times of pain and suffering that we just begin to come to understand what He gave to us through this selfless act of Love...our greatest gift! One that has power to bring great Peace in times of turmoil and heartache.

I often think how I would love to go back and do my 'motherhood' years over again. Many things I would have changed...but I can only really start today to be better, to love more, and to judge less. I believe in the end of our lives it is going to be about how much we loved each other. We need to shoe love and compassion to everyone no matter how our beliefs and lives may differ.

"Perfection" is not my goal in life, only to do a little better today than I did the day before. Those who know me can take one look and know that to be true. "Perfection" is a word I would rather use in describing my favorite foods.

There is help for the hurt. There are answers to the problems. There are people trained to walk us through the times when we question if it is all worth it, and our Savior will be at our side if we invite Him. God does answer our prayers. Sometimes all we can do is pray and seek His peace. Often it is in the hindsight that I can finally see the His wisdom in an answered prayer.

I grew up listening to a wise mother who said "There are two kind of people in this life, one who is a part of the problem, and one who is a part of the solution" may we all be a part of the solution to heal those around us. There has only ever been one "Perfect" being to walk the earth. For Him, I am grateful every day of my life, and that IS the good news!!!

The pain is real, but life is a gift, and it can be so very great. And I believe, it will be worth it!

In sharing Dan's blog, I could have simply posted the links and let folks find their way to these comments if they were interested, but I truly wanted to talk about what washed over me earlier this evening, after I had (I thought) worked it out of my system. I do not think it would have been so significant otherwise, if I had not been in this mindset to begin.
For the nearly past two years, I have served as the compassionate service leader in my ward (a local unit of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). I also served as the ward Family Home Storage specialist and the ward web page administrator. Service gives me joy, and I have never regretted doing any of these. However, a couple of weeks ago, I was asked to accept a new calling, the ward Preparedness Committee chair~~man~~ -person.

I accepted with a bit of trepidation because, well, it is a HUGE job. There are so many aspects of preparedness, both temporal and spiritual, and living in hurricane country as we do, the chairman coordinates the efforts within the ward when a disaster happens. They also ensure that members are prepared for such an event, that communication stays open, and that the leaders of the ward immediately know not only that everyone is safe and where they are, but who stands in need so they can dispatch that as soon as possible. It is a tall order to fill for anyone, and I certainly don't feel up to snuff, but I will do my best. I know that if I rely on the Lord, I will be able to accomplish what is required.

Although I told the bishopric that I would be more than happy to continue on as compassionate service leader and that I truly enjoyed the calling, I was released from that position on Sunday. Over the past two years, I have three post-funeral family dinners (one serving lunch to 400 people), arranged for countless meals to be taken to a large number of families in the wake of the arrival of a new baby, and spent a sobering but very sacred four months being one of the primary care givers for my dear friend who was diagnosed with uterine cancer and died before we could even catch our collective breath.

In this time, I have learned more about my Savior and more about His love for us, more about sacrifice and more about myself than I had ever done before. I learned that service and sacrifice are the fastest way to understanding our Savior there is, because in so doing, we gain a small inkling of His love for us, and why he suffered in Gethsemane and died upon the cross for us. And that small inkling can be overwhelming in the understanding. I gained a love for the sisters in my ward that I never dreamed of attaining. I became a much better person for it, and I can only pray that somehow I helped others come closer to Christ, even if only through their own experiences in providing service to others. I could have gone years without learning these things if I served in my ward in any other capacity.

They released me last Sunday because they want me to pour all my efforts into my new calling. Our hurricane preparedness is of primary importance to the bishopric and the stake, and I need to make it my priority as well. However, our Relief Society president lost me, her visiting teaching coordinator and her second counselor in one week, and there is a young mother in our ward who is going to have a baby on Thursday.

I never thought it would be so difficult to release myself from a calling. I am getting people to sign up to help out the young family who needs it, but as I sent out the email this evening, I actually cried (as I am doing now) because I will not be doing this any longer. Compassionate service has been a great joy to me. I have worked hard at it, filled in the vacant spots on the calendar on the rare occasions I ran short of volunteers, and have been weary with well-doing, but I could not have lost myself and my own troubles so completely or found such happiness and gratitude without the sacrifices.

I felt guilty on Sunday to leave my friend the RS president in the lurch, but today, doing something and realizing that I will no longer benefit from the blessings of it makes me cry. I have come to love and admire the sisters with whom I have served and who have sacrificed so much for others. I will truly miss that association. I thank my Lord and Savior for allowing me to serve Him in this manner and for teaching me so much in so short a time. I only pray I can find the same job satisfaction in my new calling. The friendships I have made over the past two years will last forever.

And what does all this have to do with Dan's post? Everything. It is so difficult to see so much suffering, know the perfect cure for all these terrible ills, and yet remain unable to render any aid. I told Jeralee that I wished we could offer transfusions of hope and faith to the soul-sick, as those with severe blood loss receive blood transfusions—transfusions which save their lives and which sustains them until their own body can rely on itself. Would that I could infuse those around me who are born down with sorrow with the same light that fills me, the light that guides me home to my Father and His Son, my savior, Jesus Christ.

I think of Lehi's dream, of his partaking of the fruit of the Tree of Life, the great joy that it gave him and his intense desire to share it with his family. I think of his anguish as he watched his sons turn away from so simple a thing, so simple and yet so vital to their happiness. I think of our Heavenly Father watching His children turn away from Him, or learn to despise Him, or worst of all, to fight against Him and draw others into the darkness after them. How it must break His mighty heart. How He must love His Only begotten Son, who provided the way for His children to return to Him if they would, no matter the strangeness of the paths upon which they strayed.

I think of those things and I say a silent prayer of gratitude that that grief is not something I have yet had to suffer, and fervently plead that I never will. My Heavenly Father loves me. Jesus is the Christ. There is hope despite the sorrow. The smallest seed of faith can grow into a mighty tree. Joy abounds if only we are grateful and recognize Him from whom all blessings flow. God will never, ever abandon us for we are His children. This I know to the very depths of my soul.

—P. Freeman
Please share with your friends. You may help someone without even realizing it.

Mormon Messages: The Blessings of the Temple

2009-03-20T20:18:00.001-05:00

Mormon Messages: Why Mormons Build Temples

2009-03-11T21:31:00.001-05:00

A must see for members and non-members alike, but especially for members who need to untwist their stomachs after this week's developments.

Tribute to Carissa

2009-01-14T11:10:00.002-06:00

Tribute to Carissa Part 2

2009-01-14T11:09:00.002-06:00

The Stone Cut Out of a Mountain

2008-09-03T10:34:00.003-05:00

September 3, 2008

Dear Son,

Well, another uneventful week has come and gone. There was a bit of a hubbub over the weekend as Hurricane Gustav sped across the Gulf. It was aimed right at New Orleans, so the governor called out the National Guard and made evacuation mandatory about three days in advance. By the time Gustav actually came to shore, everyone was well on their way to Houston or points west.

There was also some concern that it may veer left and land at Galveston, but as the days passed, the likelihood lessened. As it turned out, it hit west of New Orleans which put them on the dirty side of the storm, but it had moved pretty fast across the Gulf so didn’t have time to work itself up. It was a Category Four when it crossed over Cuba, but was only a Cat2 when it made landfall. So, all in all, it was a lot less trouble than everyone feared. Ariane’s extended family (like her grandmother) was at some risk, but luckily Monty and Cheryl are now well-established in Richmond.

As it turned out, this was a bit of mercy for the Republican National Convention which started on Monday. Had Gustav been catastrophic and hit New Orleans dead on (or closer than it was), the election would have been over. Despite how smoothly everything went this time, the specter of Katrina would raise her ugly head and the footage of Republican incompetency would have cooked McCain’s goose. Never mind that the governor of Louisiana is now a Republican and doing an excellent job. Gustav would have decided the election.

Hurricane Hanna was hard on the heels of Gustav, only she was headed straight for Miami. Now, she’s doing loop-de-loops over Jamaica and Haiti, which is the weirdest thing I ever saw. All the hurricanes this season have been atypical. Gustav was the only one that acted as a proper hurricane should. Ike and Josephine decided they wanted to get in on the action early and are now getting worked up out in the Atlantic. Ike has scarcely left the African coast.

I told your dad that I was waiting for Hurricane Nana. He laughed and thought that was a pretty good joke, but I said, no, really, she’s right here on the list of names. With the way things are going, it looks like we’ll definitely see her before the season is over.

So much for the weather update. And now for the news. Oh, wait. There isn’t any. Alora did start preschool yesterday, and she absolutely loved it. I think that’s really wise of Ariane as it gives Alora an outlet and Ariane a break for a few hours twice a week. That child is all energy, but she always needs someone to share the excitement with. One day while Ariane was here, she and I were in the office chatting, and Alora came in and said, “I need you to entertain me.” It was really funny and Ariane decided maybe she better watch what she says to her friends because her kids are always listening. Apparently, Alora agreed entirely with Ariane’s assessment that she always needed someone to entertain her. Aaron is the polar opposite. He reminds me a lot of you. He’s perfectly happy off in a corner somewhere wrecking havoc all by himself.

Alora talks constantly about you coming home, but the best concept she can grasp is ‘next week’. We tell her, when it’s Halloween, but for a child who refers to anything in the past as ‘yesterday’, that means little to nothing.

I really need to figure out how to fix this silly webcam. I start to go through grandchild withdrawal, and there’s no way Dad will go down to Richmond every week, or even every other week. I think I’m going to talk them into Fast Sunday family dinner again. I don’t know why we left off—probably because Adam’s life got too busy and the house consumed all their attention and energy, but now it will be one of the few ways we get to see them. I think now the whole empty nest thing is starting to sink in, but, at least we worked into it gradually and it wasn’t a big jolt all at once. That’s made it a lot easier to adapt.

BYU sounds like a good plan to me. I think you’d be a lot happier in Provo than at BYU-Idaho. You and cold are pretty much strangers, and if you think Provo is cold, you’d be in for a violent shock at Rexburg. Besides which, I’m certain you’d still be drawn to Provo even from Rexburg. By far, the majority of your friends are there, and weighed on that scale, Provo rather clunks down and flips Rexburg through the air. I’m glad I didn’t have to try to talk you out of Hawaii, first, because the cost of living there is impossible, and second, BYU-Hawaii is considered the party school of the CES. If you’re going to spend a boatload of money, I’d much rather you spent it on your education rather than an extended vacation. Just keep checking with President Sanchez to make sure he’s sent in your ecclesiastical recommendation. Dallas barely made the deadline because his MP set his on the back burner.

I had an interesting experience last Wednesday that I wanted to tell you about. I went and sat with Sister Marsha Johnson’s mom, Lucille, while she went out to do RS stuff. I sat with her a couple of hours and chatted with her or listened to her stories the entire time. She told me her conversion story, which I’m certain you’ve heard, but she also told me lots of things I didn’t know.

Sister Lucille was born in Oklahoma, but when her mother died when she was nine, her father moved the family to Arkansas which was where he was from originally. Then, when her father died, her grandmother kept the boys but sent herself and her sister back to Oklahoma to live in an orphanage. When she was fifteen, she ran away to find her sister who was living independently. From there, she went to live with her uncle and worked on his farm, which she finally felt was home. She is 84 years old, so it was the height of the Great Depression when all this was going on, and she in the heart of the Dust Bowl.

As so many people did, she ended up married and in California. Her marriage didn’t last, as to use her words, ‘he was too handy with his fists’, and she refused to put up with it. As a single young mother, she got a job as a police officer and worked at La Jolla guarding submarines. Her brother had taught her to shoot when she was a child, as it was their job to go out hunting and bring home meat for the table. She told me she loved guns, (there were times she wanted to turn one on her abusive husband), and was the best sharp-shooter on the whole base, except for her instructor. She could light a match at twenty paces, which Brother Ricker refused to believe was possible until he went out to prove it to himself. She smiled when she recalled how hard they tried to do it because they were not going to allow this tiny old lady to best them. She thought that maybe, perhaps they had finally done it.

She worked at the submarine base for about five years, and then decided to go back to her family in Arkansas. She traveled all across the country by herself, with her three children in tow. Then, she met her second husband, they married and moved to Houston. I think her oldest children were pretty much grown by the time Marsha and her brother, Randy, came along. At least, Marsha very rarely mentions them, and I was really shocked to learn of Sister Lucille’s first marriage and her children.

Anyway, when Marsha was about eight, the family was living in Houma, Louisiana, where she worked as the chief bookkeeper for a chain of five grocery stores. Niggling questions about the Bible continued to vex her. When she asked her pastor questions, first he said, ‘we must have faith’, then came ‘I don’t know’, until finally he said, “You know, Mrs. Johnson, you really are becoming a problem.”

That was when she started investigating other religions, but none of the pamphlets or other information her friends had to offer gave her any satisfaction. One day, she mentioned this to one of her friends who happened to be a less active Mormon (I’m certain because of her isolation) and happened to have a Joseph Smith pamphlet in her car. Sister Lucille took it to be polite and after her friend left, went to the trash can to throw it away. That was the last thing she recalled until she found herself sitting at her kitchen table reading the pamphlet, the hair standing up on her head, it so electrified her. She knew that moment it was true and told her friend as much. She begged her for more reading material, but her friend told her, “No. You’re ready for the missionaries.”

That went as you would expect, but when it came time to the family to be baptized, they told her they must drive 35 miles to Shreveport. When they got there, they went to a specific house and into a back room which had a huge wooden box in it. It had originally been a crate in which they shipped oil field machinery, but they had painted it, I assume water-proofed it, and built ladders ‘coming and going’, as Sister Lucille put it. If they wanted a ‘real’ baptismal fount, they were told they must drive to New Orleans (on the opposite end of the state). In that crate she was baptized, as was her husband, and he baptized their daughter, Marsha. They were the first members of the Church ever in Homer, Louisiana. The rest is history, but it’s that history I want to tell you about.

As it happened, Sister Lucille was, as I said, the head bookkeeper for five supermarkets. As she required them, she would choose the sharpest and best cashiers from those stores and ask them if they wished to learn bookkeeping. Of course, they all jumped at the chance, she trained them herself, and soon Sister Lucille had a whole pool of bookkeepers working under her. One could say she was a woman of some influence.

After she joined the Church, as she put it, she ‘couldn’t keep it to myself’. She preached the Gospel to anyone who would listen, and every single one of ‘her girls’ joined the Church, as did their families. Before long, they had a branch up and running which filled her entire living room and burst out of it because neither could her friends keep the good news to themselves. As she said, she did the preaching and her husband did the baptizing.

In those days, the Church didn’t just build a chapel because it was needed. The saints had to come up with a big chunk of the money, and $1000 1960-dollars was a hefty amount. However, that is how much the Johnsons ultimately contributed to the building fund for their ward house. They quite literally built the Kingdom in Homer. They lived in there some years. It’s where she and Marsha ultimately call home. They eventually moved away to follow the work, but when they left Homer, their branch was well on its way to full ward status and the meeting house was eventually built. She told me that whenever they drive through, they have to see that chapel because they feel so much a part of it.

Needless to say, Sister Lucille takes great pleasure in relating this story and in contemplating just how many people she brought into the gospel. Of course, there is absolutely no way of telling just how far her testimony reached, for every single one of her girls remained steadfast in the Gospel and raised their families to do the same. When one considers how many missionaries must have been sent out into the world and how many children raised their own in the gospel as a result of their parents’ conversion, the influence of Sister Lucille and her husband staggers the mind.

And all this because one sister whose hardship and distance prevented her from regularly attending church meetings kept in her glove box a Joseph Smith pamphlet and was not to timid too share it. I asked Sister Lucille whatever became of her friend, if she starting coming back to church when they had established their branch, but she told me after she attended their baptism, she moved away and then died shortly thereafter. She never knew the results of her efforts.

But, how great must be her joy! When Sister Lucille finally meets her again, how they will rejoice in knowing the blessings they bestowed upon so many. Whenever I wonder if what I am doing is enough or if it is worth it, I consider that ‘less active’ sister and hope that there are more like Sister Lucille who latch onto the truth I try to communicate and cannot keep the good news to themselves. That thought makes all the effort worth it.
So, that’s my homily for today. I hope it inspires you as much as it has me. With juggernauts like Sister Lucille, the Gospel cannot help but fill the whole earth. Like that stone cut out of the mountain without hands, it is unstoppable. Remember:

Work hard. Have faith. Do good. But, most of all, rejoice!

All my love,

mom

Reflections of Christ

2008-08-20T07:38:00.003-05:00

This is a cool slide show offered by Mabry Studios. It was created to be viewed at the Mesa Temple Visitor's Center of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I highly recommend it as a great way to start your day.

http://mabrystudios.typepad.com/reflections_of_christ/

Mormon Myths and Reality

2008-08-15T22:58:00.001-05:00

The Power of Fellowship

2008-08-11T09:29:00.001-05:00

To Elder Paul Freeman, from Gay Gerard

August 10, 2008

Dearest Elder Paul that I love,

I’ve enjoyed your letters home so much, and I’m thrilled with the things you’ve accomplished on your mission and they great personal growth you’ve shown. I haven’t been able to write as I’d have liked, I’ve had so much on my plate, but my life is settling down to a roar, and life is sweet.

We had an awesome sacrament meeting today, our new stake partiarch, Brother Neve, and his wife spoke, both lacing their talks with stories from their pasts. My husband, Bob, was reaching for a Kleenex before I was. They both spoke on how how small things can bring about great blessings, and it’s so true. The small acts of service we render to each other can have eternal consequences. One story Sister Neve told was of being impressed during one meeting to get up and go sit by a woman who was sitting alone. They exchanged a little small talk and a hug. She said that 20 years later, this same woman, by now a dear and long time friend, very active in the Church, told her that if she hadn’t come and talked to her that morning (and Sister Neve was the only one who did) she’d have never gone back to church.

It reminds me of the old adage, "They don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care."

When we were in the Santa Fe 2^nd Ward in Norwalk, Les and I were "Fellowshipping Chairmen," and under Bishop Cottrell’s inspired instruction, when any member of the ward planned to bring a non-member friend to church, they’d call us, we’d call the Home Teaching leader, he’d call his home teachers, and before the next Sunday came around, everyone knew that so and so was coming, and they’d be met at the door with smiles and welcomes, not by one person, but by many, invited to dinner after the meeting, invited to a beach picnic, had offers of rides and babysitting, etc. Bishop Cottrell told us that for two years in a row, our ward was number 1, worldwide, in referral baptisms. It was really fun, with missionaries coming over all the time, eating, getting their hair cut, their shirts ironed, etc. It was a happy time. Our family was instrumental in getting 11 of our kids’ friends and three of their mothers baptized.

I’m telling you these things so if there’s a need in your area, you might suggest the ward members go all out in fellowshipping non-members, not with preaching, that’s your job, but with real, honest to goodness love and service. One friend of mine, Marian Hewey, was stricken with severe rheumatoid arthritis, had gone through four sets of missionaries with no intention of being baptized. It wasn’t until she called me one day, I went and found her alone and in terrible trouble, carried her into the shower, then took her to the hospital where she began a road to recovery. That experience softened her heart, and she and her children were baptized and she bacame a great strength in our ward. I talked with her a few years ago, she was completely bedridden, unable to even hold the phone without help, but she was providing a home for sister missionaries. She was a great lady.

I hope these last weeks of your mission will be wonderful and you’ll come home trailing glorious clouds of your missionary mantle. I love you, Grandma Gay

"Insight is the most profound level of learning." Enoch Tan

Witness of the Holy Ghost

2008-08-06T22:19:00.007-05:00

To Elder Paul Freeman

August 6, 2008

Dear Son,

Well, we managed to survive the weekend, which was rather a hectic one. I told you that — and — were getting married on Saturday. It was also newsletter weekend, and since Sister — didn’t take us up on our offers to help her out with the reception, I procrastinated getting the newsletter finished, which was entirely normal, of course. However, as it happened, while I was putting the newsletter together on Saturday morning, she called to get Ginger’s phone number which started me worrying. About an hour later, Ginger called me from down at the church and said, help help! So, Dad, Dani and I went down and helped out for a while. (Dani is home for the summer missing Jeffrey who is now in Madrid. She'll go back to school at the end of the month).

Once they started setting up for the wedding the night before, the — realized they needed to to cut the gym in half (of course). They had hit upon using the volleyball standards and nets and some pink cloth Ginger said she had scads of, but once she got down there it was obvious that was noy going to work. So, we put our heads together, tried a few different things, figured out what would work and what wouldn’t, called Jeanette to run and get some other stuff we needed, and then Dad and I took off, leaving Ginger alone again because Dani had taken Braelynd with her to the store or something.

So, Dad and I grabbed some lunch, then headed back home to get the newsletter done. Dad was incredibly patient with me, I must say. Friday he swore he was going to shut down the shop whether I was ready or not, but I managed to get seven pages finished, take a shower, wrap their present (We have enough paper! Hallelujah!!) and then get back down to the wedding just as — and — were getting into their car to drive away. I don’t think they even saw me, but that wasn’t important anyway. They really had quite a good turn-out and it was a nice little wedding. Best of all, Matt was standing there on the curb so I got him to lug in the stoneware we got for them. It about killed Dad getting it from Sam’s to the car to the house, and I could only get it from the living room to the back door again. Dad had to take it the rest of the way. Matt’s response was, ‘What the heck is in this thing?!’ He was rather disappointed when I told him it was just dishes.

I have no idea how they’re going to get their boodle home. They flew out to his post in South Dakota early Sunday morning. Dad was rather freaked about the whole thing, in his quietly skittish way. There was far too much deja vu at the Hafer building on Saturday afternoon. He rather got stuck in a time warp.

So, after the new Couple — drove away, I had set the copy machine going, Dad remained to the library rather than have to deal with the crowd, and I had greeted Sister — and effused over Ginger’s handiwork which really was absolutely marvelous and didn’t look a bit like the last minute slap-dash that it was, I went back to the library and set to. Fortunately, Ginger and Sister Lewis (I’m not sure if you met the newly arrived Lewises while you were here) brought back two plates of food which was very considerate and well-timed, as Dad was spiraling down into an insulin reaction. But, we got one hundred copies printed, collated and stapled, then stashed in the RS closet until the morrow, and then managed to get some shopping done after that. I think it was pushing eight o’clock by the time we got home, and I’m really, really, really glad Dad had already had his dinner and I didn’t have to fix it after the day that we had.

And, all this time a little tropical depression was brewing out in the Gulf, acting rather erratic and petulant in its youth. Sunday came and went and the tropical depression became Tropical Storm Edouard. Meh.

I think we’re probably going to be driving [a neighbor family] down to church every week for a while—at least until [their grandparents] come back down in the fall. Their car broke down over the weekend and so they had no transportation. They split their family up between us and [another family], but once I got into the car I realized there’s a middle seatbelt in the front where [the youngest] would fit quite nicely, so I can accommodate the whole crew. Their financial situation and the price of gas really can’t peacefully coexist, so car-pooling makes all the sense in the world. I don’t think it will take [the husband] much to convince [the wife] of the wisdom of it.

The Relief Society newsletter was as effective as always as a Fast Sunday reverence inducer, and we’re getting less and less particular about the gender of the recipients. I’m starting to get back into the groove after taking back the publishing duties from Sister Elsasser. The April issue was pathetic, May was a complete wash, and June and July were only two or three pages long because I tried wrangling with Word which is impossible. So, because that won’t work, I removed the program that WordPerfect couldn’t get along with and now things are working marvelously. Besides, do I really need Visual C+++ on this computer? I think not.

Monday morning came with tropical storm warnings and hurricane watches which continued all day. The silly little storm sidled up to the coast as close as it could and still maintain its form, then slowly skittered along it west by northwest for the better part of the day. Making a beeline toward Galveston. Then it stopped and parked southwest of New Orleans (I don’t think they got a drop of water out of it), and Dr. Neil began to fret. The longer it stayed out to sea, the better its chances of reconsolidating its tattered edges and then be an out-right hurricane once it landed at Galveston. They predicted landfall at 1:00 pm on Tuesday but weren’t issuing any evacuation orders or anything—not even Galveston.

We watched it all day, and after Adam had done a walk-through of the house with their own personal inspector without anyone looking over their shoulders, he sent Ariane and the kids up here. They got here about 10:30 pm and we all went straight to be—except Ariane, of course, who hasn’t had the internet for a couple of weeks, at least, and so had a lot of make-up stuff to do and she set to it.

Tuesday morning I was awakened at 6:30 am by Adam calling me to ask what they were saying on the news about Edouard. Danged if I knew. Dad turned on the beast and we cranked up the volume so Adam could hear the forecast, etc, for himself. What a change overnight! Edouard had all of the sudden sped up, sliced heavily to the right, and made actual landfall at Sabine Pass at 7:00 am, but all the forward stuff was already hitting when we turned on the news. And, it was totally weird in that the left side of the storm provided the most wind and rain, leaving the towns that had actually evacuated (Sabine Pass, Port Arthur, etc) relatively unscathed. Ironically, because it landed at Sabine rather than Galveston, instead of Stafford being square in the storm’s path, it passed north of them, putting us in the more exposed position.

It had already started raining so Dad decided to work from home and had his morning meeting over the phone. The news folks were telling everyone it was safest to stay off the roads and were showing some shots of the rain falling in buckets, only blowing sideways. We had a good steady rain all day, enough to bring the sorely neglected grass back to life, but I don’t think we heard a clap of thunder nor saw any lightning, and had a breeze, at best, not even a stiff one.

Alora and Aaron knocked about the house all day being bored to tears. The weather wasn’t severe enough to be interesting to them, but it never let up enough so that they could play outside. We all lived, though, and are very grateful. Unfortunately for the Robinsons next door, they had chosen Monday as the day to rip up their driveway and have it completely replaced. Now I don’t know when they’ll be able to replace the concrete.

Fast and Testimony meeting on Sunday was fabulous, as always. This week most everyone spoke about missionary work, especially since the Thursday before the ward had a missionary activity sponsored by the ward missionaries. Brother Sulski arranged it, so you know it had to work out well.

First, they sent around sign-up sheets for the activity (no ward activity can even be announced without sign-up sheets). Then, Thursday night, about 36 people congregated at the Sulskis’ house (even some who didn’t sign up), they broke up into the pairs to canvas the streets Brother Sulski assigned, and then they went out and tracted some subdivision, I can’t remember the name, but a small one with only 700 homes. They tracted the entire subdivision in a matter of 60-90 minutes, and came away with 15 different names/families for the missionaries to visit. How cool is that?!

In Fast and Testimony meeting, Brother Kent first got up and talked about his regret in not being able to attend. I’m sorry to say that Brother Kent is starting to show his age a bit. You can tell his pain is getting increasingly difficult to deal with, but he keeps chugging on. It may take him a bit longer to get up the aisle every month, but it’s difficult to imagine Fast Sunday without him. I know he’s pushing 80, but it’s always seemed to me like he’d go on forever.

At any rate, he bore his testimony, as usual, with an appropriate homily or remembrance, but then announced that surely Brother Sulski would get up and tell us all about the ward missionary activity. We went through several ward missionaries, including Sister Brighton and Brother Rucker, then Sister Erickson spoke about her increased appreciation for the concept of visiting teachers, and Sister Mahana who needed to bear her testimony publically to her girls before Deneka went off to BYU later this month. Sister Santana brought everyone to tears, as she usually does in speaking of her sadness that people won’t open their ears because of their pride. Sister Parker testified of miracles, prayers, and the strength of families. Gavin was in a severe boating accident requiring major surgery, but when the doctors got in there, what they had seen on x-ray was there no longer. The doctor told them it was a miracle, but they didn’t need his word for it to know it.

Finally, just as everyone was glancing at the clock to see if he had time, Brother Sulski got up and told us all about it, including the fact that once everyone had gone home, Blake tried to convince his dad to go back to a certain house they had visited and talk some sense into a guy who refused to listen to the truth. As he spoke, I looked around the room and counted how many people I know who have joined the Church as adults: the bishop, the Kellers, the Sterns, the Mixas, Sister Santana, the Kents, the Sulskis, the Johnsons—the list goes on and on, and these people are the stability and strength of our ward. How marvelous it is that some valiant and faithful young men set aside the doubts, fears, and uncertainties which are prerequisite with coming of age, and sacrificed all the common pursuits of their peers to share with those people their own testimonies of the gospel! How little a sacrifice it was for them when they were rewarded with such treasures beyond price! And, what did they sacrifice? Absolutely nothing of any lasting value but gained blessings unmeasured and some otherwise unattainable but essential to their eternal progression.

When I realized the day had come and gone (Friday or Saturday), I was feeling guilty that I missed the activity, and guilty that I felt relieved that I didn’t go because doing the same absolutely terrifies me and I know I shouldn’t be. However, the Lord told me that he was pleased with my own part and my offering was acceptable to him by a few affirmations he allowed me. The joy and gratitude I felt in gaining that knowledge is beyond description.

I keep plugging away at these silly blogs, hoping that someone gets some good out of them somewhere. I know that the urgency I have felt in starting and maintaining them is a direct answer to my prayers for missionary experiences, and so I do it. However, that little doubt always hovers about me and I cannot help wonder if I am only deceiving myself in order to excuse any more active participation in missionary work.

Then, as I went to the temple with Sister — and she told me how she couldn’t thank me enough for my example and the blogs and how they have touched her life, made her want to get closer to the Lord, and helped her see how she needs to improve in her temple attendance and her scripture reading to accomplish it, I knew that in itself was worth the effort. After all, there I was in her car going to the temple with her, and she had called me to ask if I wanted to go with her. That has never happened before.

Then, Monday morning, I was fairly dancing in the streets when my Facebook friend told me of her experience at Fast and Testimony meeting that Sunday, and how she knew beyond doubt that she was supposed to go on a mission. Son, when I first knew her, she was a brand-new convert and had made the astounding choice of ending her live-in relationship with a boyfriend who refused to marry her, so that she could be baptized into the true Church of Jesus Christ. She had helped raise his children, her own children were attached to him as well, but she made the choice and was really struggling with it, particularly since Christmas was coming on and she would be all alone. I believe I was one of the few Mormon friends she had at the time, but now she is an integral part of her ward, is strong in missionary work herself, and knows the Lord wants her to be willing to sacrifice that time to him. She isn’t certain if she will clear the physical requirements (she has some health issues), but her desire burns within her.

All that keeps running through my head is ‘how great shall be thy joy’, especially when I consider the lives she will touch and is now touching as she serves, and I know I cannot begin to fathom it. More and more I catch glimpses of why the prophets have such urgency for the work to go forward, why President Hinckley traveled so far for so long and why he scattered temples across the globe, building at an unprecedented rate. Surely his own joy was commensurate to his sadness in contemplating all our Father’s children who yet remain in darkness, all those who desire the temple blessings but cannot gain them because of geography. Surely he spent hours on his knees each day pleading with the Lord to pour out his blessings upon the people. Surely President Monson is just the same. I know that the pure love of Christ motivates them, and, like Lehi did to his own family, they beckon us all, member and non-member alike, to come and partake of the pure love of Christ and know its sweetness and glory.

In RS this week, Sister Brighton gave a lesson about relying upon the Lord and recognizing when his influence is working in your life. She quoted something from the World Leadership Meeting which was included in last month’s Ensign, which was that if you feel the influence of the Holy Ghost, the Atonement is working in your life.

That really hit me because I had just been reading in 1 Nephi 10:1 where he relates the state he was in when he received the revelation of the Tree of Life. He wanted to know for himself what his father, Lehi, had seen in the vision. First, he had desire—real and true and strong, and I have to believe of the most sincere variety and for the purest of purposes. He wasn’t just curious. I have to believe he wanted that same testimony of the gospel which he felt so strongly in his father. He wanted to know.

Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, he had faith. He believed all the things his father had told him. If he had not, the desire would have been the weakness of idle curiosity or nonexistent. But his faith not only in his father but in the Lord was strong enough to effect all that was to follow.

Third, he pondered. I’m certain he just didn’t say, ‘that’s cool. Can I see?’ I’m sure he pondered all the words his father said, all aspects of the dream, examined it from every different angle, and I’m sure hitting upon the right answers as he went, all of which became a part of the revelation process. If it were not so, he could not have answered the angel as he did when he asked him ‘do you know what this or that is.’ But, Nephi answered correctly. He knew because he had thought it out and the Spirit had born witness of its truth.

Back to the Holy Ghost again. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time to really study it out, but Moroni serves my purpose here when Mormon says in Moroni 8:

Moro. 8: 26
26 And the remission of sins bringeth meekness, and lowliness of heart; and because of meekness and lowliness of heart cometh the visitation of the Holy Ghost, which Comforter filleth with hope and perfect love, which love endureth by diligence unto prayer, until the end shall come, when all the saints shall dwell with God.

The remission of sins bringeth meekness and lowliness of heart by which comes the visitation of the Holy Ghost. We cannot receive the Holy Ghost unless we are worthy through the Atonement. I think too often we fail to recognize the significance of each and every moment when the Still Small Voice whispers comfort and truth to us. We look forward to ‘someday’, when we will be as near as perfect as we possibly can, that then, and only then will Christ’s Atonement take effect in our own lives. Perhaps we admire others whom we see as spiritual giants and feel assured that their souls have been washed clean with the blood of the Lamb and aspire to become like them so that we may enjoy the same grace. Perhaps in looking beyond ourselves, we fail to fully appreciate what transpires within our own souls.

I think perhaps one of life’s great struggles and one of the Adversary’s greatest tools is doubt—not doubt in Christ but in ourselves. To believe in Christ is marvelous, elevating, and beautiful, and simple to embrace, but to believe Christ when he tells us all our sins are forgiven is far more difficult because we also have to believe in ourselves. We cannot entangle ourselves in the snares of self-condemnation and self-doubt, or debates within ourselves if we have offered true repentance worthy of his forgiveness. We have to know he speaks truth when he promises us that no matter how often we slip and trip and stumble, no matter how great is our struggle to overcome our own personal weaknesses, he has forgiven us and will continue to forgive us as often as may need be as long as we are willing to accept that inestimable eternal gift.

He forgives us now, not off in someday. He knows we need that forgiveness now. We need his purifying grace that we may be meek and humble in our gratitude and in his praise, submissive as a little child in our willingness to follow his example and follow where he leads, as we know he desires nothing but to lead us back to the Father. He knows far better than we the intensity of our need for direction, prompting and guidance, and so he grants his forgiveness and cleans the vessel which he would fill to overflowing with the Holy Ghost, our Comforter.

That is an astounding concept to me, especially when I consider when I have felt the Holy Ghost so strongly it nigh well overwhelmed me. To feel that burning in my heart and the surety and peace in my head tells me not only that what I am pondering is true, but with each prompting joyfully professes that Jesus is the Christ, the Atonement is real, and my sins are forgiven me that very moment.

Once we realize this for ourselves, that fire of understanding spreads out from us to encompass all those in our sphere of influence and beyond it. In knowing our own redemption and its divine simplicity and eternal nature, without beginning and without end, we cannot damn others who have lived lives far more distanced from God than ourselves. The Lord forgives all, and we should not be waiting for others to prove themselves worthy of our love and friendship. Once we are forgiven and filled with the pure love of Christ, gentle and generous treatment of others becomes part of us. It strengthens the more we emulate Christ and deepens our understanding of our Heavenly Father and his Only Begotten Son. What a marvelous blessing that is, the Gift of the Holy Ghost testifying of the Atonement and our own redemption.

There you are. Your little blue dot has popped up saying you’re on line. I love you.

Mom

Saying Goodbye

2008-08-05T21:08:00.000-05:00

From Jami Bernards to Elder BJ Bernards, dated August 5, 2008

Dear Elder,

I am so sorry to neglect your requests. I will try to get to the garment store this week and do that for you.

We had a small but very important miracle happen this week, the explanation of which must be that the Lord hears and answers your prayers. We have had troubles with cameras. I bought a nice digital camera with my Costco rebate about a year ago, and it was apparently stolen from Kids Korner after a staff meeting in January. I was so unhappy, especially since I didn't have the discretionary funds to replace it.

When we finally got our new rebate, I went down and bought another camera, just before Ben and Megan came to visit for the 4th of July, so I would be able to take pictures. I have been so distressed ever since they left, because I haven't been able to find it. Well, I got a call from Ben yesterday, asking if I had lost the camera. The kind people at the gym we went to on the 4th found a camera and have been asking around to try and find the owner. I called the girl at the desk yesterday, and she said when none of their regular patrons or employees identified it, they started calling the people who had had birthday parties there, and kept working their way back until they called Ben, who thought to call me and ask! I am so grateful that she would take the time to do so! I am going to pick it up today, and then we will get to work taking all of those pictures.

Following your example of putting the most important things at the beginning of your letter, please fast and pray for Brother Roger Morris, Camille's husband, Sam's and Rachel's dad. He has been on dialysis for several weeks now, and has finally been approved for a kidney transplant which is being donated by his nephew. He goes in for surgery on Aug. 15th.

My goodness, we have such a lot to do! I read from the BofM [Book of Mormon] this morning, about Ammon and the Lamanites who came over to live with the Nephites, and I am impressed with how many times throughout history the Lord has led his people from one place to another. It's like when I was pregnant with my first baby, really struggling with the difficulties of pregnancy, and I sat in the Marriott Center for a fireside and looked around and thought, 'Oh my goodness, some woman birthed every single one of the people!'

In a similar way, while I know the Lord from time to time has led many of his children from one place to another, the immensity of the undertaking nearly overwhelms me! The faith to leave everything behind that is known and loved and needed, and strike off into the wilderness, not knowing where you are going, when you will get there, or how you will survive when you get there -- the faith of those amazing people is nearly incomprehensible to me! This is the second time in my life I have moved somewhere sight unseen, following the inspiration of my husband and the confirmation of the spirit in my heart and the assurance of the reasoning in my mind. Alpine was a good place to come to, it has been difficult and filled with struggles and opportunities for personal growth, sacrifice, and learning, and now it is good to go forward.

On Sunday, as I considered that it was my last Fast Sunday in this ward, I wondered if I should bear my testimony, and determined that if the Spirit prompted me, I would do so. I sat in the meeting for some time without feeling the prompting, until I saw Pres. Cory Bangeter walk forward to speak. At that time I knew I should stand up, though I didn't know what I would say. Pres. Bangeter was in the stake Sunday School presidency for a long time when Dad was the ward Sunday School president for a long time (10 years, maybe, at least 3 different wards). Pres. Bangeter was then called to the stake presidency, and one year ago he and his wife were called to serve in New York City in the Church Educational System (CES).

Pres. Bangeter was born and raised here in Alpine, although they lived away out of state for a long time and then only moved back maybe 15 years ago or so. Anyway, his example of faith and courage has always been a role model for Dad, who has felt a connection of love and brotherhood with him. And here, in our ward, there were very few people in the congregation who even knew who he was -- interesting. When he stood up, he spoke of the intense need throughout the Church for mature, seasoned couples to go out and serve. He said it was like passing out candy to children, people were so grateful for their light and knowledge, wisdom, and service. Then he concluded with his powerful testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel.

As I stood to follow him, I felt impressed to share the sacred experience that my priesthood leader, my husband Brad, received the direction nearly two years ago that we should go. I shared a bit of my struggle in accepting that counsel, how difficult it is to leave what you love, and how I couldn't imagine a nicer place to live than somewhere where you know and trust and love your neighbors on every side, and feel their love in return. I thanked the many youth leaders who have served our children over the years, both in this ward and in others, who had given up personal vacations to take Scouts and Young Women on experiences that would build their testimonies. I shared how we have been in 9 different wards without moving once, and how I have seen the pain and difficulty of separation, followed by the love and bonding that comes from serving together in the gospel. I related how we have seen neighbors die, and many struggle with difficult, and even horrible illnesses, and how we have seen the youth struggle against the world and grow and overcome.

And through it all, the constant in our life has been the House of the Lord, how when we have been low . . . , and lower . . . , we have been able to come to His House each week and be fed at His Table. I am so grateful for the tender mercies of the Lord, in providing a Church for me to belong to, that blesses my life, that feeds and nourishes me spiritually, that gives me friends to love and serve, and others to love and look after me and mine. It is truly a privilege and the constant in my life, the iron rod that has without failing guided and protected me. And that now, it's our turn to go out and spread some candy around.

Afterwards, it was easier to talk to people. Instead of having to explain why we were going, we could just express love and sorrow at saying goodbye. Bro. Robert Cummings, whose wife Dalene died of cancer several years ago, who was in the Bishopric with Joe Nilsson while Ben served his mission, who came and helped up finish the basement apartment so we could rent it when we were desperate for income, gave me a hug and actually shed some tears while Dad and I spoke with him. I had shared in my testimony how we had seen Joe Nillson return from his mission, court his sweetheart Jill Harley who had just left my Laurel class, marry her and go on to serve as the Elder's Quorum president in our ward, and he is now our stake president.

Our lives have been blessed by many wonderful people who have been stalwart in their testimonies and their examples of constant love, faithfulness, service. It has truly been formative for us to live here. I remember when I was younger, struggling with my role as wife and mother and member of the church, and seeking role models to follow. I remember watching Elaine Devey sitting on the bench in the chapel with several grandchildren around her, week after week, year after year, and realizing that that was what I wanted in life, a family that endures, that spans the generations, that earth and hell combined cannot shatter. And I learned that that is worth every sacrifice.

There is nothing, NOTHING else in life that can satisfy the deepest yearnings of the soul, except to be sealed in the bonds of the priesthood with those that you love and who love you, trusting that their faithfulness will overcome every possible affliction and tribulation, rejoicing together in the faith that through the atonement of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who has overcome all things, that we too will one day overcome all things, and be reunited in His Kingdom to go no more out.

Brighter and Brighter Until the Perfect Day

2008-07-23T12:35:00.010-05:00

To Elder Paul Freeman

July 23, 2008

Dear Son,

After I sent you my letter last week, I went back to proof and polish it for publishing on my blogs, and ultimately ended up adding to it. The finished product can be found at both A Mormon Family Journal and A Mormon Journal, so I'm not bothering to send it to you again. Honestly, I doubt that you had time to read it all last week. With that in mind, I'm only going to send that which I haven't previously sent you this week, so you can have time to finish reading it all if you have a mind. And, since I know you've got pictures to peruse and other letters to read, I'll only send the last bit. (I also got our family page up and running. You can check it out if you like).

But, before that, a bit of chat. Hurricane Dolly is headed straight for Brownsville, but she's just a timid little thing (barely a category 1), so it doesn't look to be too serious. We hope to get a bit of rain out of it, but I'm skeptical. All we've seen thus far are sprinkles.

Adam took some much needed time off last week for a bit of a vacation with the fam. They went to Galveston on Thursday, did the beach and the aquarium, and then came up here on Friday. After he and Ariane got back from the movies (they saw The Black Knight at the new IMAX on H249, they tooled around town looking at furniture, then finally ended up back here to work on their hutch (or at least that was the plan). Actually, Adam decided the oak tree out front needed trimming and followed Dad out when he went to mow the lawn. Dad didn't get the lawn mowed, but the tree did get a bit of a trim, which was nice because I really would have hated to see Dad perched up on that ladder like Adam was. Fortunately for him, Dad had been contemplating the whole business for some time and had already bought an electric tree trimmer, so the job was a lot easier than he anticipated.

I went to the temple yesterday with Sister P. That was really nice. It was Relief Society temple day, in addition to the day MW took out her endowments. It was good because more than Sister E and Sister P were there, but also the Sisters R, Sister B, Sister P, and myself. MW and BE will be getting married on August 2nd. Sister E used to do weddings for a living, so there's really not much she wants us to do, but G and I plan on putting ourselves as much in her way as possible so we can be of as much use as she allows.

Whenever I go through a session with someone who is taking out their own endowments, my mind is always full of my first visit to the temple and I wonder if their thoughts mirror my own at that time. Then, I consider how much I have learned and how my testimony has strengthened over the ensuing 28 years, and each new thing the Lord teaches me when I attend.

Last fall during the adult session of stake conference, President Tolman explained to us why our stake was not going to participate in the 'fill the temple' program that the new temple president initiated. He said that because we live within the shadow of the temple, we should not have to be compelled to attend by a sense of obligation. He didn't want attending the temple to be for us just another church assignment, as if we were filling a shift canning peanut butter. He said he hoped each of us would develop the resolve that nothing can keep us from the temple.

That need is very much a part of me. I crave to enter those walls and partake of the peace and spiritual enlightenment and instruction that awaits me there. Unfortunately, lacking transportation does keep me from the temple, but I need to strengthen my commitment and my arrangements so that even that ceases to be an issue. Aunt Carrie has started working in the temple, and the other day she told us of a scripture her temple president wanted them to memorize, which is this:

D&C 50:23-24

23: That which doth not edify is not of God, and is darkness.
24: That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light growth brighter and brighter until the perfect day.

This is stunning to me when I consider how much light and knowledge of eternal things I believe myself to understand, and yet, I know that compared to the light the Father wishes to bestow me, I now scarcely hold a candle.

Sister J relayed another experience to me from her temple work. She attended a fireside of just temple workers inside the temple, and the speaker was an area authority or something of the sort. She said the things he taught them were deeply profound and awe-inspiring as things she had never learned before. Even so, now, she cannot remember of what he spoke which is typical of those in attendance that day. Overpowering all were the mighty power of the Spirit and truth and the brilliance of the light which shone upon them.

But why should this seem beyond our own grasp? It is all there in the scriptures which we are exhorted by the prophets to study. We are not admonished to memorize the Journal of Discourses or other writings or to make them a part of our daily routine. IWe are guided and instructed through the Holy Scriptures in which the complete Gospel of Jesus Christ is contained, where we obtain everything we require to gain salvation and exaltation. It is all there, at our fingertips, the same scriptures read by Joseph Smith and Brigham Young and Gordon B. Hinckley, the same source of light and knowledge. The question then remains, how much light are we allowing to escape from within those pages? How much light are we allowing into our souls?

The image comes to me of a dark lantern (which sounds oxymoronic, I know), which is basically a normal lantern surrounded by a metal can with only one door that the user opens or shuts according to when and where he wants the light to shine. Our scriptures are much akin. We carry around the source of truth, knowledge, and inspiration, that conduit to the Spirit in its completeness, everything the Lord knows we require to return to him again. Do we stumble around in the dark because we refuse to open the lantern, do we open it now and again to shine on a particularly rough patch in our path, or do we open it wide and cherish the light? Do we continue in God as the light grows brighter and brighter until we reach that state of perfection in which we become that light? I see attending the temple as removing that light from the captivity of the dark lantern and into the freedom and protection of a hurricane lamp. In this, the light shines free of encumbrance, its own variable how bright we allow it to burn.

Too many of my answers to these questions are shameful. I need to improve. I need to allow that light into my life by humbling myself enough to admit that I need it and that I cannot traverse this journey without it. There pride rears its ugly head again and keeps me too much in the dark. I need meekness and humility, and in this way continue in God by obeying his commandments and keeping the covenants I have made. Only through this can I partake of that light.

Well, here is another long letter that I swore was going to be shorter. Sorry about that. I need to stop here so that you'll have time to read [my previous letter]. Know that I love you. I always pray for you. When I attend the temple on Tuesdays, a strong complement of missionaries usually attend the same session, and as we pray for them, you are indeed bright in my thoughts and sweet in my heart.

All my love,

mom

A Yearning for Truth

2008-07-16T12:46:00.002-05:00

To Elder Paul Freeman

July 16, 2008

Dearest Son,

The following is a letter that I started to write you on Sunday during Sunday School (the foyer, for once, was quiet and deserted). The rest I finish today with all my hopes and prayers that it may be of use to you somehow as you endeavor to bring those around you unto Christ.

Gosh. I wish there was some way I could convey to you the power of today’s sacrament meeting. I must have heard Brother Keller wrong when I understood Ben to be speaking today (I thought at the time that it seemed rather early, considering his recent return home), or, Brother Keller could have simply been Brother Keller. At any rate, the McAvoys spoke, a relatively new couple in the ward, married six or seven years and 40-ish. It was simple and simply powerful and moved everyone in that room.

Sister McAvoy spoke about being raised in the Church, her earliest recollections of feeling the witness of the Spirit (when quite young), and gaining her own testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel. She thought it a bit vague to say, “I know this Church is true,” and expounded on the definition of truth and all we imply when we use that well-known phrase.

Brother McAvoy spoke quite simply and tenderly but powerfully of his conversion experience. He told of his grandmother who was a devout Catholic, so much so that nothing prevented her from attending mass on Wednesdays and Sundays—not even the Maine winter weather. He told how he wished to believe something so strongly and with such certainty as did his grandmother, but he had too many questions regarding her religion and tired of the answers given him—answers not at all but advice: have faith, my son.

Eventually, he became frustrated enough to start seeking out and investigating other denominations. He stated that he never went to a bad church—that they all were made up of good people doing good works—but they were all missing that ‘little something’ which would have joined him to any particular denomination.

Then, having reached the conclusion that there was no sect which answered all his questions and met all his requirements, he decided that he’d give agnosticism a trial for a while, that while being a great deal of his life. However, he ultimately admitted that the national religion of commercialism and instant gratification failed to provide him with any true fulfillment. As he spoke, it felt to me that he never gave up on God or Jesus Christ, nor ceased to believe in them, nor to hunger and thirst after the eternal truths denied him. He simply gave up looking.

Realizing that living for the latest gadget left him nothing but a bunch of stuff, he thought he’d try prayer. Prayer seems so elemental, does it not? And yet, for him, he was venturing into the unknown. He said he had always prayed out of the Catholic prayer book, his prayers all preconceived by some stranger probably dead for centuries. However, he eventually reached the decision that when he prayed he would have a real conversation with God, in the hopes that he would receive real answers.

He said, then, the answers started coming—not necessarily the ones he wanted, but they came. Ultimately, these promptings led him to respond to an advertisement touting a job with ‘a great boss and positive working environment,’ etc. That certainly seemed to be the job for him. He got the job but immediately realized it was not the job for him, it was the worst job he had ever had, and he despised his boss, but every time he determined to quit on the spot, something inside him said ‘not yet’.

The one thing he liked about his place of employment was the fact that everyone discussed religion frankly and openly, and there was nothing he more enjoyed. He said people of all denominations were represented and voiced their opinions and explained their doctrines freely. However, one of his friends told him one day to “stay away from Ann. She’s a Mormon.”

Of course, this sparked his interest. He had never heard of these people called Mormons, let alone the church to which they belonged. Ann (the future Sister McAvoy) seemed perfectly normal to him, and rather nice at that. So, he determined to figure out the mystery. He had never heard of a Mormon before, and because his friend was so negative, he expected her answers to his questions to be dodgy and anything but forthright. He expected her to be evasive altogether respecting any inquiry he made and was glad to be pleasantly disappointed in his preconceptions.

Over the years of his search, he decided that there were two primary principles prerequisite to any religion with which he would associate himself. The first was the need for a ‘captain of the ship’. He said that his Catholic upbringing helped develop his opinion that the church he chose must have a central governing body and that the religion must be universally consistent in precepts and practice. His stated his prerequisite as ‘is it protestant?’ which I understood to mean, does it have a head to guide the whole church or do delegates convene to vote on doctrine which may or may not be require the adherence of individual congregations?

He asked this of Ann. She told him of the Great Apostasy and the Restoration of primitive church. We believe that Christ stands at the head of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, that, through his prophet, Joseph Smith and under direction of our Savior, it was again established on earth. The priesthood (the authority to administer in Christ’s name) had once again been restored. The Church is consistent worldwide: the same scriptures are used, the same principles taught, the same programs initiated. The Church is the only faith with governing body which is true to the structure of the early church established by Jesus Christ during his earthly ministry. We believe that the leaders of our Church are apostles and prophets of Jesus Christ, and that through his divine authority they lead and guide this church. We believe that each member is equally entitled to revelation over his particular calling or sphere of influence, but the stewardship of our prophet, seer, and revelator encompasses the whole earth.

Brother McAvoy went on to say that this answer moved him to ask his second prerequisite question, who goes to Heaven? Sister McAvoy told him of our temples. We believe that through the atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved through obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel. (3^rd Article of Faith, Pearl of Great Price, emphasis added). We believe that every soul shall have the opportunity to hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ whether in this life or in the next. We believe the moral agency of each individual is essential to God’s great plan of salvation. We believe that missionary work continues beyond the veil which shades our mortal eyes, and all will choose of themselves whether to accept or reject the vicarious work performed for them within the House of the Lord. God will force no man to heaven.

Needless to say, this doctrine answered Brother McAvoy’s sense of injustice in the belief that only those who lived under the influence of Christianity and accepted its doctrine could possibly make it to heaven. He expressed his concerns that there were many good people in the world, those who lived Christian precepts and did good works no matter the form of worship to which they ascribed. Every sect he investigated failed to answer the injustice of that claim.

He then decided to read the Book of Mormon. However, he had not voiced his intent to Ann nor decided to meet with the missionaries, so he went to the local Christian book store to pick one up. (Here, the congregation laughed). Failing in that quest, he decided that if anyone had that book, Barnes and Noble would. (The congregation laughed again). When he again failed to find it, the clerk tried to help him by looking it up on the computer. She said, “It says we have one in stock, but I can’t figure out in what section it would be in.” Then, she mused, “That’s really weird, because my neighbor is trying to give copies away all the time.” To be fair, Barnes and Noble does carry the Book of Mormon and can be found here.

Brother McAvoy decided it was time for him to attend a meeting and accepted Ann’s invitation. Being from a Catholic background, you can imagine the paradigm shift he underwent as he grew accustomed to our particular brand of worship. The building was simple, without the usual ornaments he had come to expect. Instead of a priest or preacher standing in a pulpit before the room, members of the congregation delivered the sermons. Our faith functions on a lay ministry, where leaders and teachers of both genders donate their time and talents to the Gospel. No plate for donations was passed, which settled another point of concern for Brother McAvoy. The priesthood is conferred upon all worthy males, beginning at the age of twelve and progressed through incremental degrees. Thus, the sacrament (similar to the Holy Communion), the center and focus of our Sunday worship, is conducted by young men with great simplicity.

Brother McAvoy came away certain that it was all too good to be true. There had to be a flaw somewhere, some indiscretions of its leaders, some controversy regarding the Church, some sort of underhanded dealing. It all too perfectly suited him and answered his every concern. There had to be a fly in the ointment, and so he determined to investigate. Needless to say, he found no shortage of derogatory material to peruse on the Internet. He came across arguments against the Book of Mormon, the premises of which he easily dismissed. However, it puzzled him immensely that the primarily focus of attack centered on Joseph Smith rather than the Church itself.

He had by that time agreed to take the discussions. The missionaries came and shared with him the first discussion. The spirit was strong, their closing prayer had been said, and the missionaries took their leave. However, the senior missionary turned to him again and told him that he didn’t know why, but he had to tell him one more thing, which was this: it is all circular. If the Book of Mormon is true, then the Church has to be true, and if the Church is true, Joseph Smith was truly a prophet of God. If Joseph Smith was a prophet, then the Book of Mormon is true. It was then that Brother McAvoy realized why Joseph Smith was the brunt of so much defamation. There is nothing sinister about the Church. Attacks upon it as an institution are week and ineffectual. Thus, they focus on the man rather than the church he founded, hoping to deprive it of its foundation.

The fault with that strategy is, Joseph Smith is not the foundation of our faith. Our religion is sunk into the bedrock of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and propelled by the continuing revelation he gives to his prophets today. With that certainty burning in one’s bosom, with the whisperings of the Spirit that assures one time and again of the truthfulness of not only Christ’s divinity but also his very personal and intimate, everlasting and infinite love for each individual, the railings of its adversaries and accusations of the misinformed simply cease to be. They do not and cannot whisper the peace of the Still Small Voice. “By their fruits ye shall know them,” and the publishers of such things produce naught but anger, distrust, resentment and malice.

Finally, Brother McAvoy explained, it was time to “meet the prophet”. He knew he would know him a Man of God, a true prophet, or simply a chairman of the board who claimed divine inspiration to accomplish his own ends. This all occurred over the summer of 2001. September rolled around, and his investigation had reached this point.

Then, 9.11 happened. When he learned that President Hinckley was calling a memorial service in honor of the victims, he knew the opportunity for which he had waited presented itself. He would finally get to meet the prophet. Unfortunately, his boss was rigid and demanding. Personal days were nonexistent in that office, which meant neither Brother McAvoy or Ann would be able to attend the memorial service. As it happened, an interesting little tropical storm was pirouetting in the Gulf, threatened to land a hurricane on their city, Tampa Bay, Florida. The boss closed up shop and told everyone to stay home, which opened the way for Brother McAvoy’s attendance. He stated that he didn’t claim a personal miracle in the form of a hurricane, only that he just thought the sequence of events interesting.

President Hinckley was nothing as expected but everything Brother McAvoy hoped he would find. He wore no vestments, no great tall ornate hand, no robes or anything that overtly proclaimed to all the world that ‘Here is a Great Man!’ However, he spoke with such great power that his voice reached into Brother McAvoy and professed to him personally that he was truly the Lord’s Servant, called of God.

And there his story ended, and his bore his own sweet testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel. The Spirit bore witness of the precepts he taught, particularly as every lesson subsequent to that meeting seemed an extension of it, as if they simply broke into groups to discuss it. To see how many people he affected was not surprising, particularly when the laughter or nodding heads or tissues produced professed how nearly the converts in the chapel (which were not a few) identified his story with their own. Neither were the born-and-bred members unmoved, for every member who professes to follow Christ must at some point or another develop a testimony of their own. They must deal with the doubts and questions which niggle at them. They must have the Witness of the Holy Ghost profess that this church is Christ’s own.

I know, because I have experienced my own conversion. Jesus Christ is the Son of God. I know he lives and actively engages in furthering his work and his glory, which is to bring to pass the eternal life of man. I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is his Gospel, fully restored, guided and directed by his hand. I know that he suffered for our sins, that he achieved the great and infinite Atonement, all for his love for us—for me—and for his love of God the Almighty, his Father, that we, his children, may one day return again to him.

I know Joseph Smith was and is a prophet of God, that he was called and ordained to be the Lord’s instrument on earth when the truth was restored. I know that his successors in that holy calling as prophet, seer, and revelator, as well as president of the Lord’s church, are equally called of God, the Lord sustains and uplifts them, they wear the mantle authority upon their shoulders and have bestowed upon them the keys of the Priesthood of the Holy Order of God.

I know that President Thomas S. Monson is the Lord’s prophet for this time, and, like every other prophet before him, He has been raising him up for this singular purpose from his birth. Do you remember when, as first counselor in the First Presidency, he came to Houston, to our chapel, and we were able to see him in person? We were not near enough to shake his hand, nor did I wish to add to the press to greet him, but as he walked into the room he brought with him such a spirit of God’s love as radiated out to encompass us all. I know he is God’s prophet, as surely as I know President Hinckley was God’s prophet, and the depth of my love and certainty for him I cannot express.

I know Jesus Christ is my lord and my savior, my son. I know his love for me is infinite. I begin to understand what it is to kneel in his presence as I petition to the Father and pray in his name because he has bestowed upon me that great privilege, as I know that experience, as overwhelming and indescribable as it is, is naught but the smallest inkling of what it will be when he at last calls me home.

Of these eternal truths I testify, in his name, even Jesus Christ, my Savior and Redeemer. Amen.

I love you. Be well, have faith, work hard, do good and rejoice! The Lord is King.

mom

Mormon belief: Mormons believe God speaks

2008-07-16T00:29:00.002-05:00

Please read, rate, view, embed this video and share and email it to your friends and family. Answer the questions proffered by friends of other faiths. Help keep this and other positive messages about the Church at the forefront of the debate.

Personal Revelation and the The Blessings of Forgiveness

2008-07-12T23:24:00.003-05:00

Written by S. Bernards, to Elder BJ Bernards, on October 21, 2007

Elder B.J. (and family),

Thank you for sending your thoughts and love, as well as your learnings from the mission which have been so inspiring to us all. Thank you, also, for being such a good example for [my children].

Two recent events have taught me of God's mercy and care, and have helped me be reminded of the reality of his existence. May I share?

The first event is this: Three weeks before I finally found it again, I lost my wallet. And soon after loosing it I prayed that God would help me find it again, during the which prayer I felt an immediate assurance from the Spirit that I would find it. It was so surprising, then, that day after day it remained elusive! As each day went on and ended without my discovering the wallet's whereabouts, I found my patience wearing a little more thin, and my fears encroaching a little bit more on my faith. You see, I had a business trip to Utah scheduled, and I needed a driver's license to fly, and my corporate credit card to pay the expenses. Finally, on the Monday before the trip, my emotions reached a boiling point and I pleaded for an immediate solution, asking that I could have a miracle occur (in being guided to the wallet) so that I could share the experience with my children and thus teach them of God's reality and tender care. Immediately I felt/heard the thoughts: "Go to your closet!" So I went to my closet. "Look in your gym bag!"
"But," thought I, "I've looked through that gym bag a dozen times!" Nevertheless, I reached for the bag, and the first zipper I opened revealed the missing wallet. I was dumbstruck. "Julia," I exclaimed as I rushed out the door to the car for the drive to work, "I've got the family home evening lesson tonight! There's something that I want to share with the children about miracles!"

When I arrived at work I received an email from a colleague of South Korean heritage, who was recently converted to Christianity ([Protestant sect]) and who had asked me to be a spiritual mentor of sorts to help her learn about what Christianity was all about. (In Korea she grew up learning ancestral worship and the Buddhist philosophies, so the gospel of Jesus Christ was still very new for her). In her email she revealed that her Mom was dying of cancer and that over the weekend all of her family that had been living with her had flown to Georgia to be with her. She was lonely and afraid and without much hope, so I invited her to dinner, knowing that her friendship with Julia would likely bring her joy, hope, and a renewed perspective.

Dinner was great, and then family home evening began. For our friend (J-- K-- is her name), it was the first time she had ever experienced an in-home church service (aka Family Home Evening), and she shared with Julia and I that it was like being in "heaven on earth". During the story I shared with the children of my missing wallet, J-- listened transfixed and amazed--and I remembered that of all of the gospel principles that attracted her to Christianity, personal revelation topped her charts, and this story was evidence of the reality of personal revelation! As I bore my testimony that God loves us, and that he is very aware of our personal situations, and that he will help us in the time of our need if we ask him too, I received the knowledge that the timing of my wallet's disappearance & recovery was tied directly to J--'s needs. As a result, I felt both humbled and excited to be a tool in the Lord's hand to bring evidence of his existence to light.

The second event I'd like to share happened recently, as well, and is actually the third time in my life that a particular pattern has surfaced, namely: when you forgive someone, the Lord immediately blesses you, and sometimes with a big opportunity.

To explain, let me bring you back to 2001, when I worked for a new dot-com startup company that came to an abysmal end due to the founder of the company running away from the business with all of the remaining cash on hand. This was drastic for me because not only did the founder leave me bereft of a job, he also refused to pay my last month's wages! My emotions were very hot and angry towards this man, and thanks to the loving example of Julia and her challenge to "frankly forgive" him, I made the simple decision to drop my emotional burden into the Lord's keeping and to forgive him fully. Within days of doing so I received a call, out of the blue, from a consulting company in Florida, asking if I would be willing to take a great-paying consulting gig in Italy. Through prayer, Julia and I both received the knowledge that the blessing of this new job was a direct response to our willingness to forgive.

This pattern of being blessed for forgiving resurfaced again for the second time at the end of the consulting gig, when the consulting company took advantage of the lack of a written commitment to pay for our returning air fair, and took the thousands of dollars out of my last pay check. This, in effect, was an exact repeat of what the dot-com founder had just done to me! My last pay period's wages were stolen! Again, Julia loved me through my angry and upset emotions and challenged me to "frankly forgive" them. And again, I made the simple decision to drop my emotional burden into the Lord's keeping and to forgive them fully. Within days of doing so I received a call, out of the blue, from the CFO of the old dot-com company, stating that he and the CEO of the company had both secured a new job with the LHM automotive group, and had convinced the executives that the information systems needed a complete re-haul, and that they knew just the man to do it (and that he was just returning from a consulting gig in Italy...). And so there again, I was blessed with a new job opportunity immediately after being willing to forgive! There was no doubt in my mind that this second witness was a confirmation of the Lord's pattern.

Now that you have the context for what I'm about to describe, here is the third (and recent) time that this "forgiveness -> opportunity" pattern has surfaced in my life: Within [my employer's] headquarters is a woman who holds the authority (budget and procedural) for various "resource groups" (groups of employees aligned by cultural heritage/appreciation). As I had been asked to serve as an officer in one of those resource groups (the "Asian & Pacific Islander Resource Group"), I have come in contact this woman very frequently, and have gotten to know her predisposition towards inefficient bureaucratic policies in which her lone opinion overrides groups' desires, often to the detriment of all involved. Recently her power-struggles came to a head when she forced our resource group to go through her election process even though our members had voted to keep all officers in office (and if her desire was to rid the leadership team of the people with whom she butted heads, it worked, as the three team leaders who disliked her the most all stepped down from their post). Hearing the stories of these group leaders who stepped down served to heat up my emotions against this woman, as it seemed that she had a personal vendetta to fill, and that she used her position of power unjustly.

But then came my moment of truth when I was forced to decide between forgiving her and holding a grudge. The moment occurred at a black-tie gala banquet that Julia and I had been invited to attend, and it would have been very easy to pretend that I had not seen this woman across the ballroom. Yet perhaps because I was with Julia--and the fact that Julia has been so inspirational in my progress towards forgiving others--it was easy to make the simple decision to "frankly forgive" her. I walked Julia up to her to make the introduction, and cast my mind back on my interactions with the woman in order to share several points of her successes with Julia. The next week (this last Monday), I received a call from the woman...and what a change! She was kind and congenial, open and so friendly! And this was only the beginning of the blessings that the Lord decided to pour down. As I shared with you, the Lord has blessed me with new career opportunities each time I've come to a major moment of forgiveness, and this time was no exception! The very next day (Tuesday of this week) I had a chance encounter with the V.P. of New Store Format Development, and by the end of our short conversation he asked me to join his team (i.e., an internal job offer), stating that in order to convince me to join, he would give me the maximum possible promotion available under the H.R. regulations. (For some perspective, I heard from a colleague on his team that he has been inundated with about a dozen resumes a day from internal candidates who are all interested in leading the new store format strategy for [my company].)

And as if this weren't amazing enough, I received another job opportunity that makes me so excited I can scarcely control my breathing and beating heart: I've been asked to consider working directly for the CEO of [my company] (my boss's boss's boss's boss's boss's boss) as his right-hand man and strategic adviser. Granted, I'm the most junior (by far!) to make the short-list of 10 candidates, so the likelihood of me being selected may be remote (and it will be a miracle if I am selected!). However just to be named to this list is such a blessing and an honor.

So there you have it, two recent events that have taught me of God's mercy and care, and have helped me be reminded of the reality of his existence. I know that God lives, and that his commandments bring blessings worth far more than the cost of our obedience. I love you and am inspired by your service to our Heavenly Father. God bless you!

Love,

Your brother Sam

To Gain A Personal Testimony

2008-06-27T22:28:00.004-05:00

June 27, 2008

Dear Son,

As I mentioned in the post recently forwarded to you, your latest email has sparked quite a bit of conversation as to the best strategy in answering your investigator's questions. I needn't go into who recommended what. You don't need any prompting from me to figure that out, considering the participants on the family list. I also definitely don't need to remind you of what you know and practice so well, and have been for the past twenty months.

However, I do feel the need to be of some use to you and your investigator, so have posted on our family journal blog Uncle Alan's references, as well as updated our "Learn About Our Religion" and "Ask A Question" links with sites which may help answer his questions about Joseph Smith. Hopefully, he will realize that quotations can be distorted to seem the opposite of the intent when quoted out of context. Also, I think the best thing for you to do is refer him to Internet sites where the discussion is fair and truthful, rather than get caught up in a battle of wits, rather than invoking the Spirit in your discussions. He (or anyone you like) can use our blog as a jumping-off point, if he likes: http://amormonfamilyjournal.blogspot.com.

All that said, the discussion both with you and the family has again roused subjects of my own contemplation, and, especially since I've been praying for missionary opportunities, I thought I should share them with you. Thanks for allowing me to spout at you. I know it's a tough job, but someone has to do it, and, lucky you, it's your turn.

First, on prayer: for the past couple of months, since Dallas' wedding, Grandpa's illness, and everything attendant with all that chaos, my temple attendance has been next to nothing. Considering that I had previously been going at least every two weeks, if not every week, I deeply felt the absence in my life but was at a loss to do anything about it. Fortunately, things have settled down again, all my energy isn't poured into getting from one day to the next, and Sister Connors and I have started up again. The difference is indescribable.

During that spiritual dearth, I felt myself slipping into numbness — the best way that I can describe it. My hunger and thirst for righteousness gradually receded. My callings suffered, my scripture reading became sporadic and then stopped, as did my prayers, until I got to the point where I actually did not want to get down on my knees. I avoided making that connection because I knew the results before I experienced them.

I have recently finished reading the Book of Mormon, and the last letter Mormon wrote his son, Moroni, is truly disheartening and tragic, and up until recently, I felt unfathomable. I could not understand how a people so blessed, having not only faith but knowledge of our Lord and Savior, having countless witnesses' accounts of all they had seen and heard when they thrust their hands into his side and bathed the scars on his hands and feet with their tears — when they knew what it was to be moved by the Spirit — how could they possibly turn away from the blessings of the Gospel so firmly within their grasp? How could they commit such atrocities and abominations and embrace the darkness as thick and binding as was brilliant the light in which they once had dwelt? I could not understand it.

But then, I caught myself thinking, 'I don't want to say my prayers. I'll just be prompted to do the things I'm not doing.'

My son, I have had some excruciatingly intense experiences while on my knees, pleading for my Father's blessings and invoking the name of His Son, as is my promised right. I have received confirmation of the Spirit for which there are no words to describe. It cannot be spoken or written because those are physical means of communication, while this surety and rejoicing and humbling experience was spoken spirit to spirit.

I know you know of what I speak, as I know you have been blessed with equal certainty of our Father's infinite love for you. I know your soul has been tuned to the spiritual with the utmost care, and for this I will be eternally grateful.

I had had that experience and countless others in which I knew my prayers were answered, I recognized the promptings of the Spirit which guided and instructed me as our Father's direct response to those prayers, and yet, I did not want to say my prayers out of sheer laziness. I did not want to read my scriptures because the instruction I knew I would receive would be counter to what I wished to do.

Then, it was Sunday and everything seemed to center on prayer and personal revelation, and I knew the Lord was attempting to instruct me through physical conduits, since I had shut off that spiritual, or, at the very least, cranked it down to a trickle. The lessons of the books of Mormon and Moroni returned again to my mind, and I began to understand. How quickly and how easily would the Adversary take over my life if I shunned the light because I felt the Lord asked too much of me, or the promptings of the Spirit were inconvenient?

The Brother of Jared presented to my pondering as another example. Already a prophet of God, he knew the Lord's plan to punish the wickedness of the people of Babble, and I am certain prophesied amongst them by way of warning. When that failed, he pleaded with the Lord to spare from the curse first his family and then his friends, and to lead them into a land more choice than any other. He had that much confidence in the Lord, of the same magnitude and certainty as Jared had confidence in the worthiness of his brother to approach the Lord. The Brother of Jared asked, and because of his righteousness, because he prayed for so long and so well, the Lord blessed him for his faithfulness. (Ether 1)

The Brother of Jared had all that, then prospered, yet, after they had been lead by the Lord for years and reached a land of bounty, he ceased to pray. Why? Surely because he was comfortable. The status quo was good enough for him and his people, and if he should pray, perhaps the Lord's instruction would be inconvenient and difficult, which we know it was.

But the Brother of Jared endured the remonstrance of the Lord with humility and sorrow. He repented and proved his faith so mighty that the Lord could not keep the veil from his eyes. (Ether 3:6-16) His faith ceased because it became knowledge. (Ether 3:17-20) His surety so much prevailed, the faith of his people had grown so strong, that they willingly surrendered themselves to the protection and mercy of God as they thrust ships without rudder or sail into the sea and then sealed themselves inside. For their faith and obedience, the Lord poured out blessings upon them such that they became the greatest civilization the world had yet known. (Ether 6:4-12)

And so, I contemplated these things and knew the Lord was reproving me in his own gentle, loving manner. However, to reiterate the point, for the next couple of days, in Relief Society, in various meetings, every time someone looked around for someone to give the prayer, their eye fell upon me. I took the hint and have already been blessed, as I know blessings will continue to flow as I allow the Spirit to guide me.

I guess I'm writing this because I've also gained a wider vantage in respect to investigators. Often times, I hear "they won't commit to pray" about the truthfulness of the gospel or of the Book of Mormon, and I think, why ever not? I believe that often the answer lies in their comfort and convenience. Perhaps they apprehend a positive answer with all its attendant implications, and it simply is not convenient or simple to make such dramatic changes in their lives. It is quite simply easier to refuse asking and thus avoid any answer, than to ask and then defy the answer given of the Lord. Perhaps this also sheds a bit of illumination as to why people hesitate in reading the Book of Mormon.

On to Joseph Smith.

Indicative of my own self-doubts, rather than any uncertainty of the Gospel, in the past I have frequently wondered if I would have found the Church if I had not been born into it. As you know, I am a very cerebral person. I am also a very stubborn and overly self-confident one. I don't like to give way in my opinions. Admitting myself in error equals humiliation, as much as do less than perfect scores on any type of exam, test, or just-for-fun quiz.

Knowing that about myself, I would find myself wondering, should I have been raised a Catholic or Baptist, or Buddhist, for that matter, how I would act should the missionaries knock on my door. Would I politely listen long enough for the Spirit to speak to me, or would I simply treat them as any other door-to-door salesman pestering me with product I have no use for, or probably worse? If the Spirit did move me, would I heed it? Or would I simply discount it or dismiss the prompting because I was perfectly comfortable as things were?

Too often I surmised that I would have turned away the missionaries, and fearing that about myself, was ever more grateful to Heavenly Father for not making that requirement of me. They say that the Lord will not ask of you anything that you and he cannot accomplish together, and I often pondered the idea that my pride and reliance upon my intellect would be an obstacle too great to overcome, and so he allowed me to be born into a family active in the Church, so that the Gospel would be firmly established in me as I matured.

But, no matter how I was raised, there came a time when I had to develop a testimony of my own, when I had to ask the hard questions and seek my own personal answers from the Lord. I had to learn to recognize the promptings of the Spirit, not only rely upon the testimonies of others. Such a flame as that cannot illuminate a soul, as it too soon flickers out when removed from the sustenance of another's fire.

As I have grown older, as I have strengthened my spiritual muscles, as it were, as I have come to understand so much more about life and religion and all the traps and pitfalls the Adversary sets in the way of us all, I have reached the certainty that I would have found the Gospel. There are quite simply too many ambiguities and contradictions in other creeds, too many questions left unanswered, and I know I could not have accepted no answer at all as the definitive response to my searching.

What is more, my spirituality is an aspect of my life of infinitely greater import than my intellectuality, and that is as vital to me as breathing. I have to be learning. I have to be seeking and finding. My brain requires the exercise, but without the sustenance to my soul which the Gospel offers, I know I would be driven to seek it out. Knowing who I am, knowing my relationship to my Heavenly Father and my brother, Jesus Christ, defines my sense of self. In the absence of that surety, I know I would feel the message of the missionaries fill that great void in my life and I would hunger and thirst for it. I would feast upon the bounty they offered me.

Truth is truth. It rings in my soul, and I cannot imagine not knowing what I know. I cannot fathom a life without faith and hope.

And all is based upon the Book of Mormon.

The scriptures are there in defense of the Gospel. There are explanations and disambiguations enough to clarify the misinformation and disprove the lies with which adversaries of the Church bombard the Internet and other media. Studies enough offer proof that no one of Joseph's age, education, and background could have possibly written the Book of Mormon. Allowing for context answers every concern, especially when one reestablishes one's perspective from 21st century post-modern society to one of Joseph Smith's contemporaries.

The era in which history played out when the Church was restored is entirely foreign to our own. The boundaries and language may be the same, but one must consider the vernacular, social mores, society and culture in which Joseph Smith lived. One must allow for a youth growing into manhood and struggling with all the challenges fulfilling the role the Lord assigned him. Only then can one even begin to assess him fairly.

But, none of it matters. Nothing proves the Gospel except for the Book of Mormon, and nothing can prove the Book of Mormon but the Holy Ghost.

I have seen it posted that the Church cannot even produce the golden plates from which the Book of Mormon was said to have been translated, and this in itself is proof of the fallacy. That question has more than once crossed my mind as I wondered why the Lord did not allow the plates to remain with Joseph and thus prove he spoke the truth. The response that the Lord requires the exercise of our faith seems a pat answer, a catch-all for everything yet to be illuminated, but when one truly considers it, the truth is, it would have made absolutely no difference at all.

Should President Monson call a press conference tomorrow and announce that the Church has been in possession of the plates all this time, and that the time had at last come to reveal them to the world, should he offer them up to be examined by independent panels of scholars and scientists, should all that investigation prove the translation of the Book of Mormon accurate word for word, it would not matter.

Consider: first, there would be a huge lawsuit between the Church, the Community of Christ (the reorganized church), and the Native American tribes indigenous to upstate New York as to whom exactly actually owned the plates. After a decade of legal proceedings, the linguists, archaeologists, anthropologists and theologians would battle for the right to examine them, as has been done with the Dead Sea Scrolls. Then, after everything, they would simply become an archaeological and anthropological treasure, and their great worth would be in the evidence of an heretofore unknown North American culture with some Judeo-Christian influences in their traditions and legends.

All that would not more prove that Jesus Christ visited the Nephites following his resurrection than the Bible proves he was resurrected at all. The Israelites fled from the Egyptians on a dry path through the Red Sea, but they still built an idol to worship in God's stead. Many of the Pharisees and Sadducees themselves witnessed the miracles performed by Christ, but they crucified him even still. History is laden with examples of men denying the proofs offered, turning away from the truth it better suited them.

Those prone to disbelief would disbelieve still because all the evidence in the world cannot replace the Light of Christ which dwells in us all, and cannot begin to counterfeit the testimony borne to us by the Holy Ghost. Only he, as the third member of the Godhead, can provide us with the proof and certainty that we need to sustain our faith.

As long as fifty years ago, brass and copper plates inscribed and bound in rings, dated to Lehi's time, began to be unearthed in the Mediterranean, Africa, and North America. Archaeological evidence emerges on a regular basis to resolve questions and anomalies which have been offered in the past as proofs of the fallacy of the Book of Mormon. Anthropologists and linguists trace evidence in the Book of Mormon to middle eastern societal norms unknown to the western scholars in the early 19th century, let alone unsophisticated day workers born and raised in the virgin frontiers of an emerging country. Professors of religion independent of Church influence have stated the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is nearest to that established by Christ himself, but — but.

But, one has to believe the Book of Mormon is true. One has to believe that Joseph Smith translated it and therefore he really did see God the Father and his Son, Jesus Christ, the Angel Moroni showed him where the plates and other ancient artifacts were concealed, and he was directed from on high to restore the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Which I know he was and he did, because I know beyond doubt that the Book of Mormon is true. Each and every time I read it, the Spirit witnesses to me of it's verity, of the truthfulness of the Gospel it illuminates, and of the divinity of Jesus Christ, that he truly is the Son of God and that he lived, he suffered and died for our sins, and that he rose and lived again. I know these things. Even as I write them, the Spirit again burns within me, further strengthening my testimony and recalling to my mind those experiences testifying of the same which have nigh well overcome me with their intensity and power.

Joseph Smith is a prophet of God. He established this Church under the direction of Jesus Christ, who stands at its head. The heavens are not barred against revelation. Thomas S. Monson is his anointed this day and holds the keys and powers necessary to act in Christ's name. The Lord is no respecter of persons, and those spiritual gifts with which he blessed his children in biblical times are ours by right, under the same conditions of faith and obedience.

The Book of Mormon is true, its purpose to testify of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, my lord, my savior, my brother and my friend. Of these things I testify in His name, and with all my love.

Mom

Joseph Smith's First Vision

2008-06-26T19:08:00.010-05:00

Editor's note: to answer questions raised by an investigator of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the following has been offered by Alan Neves. The post in which the question was raised can be found on Steadfast Faith in Christ: A Missionary Journal, "Witness of the Holy Ghost," June 25,2008 by Elder Paul Freeman.

June 26, 2008

Elder Freeman,

I thoroughly enjoyed your letter that your mom shared. The guy you are teaching that is searching in the wrong places for info, sounds like an honest-in-heart kind of person. The Internet can certainly be a place where many untruths and half-truths are outlined about Mormonism, but there is good too. In a recent talk, Elder Ballard said some remarkable things about how we as members can use the Internet to counter said opposition, and not let others define us falsely. It's pretty good if you are able to access this talk, "Sharing the Gospel Using the Internet".

Further, FARMS and FAIR have some excellent resources on the First Vision accounts, as well as numerous other topics that we sometimes get hard hitting questions to. Not things that Missionaries usually or should delve into much, but some investigators might find helpful, especially after being given or looking at anti Mormon web sites or literature.

Here's the site for the First Vision articles, and the directory has many many more topics.

Glad to hear you are doing so well. Keep up this most important work!

Love ya!,

Uncle Alan

P.S.

If you look at the link, most of them are Ensign articles.

Here are the relevant ones.

"Joseph Smith's Testimony ," Ensign, January 1972, 79.

Richard Lloyd Anderson, "Joseph Smith's Testimony of the First Vision," Ensign, April 1996, 10. The Prophet's accounts of his first vision offer us a picture that is rich in testimony and supported by history. Discusses the revivals in the Palmyra area in 1820.

Milton V. Backman Jr., "Confirming Witnesses of the First Vision," Ensign, January 1986, 32.

Milton V. Backman Jr., "Did Brigham Young confirm or expound on Joseph Smith's first vision?," Ensign, April 1992, 59.

Milton V. Backman Jr., "Joseph Smith's Recitals of the First Vision," Ensign, January 1985, 8.

Hoyt W. Brewster, Jr., "What was there in the creeds of men that the Lord found abominable, as he stated in the First Vision?," Ensign, July 1987, 65.

An Example of Pure Charity

2008-06-15T10:00:00.003-05:00

Editor’s note: The following is a talk given by Dan Pearce, delivered at the funeral of his sister, Carissa (above left), on April 20, 2008, who died at the age of 22 of pneumonia, a rare fungal infection of the lungs, and complications of Down’s syndrome.

Carissa – A Pure Heart

by Dan Pearce

Carissa’s shining life and example really cannot be expressed over a pulpit. It had to be felt, experienced, and witnessed, as you all know.

Carissa understood love probably more than I or most of us will ever be able. She could feel inside a person’s soul and somehow, could even feel the pains of a person’s heart. If that person’s heart was hurting more than usual, she could sense it, and she would do what she did best, which was to help start the healing. It usually started with a question of concern, then a big smile, then one of her big Carissa Bear Hugs. Then, the verbal praises would start and not let up until she sensed that your heart was at peace again, even if it took weeks or months. She would laugh, and tell you repeatedly over the course of days, “You’re my favorite.” “I love you this much.” “Hello my beautiful.” “Hello my handsome.” And other wonderful things. Then, when you would leave, she’d get out a notebook and her big bag of colorful pens, and write you a letter or two, telling you how much she loved you, how much she loved her brother Jesus Christ, how much she loved God, and how much They both loved you. You see, Carissa understood God’s love for us, and she never hesitated to share it.

Carissa loved to make people smile. In fact, she loved to make whole congregations smile. Anyone who’s ever been to any ward that Carissa was in on Fast Sunday, has heard her bear her testimony. She was always first to head to the front, and she never missed an opportunity to tell the world of her love for the Savior or the Gospel. Her testimony was simple, and was worded something like this, “I’d love to bear my testimony, I love my mommy. I love my daddy.” And then she’d start looking around, and whoever she made eye contact with, “I love my brother Danny. I love my sister Amy so much. I love Jesus Christ. And I love the scriptures. And I love Joseph Smith. And I love President S. Monson. And I love my daddy.” (Dad always seemed to be mentioned two or three times). And sometimes she’d throw out a plug for the family business or let a few of her frustrations out between those statements of love, “And I love my brother Andy on his mission. And Amy stole the fish crackers and took them to her apartment. And I love Jesus Christ, my brother. And I love Mr. Pool.” Then, after closing, and effectively bringing the spirit strongly into the meeting, she would shake hands or hug each member of the bishopric, as well as anyone else on the stand. As she made her way to her seat, she would shake hands with members of the ward all the way down, waving to people, smiling, and feeling on top of the world. There are a lot of people who are going to miss that.

Carissa was not bound by pride, ego, time, or selfishness, a few of the struggles that many of us so naturally have. She was never too busy to visit or care for the sick. She never received a church calling that she didn’t complete with 100% vigor. She never thought herself better than another human being, ever. Think about that. She never thought herself better than another human being. How many of us can say that? She never hid her talents from the world. She never withheld her praise from anyone. She never compromised her values. She never believed that there was a reason to not show her love to others, and certainly never believed there was a reason for others not to love her. The scriptures repeatedly tell us that since the fall, man by nature became carnal, sensual, and devilish. Perhaps because Satan could have no hold on Carissa’s heart, she was never any of these things, and this is the reason she has so many people who loved her as is evidenced here today.

Carissa had a pure heart, purer than any person I’ve ever met. I am brought to ponder, reminiscing on her perfect testimony and unworldly love for the Savior if Christ’s words weren’t fulfilled while she was still here on the earth, “And blessed are all the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Whether then or now, I am confident that Carissa has seen her Maker and that He has welcomed her back with open arms.

Lastly, I want to talk about Carissa the missionary. I believe with all my heart that Carissa was put into this family, into this community, into this world, to bring souls to Christ and to lighten people’s lives. Jesus taught that the handicap are here for this very purpose. When his apostles saw a disabled man and asked the savior if that handicap was because of his sins or the sins of his parents, Jesus responded, “Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.” Carissa was given an extra chromosome so that the works of God could be made manifest in her.

One week before Carissa died, my parents were out of town, and I was summoned to the hospital (where Carissa had just been admitted) to give her a blessing. As I laid my hands on her head, the spiritual pathways between God and man opened and I could not deny that the words coming from my mouth were not my own. It was a very interesting blessing for me. During the blessing, I saw Carissa on the edge of death, hooked to tubes and monitors, surrounded by doctors and family. At that point, none of us had any reason to believe she would ever get to this point, and as I saw this happening, the words of her blessing that came were something like this:
“Carissa, we bless you that your sickness will be a means of bringing many souls to their knees and ultimately to our savior Jesus Christ, for God’s work and glory is the immortality and eternal life of man, and sometimes He uses people like you to carry forth his purposes. Christ will carry you through the hardships you are about to face, so don’t be afraid. Only after those souls have turned to Christ, will things get better for you.”

Then, in her final hours, when her body had given up on her, and we knew that death was upon her, I stood alone in that room holding her hand and pleading with God to please make things better like he had promised in the blessing; it was time to heal her. She had reached the point of her blessing that I knew would arrive, and now it was time for God to do his part as promised. Then, while in my deepest pleadings, the spirit rushed into my soul and my eyes were opened for a few moments. I can’t describe what I saw or felt, I only can tell you that a true look at what Carissa had accomplished on this earth was shown to me, and I also knew right then that her work was done and that things would indeed get better for her, just not here. I stood in tears, stroking her face, and whispered over and over, “I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to be like you.”

I encourage all of you to spend the rest of your lives trying to be more like Carissa. Promptly forgive those who have wronged you. Sing with all of your heart, even when you can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Stop caring so much what you look like. Stop caring so much what people will think of what you say and do. Fulfill your religious duties with excitement and vigor. Love attending church. Love sharing your testimony and be one of the first ones to the front. Serve your neighbor and buoy those who are down. Stop worrying about what others will think! Worry about what God will think and act in such a way. Forget about your job for awhile. Forget about your sports games and time-wasting habits. Look around you and find someone who could use a “Carissa Bear Hug” or maybe just a warm plate of cookies. Don’t judge others. Smile and introduce yourself to strangers. Express your love for all in all times and all places. For truly, these are lessons that Carissa taught all of us.

Carissa was my hero and role model, and I have a testimony that her time here was done, and that her mission has been fulfilled. Just before her death, as Carissa was completely sedated, unable to hear or respond, I found myself alone with her once again, pleading with God for comfort as I held Carissa’s flaccid hand. Christ said, “Blessed are all they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.” I leaned over and whispered through choked back tears, “Carissa, are you okay to go? It’s okay if you need to go.” Suddenly her hand squeezed mine with the same love and strength of one of her famous Carissa Bear Hugs and a warm comfort rushed over my entire body. Even in her final moments she made sure to comfort someone else. I know that many others had similar experiences that day.

Brothers and Sisters, Carissa was okay to go. She had no regrets and no reason to fear. She left this world as perfect as when she came into it. She was okay to go.

Let’s all consider our lives and live in a way that will make it okay for us to go when the time comes. Let’s all try to be a little more like Carissa.

I say these things in Jesus name, Amen.

A God of Miracles

2008-04-02T13:33:00.003-05:00

To Elder Paul Freeman, from Penny Freeman, dated April 2, 2008

Dear Elder Sweetie,

. . . What you are doing in San Bernardino, the things you are accomplishing and the responsibilities you are assuming continue to astound me. I don’t fret about your safety because I know you are on the Lord’s errand, he requires your faith and love and awe-inspiring testimony to feed his sheep and to be a conduit for the Spirit, and he watches over and protects you. My son, how the Savior loves you!

There was something I came across in my reading the other day that made me think of you, especially because I asked Amy to relay to you some of her experiences in difficult situations, when she prayed for miracles and they happened. It is a touch long but every bit pertinent, Mormon 9:10-21:

10 And now, if ye have imagined up unto yourselves a god who doth vary, and in whom there is shadow of changing, then have ye imagined up unto yourselves a god who is not a God of miracles.

11 But behold, I will show unto you a God of ^amiracles, even the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob; and it is that same ^bGod who created the heavens and the earth, and all things that in them are.

12 Behold, he created Adam, and by ^aAdam came the ^bfall of man. And because of the fall of man came Jesus Christ, even the Father and the Son; and because of Jesus Christ came the ^credemption of man.

13 And because of the redemption of man, which came by Jesus Christ, they are brought back into the ^apresence of the Lord; yea, this is wherein all men are redeemed, because the death of Christ bringeth to pass the ^bresurrection, which bringeth to pass a redemption from an endless ^csleep, from which sleep all men shall be awakened by the power of God when the trump shall sound; and they shall come forth, both small and great, and all shall stand before his bar, being redeemed and loosed from this eternal ^dband of death, which death is a temporal death.

14 And then cometh the ^ajudgment of the Holy One upon them; and then cometh the time that he that is ^bfilthy shall be filthy still; and he that is righteous shall be righteous still; he that is happy shall be happy still; and he that is unhappy shall be unhappy still.

15 And now, O all ye that have imagined up unto yourselves a god who can do ^ano miracles, I would ask of you, have all these things passed, of which I have spoken? Has the end come yet? Behold I say unto you, Nay; and God has not ceased to be a God of miracles.

16 Behold, are not the things that God hath wrought marvelous in our eyes? Yea, and who can comprehend the marvelous ^aworks of God?

17 Who shall say that it was not a miracle that by his ^aword the heaven and the earth should be; and by the power of his word man was ^bcreated of the ^cdust of the earth; and by the power of his word have miracles been wrought?

18 And who shall say that Jesus Christ did not do many mighty ^amiracles? And there were many ^bmighty miracles wrought by the hands of the apostles.

19 And if there were ^amiracles wrought then, why has God ceased to be a God of miracles and yet be an unchangeable Being? And behold, I say unto you he ^bchangeth not; if so he would cease to be God; and he ceaseth not to be God, and is a God of miracles.

20 And the reason why he ceaseth to do ^amiracles among the children of men is because that they dwindle in unbelief, and depart from the right way, and know not the God in whom they should ^btrust.

21 Behold, I say unto you that whoso believeth in Christ, doubting nothing, ^awhatsoever he shall ask the Father in the name of Christ it shall be granted him; and this ^bpromise is unto all, even unto the ends of the earth.

I know, my son, that your most righteous desire, as selfless and charitable as it is, for the strengthening of testimonies and guiding more of His children home, can and will be granted through your faith and dedication. He loves you. You are doing His work, and he desires this as much as do you. Pray for the miracles you need to make it happen. Ask in faith, nothing wavering, and your prayers will ultimately be answered. Even in your most frustrating experiences, when it seems it will never come to pass, be certain of the Lord and His love for you. Know with every fiber of your being that our Father hears and answers your prayers.

Have faith — faith enough not only to ask but to receive — and you, as an instrument in the hands of the Lord, will accomplish marvelous things.

As always, you have all my love and prayers,

mom

Lessons on Love

2008-02-21T22:09:00.003-06:00

From Dallas Freeman II to Elder Paul Freeman, dated February 20, 2008

Dear Bro,

How much can I send you an 15 minute break? Less than I could if I hadn't taken time out to eat some left over spaghetti and complain about how I never have any time to write you.

I wanted to tell you about an epiphany I had last night. Well not really an epiphany, more like a strong reminder. A lot of people love me. I think I have a hard time coping with that. It could be because I'm innately lazy and don't want to deal with the responsibility of anybody loving me. It could also be that my self definition is tied up with being the ignored middle child who asks for little and is not often disappointed. I don't know why I do it, but I just have trouble acknowledging the genuine feelings of love and concern that other people have for me.

Yesterday night as I was thinking about all of them I realized that that's probably the biggest thing to remember about being an adult: other people truly love you. Accept it, embrace it. Let it make you stronger. Let it inform your decisions. Thank Heavenly Father for that love and treasure it as something truly fine.

Once again, I've sent you a lecture that I needed to write more than you needed to read. I hope it has value to you anyway. I want you to know that I know that God lives. I've heard His voice. He has told me of the Book of Mormon's truth. This is the Church. I bear witness of it in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Love,

Dallas

Personal Revelation

2008-02-08T15:05:00.000-06:00

From Dallas D. Freeman II to Elder Paul Freeman, dated February 7, 2008

Dear Elder Freeman,

I figure this message should still get to you today. How are things going out there in Cucamunga? I know that's not where you are, I just thought that it was pretty funny when I filled in the adress on that CD. I'm glad you liked it. I was going to send you the Garden but 20 buck is a little steep as a practical joke. I hope you've got someone there who has a CD player. I've never listened to it. I just looked at Tab Choir and decided not to get you show tunes. Would you have preferred hearing them sing Oklahoma?

[later] Whoops. Looks like I missed P-day again. It's not my fault that they only give us a fifteen minute break and that I use ten to make and eat ramen in the microwave. Now I've read this weeks letter to you I wanted to add my thoughts.

It is the most natural thing in the world to want to reject or at least resist revelation from God when he chooses some one we know as his messenger. It was easy for the Pharisees to laud Moses, but less so for their forebears, the former Egyptian slaves, who actually had to live with the man chosen to be the prophet. So it is with every age of religious people. We are more than willing to accept the prophet as long as we aren't forced to be in the same room with them.

I speak of natural and we in the the general sense. The exceptions to these rules are the basis for what makes the Lord's kingdom on this Earth grow in the way He has ordained it to. Aaron believed that his brother was a prophet. So hid Sam and Hyrum Smith. Imagine,if you, at the age of 14, suddenly came home school one day and told me that the Lord had called you as the prophet, do you think I would believe you? I like to think that I've be granted a feel for when truth is spoken in my hearing, but honestly, do you think I would be up to the task of swallowing that bit of medicine? Could I be a Hiram or a Sam? I sincerely hope I could, but recent events have taught me that I've got a long way to go.

Of course, the greatest example of this is the Savior. Have you read Jesus the Christ yet? In it Talmage points out two events that have stuck out. The first was that the chief priest Caiaphas received revelation by virtue of his office, even though he wasn't worthy to hold it. The second was that before the illegally held tribunal at Caiaphas' palace, Christ was silent until the moment when Caiaphas invoked his authority and demanded that he respond to the question. Talmage points out that even though the office of high priest had decayed into complete depravity, it was still the one the God had established to lead His people. So the Savior respected the authority if not the man and gave the answer which sealed his fate.

I've thought about that a lot. I won't tell you everything I've concluded, just that it really puts things in perspective for me. The Lord acknowledged God's authority even when it was wielded by a man who was trying to kill Him. I certainly need to do a better job of acknowledging it wherever else I may find it, because no matter how familiar I am with the messenger and his flaws, I can't reject anything that comes from the Source of sources.

And that's my two cents this P-day. I hope you're doing well. Go out and preach at someone. No, you know what to do. Go out and love some one and let the Lord use your mouth hands and feet to show His love for them to.

Love,

Dallas

On Revelation

2008-02-06T13:35:00.000-06:00

Letter to Elder Paul Freeman, January 18, 2008 (February 6, 2008)

Dear Elder Sweetie,

I think I haven’t been writing about important things of late because I’m having a tough time getting what’s in my head committed to text. Perhaps it’s because only bits of structured ideas surface, while most of what churns in me are feelings and impressions. Then, I get them to make some sort of coherent thought when I’m doing mindless things like washing dishes, but by the time I get back to the computer, they’ve been towed under again. But, this is important, so I’ll try and make it make sense.

Dallas and I have been talking a great deal of late about personal revelation and the promptings of the Spirit. His great desire, especially over the past year, has been to strengthen what he receives. Especially right now, I think you could say he is like Jacob who wrestled an angel until he received a blessing. Neither was Jacob of the Old Testament he only who persisted, but Enos of the Book of Mormon was mighty in prayer.

I have pondered these things much of late. Jesus Christ is not only the cornerstone of our religion. He is the bedrock upon which it is built and the mortar which holds it together. He is that substance which is elemental to all else. Without him, we are nothing.

But revelation is the foundation built upon the bedrock upon which our church is built. It too is essential to the sanctification of us all. Only through personal revelation, through the prompting of the Spirit can we gain a true testimony of Jesus Christ and accept his great redeeming sacrifice and atonement. We all are entitled to that inestimable gift which is direct communication with our Father in Heaven. We all require it. When we earnestly strive to know him, we seek it, and the more we recognize it and are strengthened by it, the more we crave it, for with that recognition and that identification comes the blessings of following the Lord’s will, and the taste is sweet and desirable above all other gifts.

But, what is revelation? How do we know we are receiving inspiration from God and prompting of the Holy Ghost? Do we expect pillars of light or burning bushes or the earth trembling beneath our feet? Do we seek visions and dreams and voices in our heads? If we don’t receive these type of manifestations, does that mean we are somehow less worthy or less loved by our Father? Does it mean we are of less faith? How can we be certain that what we receive is divine?

As I have said, I have been pondering this a great deal, particularly since I have had some very powerful experiences of late which are difficult for others to accept. Because of this, I’ve wondered if sometimes because we so much desire and seek revelation of the biblical variety (dramatic and unequivocal), that we overlook the many ways our Heavenly Father is trying to reach us through his Still Small Voice.

And so, I’ve been seeking a way to explain what I know of revelation, what I understand of how we as individuals rank in the ‘privileges’ department (meaning, what type of manifestations we are entitled to receive), and I hit upon this rather terrestrial (or perhaps celestial) illustration.

We live in an age of incredible knowledge, illumination, and technical advancement. Among our many accomplishments as a society, we have the capacity to gaze into galaxies billions of light years away. We can behold the incomprehensible grandeur of our Father’s creation and proclaim with all our hearts, “How great thou art!”

But, what if I, as an individual, wish to investigate the cosmos? What if I want to gaze into the stars? Am I limited to traveling out beyond the city lights to where the night sky is free of pollution and glare? With my feet in such a spot, is what I behold with my naked eye the limit of my reach? Granted, a great deal has been accomplished by simply studying the stars with the naked eye. Man has progressed for the vast majority of its existence through this and this alone. But, we live in this age, an age of wonder, and were I to limit myself to what I myself could learn, I would be hobbling myself needlessly.

Do I need to start at the beginning? That is the great blessing of the age in which we live. We do not. To gaze into the stars, a person need not learn to smelt glass pure and perfect, nor to grind lenses nor construct a telescope. A person need not rediscover electricity or radio waves or develop infrared photography or extraterrestrial travel. They need not travel beyond the bounds of earth to recognize our planet from space. All these things have been accomplished before by minds both great and minds diligent, minds that allow the Light of Christ to flood them with inspiration and the surety of truth.

Because of those who have gone before, I have the cosmos at my fingertips. I can skim the surface of what has been learned, ever in awe and wonder, or I can learn and discover and explore, I can stretch and reach to add my own discoveries to that great wealth of knowledge available to me if I so choose. I can add my own to the innumerable lifetimes which have been devoted to expanding that knowledge.

To know of those galaxies billions of light years away, to comprehend the concept of a light year, to understand the principles involved in obtaining this knowledge, I need no apple to fall upon my head. I require no eureka! moment. I stand on the shoulders of those who have gone before. I can take what they have learned on faith — when that same Light of Christ whispers to me that these things are true — or I can glance about me to see the evidence that proves these verities. Instead of the naked eye or even a telescope in my hand, I can utilize the Hubble telescope which to Galileo or Copernicus would only seem some fantastic, impossible fancy.

But, what has all this to do with personal revelation? Only this: I don’t need a pillar of light or a burning bush or the earth trembling beneath my feet. I have the truths and testimonies of those who experienced these things. I have the scriptures in my hands, and, above all, I have the Holy Ghost which whispers to me, which fills me with light and love and surety when I read these things, and I know that they are true. I know that Joseph Smith saw God the Father, and his Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ. I know Alma fell to the earth from fear and dismay when an angel of the Lord appeared and chastised him. I know he sought his Christ from the depths of his despair and damnation, and because he did, he was exalted. Because he did, because he wrote of these things, I know that I can too cry out in my distress and my Lord and Savior will raise and comfort me. Because I had the faith to try the experiment, I know of myself, beyond doubt.

Likewise, when I hear wise counsel, when I hear testimonies bourn, whether from prophets sustained of God or young children professing eternal truths in the purity of their faith, the Spirit stirs in me and my own testimony swells. When I listen to the prophets, betimes I hear their chastisement and I know they speak to me. The Spirit tells me I must mend. My heart weeps with my weakness and soars with my hope and faith in my Savior and I am compelled from my desire to return to my Father to repent. Whether from prophets or teachers or those who love me, it is the same.

I have these experiences. The Still Small Voice speaks to me. Must I then turn around and say, “Father, tell me what to do?” Do I look beyond the revelation I have received, do I refuse to recognize it because of its source? Do I say, now I need a confirmation of that confirmation — one that is my own? Do I refuse to see that I have had confirmations of my own from the beginning simply because the voice of truth I heard was mortal?

I fear too often it is so and I weep for my own frailty because I know I am nurturing my own doubt because I am too afraid or too lazy to act. More still, I know the blessings that will come to me if I exercise that faith, act on that revelation, and thus open the windows of Heaven to receive line upon line. I think how blessed we all are when we choose to believe and to act when the promptings are still and quiet and gentle. How wondrous it is that we do not require an angel condemning us and shaking the earth beneath our feet.

Laman and Lemuel have been filling my thoughts of late. I think of Lehi’s dream, of his great desire for his sons to partake of the Fruit of the love of Christ. He called to them, he beckoned them. I cannot imagine him doing anything less than entreating them to come and join him, but they would not. Why? Perhaps they too much demanded that they discover things of themselves.

I think of later, when Lehi told his family of his dream, and Laman and Lemuel could not understand. They asked Nephi — perhaps they weren’t even asking, but discussing what their father had said amongst themselves. Nephi asked them if they had asked God, and they replied that God did not talk to them. And I have to ask myself, why not? Did God love them any less than he loved Nephi? No. I have to believe that God did talk to them, the whisperings of the Spirit were as available to them, but they refused to acknowledge them, as they refused to acknowledge the truth when Nephi offered it to them again and again. Because they did not care for the truth of those prompting and the commandments of God which they confirmed, they denied them, not only in themselves but in Nephi and their father.

Then, I think of Sam, also Nephi’s older brother, also asked to accept his guidance, his counsel, and his leadership. Sam had the faith to follow his father and Nephi. He had the courage to follow the promptings that he received. I have to believe that he had the courage to stand up and add his own testimony to that of Nephi’s, otherwise, Laman and Lemuel would not have beat him with a rod as they did Nephi when their efforts failed in retrieving the brass plates. He took the hard road, the strait path, not because he had seen visions as his father or dreams as his brother, but because the Spirit witnessed the truth to him when he heard their accounts.

An angel appeared to them, but Laman and Lemuel continued to deny the strength of the Lord. Nephi’s righteousness taught them the blessings of obedience through the direction of the Liahona, but they refused to see. They lived for eight years entirely dependent upon the Lord and his constant direction, but when he told Nephi to build a ship, they laughed him to scorn. They had grown past feeling. Despite all the things that should have strengthened their testimonies from one day to the next, they cared neither for the message nor the messenger, so they denied the Source. In their pride and determination to ‘choose of themselves’, they denied the blessings the Lord would bestow upon them. They could not see that choosing obedience is the greatest freedom of all.

So, what is revelation to me? Many, many things. In its simplest form, it is the stirring of the Spirit which confirms to me truths I hear, whether over the pulpit or read in the scriptures, or discussed in a class or a conversation. I need not return to the Father and ask him for confirmation, for I have already received it.

Revelation to me is that burning in my bosom which testifies, which catches my breath and rushes tears to my eyes professing to me of truth. It is that discomfort and restlessness of remorse and regret when I know I am being called to repentance. It is the prick and prickling of conscience when I know I am being directed from on High to alter my course, no matter how difficult that change may be. It is that knot in my stomach that professes something is wrong, and the calm assurety, as glassy as the surface of water still and deep, when I know I am doing the right thing. It is when I pursue a chosen coarse and come up against difficulty after difficulty, where obstacles are thrown up in my path and I am forced to reevaluate my actions, as much as it is when the way is open before me and everything falls into place. Then, I know I am being blessed from on High and that my choices are true.

In its most sure and powerful form, revelation comes to me when I am on my knees, when I am speaking to my Heavenly Father in the name of his Son, my Brother, and through him I know I have the right to approach that Mercy Seat. It is when I search my heart and ponder the things for which I should pray, when I attend those things that leave me feeling uncertain and wrong and I turn away from them to seek the right. It is when I search and probe and allow thoughts to flow, until my tongue is loosed and my heart swells within me and I know the things for which I am praying are those things with which the Lord would bless me. It is that overpowering assurance of his mercy, his approval, and his guidance and love.

This is revelation to me. This is how I know beyond doubt that Jesus is the Christ, the son of the Living God. It is how I know he suffered and died for me, as much as I know of his personal and intimate love for me. It is how I know this is his church, and his work. Of all I would hope for you, this is the gift for which I most plead with my Father.

My time is short, although my heart is full. Know that I love you. Know that there is always a prayer in my heart for you, as your name always resides upon the rolls of the temple. Your Father loves you and is proud of you, and whether you build the Kingdom on a mission or afterward, you are doing His work.

Know that you have all my love,

mom

A Life to Be Celebrated: President Gordon B. Hinckley

2008-01-30T00:30:00.000-06:00

January 29, 2008

President Hinckley died Sunday evening, on January 27th. The news didn’t come unexpectedly. He was 97. The years were starting to catch up with him (finally). Last general conference (October 2007), he actually used his cane to get from his chair to the podium — the cane he always carried simply because he was advised to. He carried it, but that was all. He was beginning to slow. He had worked so hard for so long and he missed his Margery so much. I hated the idea of him lingering on, forced to stillness, all while his mind yearned to be active and doing. I wanted to see him vital and vibrant to the end (which he was). Surely it was time for him to be called home.

So, the news was not only unexpected, it also came as a relief (as callous as it may seem) — even news of joy. Mormons are odd that way. Death is but a portal, a door through which we all must pass, and we know that the best is yet to come. So, when we think of President Hinckley being called home, we think of his reunion with his beloved wife, of his falling to his knees at the feet of the Savior. I can see him wetting his feet with his tears of joy and gratitude, humility and love, and our Lord bending down to raise him up, enfolding him in his embrace. Surely, he said, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”

And so, we are glad, but still, sad for ourselves. How dearly we will miss him. How loved was he not only by adults and not exclusively members of the Church, but by all those who knew him. In the past two days, the outpouring of love and gratitude for him has been astounding. Youth from all over the world are standing for something. President Hinckley has invaded the unlikely realm of Facebook and MySpace, cyber communities primarily the domain of the high school and college students. Much of the content is worldly, sometimes vulgar, crude, and profane, espousing the value of immediate gratification and amorality. But tens of thousands of young people are using this medium to tell the world they love this great man, they will miss him, are grateful to him, and are openly professing the many ways he has touched their lives.

It is a difficult thing to imagine, such an outpouring of love from young people toward a 97-year-old man whom most have never seen in person and are of no family connection. But President Hinckley was true Christian charity and humble service. He strived to live and love as did his Lord and Savior, and we all, young and old, always knew how much he loved us and how hard he worked in our behalf. He especially loved the youth. He encouraged and uplifted them. He reached out and touched their hearts.

The secular press tries to explain him. They ask historians and scholars why and how he made such an impact on our lives, and they do their best to answer. They cite his lifetime of service and achievement, his 25 years at the helm of the Church, first as a counselor in the First Presidency and for the past 13+ years as the prophet, the phenomenal growth of the Church, the explosion of temple-building. They say he was a good and kind man, caring and intelligent and funny. But that is the best they can manage.

To understand him, one must know what is central to all. President Hinckley was and is a prophet of God. He received revelation in our behalf. He spoke the words of the Lord, and with those words came the confirmation of the Spirit that those things are true. He spoke the Lord’s message and it was always one of hope and joy and gladness. Amidst wars, famines and pestilence, earthquakes and mighty tempests, he always spoke of gratitude and optimism. I hear in my mind his voice saying ‘Isn’t it wonderful!’ I cannot say how many times I heard him use those words in illuminating the many gifts and promises our Father has in store for us, as well as those already showered down upon us. He always promised us the best is yet to come.

President Hinckley is beloved and revered by millions. He will be missed, remembered with tenderness and tears, but he will never be mourned. How can we help but rejoice for him? How can we help but say, ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’!

Happy New You

2008-01-08T08:01:00.000-06:00

From Jami Bernards to her son, Elder BJ Bernards, dated January 7, 2008

Dear Elder My Son, and Sam & Julia, Ben & Megan, Kiki, Sarah, grandparents, friends,

Did you have a good week? How did you celebrate the new year? Are you happy? Are you eating well? Are you in need of anything?

We had a fast and interesting week. New Year's eve we stayed home and watched a movie with the children, and fell asleep on the couch. We've had enough of partying. I can't even remember what we did on Tues. The kids did not have school, I know that. Wed. as I dove back into the milieu of the center, we received word that Uncle Stan had past on, Grandma Wanda's oldest brother who was 92. Dad and I both needed to be there at the funeral, so we decided to drive out to the SF bay area and take the kids with us, planning on leaving the next day, Thurs. Then we heard about the huge storm that was coming in and changed our plans. Had we been in the Sierra Nevada mountains during that storm it would have been awful. We might have been stranded for days. So we used Dad's last frequent flyer pass and bought one more ticket. We both were able to fly out Friday morning.*

. . . We rented a car and drove up to see Ben and Megan at their hotel in Sacramento. Megan's aunt Brenda had invited us to come to her home for dinner, which was very kind. In her neighborhood there were branches of trees right and left, and reports of ancient trees uprooted. Roads and parking lots had deep areas of flooding where the storm drains were clogged with debris from the downpour. Ben said the winds there were reported at 70 mph, and that had it been a storm coming off the Atlantic, it would have been classed as a hurricane. I am certain we were trying to land in the thick of it, and as it moved west it passed over Sacramento and on through the Sierra Nevada's, then Nevada. I am so grateful we were not in those mountains with all our children in the car!

It was good to be with Brad's cousins and extended family. The service for his uncle was at the *** church in his neighborhood, where he had been a member of the congregation for over 50 years 9 (having left the only true church some time in his early years). It was interesting to see their rites and rituals, 'having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.' It was also interesting to observe his posterity, that it was rather small, for someone of his age, (92), barely enough people to fill 1 1/2 short pews. There were less than 15 people there who were his descendants. Comparing that with what we know of families of righteous saints who have been married in the temple and have lived a lifetime of faithful service, it is truly remarkable the difference. I am convinced that the covenants of the temple and the blessings of the priesthood are real and powerful, and I am very grateful for them.

We attended Sacrament meeting the next day in Castro Valley. It was such a joy to witness ordinances of the priesthood, by those who have been called of God and ordained with power and authority from him. It was a blessing to partake of the emblems of his atonement, knowing that it was in the manner he had ordained, and that the officiators were ordained with his holy priesthood. I bore my testimony of the tremendous blessing it is to be a member of this church. I shared my privilege of reading from the Book of Mormon, and learning of the tree of life, and the love of God which is spread abroad in the hearts of the children of men. I felt to rejoice and share my witness that this is the true church, and that I have received that witness through the power of the Holy Ghost. I am so grateful for all my blessings. I am truly rich. And I am filled with desire to share this good news. I am grateful that you (BJ) are being diligent in the use of your time. I hope that you will maximize every moment, search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and you will be led to those who have been prepared to receive the gospel.

One of the brethren who bore his testimony said, 'Happy New You!' He was recently converted, and his 14 year old son was baptized the Saturday previous and was being confirmed a teacher that day. I love it. 'Happy New You!'

Time for me to get to work. I love you all,

Mom/Jami/Grandma

* Story of harrowing flight to Oakland edited for length.

Attributes of a Loving Father

2008-01-02T22:09:00.000-06:00

From Gay Neves to her three grandsons currently missionaries:

I’m writing this to my dearest, wonderful grandsons who are now serving the Lord, and everyone else in the family that I love so much. I’ve wanted so badly to share some things which are in my heart, and now I’m getting stronger, I’d like to share something that Brother Wayne Brickley said in one of his talks "How Great Shall Be the Peace of Thy Children." I couldn’t get the transcript, so I’ll have to paraphrase and give what quotes I was able to glean from the broadcast, but even the crumbs of the essence of the things he said and rang true on my heartstrings, like a memory.

Heber C Kimball said, "I’m perfectly satisfied that my Father and My God is a cheerful, pleasant, lively and good-natured being." Bro. Bridkley cited the joy of being in the presence of such a person as one of the incentives we have to live good lives. He said "How do I know that the reports of these attributes are true. "Why? Because I am cheerful, pleasant and lively and good natured when I have his spirit."

The Lord said, through Joseph Smith, "I delight in a glad heart and a cheerful countenance."

"That arises from his own attribute. We left the presence of our Father with all that energy and absolute determination that we were going to come back. I bet one of our motives was that we really, really loved him; not only that we admired him and respected Him, we really, really enjoyed being with him.

For us to have a clear memory of Him, on the other side of this veil, would be cheating in keeping his commandments. We’d do it simply to be in the presence of such a beautiful being.

He quotes Heber C. Kimball again, "I can not think of anyone of my acquaintance so much like God as was Brother Brigham’s father, John Young. He was one of the liveliest and most cheerful man I ever knew and one of the best of men. He would come and visit and sit and talk with us and sing and do anything that was good, to make us lively and happy."

What if, in spite of all that I have working against me, my looks, my bank account, of whatever it might be that I feel is a limitation to me, I could at least become such a person."

Then he spoke of his children who had strayed. "I wonder what that would do when the day should come that the tentacles of the covenants start drawing them back from their imperfections and draw them in. I wonder how that would play into things if they were bonded to me, and these peaceful attributes . . . which I have cultivated in imitating God himself, were [the power.]

I love you, Grandma Neves

Beautiful Savior

2007-12-30T16:20:00.001-06:00

From Penny Freeman to Elder Paul Freeman, dated December 29, 2007

Dear Elder Sweetie,

As I said in my last, the Christmas program in the Mission Bend Ward was absolutely wonderful. Adam refuses to take credit for 'writing' it, but his compilation and editing was truly inspired for in everything and all, he testified of Jesus Christ. Since you couldn't be there, I'm posting this so that you can have not only the text but the lyrics to the music. Adam outdid himself with his choir. He was astounding to watch and singing in his choir was a blast.

Christmas 2007 Program
Mission Bend Ward

Song-Junior & Senior Primary: Beautiful Savior (Crusader's Hymn)

Fair is the sunshine,
Fairer the moonlight
And all the stars in heaven above.
Jesus shines brighter,
Jesus shines purer,
And brings to all the world his love.

Fair are the meadows,
Fairer the woodlands
And all the flowers of blooming spring
Jesus is fairer,
Jesus is purer.
He makes the sorrowing spirit sing.

Beautiful Savior!
Lord of the nations!
Son of God and Son of Man!
Thee will I honor,
Praise and give glory,
Give praise and glory evermore!
Evermore!

Narrator: Christmas is a time of joy, celebration, family and charity. It is during this season that our minds and hearts are turned to those miraculous events in an ancient and distant land that led to the birth of Christ, the King of Kings. Of Christ, Moroni wrote:

“I would commend you to seek this Jesus of whom the prophets and apostles have written, that the grace of God the Father and also the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost, which beareth record of them, may be and abide in you forever” (Ether 12:41).

This morning, we invite you to not only think of the events surrounding the birth of the Christ Child, but also the gift of eternal life that He has offered to each and every one of us.

Song-Choir and Senior Primary: I Wonder as I Wander, Appalachian carol, arranged by Ann K. Andersen

I wonder as I wander out under the sky,
How Jesus the Savior did come for to die,
For poor onry people like you and like I,
I wonder as I wander out under the sky.

When Mary birthed Jesus 'twas in a cow's stall,
With wise men and farmers and shepherds and all,
And high from God's heaven a star's light did fall,
And the promise of the ages they then did recall;
If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing,
A star in the sky or a bird on the wing,
Or all of God's angels in heaven to sing,
He surely could have had it for he was the King.
I wonder as I wander out under the sky,
How Jesus the Savior did come for to die,
For poor onry people like you and like I,
I wonder as I wander out under the sky.

Narrator: A Modern apostle of the Lord, President James E. Faust, penned the following words:

They heard His voice, a voice so mild;
It pierced them through and made their souls to quake;
They saw Him come, a man in white,
The Savior who had suffered for their sake.
They felt the wounds in hands and side,
And each could testify; This is the Christ;
This is the Christ, the holy Son of God,
Our Savior, Lord, Redeemer of mankind.
This is the Christ, the healer of our souls
Who ransomed us with love divine.

I read His words, the words He prayed
While bearing sorrow in Gethsemane;
I feel His love, the price He paid.
How many drops of blood were spilled for me?
With saints of old in joyful cry
I too can testify; This is the Christ;
This is the Christ, the holy Son of God,
Our Savior, Lord, Redeemer of mankind.
This is the Christ, the healer of our souls
Who ransomed us with love divine.

Duet: Gesu Bambino

When blossoms flowered 'mid the snows
Upon a winter night
Was born the Child, the Christmas Rose
The King of Love and Light.
The angels sang, the shepherds sang
The grateful earth rejoiced
And at His blessed birth the stars
Their exultation voiced.

O come let us adore Him
O come let us adore Him
O come let us adore Him
Christ the Lord.

Again the heart with rapture glows
To greet the holy night
That gave the world its Christmas Rose
Its King of Love and Light.

Let ev'ry voice acclaim His name
The grateful chorus swell
From paradise to earth He came
That we with Him might dwell.

O come let us adore Him
O come let us adore Him
O come let us adore Him
Christ the Lord.

Narrator: Nearly 600 years before the first Christmas, Nephi had a vision of Mary the mother of
Jesus, and of the sacred birth (1 Nephi 11:13-21):

13 And it came to pass that I looked and beheld the great city of Jerusalem, and also other cities. And I beheld the city of Nazareth; and in the city of ^aNazareth I beheld a ^bvirgin, and she was exceedingly fair and white.
14 And it came to pass that I saw the ^aheavens open; and an angel came down and stood before me; and he said unto me: Nephi, what beholdest thou?
15 And I said unto him: A virgin, most beautiful and fair above all other virgins.
16 And he said unto me: Knowest thou the ^acondescension of God?
17 And I said unto him: I know that he loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things.
18 And he said unto me: Behold, the ^avirgin whom thou seest is the ^bmother of the Son of God, after the manner of the flesh.
19 And it came to pass that I beheld that she was carried away in the Spirit; and after she had been carried away in the ^aSpirit for the space of a time the angel spake unto me, saying: Look!
20 And I looked and beheld the virgin again, bearing a ^achild in her arms.
21 And the angel said unto me: Behold the ^aLamb of God, yea, even the ^bSon of the Eternal ^cFather!

Song-Duet/Women's chorus: Cradle Song written by Henry Watts, based on a poem by Patrick K. O'Haran

Sleep, oh my little one,
Quietly sleep.
Angels shall guard thee slumbering deep.
White wings about thee
Enfolding that flame,
Holy Immortal Ineffable name.
Sleep, O my little Lord,
Darling one sleep.

Sleep, oh my little one,
Quietly sleep.
Heaven’s high hosts around thee shall creep.
All love and glory,
Beauty and grace,
With the kiss of a mother rest on they face.
Sleep, O my little Lord,
Darling one sleep.

Sleep, my beloved
Little one, sleep;
No crying be heard; O stir not nor weep,
A bright star is shining
Above thy dear head,
And to this poor shelter great kings are led.
Sleep, O my little Lord,
Darling one, sleep.

Sleep, then my kingly one,
Gently and still.
See how thine angels watch on each hill.
Here is thy mother
Close, dearest heart;
I shall be with thee when shepherds depart.
Sleep, O my little Lord,
Darling one, sleep.

Song-Ward Choir: Born in a Stable by Robert W. Thygerson

Born in a stable, a small child so bright,
Born in a stall on this still night.
Sleeping so sweetly on pillow of hay,
God’s richest gift in manger lay.
Sleep, holy babe, pure as snow,
Sent down to weary earth for all to know.

Mary and Joseph, both gentle and mild,
Tenderly care for their newborn child,
Waiting the sunrise that welcomes the morn;
Sweet baby Jesus on earth now is born.
Sleep holy babe, pure as the snow,
sent down to weary earth for all to know.

Narrator: When commemorating the 2,000^th anniversary of the birth of the Savior, his modern day prophets and apostles wrote the following in the document, “The Living Christ”:

As we commemorate the birth of Jesus Christ two millennia ago, we offer our testimony of the reality of His matchless life and the infinite virtue of His great atoning sacrifice. None other has had so profound an influence upon all who have lived and will yet live upon the earth.

He was the Great Jehovah of the Old Testament, the Messiah of the New. Under the direction of His Father, He was the creator of the earth. "All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made" (John 1:3). Though sinless, He was baptized to fulfill all righteousness. He "went about doing good" (Acts 10:38), yet was despised for it. His gospel was a message of peace and goodwill. He entreated all to follow His example. He walked the roads of Palestine, healing the sick, causing the blind to see, and raising the dead. He taught the truths of eternity, the reality of our premortal existence, the purpose of our life on earth, and the potential for the sons and daughters of God in the life to come.

He instituted the sacrament as a reminder of His great atoning sacrifice. He was arrested and condemned on spurious charges, convicted to satisfy a mob, and sentenced to die on Calvary's cross. He gave His life to atone for the sins of all mankind. His was a great vicarious gift in behalf of all who would ever live upon the earth.

We solemnly testify that His life, which is central to all human history, neither began in Bethlehem nor concluded on Calvary. He was the Firstborn of the Father, the Only Begotten Son in the flesh, the Redeemer of the world. He rose from the grave to "become the firstfruits of them that slept" (1 Cor. 15:20).

Song-Men's Quartet: Away in a Manger

Away in a manger, no crib for his bed,
The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head;
The stars in the heavens looked down where he lay,
The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.

The cattle are lowing; the poor baby wakes,
But little Lord Jesus no crying he makes.
I love thee, Lord Jesus; look down from the sky
And stay by my cradle ‘til morning is nigh.

Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay
Close by me forever, and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
And fit us for heaven to live with thee there.

Song-Ward Choir: Do you hear what I hear? words and music by Noel Regney & Gloria Shayne, arranged by Barry Simeone

Said the night wind to the little lamb,
“Do you see what I see? Do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb,
Do you see what I see? Do you see what I see?
A star, a star, dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite,
With a tail as big as a kite.”

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy,
“Do you hear what I hear? Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear? Do you hear what I hear?
A song, a song, high above the trees
With a voice as big as the sea,
With a voice as big as the sea.”

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king,
“Do you know what I know? Do you know what I know?
In your palace warm, mighty king,
Do you know what I know? Do you know what I know?
A Child, a Child shivers in the cold--
Let us bring him silver and gold,
Let us bring him silver and gold.”

Said the king to the people everywhere,
“Listen to what I say! Listen to what I say!
Pray for peace, people, everywhere,
Listen to what I say! Listen to what I say!
A Child, A Child sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light,
He will bring us goodness and light.”

Narrator: Of the Living Christ, the Prophet Joseph wrote:

"His eyes were as a flame of fire; the hair of his head was white like the pure snow; his countenance shone above the brightness of the sun; and his voice was as the sound of the rushing of great waters, even the voice of Jehovah, saying:

"I am the first and the last; I am he who liveth, I am he who was slain; I am your advocate with the Father" (D&C 110:34).

Of Him the Prophets also declared:

"And now, after the many testimonies which have been given of him, this is the testimony, last of all, which we give of him: That he lives!

"For we saw him, even on the right hand of God; and we heard the voice bearing record that he is the Only Begotten of the Father—

"That by him, and through him, and of him, the worlds are and were created, and the inhabitants thereof are begotten sons and daughters unto God" (D&C 76:24).
and:

"We declare in words of solemnity that His priesthood and His Church have been restored upon the earth—'built upon the foundation of ... apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone' (Eph. 2:20).

"We testify that He will someday return to earth. 'And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together' (Isa. 40:5). He will rule as King of Kings and reign as Lord of Lords, and every knee shall bend and every tongue shall speak in worship before Him. Each of us will stand to be judged of Him according to our works and the desires of our hearts.

"We bear testimony, as His duly ordained Apostles—that Jesus is the Living Christ, the immortal Son of God. He is the great King Immanuel, who stands today on the right hand of His Father. He is the light, the life, and the hope of the world. His way is the path that leads to happiness in this life and eternal life in the world to come. God be thanked for the matchless gift of His divine Son." (see The Living Christ, The Testimony of the Apostles, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints)

Song-Ward Choir: Oh Come Oh Come Emanuel, ancient Plainsong arranged by Robert P. Manookin

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan's tyranny
From depths of Hell Thy people save
And give them victory o'er the grave
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, O come, Thou Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height,
In ancient times did'st give the Law,
In cloud, and majesty and awe.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

Song-Ward Choir: I Believe in Christ, music by John Longhurst, arranged by Mack Wilberg, text by Elder Bruce R. McConkie

I believe in Christ, he is my king;
With all my heart to him I’ll sing;
I’ll raise my voice in praise and joy,
In grand amens my tongue employ.
I believe in Christ, he is God’s Son;
On earth to dwell his soul did come;
He healed the sick, the dead he raised,
Good works were his, his name be praised.

I believe in Christ, O blessed name,
As Mary’s Son he came to reign
’Mid mortal men, his earthly kin,
To save them from the woes of sin.
I believe in Christ, who marked the path,
Who did gain all his Father hath,
Who said to men: “Come, follow me,
That ye, my friends, with God may be.”

I believe in Christ—my Lord, my God—
My feet he plants on gospel sod;
I’ll worship him with all my might;
He is the source of truth and light.
I believe in Christ, he ransoms me;
From Satan’s grasp he sets me free,
And I shall live with joy and love
In his eternal courts above.

I believe in Christ, he stands supreme;
From him I’ll gain my fondest dream;
And while I strive through grief and pain,
His voice is heard: “Ye shall obtain.”
I believe in Christ; so come what may,
With him I’ll stand in that great day
When on this earth he comes again,
To rule among the sons of men.

Bishop’s Remarks

Closing Hymn-Choir & Congregation: Silent Night, lyrics by Josef Mohr, translated by John F. Young, music by Franz Xaver Gruber

Silent night! Holy night!
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and Child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace;
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night! Holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight!
Glories stream from heaven afar;
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ, the Savior, is born!
Christ, the Savior, is born!

Silent night! Holy night!
Son of God, loves pure light
Radiant beams from thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth;
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.

The Parable of the Marching Band

2007-12-30T16:18:00.000-06:00

From Ben Bernards to Elder BJ Bernards, dated November 12, 2007

Hey BJ,

Hope you're doing well. Keep working hard, loving the people, loving your companion, and staying obedient. If you don't know what to do, get out and start talking to people Open your mouth. Make a game of it...get creative. Feel free to play people's guitars or drums -- or share it for a ward / branch / zone conference talent show.

My thoughts for today -- the Parable of the Marching Band. (Heh...you knew it had to come sooner or later, right?)

When I was in marching band, I had high aspirations to become Drum Major. I loved the importance, the power, the respect, etc. etc. I thought it was the most important role in the band...and I was mistaken. The most important role is that of Center Snare. Let me explain why.

Marching bands only work properly when everyone is marching and playing together, in time...right down to 1/128th of a beat. You can't be off by a fraction. You have to march in the right directions, stop where you're supposed to, point your bodies the right way, hold your instrument properly, play 6-10 pages of memorized music, and do so in perfect unison with several hundred other students. Some scientists have listed the number of simultaneous actions being performed during a marching band performance and determined that it cannot be done -- the human body simply cannot do all those things at the same time, let alone do them well. But countless of people, young and old, have done and continue to do so.

The drum major serves as a sort of visual metronome and conductor. They keep the beat, give signals as to how and when to play, and stand in a high, central place where everyone can see them. This does not guarantee that everyone WILL watch the drum major, and there are plenty of marchers that go the wrong way, play the wrong thing or at the wrong time, or otherwise mess up what would have been a beautiful, unified performance...all because they weren't following the drum major.

But the drum major isn't the true leader -- the Center Snare player is. You see, it is commonly observed that musicians in a group will subconsciously "follow" each other's musical cues in regards to tempo, volume, attacks and releases, and so forth. It is very easy to force the band to speed up or slow down, simply by speeding up or slowing down yourself, or to influence others to come in at the wrong time, play at the wrong volume, etc. etc., And if your instrument is easier to hear than others...such as high brass or woodwinds, or sharp percussive noises that are felt as well as heard...then others are more likely to follow your cues. Of all the instruments in the band that can throw off a group, drums are the worst -- musicians will subconsciously follow the beat that they feel / hear from drums more than any other player. In marching band, that means the Snare Line sets the tempo. And in the Snare Line, it's the Center Snare that leads all the others.

But this presents a problem. Sound waves are easily distorted. It is a simple job to follow the drum line's tempo when the marching band is in a closed room, lined up in a concert arc, and everyone can clearly hear and feel the beats. But when the band is spread out across an open air football field, and everyone is constantly moving in various directions, the sounds from the snare line are distorted and the beats are not felt / heard at the same time by everyone around the field. So if everyone tried to just march their show and play their music and only rely on the distorted audio cues, they wouldn't play in unison and the effort would fail.

That's where drum majors come in.

Now, even though they're on a podium and not moving and up higher than the other players, they still have the auditory problems that the other musicians deal with -- the drum major can't rely on the sound of the of the snare lines to set the tempo.

But they can rely on their eyes.

Light travels faster than sound. And the Center Snares feet (if he / she is worthy of her position) are constantly marking the time and moving in perfect synchronization with the tempo.

So no matter where the Snare Line moves, as long as the Drum Major watches their feet, he will be able to set the proper tempo.

And as long as the Band is watching the Drum Major and follow what they see, and not follow the other signals they're receiving all around them, they will be playing in unison. It takes great faith to follow that drum major and keep your eyes on them, but doing so is the only way to guarantee that the performance will be of championship quality.

It's especially difficult when the marchers around you take their eyes of for a split second, lose the beat, or follow a different signal that they're feeling / hearing. As marchers, you have to learn how to work together to maintain proper body spacing to create the visual shapes of the show; you align yourself based on where certain anchor and focus points are, it's the only way to make sure your lines are straight and your curves are not. But if you rely too much on the people around you, and don't follow the drum major, you and those around you will mess everything up.

This test of being able to follow the drum major is frequently pushed to the extreme in a friendly competition we called "The Drill Down". We only did it once a year. Everyone lines up in a big square grid without their instruments, and simply marches around, following verbal orders from the drum major and marching in time to the metronome beat clicked out with a pair of clavy's. It's an endurance / obedience contest to see who is the best marcher and can last the longest. If you make one tiny mistake -- you step off too soon / too late, stop too soon / late, turn the wrong direction, miss a beat, don't keep your arms up at the right angle -- you are eliminated. Those eliminated stand on the sidelines and watch as the pool of marchers gets smaller and smaller, the commands come more rapidly, the tempo increases dramatically, and the overall difficulty jumps by leaps and bounds.

Eventually only one or two people remain standing. When it's evident that they can't be eliminated via a march off, they are put to the final test, to see if they can be forced or persuaded to "break attention", i.e., to crack a smile, blink their eyes, drop their arms, or otherwise stop standing at perfect attention. Everyone that has been eliminated is given free reign to do or say anything they want to force that remaining marcher to break attention, and they will continue until he is broken or the drum major declares him the winner.

In my last drill down, I'd made it down to the final two. One of my good friends was the other marcher, and he was eliminated in a series of tricky calls and maneuvers that I'd barely performed myself. I was left standing there at attention, and the drum major yelled for everyone to "come break me." I stood there at attention as 200 kids ran full speed at me, charging like the glorious Rohirrim at the Battle of Minas Tirith, yelling and screaming and coming to stop within centimeters of my face. I was instantly engulfed in a sea of screaming, gnashing, tormenting pubescent marching band geeks that jostled and swirled and yelled and played their piccolos at high-pitched minor-second intervals (but then, I"m being redundant) -- can you imagine a more ghastly, horrifying, vortex of humanity? Me neither.

They took great pride in trying to break me, screaming in both of my ears at point blank range, trying to do anything and everything to break me. THey even started invoking names of color guard girls I was interested in and pulling at my clothes (I think someone even tried to pants me and see what I would do.)

The only thing I could do was to close down my 'external' senses and focus every bit of mental concentration I had on a single point of steely resolve, far far away in my mind. Everything rolled off me like raindrops, and I felt tossed like a ship on the ocean...but no matter how hard the waves of the marchers crashed, I would.....not....capsize. I simply wouldn't. I had made up my mind that I was going to win, and nothing would keep me from breaking.

The storm lasted forever. My arms and back were burning. My eardrums were ringing in pain from the screaming and yelling. But my mind stayed calm and quiet, and I knew that it would soon be over.

And over it was. The drum major called off the hounds, and the staff members watching quietly came over, dismissed me from attention and congratulated me. I nearly collapsed right there on the field and I'm sure the others cheered and jeered a bit. Practice went on and I didn't receive any award or recognition for it...but I knew what I had accomplished. I knew that when I'd set my mind to stay at attention, I would do it, no matter the cost, no matter the torment around me. A sweet peaceful strength made itself right at home inside me for a long time after that, as I knew what I was capable of.

So, enough of the story. I'm sure the parable is pretty clear.

Who is the Center Snare? And Who is His Drum Major? Or the Assistant Drum Majors or Section Leaders? Who do you look to? Who will you follow? Who will you keep your eyes on, even when those around you try to step off at the wrong time, who march the wrong direction, who play the wrong music? Wherein will you find your resolve when the world tries to crash upon you? When you are "called to attention", would you stand so, even if those around you break and try to get you to break as well? Would you stand alone in the face of all the other missionaries? Would you march to the beat of His drum, even if you were the only person doing so?

I know you would. In the words of Samuel D. Bernards, "You are mighty...because you kneel."

I love you bro. Work it up.
Cheers,
Ben

I Stand All Amazed

2007-12-30T16:11:00.001-06:00

To Elder Paul Freeman, dated October 30, 2007

Dear Elder Sweetie,

Hey. It’s funny how I make a whole list of things I think I’m going to tell you when I write, and then when I sit down to write, it all shoots out the window.

I did really want to tell you that the camera is cool. Have fun with it, but use it to supplement your journal/personal history, not replace it. Also, don’t become a tourist missionary. I know you know better than that, especially after your experience with the type in Samoa, but, I’m the mom so I get to nag on ya just a bit. You’d think I was slacking off if I didn’t tell you something you didn’t already know at least once a month, neh?

One of the things I’ve been forgetting to tell you for a couple of weeks now is that Dad got a new pet. He hasn’t named her yet, as he says it’s bad luck to name a baby banana tree until after the cold season, especially if she’s only two feet high.

She has a nice comfy little spot by the back fence, however. We went looking for sod to cover up the gaping hole they made in the lawn when they fixed the leak in our water line. He saw some really humongous trees, but he said he didn’t want anything that had leaves taller than he was, so we took a pass on those. Besides which, the $350 was a bit exorbitant. He looked at some medium trees, but then he saw that poor little baby tree and just couldn’t leave her behind. (Think ‘Charlie Brown’s Christmas’ and you’ve got the right idea.)

She suffered from being left in the car while we went into Kroger, I’m afraid. Two of her three leaves got somewhat steamed, but Dad just cut off the bad parts and she’s not the worse for wear. Her fourth leaf was just coming out, starting to unfurl when we adopted her, and now she has the beginning of a fifth starting to shoot up.

When we brought her home, I went into the house to put the groceries away and stuff, and Dad came in and said, um, could you help me out here? I went out there and he had chopped down half of one of the end bush out by the fence to make room for the banana tree. (Yes, she really should have gone where the holly bushes are, but you didn’t take them out, and Dad and I had trouble enough dealing with the laurel out back). Dad hacked away at the trunks and branches and stuff with the machete and I broke the stuff down further. We filled up two big trash cans with the refuse, tightly packed because I was doing it, and still have a pile of logs out by the compost. I’m not sure what Dad’s going to do with them. We seem to be collecting that sort of thing at the moment.

Now, he tends her quite lovingly. We bought some dirt and peat that he’s mulched her with and she’s got a nice big trough going all around her that Dad fills with water now and again. I’m afraid the hole wasn’t as big as we would have liked as Dad was digging it after he chopped down the bush, and between the clay and the roots, it was next to impossible.

Speaking of roots, our next-door neighbor has started trying to dig post holes for the fence, but I’m afraid it isn’t going so well. There are so many roots and stuff, it’s really difficult to do. Dad says that some of the trees need to come out, and I’m afraid I have to agree with him. Unfortunately, most of the trees that need to come out are on their side of the fence, so it’s not as simple a solution as one would think.

It will be interesting to see how it all shakes out. I feel like we should be helping them somehow, but how is the question. I think we’ll end up halving the materials or something. It’s kind of a dicey business. But, last Saturday while Dad was out tending the banana tree, it got dark and way past dinnertime and I had to go fetch him. He was yammering over the fence with the neighbors, so that’s a good sign. Your dad does the weirdest things sometimes.

Oh!!! I can’t believe I didn’t lead off with this. Adam got his BIG promotion. I don’t know if you were here when he first got wind of it or not. If you were, forgive the repetition, but Jim (the CFO) took just him out for lunch one day and said they were going to need a materials manager pretty soon. Adam said, ‘when do I start?’ Jim told him he just needed to clear it with the higher-ups.

So, today Jim snagged him as he passed and said he got the job. He starts in his new official capacity on January 8th or something. They haven’t negotiated anything yet (such as job title, salary and his own office, etc), but it’s a major, major coupe for him. He’ll be reporting directly to the global Operations Manager who reports directly to T---’s CEO. His title will be something like materials manager or some such. We’re all hoping that he’ll get an office because he really needs one. It’s just too chaotic in the cubical pit. I’ve got visions of them helping to pay for his master’s degree. That would be really cool.

Did I ever mention that he’s got Dallas talked into biomedical mechanical engineering? He’s going to design the joints for Adam to distribute. That totally shocked me to hear because I had said something along those lines in passing (such as, medicine is where the money is), and he never betrayed any interest. But, it’s very like him to listen to Adam, so that’s good.

. . . Conference was so incredible for me — for us. I have been going to the temple once a week and I think that really prepared us to hear the voice of the Lord. I know Heavenly Father spoke to me through the mouths of his prophets. Since then, . . . everything has been a lot calmer. I just can’t seem to work up a snit about anything. There are causes for concern a’plenty, but I always get peace and reassurance. Heavenly Father tells me, ‘Be still and know that I am God,’ when I go to the temple, and so, as you can imagine, I do what I can to get there as often as possible.

I even got up and bore my testimony on Sunday (we have stake conference next week), and President T--- was on the stand. I was nervous as all get-out, especially because when I consider Heavenly Father working through his servants to bless our family, President T--- is right up there at the head of the list and I had to say so. I felt kind of goofy, but out it came anyway. He smiled at me and mouthed ‘thank you’ as I scuttled back down to my seat, so I’m thinking I didn’t make too big of a fool of myself.

Did I ever tell you that they created a new ward? They called it G---, so I’m thinking that they must have taken some of the K--- ward as well as some of one of T--- wards to make it. That’s ten wards in our stake now, and it’s a bit of a concern. I’m worried that they’ll split the stake north/south, which will put us in something other than President T---’s stake. That would make me sad.

We’ll be moving to the 2:30 block in January. Ugh. But, the good thing is, I’m hoping that will make it easier to get to choir practice. Since the T--- moved into their new house in the S--- ward, Sister L--- and Sister P--- have been rattling my cage about getting back to choir. I promised Sister Lyon I would when we changed to the new schedule, but I know I really should now. I know. It’s all a matter of faith, neh?

Speaking of Sister P---, did I mention that she’s my visiting teaching companion? We decided today that we’re going to go four-wheeling down the dirt road into the forest because we want to see how the construction is coming along for the bridge at T---. That’s going to be fun. Sister P--- has her own dirt bike, but we decided an ATV would be wiser if I was tagging along.

The thing that I’ve been most wanting to relate to you is a bit different than all of the above. Actually, it’s two things.

First, I’ve been trying to strengthen my obedience in keeping the commandments. Victor said something once about prayer that has stuck with me ever since and makes a lot of sense to me. He said true prayer is all about heeding the Spirit’s promptings about what to pray for. So, it’s listening as well as speaking.

Also, it’s always strengthened me and made my prayers more meaningful when I consider my Heavenly Father sitting on the bed beside me as I kneel to pray. Often, I have pondered exactly what ‘in the name of Jesus Christ’ meant to me. When I approach my Heavenly Father in prayer, do I get through the door because Christ opened it? Or am I saying, Christ sent me? These thoughts have rattled around in my head, but I could never quite get the confirmation I needed. Then, the other day, as I knelt to pray, I thought, to me, it means Christ kneeling beside me, Him saying to Father, ‘Here is my sister. Hear her, I pray.’

Darlin’, that prayer was the sweetest, most profound experience I have ever had in all my attempts to grow more near to my Father. My love for my Savior overran me as I felt that conduit to heaven open up to me. I felt as if my Father laid His hand upon my head as I spoke, as I wept, and my surety of the Atonement, of my Savior’s love and sacrifice for me filled me up to bursting. I did not want to cease praying. I could not. One entreaty led to another and then another, and I understood Enos as I had never done before. With each exchange, for surely, they were exchanges between him and the Father, as they were between me and the Father, the communication became more clear, less muddled, more pure, and the Spirit filled him with a greater understanding of those for whom he should pray.

Since then, I have understood that communication as I never have done. When prophets of old have prayed for great miracles — or when they have refrained from providing the proof demanded of them by the ungodly — they have done so because the Spirit prompted them. They didn’t simply act on a set of guidelines they had assimilated. The Spirit told them that for which they should pray. When the Lord promised them that He would grant whatsoever they begged of Him, He did so with the utmost confidence in them because He knew they knew the promptings of the Spirit.

I caught a small glimmer of that, and yesterday as I was reading in Third Nephi, when it says the people heard and testified that the tongue could not convey those things which they saw and heard when Christ prayed to the Father on their behalf, I caught a glimmer smaller still, but surely it leaves me filled with wonder. What must it have been like to witness and experience that pure communication between Christ and our Heavenly Father? Surely Christ wept for joy because of all those He had strived to teach and lead, those people allowed themselves to see what He would have them see. They accepted the great gifts He would give them. How great must have been his joy.

The second thing that happened to me, or that I experienced, was during the Sacrament the following week. I found myself pondering my Savior in the Garden of Gethsemane and wondering whom it must have been who was allowed the great privilege of offering Him succor as He paid that infinite price. An angel came and ministered unto Him, perhaps to mop His brow of the blood and sweat, perhaps to offer water, perhaps to brace Him as He suffered unimaginable pain.

I thought surely that angel must have been corporeal, which made a short list of those taken up into Heaven without tasting death, whose bodies were translated and they retained them still. Perhaps it was Alma or Noah or Elijah or Enoch. Surely they had been translated because they work they yet had to perform required physical bodies, and not until Christ defeated death could resurrection take place.

As I thought on it, I thought of the anguish they themselves suffered in being forced to watch their Christ suffer as He did and themselves unable to share the burden. I thought of them weeping with His agony, and I could not stem my own tears.

Christ is real, my son. His Atonement is real and sure and certain. I believe often times we make it too complicated, perhaps because we cannot believe ourselves worthy of such a price, but it is so simple. It is breathtaking and beautiful. Christ suffered and died for my sins. He forgives me freely. He assures me of His love even as I fail and fail again. He offers me His strength, if I will but lean on His ample arm. His criteria is simple because His work and His glory is to bring us back to Heavenly Father. We but need to come unto Him. His yoke is easy and His burden is light. Rejoice. Surely, we must rejoice. We must shout hosannas to the most high God. These things are true, of this I testify in His name.

As part of that experience, I cannot recall the sequence, I had my Book of Mormon open to Third Nephi and was reading of the calamities to befall those in the Americas at the time of His crucifixion. Whenever I think about this, visions of volcanoes erupting and earthquakes rending the earth have filled my head, but that day, I comprehended the storm. The hurricane. As I read of the cities swallowed by the sea, I thought of the Mississippi coast devastated by the storm surge. As I read of mountains covering others, I thought of the great mud slides which happen so often in Central America in the wake of such storms, those which cover thousands of homes. When it talks of people carried away by the whirlwind, I think of the infinite videos we have seen. I think of the trees falling before it. I see the lightning that cracks the sky and the thunder which shakes the earth. I experience all this, and then I consider it must have been a ten times worse than anything I have ever experienced firsthand. I still have visions of volcanoes spewing fire to rain down from the heavens and consider the earth roiling beneath their feet, but setting it all in the face of that mighty hurricane makes it even more real for me.

I consider the aftermath, all the survivors struggling to put their lives together again, and images of destroyed families picking through the wreckage of Katrina fill my head, as do the images of a land inexorably altered by the storm. I think of all those Mormons running around with chain saws offering help to whomsoever required it, and I see those people gathered at the temple at Bountiful, perhaps there to restore and rebuild their Father’s house. Surely, Christ would show Himself to just such folk — those who recalled the promises as well as the devastation and who always remembered Him, no matter the circumstances.

Then, I think that you probably have a more profound understanding of that than anyone in our family. Now, as you busy yourself with helping the displaced and homeless from the fires, as you offer your service freely, as you ever have done, another layer of experience and understanding is added to you, and surely strengthens your testimony of Christ’s love and your own purpose. We cannot live His commandments and strive to become more like Him without our testimonies of Him strengthening as well.

I consider all these things, and I marvel. I know Heavenly Father is preparing you. He has a great work in store for you, and that is what all this is all about.

But then, you already knew that, but like I said. I’m the mom. I get to overstate the obvious. It’s one of the perks of the job.

Now, I’ve got to quit because Sister P--- and I are going to catch the nine o’clock session in the morning, and then Ariane is going to catch an afternoon session and then take the kids trick-or-treating. How’s that for a jarring segue?

I love you, darlin’. Never, ever forget it.

Mom