The Joys of Service

"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 chairman -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

Mormon Messages: Why Mormons Build Temples

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

Tribute to Carissa Part 2

The Stone Cut Out of a Mountain

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

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

The Power of Fellowship

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

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

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

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