Grace

I've been thinking about all the different admonitions and accompanying promises in the Sermon on the Mount.  One that has always been a "favorite" of mine, or at least something I try to keep in mind, is the Lord's declaration that "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy".

There are lots of good reasons to judge other people--lots of bad behavior to accurately condemn or be irritated at, lots of habits to point out that we (legitimately) think they need to change.  Human beings are wonderful, but also have bundles of faults and mistakes.  Its easy to focus on those things.

But I've always cherished that promise, essentially,  that "if you're forgiving of and patience with others in their flaws and poor decisions, I'll be merciful to you about yours".  Those who extend grace to others will receive it from the Lord for themselves.  What a comfort.

I have my strengths, but heaven knows I've got my struggles.  I'm condescending when I'm annoyed and self-righteous when I'm angry.  I'm lazy and self-indulgent when I'm tired.  I'm viciously passive aggressive when I'm hurt.  I sometimes will thoughtlessly spout off some thought, only considering afterward how it might affect/sound to those around me.  I'm nicer to every one else than I am to my husband (I mean, I think I'm pretty nice to him most of the time, but I probably spend more time trying to "fix" him than I rightly should).  And that's just to name a few.  I am grateful for the many people in my life who are willing to focus on the things they love about me and overlook the things that may (rightly) drive them nuts.  I'm grateful for the fact that I am sure I am the recipient of the grace of others more frequently than my flawed-self even realizes.

In bearing that in mind, I try really hard to see the good in others.  I think that too often we approach relationships with the idea that "whatever a small hammer won't fix, a bigger hammer surely will".  Even if people genuinely need to change, you will be better at helping them to do that by focusing on building up their strengths (or strengthening their desire to do and be better by openly acknowledging and expressing appreciate for their good qualities) than you will by drilling away at their flaws and mistakes.

I'm a big believer in the power of positive reinforcement, for individual progress and for the relationships between individuals.  I'm a big proponent of extending to someone the biggest benefit of any doubt.  There are times when we are prompted to address a specific problem with an individual who falls under our stewardship, and there are times when someone knows that something is amiss but doesn't know what and seeks our input, but in those moments it is essential to remember that when the Lord says we will have to "reprove with sharpness" at times, he is speaking of clarity, not harshness of tone or method.  We spend so much time trying to make people understand how we feel and why we see things the way we do, when in reality we probably ought to be spending twice as much time trying to understand why others feel the way they do, why they see things the way they do.  We ought to extend to them the grace we hope for for ourselves.

I know that's what inspires me, motivates me, and pushes me to be better.  When I have realized my mistakes and am feeling terrible about where I've failed, the Lord doesn't double down and say, "That's right, you should be sorry!" even though I nearly always should know better.  No, he quietly whispers, "I love you.  You are of infinite worth. I made you, I love you, and I know you can become more than what you are at this moment. Nevertheless, I accept you just as you are at this moment.  Keep trying.  We'll get there together--I'll help."  I am so grateful for that reassuring love, so grateful for that kind patience, that I want to be better.

Most people will react to us the same way if we extend to them that Christlike grace--yes, I see your flaws, but I love you, I see all the good that is in you, and together we'll work on becoming better.  If you express your love to people--often, sincerely, and openly--and express your respect and gratitude for all the good things they are and do, they will want to be better--generally speaking people want to live up to the gracious opinions others have of them, they want to pay back in kind the love and kindness extended to them.  Grace, and mercy, are not just about forgiveness for the big things.  They're about patient, enduring love from day to day in all the little things.  Its not about just letting that little snippy comment from your spouse go, but in letting it go and then finding a way to comfort them--maybe that snippy comment was born of a hard day at work or a personal challenge or just plain old fatigue.  Its not about just enduring that one family member's annoying behavior, its about finding ways to serve them, to refocus yourself on their strengths.

The Lord is more readily able to be merciful to us when we extend mercy to others, because that continual behavior of faith shows him an obedient, understanding child;  he can see in that merciful disposition a soft heart and loving spirit.  He can see that this is not a child who needs harsh discipline and fire and brimstone to learn, but a child that is meek and anxious to learn.

It is by grace we are saved, after all we can do, and so it ought to be that most of what we do is done in an attitude of grace.  Justice is necessary, good, and eternal.  Without it, chaos would reign and all life would be miserable.  But for all the merits of eternal justice, in the end it is mercy that wins us the freedom of our souls.  The Divine sacrifice that made that mercy possible should be always on our minds as we interact with other children of God and navigate our relationships.  We would be unwise to, flawed and indebted souls such as we are, exact harsh judgments upon those around us.  It is the Lord who has paid that price for them, it is to him they owe that debt.  If the prophet can write offense after offense the people have committed against God and then, speaking on the Lord's behalf, write "For all this his anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still," then far be it from me to stay my hand of service, affection and love for much smaller, much more petty offenses.  I owe a debt far too large to then be harsh to my own debtors.  Ultimately, we are all in debt to one great benefactor, and I need his mercy as much as anyone.  Thankfully, he gives it quite freely.  

Confidence

So, kids are gathered around the kitchen table, doing homework.  Dylan finishes his math, and brings me the paper and says, "Can you correct my paper, please?"  I ask, "So do I just need to circle the ones that are wrong?"  And then comes this very Dylanesque reply: "No, you just need to mark that its all correct."

Can you tell he's not used to getting it wrong?  This confidence of his is either going to be his greatest asset or his entire undoing.  So far I don't see a lot of swagger or superiority, so I'm really, really hoping for greatest asset.  But I'm trying not to take it for granted.

For the record, it was all correct.

Parenting Tricks

Today, Keira kept bringing me the Listerine, trying to take the lid off the Listerine, and insisting she needed Listerine.

If Keilana had done the same thing at this age, I would've spent 20 minutes telling her no and eventually got the Listerine high enough that her remarkable monkey skills would've been unable to get her to it, ending with her screaming and me annoyed.

After telling Keira twice that it was yucky and still being met with annoyingly insistent begging/whining, I just gave her a teaspoon of Listerine.  Problem solved.  Everybody's happy, and I didn't waste 20 minutes of my life or have to endure an epic tantrum.  She tried her best to spit it out, and happily went along her merry little way.

You live, you learn.

Personality and Intelligence

So, I was reading an article this morning that reminded me of something that amuses me:

I have taken the SATs, the ACT, and a formal IQ test.  None of the scores match up with each other the way they "should" according to conversion charts.  I mean, they're all within a reasonably similar percentile range, but several points off of each other in one direction or the other.  I've been accused of having avoidant personality disorder more than once, and I have been identified as an INFJ, INTJ, ISFJ and INTP by various personality-type junkies I know, as well as being identified as a green personality, a blue personality and a purple personality.

So, my point here would be?  Its just funny to me that so many different people and standards of measurement have measured me so differently.  Its not that I think all these tools are totally worthless--we all have frameworks we use to help us make sense of the world and people around us, to help us figure out more effective ways to communicate with and understand each other--but perhaps its best to approach each person in our life as an individual, not a "type".  And maybe it'd be best to do that while bearing in mind that we often only see snapshots of even the people we know fairly well, and that the way we interpret those snapshots is influenced by our own intelligence, personality or agenda.

After all, there are some of these assessments about myself with which I agree, and some with which I definitely disagree.  Looking back, I can see times where my self-assessment differed with someone else's assessment and, in retrospect, the other party was probably right and I was probably wrong.  And while the most basic features of most individual's personalities remain pretty much the same through most of their lives, people are fluid, changing often and sometimes dramatically.  I ascribe to a belief system that declares that individuals can, for good or ill, change their very natures.  Don't get stuck in a label, for yourself or for someone else.

Safeguarding Faith

One of the stories in the scriptures that has long fascinated me is the account of the Savior walking on water, and Peter's attempt to join him.  We focus--and rightly so--on the fact that shortly after stepping onto the water, Peter wavered, he fell into the water, and the Savior reached down and lifted him up with the words, "O ye of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?"

Here's the thing about it that always sticks with me:  Peter had the faith to get out of the boat--in a sometimes tumultuous sea, far from the shore, he hopped over the side without life jacket or life boat and took a few steps on water, and then sunk below the waves.  As far as we know, he is the only person beside the Savior who ever walked on water.  If the Savior referred to Peter, who had just walked on water, albeit briefly, as "ye of little faith", how much bucking up could our faith possibly use?

It also reminds us that having the faith to take the first step does not guarantee us the ability to run across the water's top--faith must be bolstered continuously, step by step, never wavering.  If you waver for a moment, you could slip under the water and find yourself tossed about by the waves.

In our moments of "little faith", we thankfully have the same rescuer at our side that Peter had at his: Jesus Christ.  He may gently rebuke our lack of faith, after all the time we have spent with his companionship and the miracles we have seen him perform, but if we simply reach up and call for aid, he will not let us drown.  He will not abandon us to destruction simply because we sometimes lose our footing. "Be it unto thee according to thy faith", he said.  He will help in any and every way he can, but much depends on what you do with your agency--agency that, for all the power he wields, he will not usurp.  Peter, and the revelatory Priesthood he so honorably bore, became the rock of foundation on which the Savior built his church at the conclusion of his earthly ministry.  Certainly he can make more of you than you now are.

When he calls to you, have the faith to get out of that boat.  And then keep the faith, step by step, so that you keep that head of yours above water.

Experience

I've been thinking this last week about how much control we have over what happens in our lives, and about how much the decisions and actions of those around us, and simple happenstance over which none of us has any real control, affects what experiences we have in life.

I went to a stake training meeting last Saturday (though I haven't been set apart yet, I was called to serve as the education councilor in the ward Relief Society), and there was some discussion of making sure that sisters are prepared for helping to dress bodies for funerals, should the need arise (and in an aging ward and aging stake, it arises often).  They asked everyone who had had the opportunity to offer that service to a family to raise their hand.  Several sisters expressed mild surprise to see my hand go up (as is often the case--and I'm starting to get used to it--I was the youngest one in the room by about 10 years, maybe 15.  Someday I'm going to be the old lady in the room and its going to completely catch me off guard).

Along with one of my cousins (who actually has the same calling as I do at the moment, in her own ward, ha!), I dressed my grandma's body for her funeral.  When my grandma passed away, she had been only half-active for many years, and I don't think anyone knew when she had last been to the temple (several decades at the very least), but I expressed my thought that she should be buried in temple clothing.  I wasn't sure how that advice would be received, since only two of my grandma's children identified themselves explicitly as LDS anymore--and one of them was completely out of sorts due to Alzheimer's, and the other has never been through the temple herself.  To my delight, they all agreed that that was a good idea.  But because of the directions that most other members of the family have chosen for their lives, myself and my one cousin were the only active, temple-endowed sisters close enough to perform that service, so with the help of a dear family friend and a member of the ward Relief Society presidency, Alyssa and I dressed Grandma.  I think we both hold very dear the memory of sharing that sacred experience of offering together that simple but important act of sacred service to the woman who had given so much in service to us.

That got me thinking about a few other experiences I've had that were a bit unusual for my age and circumstances.  I have had the privilege of serving as an escort to one friend as she received her Endowment, and the responsibility of being a witness for another at a disciplinary council.  I certainly never expected either of those things, particularly by this point in my life, but there I found myself. Going through the temple with my very best and oldest friend has been one of the most precious and profound experiences of my life.  On the other hand, in a way that is difficult to explain (at least here, in this context), the very different experience of going to that disciplinary council is also an experience that I cherish.  Few things have so taught me the value of following the guidance of the Spirit, and taking the long-view;  few things have better taught me the true meaning and value of love, and that hope is not usually about the immediate, but the eternal.  Hope is more resilient than fear or anger.  I know that deep in my soul, partly in thanks to that experience.  The contrast in those experiences has taught me more about myself, and about Christlike love, for while I certainly have more in common with one of those girls than I do the other, am much closer to one at this point, I love both of them equally, I can see the tremendous good in each of them.  Sometimes I remind myself that when someone is choosing something other than what I think they should.

And the experience that always comes back to me, that tugs at me often and heavily:  of having to go through the grief of losing our baby nephew and striving to find some way, any way, to comfort and be a friend to his grieving mother, and to speak at his funeral and try to convey that love, that wonderful personality of his, to a roomful of people. That is one experience that I hope never to have to repeat.  But I am grateful for what it taught me.  For all it took from us, I am indeed grateful for what it gave us--first and foremost, little Claire, my mischievous delight, whom we likely would never have known if Conner hadn't been taken.  I am grateful for that baptism of fire that made me a better friend, a better wife, a more appreciative sister, and a much better mother.  I am grateful for the ways in which it strengthened my testimony of our Father's love, and, nearly as importantly, his wisdom.  I'm grateful for the strange way in which the outpouring of love gave several others a safe place to express their own pains, to feel loved and so to move forward.

I'm grateful that Amanda asked me to speak:  I had never been one, by nature or, frankly, by training, to be open with my thoughts or feelings.  I had always been very reticent to share those things with others.  But as I prepared for that responsibility, I felt keenly that it would be a great disservice to Conner, to Amanda, and to everyone else present, to be anything less than completely forward and open.  I had the opportunity to share my feelings completely and honesty, unashamed by emotion, to share my testimony boldly and without reservation, and the love and spirit of those present there that day helped me to see how such things can lift, serve and help others.  It wasn't long after that experience that, with the help of a few clear promptings from the Spirit, I started this blog.

So what's my point?  There's a lot that we can control in life, so we ought to take care to make wise decisions.  But there is so very, very much that is out of our control, so the the most important decisions we make are about who we will be, what sort of person we will make ourself into, so that whatever experiences come to us in life, we can, with the Lord's guidance, make them for our "profit and learning".  If we choose to be teachable, all things truly can work together for our good, the wonderful blessings and the uphill challenges alike.  Experiences in our lives, including those that don't necessarily come because of our own choices, have the impact on us that we choose to let them have.  My experiences have taught me a little more all the time the importance of trusting in God, and not leaning on my own understanding.

The beautiful truth in that is that as I have trusted in God, my own understanding has increased.  That chosen reliance on him also increases my own capacity for understanding and growth.  Eternal progress starts now.  The only agency you control is your own.

The joy of old houses. . .

We discovered a few days after moving in that the oven on the awesome vintage stove in our house wasn't working.  So for the almost two months we've been living here, we've had no oven and it turns out the repair man can't find the right parts for the ancient stove, so its whole awesomeness must be discarded.  Sad about that, but glad that hopefully by some time this coming week, I will have a functional oven.

Saturday afternoon, I had a meeting to attend in Butte, so I left with the dishes not yet done.  When I got home and got kids to bed, I went to do dishes and the water wouldn't heat up.  Doug crawled down into the basement (and by "basement" I mostly mean "covered hole in the ground") and discovered that the pilot light on the water heater had gone out.  Thought that was weird, got it relit, did the dishes and went to bed.

Then we woke up to get everyone ready for church on Sunday morning, and again water wouldn't heat up.  The pilot light had gone out again.  So I bathed the little girls and I as best I could in tepid water and went to church.  A repairman from NorthWest Energy stopped by on Monday, cleaned everything on the water heater really well and called it good.  A few hours after he left, we had to relight it in order to do dishes and bathe the kids.  So that's what we've been doing all week--Doug would crawl down to the basement and light the pilot, I'd wait 15-20 minutes and then bathe kids or do dishes.  Finally, yesterday morning, a plumber came out and checked it out and replaced the thermocouple and thought that would do it.  It still won't stay lit, and now even when it does light, the water isn't actually getting hot--luke warm at best.  And its Friday:  wanna take any bets on whether or not we get a repairman here before the the weekend starts?

Sigh.  Just in time for the 30 degree weather and a couple of inches of snow on the ground, we can't get any hot water.  Maybe I should brave the roads ands spend the gas money and go to mom's house for the weekend.