My heart has been befriended
defended,
by those who've gone before
They call to me,
like distant, rolling thunder
"You cannot be outnumbered"
"You're standing with the Lord,
and he keeps watch over his own."
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Symbols
Every year around Christmas and Easter, I see several posts about how the celebration of the holidays--their timing, their symbols, and sometimes even their names--have their roots in pagan Roman societies.
I have no intention of arguing with the historical record, as I believe it is more or less accurate in these respects. I simply see it as another evidence that God can make the decisions of even those who claim to oppose or not believe in him serve his larger purposes. As he firmly reminds us, his ways are not our ways, his thoughts are not our thoughts: he sees a much, much bigger picture and is playing a much longer game.
I do not think that it is an accident of fate that Christmas is celebrated just after the longest night of the year. In the dark, cold nights, we look to a baby that brought a promise of greater light, a hope that the cold winters of life will not last forever. Nor do I think it is coincidence that we celebrate Easter in the spring; as the world comes alive again and the days get longer and warmer, the sun shines brighter and the cold of winter melts away, we turn our thoughts to the grown man, who conquered death and darkness and brought new life and greater light.
If he had to work through corrupt Roman emperors for things to work out that way, I've no problem believing he's capable of that.
I have no intention of arguing with the historical record, as I believe it is more or less accurate in these respects. I simply see it as another evidence that God can make the decisions of even those who claim to oppose or not believe in him serve his larger purposes. As he firmly reminds us, his ways are not our ways, his thoughts are not our thoughts: he sees a much, much bigger picture and is playing a much longer game.
I do not think that it is an accident of fate that Christmas is celebrated just after the longest night of the year. In the dark, cold nights, we look to a baby that brought a promise of greater light, a hope that the cold winters of life will not last forever. Nor do I think it is coincidence that we celebrate Easter in the spring; as the world comes alive again and the days get longer and warmer, the sun shines brighter and the cold of winter melts away, we turn our thoughts to the grown man, who conquered death and darkness and brought new life and greater light.
If he had to work through corrupt Roman emperors for things to work out that way, I've no problem believing he's capable of that.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
On vision. . .
If a man were born blind, or were to go blind through no fault of his own, I would not think his blindness was the result of some moral failure on his part. I would not judge him for being frustrated by the severe limitations imposed upon him by his condition, nor would I pretend that I would handle it any better were I in his position, or try to equivocate my own difficulties with his: some trials are objectively harder than others. I wouldn't insult his intelligence or his faith by insisting that if he were just faithful and obedient enough, if he just prayed a little harder and desired a little more sincerely, he would be able to see. Certainly, I believe that the Lord, through his power and his Atonement, has the ability to provide such cures, but for whatever reasons, he usually lets us endure such trials throughout the entire length of our mortal lives. I would not undertake to lecture such a man on what he ought to be learning from his affliction, nor for what cause the Lord gave him such a trial.
I would respect tremendously the blind man who would strive to recognize and acknowledge not only the blessings he has in spite of his ever-present struggle, but the blessings he has because of it. I would not condemn him or look upon him with contempt or impatience if, on the other hand, he shut him self up in his house in frustration, giving in to the darkness and refusing--at least for a time--to navigate the outside world in any meaningful way. Who among us hasn't had such a thought, at least in passing, under much less oppressive trials?
But, if he celebrated his blindness as ideal, tried to convince others that a life in darkness was better than a life of full sight, I wouldn't hesitate to tell him--pleasantly, but firmly--that he was wrong. I would feel nothing but compassion for the fact that he couldn't see the flowers and mountains and ocean, but I would not concede that it would be better to not have the gift of visually beholding creation. We don't punish ourselves for having mortal frailties that cause us to fall short of the ideal (are we not all beggars?), but we also don't push the ideal aside and deny its truthfulness because we're frustrated that we're not there yet, and, in our more frustrated moments, falter in our faith that we ever can be.
Instead, we clear our spiritual vision, look to that ideal, and renew our faith that there is Grace to heal frailties, Grace to reconcile failures, Grace to salve our wounds. The challenges of this life and these as-yet-imperfect bodies and spirits, are not the things that will last eternally. If we will turn to him in our frustration, hurt, loneliness or faltering steps--rather than away from him--no good thing, no righteous desire or eternal blessing, will be withheld from us. And I suspect that when we are more complete in our knowledge and understanding, we will find that those blessings were never as far away as we had supposed.
I would respect tremendously the blind man who would strive to recognize and acknowledge not only the blessings he has in spite of his ever-present struggle, but the blessings he has because of it. I would not condemn him or look upon him with contempt or impatience if, on the other hand, he shut him self up in his house in frustration, giving in to the darkness and refusing--at least for a time--to navigate the outside world in any meaningful way. Who among us hasn't had such a thought, at least in passing, under much less oppressive trials?
But, if he celebrated his blindness as ideal, tried to convince others that a life in darkness was better than a life of full sight, I wouldn't hesitate to tell him--pleasantly, but firmly--that he was wrong. I would feel nothing but compassion for the fact that he couldn't see the flowers and mountains and ocean, but I would not concede that it would be better to not have the gift of visually beholding creation. We don't punish ourselves for having mortal frailties that cause us to fall short of the ideal (are we not all beggars?), but we also don't push the ideal aside and deny its truthfulness because we're frustrated that we're not there yet, and, in our more frustrated moments, falter in our faith that we ever can be.
Instead, we clear our spiritual vision, look to that ideal, and renew our faith that there is Grace to heal frailties, Grace to reconcile failures, Grace to salve our wounds. The challenges of this life and these as-yet-imperfect bodies and spirits, are not the things that will last eternally. If we will turn to him in our frustration, hurt, loneliness or faltering steps--rather than away from him--no good thing, no righteous desire or eternal blessing, will be withheld from us. And I suspect that when we are more complete in our knowledge and understanding, we will find that those blessings were never as far away as we had supposed.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Fairy Tales
I read a comment on a blog recently decrying the sexism of fairy tales: the story always focuses on the princess not because of her importance, but because she is an object to be won, a prize for the brave prince to collect once he's done the "real work". What a misguided interpretation. There are real dragons out there--kind, determined princesses and brave, selfless princes are more needed than ever.
Evil often focuses its efforts on young girls with a special intensity. Girls become wives and mothers, and whatever post-modern feminism may have to say about the matter, there is no greater power or influence in life than that, and so if the young girls can be destroyed--or at least distracted by lesser things--it becomes much easier for evil to thrive.
A thought that comes to mind often as I raise my three young girls is a quote from President Hinckley: "When you save a girl, you save generations. I see this as the one bright shining hope in a world that is marching toward moral self-destruction."
The essential truth in these fairy tales--one that we need to be more mindful of--is that, if you can save the princesses, the kingdom will prosper, but if they are lost, there isn't much hope for anyone.
Evil often focuses its efforts on young girls with a special intensity. Girls become wives and mothers, and whatever post-modern feminism may have to say about the matter, there is no greater power or influence in life than that, and so if the young girls can be destroyed--or at least distracted by lesser things--it becomes much easier for evil to thrive.
A thought that comes to mind often as I raise my three young girls is a quote from President Hinckley: "When you save a girl, you save generations. I see this as the one bright shining hope in a world that is marching toward moral self-destruction."
The essential truth in these fairy tales--one that we need to be more mindful of--is that, if you can save the princesses, the kingdom will prosper, but if they are lost, there isn't much hope for anyone.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Slacker, slacker
So, I never got up any photos/writing about Keira's birthday. Or Dylan's. Or spring break. And now I'm back in school, and should probably be doing statistics homework instead of this. Truth is, I never even got photos imported into the computer, much less uploaded here. Maybe I'll get to all of it around Keilana's birthday.
Its been a long few months. Lots of extended family in and out of the hospital, lots of heartbreak for others, a couple of unexpected losses, and lots of schoolwork for me, schoolwork for kids, wrestling practices, skiing trips, church activities, slightly oppressive weather, instrument practice, chores, errands, meetings, projects and deadlines. I'll admit, there's been more than one occasion where I was tempted to quit everything and be homeschooling subsistence farmers. It sounds sort of awesome, actually. And we aren't even to the hard part yet--there's nary a teenager to be found around here. But its been pretty tiring nonetheless.
I am ready for sunshine. The kids are definitely ready for sunshine. I'm ready for homework to end and to stop commuting four days a week. All things considered, the semester (and the year) have gone pretty smoothly. But I have five weeks left--I just have to focus for five more weeks--and the classes will be done, nursing school application will be finished, the sun will (most likely) be shining and the snow all gone, I'll get a new tire for my stroller and I'll find my camera again, and my journal, and my blog. Multiple weeks have gone by where I haven't written anything other than lab reports and probability statements. Whole months have gone by where I never even took my camera out of its bag. I used to spend so much time documenting my kids and just being outside with them. But they have school, and I have school, and everything is busy and we're cooped up in this house too often and, even though I have prayed and prayed and always felt at peace with our decisions right now, sometimes I feel like I can literally watch my time with them slipping away, without even documenting it to help me remember when its gone. My baby is 3, and my oldest is skiing and playing violin and starting to think of her bike like a car ("Hey, if mom would let me, I could get anywhere on this thing!"). I love watching them grow up and I certainly wouldn't have them stop or slow down. But I do sometimes wish that I could slow down and soak it up a little more.
Five more weeks. And then 3 1/2 glorious months where the only things on my plate are a massive family reunion (but really, for as many people as we have involved, its pretty low-key), and being a mom. I wish we had more time/money to go visiting family this summer, but I'm afraid we have a few things coming up that are going to sap a good chunk of our summer budget, so we'll see. Maybe next summer we can see California again, but hopefully we'll at least cross paths with some of them at baptisms in other places.
Five more weeks. Then I promise--really, truly--to be here more often.
Its been a long few months. Lots of extended family in and out of the hospital, lots of heartbreak for others, a couple of unexpected losses, and lots of schoolwork for me, schoolwork for kids, wrestling practices, skiing trips, church activities, slightly oppressive weather, instrument practice, chores, errands, meetings, projects and deadlines. I'll admit, there's been more than one occasion where I was tempted to quit everything and be homeschooling subsistence farmers. It sounds sort of awesome, actually. And we aren't even to the hard part yet--there's nary a teenager to be found around here. But its been pretty tiring nonetheless.
I am ready for sunshine. The kids are definitely ready for sunshine. I'm ready for homework to end and to stop commuting four days a week. All things considered, the semester (and the year) have gone pretty smoothly. But I have five weeks left--I just have to focus for five more weeks--and the classes will be done, nursing school application will be finished, the sun will (most likely) be shining and the snow all gone, I'll get a new tire for my stroller and I'll find my camera again, and my journal, and my blog. Multiple weeks have gone by where I haven't written anything other than lab reports and probability statements. Whole months have gone by where I never even took my camera out of its bag. I used to spend so much time documenting my kids and just being outside with them. But they have school, and I have school, and everything is busy and we're cooped up in this house too often and, even though I have prayed and prayed and always felt at peace with our decisions right now, sometimes I feel like I can literally watch my time with them slipping away, without even documenting it to help me remember when its gone. My baby is 3, and my oldest is skiing and playing violin and starting to think of her bike like a car ("Hey, if mom would let me, I could get anywhere on this thing!"). I love watching them grow up and I certainly wouldn't have them stop or slow down. But I do sometimes wish that I could slow down and soak it up a little more.
Five more weeks. And then 3 1/2 glorious months where the only things on my plate are a massive family reunion (but really, for as many people as we have involved, its pretty low-key), and being a mom. I wish we had more time/money to go visiting family this summer, but I'm afraid we have a few things coming up that are going to sap a good chunk of our summer budget, so we'll see. Maybe next summer we can see California again, but hopefully we'll at least cross paths with some of them at baptisms in other places.
Five more weeks. Then I promise--really, truly--to be here more often.
Monday, March 17, 2014
2 steps forward. . .
Lately, something about myself has really been annoying me, but I haven't had the energy or focus to figure out what exactly it was. Yesterday, it finally dawned on me.
The regular teacher was sick yesterday, so I had to teach Relief Society for the second time this month. After the lesson I thought to myself, "Geez, it seems like I talked about myself a lot during that lesson". I ended up feeling the same way after the last lesson. I didn't have as much time to prepare as I like for either lesson, and that's always a tendency I have under those circumstances (not as much prep=more nerves=more self-consciousness=thinking/talking about myself). Don't get me wrong, its not that I spent the whole lesson talking about me or that anything that I said was inappropriate or irrelevant, but I usually make it a point not to focus much on my own experiences during lessons or talks, instead trying to draw primarily from the scriptures/manual and other peoples' experiences. I was also more emotional during both lessons than is generally my habit, too.
And then I realized what's been bugging me: I've been talking way too much. Talking about me, talking over people. Not necessarily actually sharing more, just talking more. Its a habit I've had since I was a child, when I first realized that people were sometimes offended or bewildered by my quiet, I would overcompensate by overtaking because I didn't want them to think I was unfriendly. Filling up all the air with noise also provides a way to not think--I think best by writing, or by simply being completely silent while my hands/body are accomplishing menial tasks that don't require much conscious focus. Talking jumbles my thoughts, rather than ordering them.
Its been a busy semester. I have anatomy and physiology, chemistry, and statistics (none of those is exactly a "blow-off class", to say the least), as well as an introductory nursing class. On top of that, there have been several big emotional blows the last few months, things I didn't want to be real, and talking too much about all kinds of things don't actually matter keep my mind distracted so that I don't have to deal with it.
The good news is, now I've figured out what the problem is, I shouldn't have too much trouble addressing it. It should've been obvious, but I'm afraid I've been running on low a bit.
Its been pretty busy the last few months, but I'm on spring break this week, so I'll try to get some updates posted. I missed Dylan's birthday, and today Keira Belle turns 3!! I probably sound a little gloomy this morning, but we've actually had a pretty good couple months at our house (other than being snowed in a few times, which admittedly would've been much more fun if we had a real yard or lived closer to a good sledding hill). I'll find time for some fun stuff this week.
The regular teacher was sick yesterday, so I had to teach Relief Society for the second time this month. After the lesson I thought to myself, "Geez, it seems like I talked about myself a lot during that lesson". I ended up feeling the same way after the last lesson. I didn't have as much time to prepare as I like for either lesson, and that's always a tendency I have under those circumstances (not as much prep=more nerves=more self-consciousness=thinking/talking about myself). Don't get me wrong, its not that I spent the whole lesson talking about me or that anything that I said was inappropriate or irrelevant, but I usually make it a point not to focus much on my own experiences during lessons or talks, instead trying to draw primarily from the scriptures/manual and other peoples' experiences. I was also more emotional during both lessons than is generally my habit, too.
And then I realized what's been bugging me: I've been talking way too much. Talking about me, talking over people. Not necessarily actually sharing more, just talking more. Its a habit I've had since I was a child, when I first realized that people were sometimes offended or bewildered by my quiet, I would overcompensate by overtaking because I didn't want them to think I was unfriendly. Filling up all the air with noise also provides a way to not think--I think best by writing, or by simply being completely silent while my hands/body are accomplishing menial tasks that don't require much conscious focus. Talking jumbles my thoughts, rather than ordering them.
Its been a busy semester. I have anatomy and physiology, chemistry, and statistics (none of those is exactly a "blow-off class", to say the least), as well as an introductory nursing class. On top of that, there have been several big emotional blows the last few months, things I didn't want to be real, and talking too much about all kinds of things don't actually matter keep my mind distracted so that I don't have to deal with it.
The good news is, now I've figured out what the problem is, I shouldn't have too much trouble addressing it. It should've been obvious, but I'm afraid I've been running on low a bit.
Its been pretty busy the last few months, but I'm on spring break this week, so I'll try to get some updates posted. I missed Dylan's birthday, and today Keira Belle turns 3!! I probably sound a little gloomy this morning, but we've actually had a pretty good couple months at our house (other than being snowed in a few times, which admittedly would've been much more fun if we had a real yard or lived closer to a good sledding hill). I'll find time for some fun stuff this week.
Monday, March 10, 2014
There have been moments (days?) when I have wondered WHY I love my husband. But I've never had a moment where I wondered IF I love my husband.
I'm grateful that I love him and he loves me, and even if we've had moments, days, or even weeks where we made each other crazy or failed to handle our stress graciously, neither of us has ever honestly believed we'd be better off without each other. We always come back to feeling grateful for each other--glad to have someone who believes in us in our corner, putting up with our flaws and our crazy.
I'm not sure why we've been blessed this way, but I'm grateful that we have. And I pray for those who are not so lucky. <3>
I'm grateful that I love him and he loves me, and even if we've had moments, days, or even weeks where we made each other crazy or failed to handle our stress graciously, neither of us has ever honestly believed we'd be better off without each other. We always come back to feeling grateful for each other--glad to have someone who believes in us in our corner, putting up with our flaws and our crazy.
I'm not sure why we've been blessed this way, but I'm grateful that we have. And I pray for those who are not so lucky. <3>
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