Growing

Nobody told me how hard it would be to watch my children grow older. They anxiously wait for days ahead, anticipating future events as if they are gifts to open on Christmas morning.  But when I reflect back in time to when they were younger, my heart is filled with a homesickness that knows no remedy for healing. Time is a thief and sometimes my heart aches like I’ve been robbed!

Our second daughter, Riley, became a teenager today.  For thirteen years we have been blessed to nurture her, guide her, and prepare her to someday fly on her own.  At thirteen, sometimes it can be oh so hard to discover all the flecks of gold that exist in a soul.  As she grows older, many will benefit from those flecks within but the real value may never fully be realized by her.  As she blesses those around her and discovers the gifts she’s been given from God, those flecks will make a difference to those who associate with her. I see them.  Her dad sees them.  They shimmer and shine and have blessed me for 13 years!  I pray she will learn to see them.  When she does, she will be a force for good in a world that would blind her from seeing value in who she is as a daughter of an omnipotent Father in Heaven.

It is my belief and faith that Riley’s spirit existed long before she was born on this Earth.  From the second I held her, I knew her spirit had not been formed inside me.  She was God’s daughter, born in His image and countenance.  Her personality has been constant from the beginning. She is not a result of her present circumstance, she is who she has always been and she will continue to be who she is forever.  I don’t understand how or why she is my daughter, but I know I am blessed to be her mother. 

The past few months it has become very apparent to me that my children are not just mine.  I have always known this, even before they were born.  But recently, I have felt like I am facing a brick wall and the only way to go forward is to knock down that brick wall, only I’m not sure how in the world it can be done.  No matter how hard I try to push, lean into or walk through a brick wall, I continually discover that it cannot be done! I am left to myself and the reality of what I cannot do.  Miraculously, when I pray to a loving Heavenly Father, He provides a way for me to get through.  He often reminds me that He is not just my Father, my God, but He is theirs.  He knows their hearts, their goodness, their gifts and their struggles.  He is waiting for me to ask Him for help to help them. He is constant and unchanging.

I care very little about my kids’ future occupations, salaries or bank account.  I want them to be successful, but I recognize through my own life experiences that true success is not measured by material means. I yearn for them to discover life lessons that matter; that kindness is a rare virtue that comes through sacrifice and a willing heart, that the flecks of gold that will be of so much worth to those around them are already in them waiting to be discovered, that their value comes from within and always has, that Light is always stronger than darkness...always, even if the light is dim at the moment.  But they have to discover these things for themselves, just as I have been doing.  They have to make choices according to what their heart sees as Truth.  They have to search within themselves and even struggle in order to learn.  And I have to let them.  I have to watch them feel the raw pain and loneliness of self-discovery.  You can’t buy what I speak of, it must be found.  And it is challenging, not just at thirteen.

No thing fills me with more joy than knowing that my children are God’s children.  Few Truths give me more comfort than knowing that our eternal lives are fully orchestrated by a loving Heavenly Father who knows us perfectly. There are no accidents, no coincidences.  He is aware and ever present in our lives whether we acknowledge Him as such or not.

Because I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of latter-day Saints, I believe and know that my children will be mine forever.  Death has no sting.  There is no end. Because of this, I know my children will be His children forever, as well.  God is the same today, yesterday, and forever.

Opinions

At some point in my life I made a decision to commit my life to God. I'm pretty sure  this took place in a holy temple where I made a covenant to consecrate my life to Him; although informally, I believe it happened much earlier than that day. In my faith, we believe in prophets and apostles, as in the New Testament days of Jesus Christ. God's will is known among men as it is addressed through His chosen prophets. I also believe in ancient prophets and words of scripture, "whether it be from God's voice or His servants, it is the same." I believe that to be true.

I realize my beliefs are vastly different from general public opinion. But through personal experience and exercising faith in my beliefs, they are, nonetheless, what I have come to know as truth. Because of this, when our prophet speaks, I listen. I have my own opinions, I can't help that, I happen to be very opinionated. I don't always see things the same, at first. But in the grand scheme of things, my opinion hardly matters. You see, I believe in a prophet of God, Thomas Monson. And that belief encompasses the truth that God communicates to His children through Thomas Monson. Who am I to weigh my opinion against God's? Who am I to throw a temper tantrum and say, enough is enough, this is wrong! Who am I to think He just doesn't know what it's like. Who am I to think I know best?

We live in a time period where it is no longer believed to be sound-minded to turn to a higher power for revealed Truth. I recognize this. But now, more than ever, is when the voice of a Prophet is needed. Thank goodness, I don't have to rely on my own understanding to receive guidance and counsel regarding how He operates His church. Do I have my opinions? Of course I do. I am not a robot who goes into auto-pilot mode thinking and feeling exactly the way I'm told to think and feel. Sometimes I don't understand. Sometimes I worry about the implications a decision may cause me and my family. I can be very defensive. Sometimes, I cringe at the thought of having to defend one more principle or practice that is contrary to what is popular or what is easily accepted by society. Marriage and family, these things seem to be universally accepted as important.  Prophets and apostles...people either assume you are crazy or a part of some cultish religion that will end in a mass suicide. You know you were thinking it...

Facebook is often reminding me that I have notifications in my newsfeed. But when I logged on this morning, and read all the opinions of others, I had an overwhelming feeling that none of their opinions really mattered either. It's great there is an outlet for people to vent, persuade and even convince. But to what end? Do any of us really know better than our neighbor, or the person who insists on being combative to our ideas or thoughts? To assume I have THE ultimate answer on any given subject is arrogant, yet ignorant. I certainly don't feel any opinion of mine contains that much relevance and importance to the vast population of the world or universe. But I do believe in an all-knowing God whose does.

Because I am LDS, I will not place my opinions or any others before God's word. I will accept His will and humble my heart as I trust in Him and sustain those who guide me. At the end of the day, I know He cares about my heart and even my opinion.  Because even though I know my opinion matters very little in the scheme of things, I know it matters to Him. And that matters to me. 

Baptism

I was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was eight years old in Everett, Washington.  I can’t remember all of the details, but I certainly remember some.  I remember that my grandma came from out of state, I received my first copy of the Book of Mormon signed by my bishop, my family went out to eat at Round Table Pizza afterwards, my dad went to church the next day, my mom had written a song about Baptism and sang it with the other mom whose daughter was baptized that day; I remember that when I received my first set up scriptures I opened them up to the very page that had the verse that was on my baptism program.  At the time, that was special to me.  Most of all, I remember how I felt so happy on that spring day in 1986.

We believe in baptism by immersion, fully immersing our bodies under the water.  This symbolizes the death, burial and resurrection of Christ.  In the Bible we learn this is how John the Baptist baptized Jesus. Through baptism, we receive a remission of sins, we gain membership into the Church and we make it possible for us to return to live with God.  Baptism is the first saving ordinance.  An ordinance is a sacred, formal act performed by someone who has authority from God.  When we are baptized, a covenant is made.  A covenant is a promise made with God.  At baptism, we promise to keep His commandments, always remember Him and take His name upon us.  He promises to forgive our sins and He allows the Spirit to always be with us.

I have had the privilege of witnessing three of my own little 8 year olds take this giant step in their lives.  With each one, I have wondered if they were old enough to understand the implications of the covenant they were making with God.  I certainly didn’t want them to take this step because I was forcing them to do it.  I wanted it to be from their own free will and choice.  The past several months we have been preparing our son, Luke, for baptism.  We’ve tried to teach him the importance, what it means, and how it can bless his life.  On Friday night, I found some alone time with Luke and I sat him down and told him, “Luke, you know you don’t have to be baptized tomorrow.”  He looked at me like “who are you and what have you done with my mom?” I told him this was an important decision that he was old enough to make on his own, but if he didn’t want to do it, it would be okay.  He said in return, “I want to be baptized. I want to live with Jesus again.”

His baptism was yesterday.  He was so happy.  He felt special all day long.  Many people came to support him.  I’m not sure what he’ll remember of it when he’s my age, but I hope he remembers how he felt, because I know he felt so much happiness and love. These feelings are such a testament to why I believe as I do.

This morning, I was reading in my bed and Luke came running into my room and jumped on my bed.  He said, “Mom, when do I get to make my second covenant?”

He felt so good with the first promise he made to Heavenly Father, he can hardly wait for the next.  My own heart was filled with joy.

Because I am a Mormon, I believe in baptism by immersion by the proper authority.  It is sacred.  It is a reminder of a personal commitment to Jesus Christ. And now, for Luke, he has his own reminder.  I hope he never forgets.

My Miracle

Today is Easter. I awoke this morning and had so many thoughts running
through my mind, I wanted to try and make sense of them and the best way
for me to do that is to write.

In our family we have been praying for a miracle since early February.
I had severe nerve damage to my inner ear and suddenly, my hearing and
vestibular system were shot. My body didn't know which way was forward,
backward, up or down. In a second, my life changed. Of course, at the
time, I thought all of this was temporary. I was told it was an
infection that would clear up in 7-10 days. But time came and went and I
was still left with no hearing in my left ear and was wheelchair bound.
I've also experienced a relentless tinnitus who knows no quitting, and
it has frustrated me beyond anything I have ever experienced in my
life. There was no calm, no solace. After some testing, it was
determined this was not caused by an infection or virus, but rather my
nerves were damaged and my condition was likely permanent. And the
prayers increased. Countless people have been praying for me, and I am
so grateful. I've exercised my faith greater than ever before in my
life, but no hearing has been restored. No miracle.

Or, some may think.

When something knocks you down, like this did for me, all of a sudden, I
started recognizing others' perceptions. People said, "You are a good
person, God will heal you." Or, "If you have faith, you will be
healed." Or, "I told God I would do this or that if He would heal me and
He did." Or, "Be obedient and stay strong, and you will be healed."
Or pertaining to others' miracles, "she was healed because her faith was
so great, how could He not heal her?" Well, I happen to have learned
from other life experiences, that none of these statements are entirely
true.

What about my faith? My obedience?

I know I'm not perfect by any means, but I have spent my lifetime
trying to be obedient and increase my faith. From the second I was sent
into a whirling cyclone of chaos, I have never questioned my Heavenly
Father's love or ability to hear my prayers. I have never questioned
His ability and power to heal me. I have always known that if it was
God's will to make me whole, that I would be healed. Yet, very humbled
by this, I have prayed that He would help my unbelief; that my faith
would increase even more; that I would have the faith required to
receive this miracle and my hearing could be restored.

It hasn't yet been restored. But here's the thing: I have received a miracle.

After living a month in this condition, I became discouraged. Accepting
this could be my life, I began to grieve and my outlook was very bleak.
Besides people, I had lost something I valued more than just
about anything else in this life: my ability to hear music. This seemed
worse than cutting off my leg or my arm. The hours I had spent at my
piano, the time and money I'd invested in voice lessons, the blessings
that had come to my life through music are too many to number. My sure
way to always obtain peace was through music. Suddenly something I
loved so much became a source of pain and intense frustration to my ear.
Chords, which at one time seemed to make everything right in the world,
were suddenly dissonant with no hope for resolve. My kids told me I was off-key when I sang along to anything.  I went to a production of my most favorite music in the whole world last month and it was probably THE most depressing day since all of this happened. I couldn't hear. I didn't want to live like this. I wanted a miracle! Why not me? If the Seattle Seahawks can win the Superbowl, surely I can have this miracle, too? (Maybe its asking for too much in the same year haha!) I kept thinking, who CAN live like this? And I was right. No one should live that miserable and hopeless. My prayers had always been for healing, but they transitioned into praying for my body to tolerate its condition, that I might live in peace and gratitude and JOY--all things I had been lacking.

This is when I began to see my miracle unfolding.

I've learned there are many others, far worse off than me. I've learned
to be so very, very, very grateful for my good ear, and my eyes and
mouth and every body part, really. I've learned compassion for those
who suffer. I've learned that even when someone appears to be fine,
they may be dealing with something very difficult and that it is best to
always be patient, gentle and kind. I've learned to be positive and to keep from spilling my sorrows to any listening ear.  I've learned my brain can compensate and my body is slowly learning a new normal.

It isn't our pain that keeps us from living the life we want most; it is our choice to suffer that kills it.

On this Easter morning, my miracle is that I can't help but feel peace, gratitude and joy beyond measure.

Jesus Christ is the Miracle.

He also prayed to the Father and asked that the bitter cup be removed,
but nevertheless, God's will be done. He willingly suffered for us,
even though He didn't want to--if it wasn't necessary. But it was
necessary. For us. Because of His suffering, we can turn to Him and He
will carry our burden. He rose from the dead, and He lives. Because
He lives, we may live again. Because He lives, I will hear again, no
question.  Why do we not turn to Him with our sins and obtain forgiveness and relief from guilt. Why do we not turn to Him when trials are too much to bear and obtain peace.

          “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” Matthew 11:28–30

Because I am a Mormon...I know He is the Son of God; that He
suffered not only for my sins, but for my pain and sadness. As easy as
He can take my sins from me, He can take my sorrow, if I turn to Him.

I know there are many who suffer from heartache much greater than
hearing loss. But I believe in Jesus Christ and His power and ability
to heal; even that we may not feel the burdens upon our back, no matter
what the suffering may be.

I can't tell you how many people have commented to me in the past month
how they are happy to see me getting better. Its funny, because my
hearing loss is as profound as it was on February 6th. Not a day has
gone by that I haven't woken up in the morning and been reminded that
the world is turning, only I seem to be going in the opposite direction! The tinnitus hasn't improved at all. I still can't sing. Or drive. But thank goodness, I no longer need a wheelchair or support when I walk. I can do nearly almost everything I did before, while dizzy. For the most part, life has become very normal again. The dizziness is just a little reminder that I need help beyond my own, and that isn't a bad thing. My body is figuring out how to work through this...

And my heart is learning, also.

Opposition

Shanghai, Beijing, Uganda, Tel Aviv, Geneva, London, NYC and Detroit.  What do all these places have in common?  Since September, my husband has worked in all of these cities.  He left again today for Asheville, North Carolina and will be working his way up the east coast to Baltimore.  Each week until Christmas, he is scheduled to be gone, (except Thanksgiving--yay)!  And we miss him already!  He just returned on Friday from the last trip!  It seems he is barely home long enough to get some laundry done before he is off again.  Life doesn't stop when he comes home either.  I have commitments, the kids have activities, friends/family need meals or time or love or all of the above.  I'm not about to complain!  But there is a cost that comes, and I have learned the necessity of having my priorities straight, efficient time management, not taking on more than I can handle and the art of recognizing my blessings.  Inevitably, appliances and cars break down when spouses are away!  Kids get sick.  Moms get sick!  Important documents need signing.  I bought our last house when Brandon was traveling! The list goes on...


The past several months have been insane for us.  We still have things left unfinished on our new home.  As workers come to finish, they point out things that need to be redone because they were done incorrectly, they throw numbers and words out about framing, electrical or plumbing as if what they are saying makes perfect sense to me!  Its difficult knowing who or what to trust.  We've been burned.  I've been naive and too trusting.

Kids come with their own individual struggles and our family is no exception.  Constant concern over what is best for them, time needed with each one, and learning how to advocate for them is something I spend a great deal of time on.  Getting to the root of learning disabilities, speech impediments, potentially fatal allergies, emotional issues and more takes time and a lot more emotion! 

We are not immune to health challenges.  I have a bag next to my bed that is host to a dozen pills I take every day.  Kids whose bodies aren't functioning right and need medicine to rely on for the rest of their lives is something that will keep you up at night! And learning how to discern between normal child behavior or behavior caused by a disease that messes with hormones is another challenge!  Searching for avenues that will restore health take a great deal of time, money and discernment.

I've now painted a miserable picture!

Here's another view.

I married a good man.  He is a good dad.  He is loyal and faithful. He has never complained about providing for our family.  I know he didn't want to get on that airplane today.  But he is a hard worker and will always take care of us.  When he's not working, he's working.  He listens to me talk about each kid and then does what is needed to reach out to them during that small window he is home, or over skype!  He forfeits sleep and rest (even with jetlag) so that he can be with us.  He is a good man.

We have been blessed beyond measure in so many ways. Our bodies are strong and functioning.  We have the means to pay for good health care and medication (at least for now!).  We have cars with over 100k miles that seem to be doing just fine (knock on wood!).  We have a roof over our heads and within these walls we have a safe haven that protects us from more than the harsh elements this earth provides.  We have kids who are learning how to be good people and want to be.  They are learning that their challenges are often what turns them to the things that matter most in life, rather than seeing them as obstacles in their way.  We are given opportunities to grow closer together and rely on each other.  We have felt the joy that comes each time we are reunited and know there isn't a greater feeling than being together after being apart.  We have a great support network from our parents who constantly provide relief, support and love.

I've learned if others are painting a miserable picture of their life, they are not seeing the good.  And if they are painting a perfect picture, they are not acknowledging/sharing the bad!

As Mormons, we believe that opposition is essential to God's plan.  We are free to choose liberty and eternal life through Jesus Christ or captivity and death, according to the power of the devil.

"For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things...righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither good nor bad...and if ye shall say there is no law, ye shall also say there is no sin.  If ye shall say there is no sin, ye shall say there is no righteousness.  And if there be no righteousness, there be no happiness.  And if there be no righteousness or happiness there be no punishment nor misery.  And if these things are not there is no God.  And if there is no God we are not, neither the earth; for there could have been no creation of things, neither to act nor to be acted upon.

 For there is a God, and he hath created all things, both the heavens and the earth, and all things that in them are, both things to act and things to be acted upon." (Book of Mormon, p.58)

I have learned where there is resistance, there are greater blessings right around the corner.  We have felt the tug and pull of these slight challenges recently, but we have also seen unexplainable miracles unfold in regard to all of these challenges.  Likewise, where God is seeking to provide blessings, the adversary (Satan) is working overtime to create temptation and feelings of doubt and insecurity in us. If you are feeling weighed down, learn to feel the opposite.  If you are without hope, trust in the opposite.  If nothing seems to roll your way, wait for the opposite. 

Because I am a Mormon, I will look to my Savior, Jesus Christ, and do all I can to be faithful and choose eternal life.  I believe this is the way to happiness in this life and the world to come.  I do recognize there is another way to live, an opposite; but misery is not something I plan to welcome into my life any time soon!!

I love this family picture because we were all laughing at something when the timer went off on the camera! 

 

Same Church, New Congregation

I hate change!

In the LDS Church, we don't pick and choose the building where we would like to attend church.  Each congregation is geographically assigned into groups called wards.  Here in Utah, a ward consists of a few blocks of homes because nearly every house has a member of our church living in it!  Back in Snohomish, WA where I grew up, a ward covered several miles worth of neighborhoods because there are fewer LDS people. In some parts of the world, they must travel a great distance at great sacrifice to attend church with their ward. When my parents first moved to the Seattle area in 1980, my mom had to drive 30 minutes to Monroe to get to church until they built a new building in Everett.  As I was graduating high school and membership numbers grew, a church was built even closer, in Mill Creek.

Within each ward there is a Bishop.  He has overall responsibility for ministering the temporal and spiritual affairs of the congregation.  There are also leaders assigned to be over the children, the youth, the music, the compassionate service, missionary work, scouting, activities, etc.  Everyone within the ward has a volunteer assignment. NO ONE IS PAID.  It is perfectly organized and universally the same whether you live in Alpine, UT or in Africa! Ideally, everyone works together for the good of the ward.  I have been in wards where nobody knows my name, and I have been in wards where I know and love every single person on a personal level.  It is in wards where we are taught to serve and reach out to our neighbors, where the gospel is taught each Sunday, where we learn tolerance and forgiveness, and where we build relationships with other members of our faith.

I have fond memories growing up in the Everett 4th Ward.  Our ward boundaries had kids from different school districts which was kind of hard for me not going to school with all the same kids in my ward.  But we were a Family.  We didn't have any other family in Washington State and so our holidays, camping trips (when we went camping once!), and vacations were spent with ward family friends.  We played Church Basketball--dividing teams among wards.  There was quite the rivalry between wards! :) Because my dad wasn't an active member of our church when I was a kid, I can remember many of these ward families reaching out to our family and I will be forever grateful to some of those who befriended my dad and helped him feel more comfortable when he started going to church.  My mom was always involved in our ward in some way or another and her best friends were ward friends.  It is always a sad thing when they divide ward boundaries and all of a sudden, you go to church with a new congregation.  That happened when I was 12, and I recall feeling a great loss.

Well, fast forward to today...I am convinced that we recently moved away from THE BEST WARD in the entire LDS church! (And there are over 29,000 LDS wards in the world.) I've never learned so much from others as I have living among those people.  We must be crazy to have willingly left such a great place!  Our kids were taught by some of the greatest people on the earth! Every Sunday, we left church feeling uplifted and inspired to be a better person that week.  I miss them so much.  We moved less than a mile away, yet when you aren't in the same ward, your social circle is different!  Its such an odd cultural norm here! 

This new ward is nice and I have no doubt there are good people here.  But it is challenging to go to church, look around and see strangers. We have yet to meet our bishop and I can't remember names of people who have kindly introduced themselves, but hopefully we will start to feel at home soon.

Because I am LDS, I will always belong to a ward family.  I may not know them yet, and they don't know me, but through service and time, we will!

What if none of it is true?

I was seventeen when I can remember feeling very lonely for the first time.  I was surrounded by family and so many wonderful friends of all walks of life.  I was so blessed and had been given many opportunities and good things in my life.  But even my closest childhood friends felt far away from where I was at that time. Without realizing it, a division was happening as I was approaching adulthood, and I felt it.  Diversity is a great thing, but sometimes, it is nice to have someone next to you who understands what you are thinking without needing to use words.

After some time of feeling this way, when I was able to put my finger on it, I realized what I was longing for most was a friend who saw life as I did.  My friends were all good people.  But because of my religious practices, I felt set apart in the choices we made, things we wanted out of life, and the directions we were facing.  I’m sure there were others I overlooked who were in my same predicament, but at the time, I just felt lonely.  I was very aware that the reason I felt this way was because of my religion.  In my loneliness, I found myself asking...what if none of this is true?  What if it’s all a lie?  What if all these sacrifices I am making turn out to be for nothing?

Those are haunting questions.  But very real questions. 

Doubt is an enemy to faith.  Faith is believing in something you cannot see.  My whole life, I had believed in doctrines taught to me that I accepted on Faith; believing without seeing.  One would think that is foolishness.  But some might also say that having faith in something is being able to rise above foolishness.

I was an avid journal writer, so it is easy for me to remember exactly how I felt then.  I wrote in my journal nearly every day. Around this time period, I was reflecting on things in my life that were positive because of my faith in religion. One day I noted in my journal that even if someday I find out that it is all a lie, none of it true, I had decided it is still a good way to live my life; a life devoted to families, improving character, service, sacrifice and centered on Jesus Christ; a life of discipline, striving to make life better for those around me, of forgetting myself, and finding joy--not momentary happiness and excitement--but pure inner joy that is lasting.  I chose faith over doubt and committed myself to live this life, believing that it was a good way to live.

Now it has been seventeen years since that time, and my faith has grown.  I believe this way of life I am living is not just a good way to live.  It can be both demanding and challenging. It can be lonely.  Questions still arise and my faith is put to the test.  But I believe this way of life is THE WAY to happiness in this life and eternal life in the world to come. 

But I’ve also wondered this.  When I was seventeen and doubting what was real, I also wrote this in my journal...“If this religion is what it says it is...what does that mean for all my friends who I love so much who do not know?”  I expressed heartfelt yearning for them to believe as I did.

So now I ask you, my friends of all walks of life!  Just as I questioned whether or not my religion was true or not, I ask you: 

what if it is? 


I believe that truth is Truth whether we choose to accept it or not.  Truths that are conflicting cannot all be Truth.  We can say the sky is purple all we want.  We can say that this life has no meaning.  We can say that there is no God in heaven.  We can say there is no such thing as miracles, answers to prayer or revelation from above.  But at the end of the day, Truth will remain.

Because I am a Mormon, I believe the gospel of Jesus Christ is Truth.  And I pray I will live my life according to that truth--no matter the loneliness, or whatever else falls in my lap--until the day I take my last breath.

What I Learned from Being Mary

When Martha and her sister Mary, of Bethany, were pleading for Jesus to come quickly and heal their brother, they did so in great faith.  They knew Him and loved Him.  They had been witnesses to many miraculous events and knew that if there was a way to save the life of Lazarus, their beloved brother, Jesus Christ was the way.  They believed in Him without question.

But He didn't come.  At least not when they wanted Him to come.

Their sorrow arose from their grief; knowing that if He had been there, their brother would not have died. 

I know what it is like to place all my faith in Jesus Christ, whom I know can do all things, and plead for His help, only to experience the same grief and sorrow when it seems He has not come.  Most of us do.  It is difficult not to wonder and question, why?

As I've pondered this story over and over again the past couple of months, I have learned so much.  One lesson in particular is that when Jesus actually does come and He sees what has happened to Lazarus and sees the sisters' pain and suffering, He weeps.

Now I used to think he wept because He was sad Lazarus had died.  He saw the women were sad, too, and I thought the lesson here was that Jesus Christ can comfort us in our time of need because He feels our pains.  Although, I believe this to be true, I do not believe it is the lesson to be learned.  At least not for me the past several weeks.

Jesus Christ was perfectly obedient to His Father.  Perfectly.  Mary, Martha, the people of Bethany, and all the world needed to see that Jesus could raise Lazarus from the dead.  We needed to know what He meant when He said "I am the Resurrection and the Life, he that believeth in me shall never die." If He had come when they called, that lesson would have been missed by all.  I believe that He had the power to come sooner and heal Lazarus, but that He was exercising His perfect obedience, and in doing so, His own heart couldn't stand that those He loved were suffering.  And so the tears came.  And eventually, so did the miracle.

My experience in participating in Rob Gardner's Lamb of God production as Mary of Bethany has taught me so many beautiful things. I was taught in much the same way as Mary was taught.  As I sought much needed help, it didn't come when I wanted it to come.  Even though I believed with all of my heart that the only way I could perform was through His help, I felt that the help was withheld from me for some time.  It caused me to question my abilities, my motives, and I often asked myself, why am I doing this?  I became discouraged and felt similar to how Mary must have felt as I sought the Lord's help in prayer.  I knew that He could help me and strengthen me; I never once doubted His ability to help me; but I questioned where that help was.

Well, it also eventually came.  Not when I wanted it to, but when it was going to teach me the most.  Days leading up to the performance,  many miracles took place.  My confidence grew; not in myself, but my confidence in my God.  Through an inspired Director, I was given opportunities that made a huge difference in my performance.  He gave me his confidence.  Through a kind and gifted mentor and teacher, I was given professional suggestions on how to manage nerves and anxiety on stage.  She, too, gave me her confidence.  Through a loving and supportive husband, I was given constant assurance that I could do this, that I needed to do this.  And through a perfectly obedient Savior, I was given peace and strength.  I was given His confidence.  I can't say I wasn't nervous, but I knew He had not left me to myself.  I gave it my all, and pray that it was enough.

Because I am LDS, I believe in Jesus Christ's power to heal us not only in our time of need, but in His time.  He is our Advocate with the Father.  It isn't that He wants us to suffer, but that He is obedient to His Father who knows what is best for us.  Though it seems at times He is far from us, He will always come in the moment that is necessary to best teach us.  And just like Mary, we will understand as we realize that if He had come sooner, the lessons would never have been learned.  We must hold on until help comes.

As hard as that can be, it is always worth the wait.

Why Jesus Christ Matters to Me

Jesus Christ was born over 2,000 years ago.  Someone once asked me why He still matters when He lived so long ago.  To paraphrase, this is what they were saying: "I get it, he was a good man, but as time has passed, the Bible stories have been blown out of proportion through exaggeration and ideals--the Bible is a record of the ideal, not reality. And that all happened so long ago.  Things are so different now." 

I want to share why Jesus Christ matters to me, in 2013.

He did live thousands of years ago.  But He lived long before then.  He was the creator of this earth; He lived before the earth was formed. (John 1:3)  And He lives today, and tomorrow and forever.  Things are different now.  But He still lives--and that matters very much.

When He was on the earth, He lived a perfect, exemplary life we ought to follow.  All of life's problems can be solved when we ask ourselves, What would Jesus do?  I teach my children stories from the scriptures because Jesus Christ's life is the perfect pattern.  If you are going to sew a dress, it hardly makes sense to make your own pattern if you want your dress to turn out the same as the original.  There are so many philosophies out there, so many different opinions, but when we follow God's path, we can be assured we are on the same path that will bring happiness to our families.

He is our Savior.  It is through Him that we can return to live with our Father in Heaven after this life.  He saves us, literally.

I do not understand how Grace works.  Sometimes things cannot be explained.  But I know because we are mortal, that we are destined to error, to make mistakes.  Without someone who can redeem us from those errors, we would be forever lost.  Every day, I pray that through the power of His Atonement, I will be made whole and will be worthy to appear before my Maker after this life is said and done.  Without a Savior, I am nothing. It is through Him I can do anything.  "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Philippians 4:13).  I recognize that any ability I am given is because of Him.

There are millions of people walking this earth who do not believe in Jesus Christ, or feel His influence is still present.  And yet, I believe His life is central to every single soul.  Every breath we take, and every good thing testifies to me of His reality.  Without Him, we would not be.  Without Him, there would be no goodness.  Without Him, there would be no hope. 

Jesus Christ matters to me.  Because I am a Mormon, I believe that He will someday return to earth and He will rule as King of Kings and reign as Lord of Lords...every knee will bend and every tongue shall speak in worship before Him.  Each of us will stand to be judged of Him according to our works and the desires of our hearts. (Proclamation to the World on the Family).

He will matter to each of us.

The First Mormon U.S. President...Almost.

Forgive me if my faith and trust in politicians and the law hasn't always been very strong. 

I was born in 1978.  Just two years before I was born, there was a law in force in the state of Missouri that made it legal to kill any Mormon on the spot. Just because.  It was an extermination order put in place by the State’s Governor in 1838. In 1976, the law was rescinded.  In 1976, the law was rescinded.

Governor Boggs had a personal disdain for Mormons. (This was nothing new...they had already been kicked out of Palmyra, New York and Kirtland, Ohio.)  But the Governor felt threatened by their growing communities and industry.  My people were killed simply because of what they believe. And it was legal.  The law allowed it.

So they left Missouri and found a home in Nauvoo, Illinois.  It didn’t take long for persecution to find them there either.  Again, the State’s Governor was not fond of them; particularly, Joseph Smith, the Mormon President.  Ultimately, Smith was arrested for treason (because he formed his own militia in order to defend the city of Nauvoo against others trying to harm his people--the law did not protect them.)  Joseph Smith was killed by a mob while in Carthage Jail in 1844.  An innocent prisoner, a loving father and devoted husband, an extraordinary man who lived his life according to good principles, and he was unprotected by the law of the land and was killed, because of his beliefs.  My great-great-grandfather was with him, John Taylor.  He received gun shot wounds yet survived and following Brigham Young, he later became the 3rd President of our Church after the Mormons landed in Salt Lake City, Utah.  Governor Ford confessed that it was good for Mormons to have been driven out of the state and that their beliefs and actions were too different to have survived in Illinois.  He said “that some people expect more protection from the laws than the laws are able to furnish in the face of popular excitement.”  Five men were tried for the murder of Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum.  They were all found not guilty.  The man who led the defense team later became a U.S. Senator.

On so many levels, there is a silent outcry of injustice in our Mormon history as a people.  Yet, it remains silent.  Lives have been lost in this great country because of religion.  And it is often overlooked, forgotten. 

So try to imagine, if you will, the idea of the possibility of a Mormon being elected President of this great country, to Mormons.  Not to the general public. But to one who belongs to this history which I have shared.  Imagine, the feelings we felt.  And it was so close. So close.

So for me, I have not lost all hope in America.  But I feel a great sense of loss for a victory that would have meant more to me than to one who does not share my beliefs, my history.

You see, I have read friends’ blogs.  I have seen their comments.  I have witnessed how there is still animosity, misinformation and tolerable persecution toward my people because of what they believe.  Yet, when it comes to sexuality, women’s choices, or legalizing harmful drugs, how dare I judge others because of what they believe. And I am a bigot.

As Mormons, we hold our heads high. We honor those whose lives were lost because of their faith.  We strive for that same kind of faith.  Stalwart faith.  Nothing wavering.  We will have faith in our religion and in our country and we will stand taller because of it. I couldn't be more proud of my Faith and my Heritage.  We have not sought revenge or retribution. My ancestors fought for a freedom of religion even when it was not honored, and then they turned around and served the very country in which their freedoms were taken. 


Because I am a Mormon, I will obey, honor and sustain the law.  I will support my country’s President.  I will fight for freedom.  I will teach my children civility.  And I will continue to teach them their history; that in spite of the injustices of this world, we move forward in faith with an eye single to the glory of our God.

Because that is what we, as a people, do.

My Yellow Apron

As a young girl I had a bright yellow apron with tiny strawberry buttons.  Like most little girls, when my mom was baking and wearing her apron, I wanted to put on that yellow apron and bake, too.

The thing I remember most about this yellow apron is how it came to be mine.

I can't remember her face.  And I can't remember a name. (And my mom's memory is poor, she probably can't even remember this happening.)  But it was impressed upon my memory so much that it has influenced choices I make with my own children.  But there was a lady who lived nearby our family.  My mom used to visit this woman and she brought me along.  On one of her visits, the lady told me she wanted to help make me an apron.  I got to pick out the strawberry buttons.  I must have been four years old.

At the time, I was too young to understand this woman and her circumstances.  As an adult, I still don't know, but I have a very good feeling that this was a woman who was in need.  She probably wasn't my mom's first choice of a friend; I remember my parents having a lot of other friends.  I have little doubt that my mom was trying to make a difference in this person's life.  I don't ever remember her coming to my house.  I only remember visiting hers.

There are countless memories of tagging along while my mom went from house to house offering a helping hand, bringing meals, attending Tupperware parties to show support, and sharing her faith and talents with those who needed it.  She didn't do this because she had extra time on her hands.  She did this because she is a disciple of Jesus Christ and has made a promise to Him that she would bear another's burdens, mourn with those who mourn, and serve. 

These types of memories don't fade.  There is a lot I can't remember about my childhood, but these times seem to be stuck there.  Maybe because I needed to know how impressionable service opportunities would be for my own kids.  Because now as a parent, when an opportunity is there, I want my kids to be with me.  I want them to see that happiness in this life doesn't come from "things" but from service.

In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, there are countless opportunities to serve.  We are admonished to look for these opportunities and pray for them daily.  Often times, when I pray for an opportunity to serve, I'm guided to one of my own children or even my husband and a need they have that day.  Sometimes I have a feeling to call someone.  And sometimes, it is to give a compliment or a smile. I have been given assignments at church that have taken as much of my time as a full-time job!  There has never been a penny received in compensation!  My husband worked a 14 hour day yesterday.  Very normal for him.  But after that long day, I got a phone call from him letting me know he was going to be late because he needed to go help someone move some furniture.  There was no complaint, though I could hear in his voice it had been a long day.  He came home with a smile on his face and was grateful he got off work just in time to help.  My husband is also a disciple of Jesus Christ and has made a promise to bear another's burdens, mourn with those who mourn and serve.

Are members of my Church more kind than others?  No.  But members of my church have been taught, trained and admonished to serve their fellow men. From an early age, we participate in service projects, watch our parents care for the needs of others, we learn from scriptures how Christ served and we do our best to emulate Him.  There is also the challenge from the Savior himself who admonished us to serve those who persecute us. 

Just as little girls want to wear aprons and look just like their moms while baking, little children are learning from their parents example in how they live their lives.  My mom didn't teach me to serve with words.  That would have been very ineffective.  She has taught me to serve by the way she lives her life.  I hope to do the same for my kids.  They live in a selfish, self-centered world.  No wonder there is so much unhappiness.  If I can teach them this one thing, their lives will have more meaning and they will find happiness.

Because I am a Mormon, I have dedicated my life to a life of service.  For I believe that when I serve others, I am really serving my God.

Why Missionaries Knock on Doors.

Probably because of where I was raised, I felt my “church life” and my “school life” were very separate.  I wasn’t ashamed of my religion, but I wasn’t very open about it either. I was perfectly content keeping it to myself!  When questions were asked, I answered them; but that was it.  My parents took us to church, taught us right from wrong and had high moral expectations of us, but there wasn’t a lot of doctrinal religion being taught in my home.  I believed in our faith, but lacked a lot of understanding.

At age 18, I moved to Provo, Utah where I was one among thousands of LDS college kids.  Religion was everywhere.  I met people who talked about religion anytime, anywhere.  This was so foreign to me.  As a student at Brigham Young University, I was required to enroll in religion classes.  I had read The Book of Mormon and Bible in high school and had a general understanding of the doctrine of my religion, but it wasn’t until attending these classes that I gained a deeper understanding and knowledge about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.  My professors were so knowledgeable about ancient times, historical and religious practices, and things of a spiritual nature. The stories came to life for me and I had no doubt I was reading about real people from thousands of years ago.  As my understanding increased, my belief in Mormonism grew.  I developed a closer relationship with my Savior, Jesus Christ.  For the first time in my life, I read scriptures every day.  I prayed to my Heavenly Father morning and night.  I began to ask real questions and sought answers.  And I found them.  Things had always resonated with me since I was a child, but this was different.  I was putting pieces together.  A natural and immediate response to my deeper understanding was my desire to share what I understood with those who I loved.  I began to engage in conversations about religion and took every opportunity to clear up misunderstandings when they were presented.  Looking back, I recognize I was probably a bit overbearing!  But I was a changed person.  I could no longer separate my secular life with my spiritual life.

At age nineteen, Mormon young men are asked to serve a 2 year mission to anywhere in the world (not their choice), at their own expense. All three of my brothers served...in Italy, Guatemala and Spain.  For ladies, it is an 18 month mission at age  21.  I had every desire to go, but ultimately, I chose to get married before I had the opportunity.  There are many misconceptions about why Mormons serve missions.  A friend once told me she had heard that the more people LDS members “convert” to Mormonism, the greater reward they receive in heaven!  Another shared with me with certainty (I love when others are so certain what I believe!) that I would own more “kingdoms in heaven” if I led more people to baptism.  I don’t know where people learn these things...but it simply isn't true and has nothing to do with why I share my beliefs.

My religion has made every good difference in my life.  It has given me direction.  Jesus Christ is very real to me and I feel close to Him.  I believe He is the Savior of the World.  And I want others to know Him as I do and more importantly, feel His love.  I see people who once believed as I do and have turned away, and the light in their faces is dimmed.   I’ve known others who search for happiness in worldly ways and end up feeling empty and alone.  But I have also witnessed people’s lives being changed for good as they accept Jesus Christ as their Savior. What was once dark and empty is now full of joy and peace.  There are many good religious and non-religious, happy and sad people in this world.  But like everyone, it is natural to want to share good things with others because we know it is a good thing!  There are no selfish motives involved.  It is a genuine effort to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. I recognize there are others, a whole lot of others, who aren’t interested, and that’s okay!  I love them still!

So please don’t take offense when someone (like me) tries to share a message of hope with someone like you.  Please be kind when you see two young men in suits knocking on doors or riding bicycles to their next appointment.  Their motives are pure and they have sacrificed a crazy-out-of-the-ordinary amount for a college-aged person.  If you aren’t interested, there will be no hard feelings!  They are not salesmen!  They’ve been taught to find those interested, to respect others' choices; not to engage in debate or be pushy. They are simply trying to give you a gift, if you want it.  And for what its worth, these missionaries come home CHANGED.  I am a witness of this--I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes!  As a parent, I couldn’t wish anything greater for my children.  There isn’t a better way for people at this age to learn to think beyond themselves, to be diligent, hardworking, frugal, independent, devoted, better at problem-solving, humble, loving and enduring through hard times.  My husband has all of these qualities and no doubt, they were increased by his mission to Morristown, New Jersey, where he had doors slammed in his face left and right, a gun pulled on him and he was spit on!  But if you ask him today what was the hardest thing?...those things don’t come to his mind.  He told me the hardest part of his mission was always when someone was so close to making a big change in their life--a change that would make every good difference for their family and their own happiness--and ultimately, they didn’t have the faith to make the necessary changes and they gave up.

Because he was committed to something greater than himself, sincere heartache was more difficult than his pride or the fear of losing his own life.  How can something so sincere come from a selfish motive?

As Mormons, we take Matthew 28:19-20 from the Bible literally:

“Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and the of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost . . .and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.”


Because I am a Mormon, I want to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with others simply because I want to spread the happiness and peace it has given to me.

Brandon on his mission to New Jersey--1991.  I've never met these women, but I know he loves them!

Brad and me at SLC Airport--he's leaving for Rome, Italy--1995

Family get together in Snohomish, WA in 2000 sending Jeremy off to Guatemala.

Bailey and Uncle Jeremy 2002

Bailey and Uncle Tyler in Provo, UT before going into the Missionary Training Center--2003

Spain is a far, far away place for a two year old!

Women in the LDS Church

I was in sixth grade at Seattle Hill Elementary and was looking forward to our upcoming “Cowboy Day” where we wore boots, handkerchiefs, button-down shirts and braids.  Any day that was out of the normal routine was fully anticipated with excitement.  But as silly as it seems now, I remember as an 11 year old being bothered that it wasn’t called CowGIRL day.  Looking back, I think it is ridiculous that this bothered me so much, but it did.  Enough that I wrote about it in a journal I kept.  A few of us got together and approached the principal about changing the name to “Western Day”, which she did.  Somehow, I felt that made things right.

I have always considered myself a feminist.  Maybe it is because I have three brothers and we are all very competitive.  Maybe it is because I was involved in athletics and witnessed firsthand how girls were treated on the ball field or basketball court. In college, I seriously had a guy run right in front of me when the ball was hit directly to me and he yelled at me to move so he could field the ball.  Then I watched him lob a pathetic throw.  If there was one thing I was good at, it was throwing a softball.  Hard. Maybe it is because every time we’ve sat down with an attorney, accountant, broker or businessman of any sort, they speak directly to Brandon as if I’m there for the ride.  (If only they knew how little Brandon knows about where our money can even be found, let alone the amounts.) Or maybe it is because my personality is such that it simply begs for equality.

But there is a false perception of feminism.  I do not wish to join a movement for women to take over the world and bring down men!  I do not want to be a man or have the same responsibilities men have.  I also worry that the liberation of women’s freedoms has created an entirely different mess.  We are our worst enemy.  The outward expectation of perfectionism in women is frightening to me. In many respects, our freedoms have created great bondage in many women.

I belong to a church that is predominantly governed by men.  I know this bothers some women.  It is funny to me that a cowboy dress day would get to me, but the fact that only men are able to hold the Priesthood in my church does not. Not one bit.  The responsibilities placed on men are different than women.  This doesn’t lessen my self-worth or standing before God.  I am confident that He loves me just as much as He loves His sons. I have felt my own responsibilities equal to that of my husband's in assisting the Lord in His work.  I am so grateful for wise, kind, faithful men who lead and guide my family and me through their best efforts.  Unfortunately, there are always exceptions.  But in the vast majority of its members and in my own experience, I believe LDS men have held women high on a pedestal.  If they don't, they are not following the Savior and His example.

I am so grateful to be a woman; one who acknowledges that I am a daughter of a King. Women have a powerful influence for good in the LDS church and in the world.  Many meetings, welfare efforts and huge undertakings in the LDS church simply would not be productive without women. 

One of my all-time favorite LDS leaders, Gordon B. Hinckley, said this:

‘How thankful I am, how thankful we all must be, for the women in our lives. God bless them. May His great love distill upon them and crown them with luster and beauty, grace and faith.  May His Spirit distill upon us as men and lead us ever to hold them in respect, in gratitude, giving encouragement, strength, nurture, and love, which is the very essence of the gospel of our Redeemer and Lord.”

Because I am a Mormon I know that “God is no respecter of persons” (Acts 10:34). 

Even when it comes to gender.

Far above the price of rubies...

The older I get, the more clearly I see the dichotomy between the world's message on being happy and my own happiness.

Do what feels best for you...look out for you first...go and fulfill all your dreams at whatever cost... don't let anything or anyone get in your way of reaching your full potential...you're young, have fun; responsibility can come later in life...in order to be important, you must make your mark in this world in a BIG way...loyalty means little if you aren't happy...beauty comes in a size 2 and DD...self-worth comes from having a successful career...peace is obtained on vacation in paradise or at the spa...a woman can and should do all that a man does...

I have a mom who never listened to the world's message on how to be happy. 

Thank goodness.

She never puts herself first.  She has always supported her husband in his endeavors and made it possible for him to provide for our family, even at great sacrifice.  She can't manage to let her mind rest for one minute when it comes to making sure everyone around her is content and comfortable.  Although she makes it a priority to take care of herself, her wardrobe and personal care is never outrageous.  She is modest. Her life is full of small and simple acts of kindness that have a great impact. Her vacations consisted of small ratty towns while sitting on bleachers, cheering at my softball tournaments or my brothers' baseball tournaments and our annual trip to visit her mom here in Utah.  Her career is being a mother. And now a grandmother.

I am so grateful I was raised by such a woman.  I think how different I would be if she had followed those other messages and the influence it would have had on me. 

And now I have two beautiful daughters who watch my every move.  The way I act, dress, talk, and live directly affects my children.  I am so aware that the way I live my life will impact them.  They will see through any hypocrisy, dishonesty or double standard I set.  I must teach by doing.

Being a mom is the hardest thing I've ever done.  No matter how I am doing, I always feel like I need to do better.  I always feel a weight of responsibility on my shoulders for these three precious children who were given to us.  I feel a constant sense of urgency to improve myself so that I can more effectively teach them.  I am deliberately doing things in so many areas of my life with them in mind--all in hope that someday it will matter.

Proverbs 31:10-30 has helped me know what will make me happy as a woman and a mom:

"Who can find a virtous woman? for her price is far above rubies...the heart of her husband doth safely trust in her...she will do him good and not evil all the days of her life...she girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms...she stretched out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy...Strength and honour are her clothing...she openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness...Her children arise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her...Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised."

If every woman lived this way, imagine the world we would live in. 

I can call my mother "blessed".  Her life is a witness to me that happiness comes in virtue and in having our strength be in the Lord.

A couple years back I wrote in a personal journal my thoughts on being a mom.  I finished with this sentence:

"My part in this world is ever so small, but to my children, it is everything."

Because I am a Mormon, I know my worth as a woman and mother is great.  Women partner with God as we do His work in raising children and making this world better.  This is where women will find strength and power.  Sooner or later, we will bridge this dichotomy and happiness will be abundant in the lives of women throughout the world.

Bursting the Bubble

I grew up in one of my favorite places on this earth.  I love my hometown of Snohomish, Washington.  We lived in the same area my whole childhood and my friends didn't change much from the time I was pretty young.  They are amazing people.  However, for the most part, there were not many Mormons.  The LDS population was small, particularly in my age group and most of my friends belonged to another faith, or no religion at all. I recognized from an early age that we were different and I felt it.

Boy, do my kids have a different life.

I realized it a few years back when my daughter started assuming everyone on the planet was a Mormon.  When I'd tell her specific people were not (mostly famous people!), she looked at me as if there was something wrong with them, like she didn't believe me.  I began to see that my kids thought every single person they knew was a Mormon.  To be fair, here in Utah, most of the people they know are of our same faith! Last summer we were visiting a good friend of mine and her family out of state.  On the drive home, I heard my kids talking about whether or not these friends were LDS.  When I chimed in to say that they were not Mormons, my daughter said, "but they seem like it...they are really nice people."

In an instant (and a panic) I was ready to make that 12 hour drive back home to Utah, pack up the house and move anywhere BUT there...far, far away from so many other LDS people!

Somehow, without me even aware, my daughter had made the assumption that in order to be a good, nice, decent person, you had to go to church; but not just any church, OUR church, and somewhere along the line her perspective became so contrary to reality that I didn't even know where to begin with it! How did this happen? Admittedly, it wasn't the first time I had heard this perspective, and it has always bugged me, but from my own daughter???

Good thing we got it out in the open!  This was a reason I have feared raising a family in Utah.  I didn't want my kids to miss out on something I experienced growing up: diversity.  There just isn't much of it here.  You have to look harder, that's for sure.  As much as I would love to live elsewhere, this is home and this is where work is... there are many great and wonderful things about living here, too, but I have been worried about this issue.  I knew after this conversation and a few others that we needed to make a greater effort to teach our kids that we are all God's children, no matter our religion, culture, race or beliefs. Brandon and I have shared countless stories of our friends and being in their homes and the goodness of those families.  We've talked about differences and that they are okay; that we need to be tolerant of others beliefs and hope that they are accepting of our own. We never need to be ashamed of what we believe, and we need to stand for what we believe is right, but its okay if others don't agree. I've talked about some of my friends who have never been to any church and how they are great people!  I've made an effort for the kids to get to know the one person we know in our neighborhood who is not a member of our church so they can see that she is a wonderful person. We've talked about never making others feel unloved because they are different.  There are a handful of people in the area who are not LDS, and I'm sure it is not easy for them to be such a minority. Hopefully this open communication is working and the paradigm is shifting in their little minds!

In the 1800's, a newspaper editor contacted Joseph Smith and asked him what the members of the LDS church believed.  Joseph's response came in the form of a letter with thirteen articles of faith.

Here is number twelve:

"We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may."

Some of the most charitable people I knew growing up were not of my faith.  I feel privileged to have been raised among hardworking, family-oriented people who lived Christlike lives and had a powerful influence for good on me. I am grateful for such good people.  I don't think any less of them for not believing as I do.

Because I am a Mormon, I believe we are all God's children.  God doesn't have favorites and His Light and goodness abide in each one of us.

Almost as good as Christmas...

Like most children, I remember as a young girl coloring Easter eggs, finding hidden eggs, then finding my Easter basket, getting a nice Easter dress to wear to church and of course, the Easter bunny.  (Though I never pictured an actual bunny, it was more like a six foot character you see dressed up at the mall....)   It was like a second Christmas--but not quite as good.

As a teenager, I once heard a young man speak and it had an impact on me.  He was a quadriplegic as the result of a boating accident.  He spoke of the Resurrection--the reuniting of his body and spirit, no longer subject to death or accident-- and what it meant to him.  It had a profound effect on me as I was able to see how this man, whose body was crippled and without proper function, had hope for a day when his body would once again be made whole.  After hearing him speak, whenever the Resurrection was mentioned around Easter time, I associated my thoughts with this man and others who were in need of a new body.  But I was still far from understanding.

Jesus is the Christ.  That doesn't mean much to a lot of people.  But it means everything!  It is hard for me to understand why the Jews were so blind that they couldn't see who He truly was; it is hard for me to believe that one of His closest friends betrayed Him for just 30 pieces of silver; it is too much for me to imagine the pain He suffered for all of mankind.  For me. 

But aren't we all guilty of betraying Him in some way or another?  Aren't we all blind to some degree?  Haven't we all added to His suffering and pain?

When Christ was risen from the tomb on that Easter morning over two thousand years ago, it meant so much more than my human mind can comprehend.  The pain and sorrow of death was wiped away.  It made all things possible through Him.  Not only for those whose bodies have failed them, or for the grieving parents who've lost their child to death, but for those who betray Him every day--for each of us.  Christ died because it was necessary for us.  But Hope did not die when Jesus Christ was crucified.  Because of the Resurrection, hope must reach all of us.  There is nothing that hope cannot touch.

I am still far from understanding the Atonement of Jesus Christ, His life and the meaning of all things. I know He is my Redeemer, that He lives today.  He loves me and is my advocate with the Father. I have felt that.  His mercy extends to all of us, no matter how much we have betrayed Him.  No matter our blindness. 

Everyone will be resurrected--those who followed the Savior, and those who did not.  He died that we might all live again. Families can be together forever.


Easter isn't second to Christmas.  Jesus Christ's birth would mean nothing without His Resurrection!

Because I am a Mormon, I believe in a Resurrected Christ.  He lives!

There is hope for all of us.

A Model for Parenting

When I had my first child in my early twenties, I had no idea how my life would change.  In an instant, I said farewell to my old way of viewing the world and was left with a whole new perspective on life.  My life mattered in a way it had never mattered before and I wanted to make the most of this opportunity to be a parent.

I studied marriage and family relationships in college; particularly relationships between parent and child.  I worked with children whose parents had harmed them in every way imaginable.  It was one of the hardest things I've ever done.  I gained a greater appreciation for my upbringing, and a great sense of sympathy for those who suffer from broken family relationships.  In one of my classes, we had to write a book entitled "How to be a Good Parent"--based on our research that semester.  WOW...did I think I had all the answers! That professor was cruel!

When I need a good laugh, I read that book!

I had no idea how to be a good parent then and after almost 11 years, I still don't!  But what I do know is that I have learned more about myself and about life because I am a parent.  I am so grateful to be a mom.

My kids are children of God.  Yes, I gave birth to them, feed them, teach them, clothe them, make them do chores and practice their instruments and all the other crumby things parents have to do.  But at the end of the day, these children aren't all mine. When I see them as God's children, I see their greatness.  Their worth as individuals is greater than I can ever know or understand.  Their individuality and personality is present as a newborn. God knows them--inside and out.  When I don't understand them or don't have the ability to know how to handle a situation with one of them, God does.  And through prayer, I ask for help.  I know He gives me the ability to nurture them in the way He would, when I humble myself to understand.  When I acknowledge that I NEED help. 

Just today my daughter was crying over everything.  She clearly didn't feel well, but she was also overwhelmed by life.  She didn't want to do anything; her homework, practice her piano or violin, read, make her bed, pick up her backpack off the floor, get her pajamas on, brush her teeth, go to bed...anything I asked her to do resulted in tears.  I remained calm and did not react to any of the "noise" that she made after any request...."I hate school"..."I hate brushing my teeth"..."I hate waking up early in the morning". She finally broke down and sobbed.  She cried, "I just had a hard day and don't want to do anything!" 

As I was hugging her, letting her cry into my stomach, I had a thought come to me with great clarity.  Maybe it is common knowledge to most people, but I believe it came in the moment I needed it after praying to know how to help her.  It was this: when we want to quit life and everything seems hard, does God let us?  Does He take away everything challenging in our lives?  Does He give us a few days off when it gets too much?  Does He do hard things for us?  No, no, no and no.  But, He will be there for us, helping every step of the way if we let Him.  I knew I needed to follow that perfect pattern and do the same.  I left the unpacking, laundry and cleaning I was doing and spent the rest of the evening doing everything with her.

By bedtime, she was herself.

As I said goodnight, I shared with her the thoughts that came to me earlier.  She understood and fell asleep a happy, peaceful, very tired girl. 

My children know they are God's children.  They will find strength in knowing that as they live their lives.  When they struggle, and they will struggle, they will know what source to turn to when they need help--big or small.  When I struggle as a parent, I know what source to look to for help.  I know who my Father is and I believe that He helps me and gives me strength, patience, understanding and abilities beyond my own. When in doubt, I will look to Him and follow His way of parenting.  He doesn't coerce, He isn't critical, He isn't manipulative or controlling, He doesn't belittle, He isn't uninvolved, He isn't permissive, and He never removes His outstretched hand toward His children.

Because I am a Mormon, I believe there is a perfect example of a good parent. 

He is Father to us all.

A Better Me

My grandma had a plane ticket to come to my wedding in Seattle.  She never came.  Just one month before my wedding, she passed away.  The night before she died, a cousin of mine spent the night in her home and later recorded the last known conversation she had had. She mentioned several things but among them, she brought up my upcoming wedding and that I was too young to get married.

Little did anyone know at the time how much this haunted me.   

I didn't want to make a mistake.  I was young.  I had no idea that my grandma felt this way about my getting married.  In fact, she was the very first person I told about our engagement and the first to see my ring.  She had lived through a horrible marriage and knowing that she felt this way made me question whether I was doing the right thing.

I wasn't "looking" to get married at 20.  I had some other plans!  But I was raised in a home where my parents loved each other.  Through example, I was taught that commitment to one another through a marriage covenant was sacred.  I had also been taught that marriage was ordained of God; that it was important.  Although I was not looking to get married so young, I knew what I wanted in life at a young age.  When I married, it would be for good.  I had no interest in a single life full of freedom and flexibility.  I had also decided to live a chaste life and believed in complete fidelity. I had no interest in a casual relationship.  In this world, there are not many who believe the same.  So I was caught by surprise when I met my husband my sophomore year of college.  We had so much in common (beginning with our last name!) and he became my greatest friend.  As our relationship progressed, I realized that I did not want to live my life without him.  But I never expected the opportunity to come around when I was so young. When I think of it now, I can't believe how young I was!  Yikes!! I have a daughter who will be that age in 10 years!

Ultimately, after a couple weeks of some soul searching, I felt total peace and assurance about getting married, despite the way I knew my grandma or anyone else felt. I had had friends telling me this was crazy.  I stand today able to say that it was the best decision I have yet made in my lifetime.  I have no regrets.

From the get go, we decided to pattern our life and our marriage after a document distributed by the President of our Church.  Here are some of the teachings we are trying to follow:

"Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities."  To read the entire document, go here.

Today is our 13th anniversary.  We have learned so much over the course of our marriage.  One of the things many of "the critics" said about marrying so young was that you can't really know you so young; "discover yourself before you find someone to share your life with..." is what I'd hear the experts say.  I specifically remember an episode where Oprah made this point very clear.


Maybe this is good advice, generally speaking. I didn't know everything about myself then and still don't, but at twenty, I knew who I was and what I wanted in this life.  I also know that because of my husband and our last 13 years together, I am a better me.  I wouldn't trade that for any plans I had before we met.  And I am confident that if my grandma could talk to me now, she would tell me that undoubtedly, I made the right choice.


Because I am a Mormon, I believe in marriage.  I believe it endures beyond death. I believe it makes our society better.  It has made me better.  My husband is my very best friend. How lucky am I, to have found someone at such a "young age".

Symbol of Life

As a child, I could always distinguish between a Mormon church and any other Christian denomination's building.  Our buildings were often constructed with the same red brick, the same architecture and the same well-groomed grounds.  But what clued me in the quickest was to look up.  If there wasn't a cross, most often it was one of ours.

Christians the world over use the cross as a symbol of their Christianity.  I understand and respect the significance of the cross as a symbol of others' outward expression of what is sacred to them.  But I do not use this symbol for the same purpose.  In fact, it is discouraged among members of our church to use the cross as a symbol in any building, temple, home, book or even a necklace!  The cross represents the crucifixion and death of the Savior of the World.  It was a common form of punishment in the day of Christ.  Many people were killed by the cross, not just Jesus. 

We choose to celebrate the Living Christ, not His death.

I love Christmastime.  The whole world seems to be singing songs of faith, family, doing good to others, and Jesus Christ.  We honor His birth by remembering Him through song, story and service.  There isn't another month in the year where so many focus on such good things. 

We've all heard the story a million times...Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, the wise men, the shepherds, the angel...It is good to hear it each year and I love that my children can now tell the story as well.  But I want them to know so much more than the story of His birth.  I want them to know that He lives.  And because He lives, we can overcome sin, sorrow and death.  Because He lives, our lives have more meaning and purpose than we can ever know. Because He lives, we are loved. The prophecies of His birth flood the pages in the Bible.  Historically speaking, because of the prophecies, the Jews were awaiting a King to be born to come and rule them.  They were looking in the wrong places. They did not anticipate Him coming in the humble way He did.  (Likewise, we are often searching and hoping for something and miss it because it doesn't come in the way we expect.)  The Jews ended up killing their long awaited King.  Sadly, they did not recognize who He was.  Even more sadly, so many do not know Him today or recognize His mercy and love. 

I know that Christ came to the earth as a baby in Bethlehem; He lived on the earth, He was killed (foretold by prophets who lived long before He came), and He was resurrected three days later (also prophesied).  He lives today.  I have read His words in the New Testament, I have read the prophecies in the Old, He is the Savior of all men.  All the songs we sing are in honor and praise of Him as the Redeemer of the World.  He was not just a great man, He is the Son of God.  I do not comprehend all things, and I can't explain most things, but I believe He is real.

When former President of the Church, Gordon B. Hinckley, was asked by a minister of another faith why he didn't see a cross in any of our temples, President Hinckley said, “The lives of our people must become the only meaningful expression of our faith and, in fact, therefore, the symbol of our worship.”

Because I am a Mormon, the symbol of my faith is not the cross.  Hopefully, it is the way I live my life in an effort to emulate the life of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

I hope to wear that around my neck all the days of my life.