Touching Hearts For Good

In October 2013, Pres. Thomas S. Monson addressed the Women of the LDS Church and related a story about a woman, Tiffany, who was afflicted with depression. In short, her appetite had waned and she suffered severe weight loss and her health deteriorated greatly. A friend finally said, “There must be something that sounds good to you.” The, Tiffany replied, “The only thing I can think of that sounds good is homemade bread.” There was none to be had at the moment. The next morning her doorbell rang and a woman she didn’t know, handed a loaf of homemade bread to Tiffany’s husband. As the story unfolds we learn that it was through the enticing and promptings of the Holy Ghost, direct impressions form our Heavenly Father, that this woman had come to bring that bread to Tiffany’s door.

Since then, I’ve heard the story recounted many times in many different places and circumstances, and almost always, it is retold with the note that, We Never Walk Alone. And we don’t! We are reminded through this story that God is aware of our needs and our circumstances. That if we can have faith, we can know that he answers our prayers and helps us when we need Him.

But, something always sticks out to me… The woman that didn’t even really know Tiffany very well at all. Why was she chosen to bring the bread to Tiffany? Why not someone else?

I want to preface by emphasizing that I’m not saying those close to Tiffany were not worthy or were ignoring promptings at all. I just want to make clear that I am not passing judgment at all here.

When I read this story, or hear it retold, I often think of other stories I’ve heard similar to this, where someone was prompted to do something and in following those promptings they were able to touch another person deeply for good.

A woman called LeeAnne had a miscarriage and she and her husband grieved deeply for the loss of their unborn child. A few days after they had experienced the loss, a knock came to the door and woman who they had never recalled meeting, stood with a loaf of banana bread. She informed them that she was friends with the husband’s parents and she had talked with them recently and learned of the young couple’s loss. She had felt deeply moved to get their address and bring them a loaf of bread accompanied with a hand of friendship and an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on should either of them need it. The woman then left and while the couple never reached out to her after that, the fact that they knew they were watched over meant more to them than anything the woman could have said. It left them both stronger and ready to face the rest of world after such a deep heartache.

I don’t know why, but I always relate to the giver rather than the receiver in these stories. And I often find myself thinking, I wish I could be a part of a story like. I wish I could feel the spirit so strongly to know when I was needed somewhere. While these yearnings are, in truth, mostly selfish wanting to be able to be the one that gets to help someone else and be the one that gets to see the surprised look on someone's face when their prayers have been answered through me, there is also the more Christ like desire and aspiration to be close enough to God and His will to be able to receive those kinds of promptings when they are needed.

A runner will lose his speed if he doesn’t practice often, and while I’m far from even in shape, I know many who run and feel a significant difference if they even miss one day of running.

Weight lifters must push their limits continually in order to even hope to be able to lift more than they did to begin with. Its hard work and there are often times when they return from their workout routine more than simply sore.

Chefs study, practice, go through trial and error processes that no one is even aware of until they can find the exact and precise quantities, methods and ingredients to make the perfect dish. Like other professions, if they are out of practice, their perfect recipes can turn into catastrophes if not made frequently enough.

Parents need to hone their skills daily to be able to exercise the patience and disciplines necessary to raise their children. If a parent must leave their children for work, for military duties or anything else, they may find themselves at square one upon their return and it takes practice and much effort to regain the skills they once had.

I’m the oldest of nine children, and when I was younger, I found that my parents far more than 50% of the time would ask me for help doing one task or another. After a while of observing this fact and watching from the sidelines, I tested out my theory. As soon as my baby brother had a messy diaper that needed changed, I would run to the other room and hide and listen. My sister, not 2 years younger than me and every bit as able bodied would be sitting with our mother. Never fail, my mother would call to me from the other room, “Rebecca, will you please come and bring me a diaper for your brother?” I’d laugh and bring it. My father would do similar things as well. Most of the time, they wouldn’t even attempt to ask my younger three siblings for help with things.

It started to bother me after a while, and I approached my parents to confront them about the issue. I asked why they repeatedly asked me to do things around the house even if I was far away in the basement and my brother or sister was standing there next to them. I didn’t expect it at the time, but their answer came as a life lesson to me. They paused and thought about it and answered, “Because you listen.” They explained that it was much easier for them to ask me for help because they knew I would obey the first time in most instances and even if they had to ask two or three times, it was never because if my stubbornness. And that I would do as they asked with the least amount of effort on their part. After we talked, they said they would try to be more aware and give the other kids more opportunities to help so the bulk didn’t fall on me.  They help to their end of the conversation and as my siblings had more opportunities to help, they eventually became more willing and obedient to my parents’ requests.

This is so close to my heart now, and it applies so much to our relationship with God. He is very literally our Father. And as such, he probably feels a lot like my parents did when I was young. He gives us all promptings and inspirations. At first they will be small. Something that isn’t so crucial, something that is really just practice for us to get used to listening to his voice and obeying. Like my mother did when first asking my siblings for more help. It was to get a diaper and bring it to her, or to fetch a spoon so she could make dinner. We will start out getting small thoughts of simple things, maybe it is simply wake up ten minutes early tomorrow and read an extra portion of the scriptures. My mom didn’t ask my sister to watch the baby while she ran upstairs to the bathroom at first until she was sure that she would obey the simpler tasks she had given her. Eventually, my sister became more obedient and she was asked to watch the baby from time to time as well. Likewise, when another of our brothers or sisters on this Earth need their prayers answered through one of us, like a loaf of bread, God will not ask us if he knows we will not obey. Even if he did, we may not be able to recognize his promptings, his voice, because we have not been exercising out ability to hear or recognize it.

If we want to be part of a story like that we must do everything we can to align our will with His and daily exercise our faith in Him. We need to ask Him in earnest prayer to give us opportunities to obey. Ask for his spirit to be with us throughout the day and ask for help recognizing those promptings if we need it. If we do not ask for opportunities, we may not get them.

Let us ask for opportunities to practice listening. Ask for chances to obey. Ask forgiveness when we don’t and chances to try again.

I leave this with you along with the knowledge that I know God is our Father and He loves us individually and without end. God bless and be with you till we meet again.

What Is A Testimony

“Did not our hearts burn within us”? We find some of Christ’s disciples asking this questions among themselves in chapter 24 of the book of Luke in the Bible. They had walked with the resurrected Savior and talked with Him and He had expounded on the scriptures and their hearts had burned within them testifying of the truth before their eyes and their minds even understood what that truth was.

Latter Day Saints (LDS members or Mormons) often talk of testimonies and of the Holy Ghost but describing exactly what that is to someone unfamiliar with the concept might seem as strange as trying to describe what salt tastes like to one who has never tasted it.  

In 2008 during the April General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (General Conference happens every 6 month. It is a time for LDS member – or anyone who would like to listen - around the world to gather and hear The Prophets of God relate new revelation from our Father in Heaven.) Dallin H. Oaks, one of the leaders of the church said this: “A testimony of the gospel is a personal witness borne to our souls by the Holy Ghost that certain facts of eternal significance are true and that we know them to be true. Such facts include the nature of the Godhead and our relationship to its three members, the effectiveness of the Atonement, and the reality of the Restoration.”

But just because someone knows what salt is, doesn’t necessarily mean they would recognize the taste.

“What is salt? I’ve never seen or tasted it before.”

“Well, it’s a crystal. It’s kind of white in color.”

“So, kind of like sugar?”

“Well, kind of, but not really... It’s why the sea has its taste.”

“I’ve never been to the sea.”

“Oh, well, it’s used to season and preserve food.”

“So it is like sugar?”

“Not really. Sugar is sweet, and salt is, salty. Savory tasting.”

You could go into details about the chemical composition and even show detailed pictures of what it looks like, but they would never really know how to recognize it if it were ever in any foods they ate.

The conversation could go on and on, but the simplest way to describe Salt to someone would be if the conversation went more like this:

“What is salt? I’ve never seen or tasted it before.”

“Well, hold on.” you then go into the kitchen and gets the salt shaker, come back and say, “This is salt. Hold out your hand.” The other person hold out their hand and you sprinkle some salt in their palm. “Look at it, and then lick it.” They do so, and you say, “That is salt.”

Similarly a testimony, or the confirmation of truth from the Holy Ghost cannot be completely described with words alone. Through example and someone “tasting” the Holy Ghost witnessing something to them is the only way to really understand what it is.

Yesterday when we returned home from out Sunday meetings, I asked my husband to relate a couple different stories from his mission to our children. They listened intently (for the most part, they are only aged 6, 4, and 3) and after he told the first they wanted another story. Once my husband had finished his stories, he shared his testimony of the gospel, very simply and plainly for them. He shared his testimony of the love Jesus Christ has and the truth of the gospel. After that, I shared my testimony of prayer with our little ones. Once I was done talking to them, I took a deep breath and asked my children how they felt inside. The described how they felt differently, but all agreed that they felt their hearts were calm and happy. Then I pointed out that what they were feeling was the Holy Ghost bearing witness to them that what Daddy and Mommy had said was true. That moment will mark the start of them being able to build their own testimonies on many different fact of the Gospel as they grow because they are now aware of how the Holy Ghost communicates with them to tell them when something is true.

We, as parents, let our kids taste the salt rather than try to sit and explain something that they might not ever grasp on through words alone.

As the Holy Ghost testifies to us the truth of the same thing over and over again, our testimony of that thing grows. We share our testimony with others and through sharing, we help others start to gain a testimony as well as increase our own faith and strengthen our testimonies.

I know that God is our Father. I know He loves us. He listens and answers our sincere prayers and as we strive to do what we know is right He guides us to that which will increase our spirituality and faith. I know that God lives, as does His Son, Jesus Christ. I know that through the atonement of Jesus Christ all can be made whole. All can escape their captivity, whether it be sin, fear or anything else that keeps us from progressing. This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I am a Mormon. I know it. I live it. I love it!

If you have questions about the Mormon faith, please ask me, or another Mormon. Whatever your reasons for asking are, won’t change my love for you or our friendship. Whether you are interested in joining the Mormon Church or just have some questions about what we believe or why we believe it, I would love to talk with you about it. No strings attached.

If you want to know more about me, asking about my faith is the biggest thing you could ask, as it’s the biggest part of my life.

Once Upon A Time...Happily Ever After

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She met a boy. They fell madly in love. That’s all they needed. They got married and their fairy tale came true, so they lived happily ever after!

That pretty much sums up every single princess/love story out there and it kind of makes me sad.

When I was little, my friends and my sisters would play with their dolls. Their dolls would get married, they had babies, and they would all be a happy little family. That’s not a bad thing, but when my sister and I would go to my friend’s house to play and we would pull out the doll house and the Barbie bin and all the clothes a sense of dread would fill me to the brim. I played with them, because that’s what they wanted to do and time spent with my two best friends was more important than the actual activity. But we would spend a minimum of an hour sitting, dressing and pretending the dolls were alive. If I remember correctly, the Ken dolls would almost always date Barbie and they’d fall in love. Sometimes they’d get married and have a happy family. For me, it seemed like a huge waste of time. Time that would be better spent playing in the dirt, jumping on my friend’s trampoline, building a HUGE house in the field with walls made out of rocks and sticks, or pretty much doing anything other than play with dolls or stuffed animals. Unless we were playing with the baby dolls. I did LOVE playing mommy.

The baby dolls were different and I couldn’t ever figure out why. I just knew I didn’t really enjoy playing with the other dolls because it all seemed, well, too pretend-y I guess. (Well - it’s a word now!)

Sadly, my parent’s marriage was not successful. Both my parents loved us and to this day, they are good friends and beyond civil towards each other (heck, they lived next door to one another for years after the divorce). But in my younger years, I was always a little more attentive to real life situations than most kids my age, and it was evident that my Dad didn’t quite step up where he should. Being aware of this, I think, helped shape my future and my ideals of dating and marriage.

I remember helping my mom with dishes when I was very young, standing on a chair next to the sink, and thinking, I can’t wait to get married and do the dishes with my husband. I’d day dream of my future mate standing next to me at the sink, washing dishes, but of us getting raisin fingers together. Sometimes playfully splashing each other, but mostly just cleaning with one another. Other occasions I’d see my mom going through tough times, or a financial struggle or whatever, and she’d be sitting at the table or on the couch, looking at bills or crying because she felt alone (I don’t know if she ever realized I saw her) and trying to figure out the situation, most of the time alone. And I would think, I can’t wait until I’m married and I can have problems to solve with my husband, and together. I’d envision me and my future husband sitting at the table holding hand talking about a problem and knowing that it would be OK because we were working it out together. I know I’m strange, but I couldn’t wait to have issues to work through! Couldn’t wait to work hard side by side with my best friend.

When my sister and I entered high school (we are only 19 months apart) she dated, had lots of guy friends, and if I remember right a few “boyfriends” as well. All my friends had boyfriends or girlfriends, and “serious” relationships off and on throughout high school. I went on lots of dates but never really had a “boyfriend” not because there wasn’t a guy who I didn’t have interest in, but because the idea never appealed to me. I knew that I was still very young. I knew the feelings I felt were very real, but also my experiences would change who I was in the coming years. I knew that even if I got married young, and found my “soul mate” the time between then and now would be a minimum of four years, and a lot happens in that time. I knew that any serious relationship I started would end one of two ways; either we would break up and one or both of us would be seriously hurt, or we would be together FOREVER. And forever was something I wasn’t anywhere near ready to start thinking about. So rather than take a chance on someone I knew little to nothing real about, I just dated a lot. Had a lot of fun and learned what different people were like. I tested the waters and made a mental list of attributes that I had to have, and would not stand for.

After I got back from serving a Latter Day Saint (LDS or Mormon) mission, I fell into the same pattern. Having a serious relationship interested me more at this point, but at the same time, until I dated a lot (I mean a LOT) I didn’t want to risk an unnecessary heart ache that could be avoided by just having fun and making friends. I figured, I’d go on dates, lots of them, and yes I’d date the same guys over and over again and once I got to the point that I felt we’d be compatible possibly eternally, then we could become an official “couple”.

There was one guy I dated a LOT and hung out with quite a bit and thought I might be interested in taking that step, but when the time came to actually decide on it, I chose otherwise. Something in me held back and I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. So instead I continued dating him off and on, but pursued other possibilities.

Then I saw this nerdy kid. He was roommates with one of my dearest friends. We were all hanging out at another friend’s house to watch a movie. I won’t say what movie it was, as I thought it was one of the most ridiculous wastes of time I’d ever experienced. But I looked over at this total nerd. Knew he didn’t really know me, so I got his cell number from my friend and started texting this nerdy kid out of sheer boredom, hoping to freak him out from not knowing who the crap was sending him these random text messages. Instead of freaking him out, however, it turned into flirting and he asked me out on a date. We went on a few dates and he invited me to his work picnic and introduced me as his girlfriend. I was livid! I wanted to punch him and say “What the CRAP! We are NOT together like that.” But when I turned to look at him, he just smiled at me and held my hand. For the first time in my life I finally felt that this geek was worth risking a broken heart for. 

I took that chance, and no one got a broken heart. It worked out. We’ve been married for nearly eight years, and have four beautiful children.

Here’s the kicker though, we are complete opposites. We don’t have much in common at all! I’m an extravert, he’s an introvert. I’m all theater and parties and friends, he’d be happier sitting at home all day playing his computer. (When I said our mutual friend dragged him, I’m very nearly serious about it – but he did make him come, a choice which my now husband would not have made that night on his own.) We have almost exactly the same taste in décor, baby names, books and movies but other than that, we couldn’t be more different. 

Naturally, we have had a plethora of issues and we’ve worked them all out. We’ve never really fought and our most heated arguments have not been more than emotional for both of us. We work on our problems together and there are many of them. We both make compromises and our marriage is a lot of hard work. And I love my husband more every day because we work together, even if it’s not very well all the time. We are happy and very much in love.

After we had been married for a little while, I was expecting a baby at the time, my mother met a man. They fell madly in love. That’s all they needed. They got married and their fairy tale came true, so they lived happily ever after! Instead of being happy for them, I was pissed! We’d go over to visit and they’d be absolutely glowing! They were always happy, they had positively everything they wanted and needed and my mom couldn’t stop talking about how happy she was all the time. Every freaking second. My animosity for their happiness was disgusting at best.

One night, my husband and I were sitting at home, I had a small baby, I was very emotional from my hormones, I didn’t know how to deal with all of these issues that we were dealing with and all I could think of was my mom and her perfect marriage! She had her happy ever after and I had been lied to! There was such a thing as endless bliss in marriage and here I was stuck with this lump of momentary infatuation I had mistaken for “the real thing” and I blew up. I got mad at my husband, I packed a bag and I put my baby son in his car seat. My husband looked at me with tears in his eyes as I walked out the door and went to my car. I put our baby on the ground so I could open the door and my beautiful husband stood there looking at me. 

“We made promises, and I can’t stop you. But if you really want to just walk out on this and throw it away instead of working at it, what am I supposed to do?” I’ve replayed this over and over in my head. And I’m still haunted by it. But I looked back at him and I honestly didn’t know if I loved him. Had I ever really loved him? It really didn’t matter, because he was right. We had made promises, eternal ones. And I owed it to myself and my Heavenly Father to work it out with this man as long as he was willing to work it out with me. This was the lowest point of our marriage, and the blame all goes to me. I was the one who wanted to quit. I was the one who felt I had been cheated and I was the one who allowed myself to let the fictional stories and envy I had for others cloud my love for my husband. I had allowed other things and other people come between me and the man I married. And for however small a moment that was, I can never ever fully repay him that weakness. But I will try desperately for the rest of eternity, because as it turns out, I love him more every single day.

Shortly after this, my mother divorced her perfect husband. An unwelcome relief spilled over me and I talked to her about it. I told her how I had felt betrayed by her, and how I had felt lied to for all my childhood and how marriage was work. She then admitted that they had had problems, big ones that shouldn’t have been ignored when they were dating, and couldn’t be ignored any longer. They weren’t happy at all and the love she thought she felt had merely attention from a man that had been filling whole she had needed to be filled. But none of it was real, true love. She then told me how jealous she had been of my relationship with my husband.

At that moment, I felt more validated than I ever really knew I needed. I didn’t have a fairy tale ending and I didn’t have a perfect life, but I had a perfect marriage. What made it perfect was that despite all our differences, all our problems and all of our individual imperfections, we wanted the same eternal goals and we were willing to fight side by side for them. Working together. That’s what makes a marriage perfect. That’s what I have! There are still brief moments when my husband and I don’t get along perfectly, but that’s just because we aren’t perfect. Our love has changed and grown and been molded into something I never would have recognized as love when we first started dating.

Don’t give up on your marriage, EVER! As long as your partner is willing to work it out, then work together. That’s what happened with my parents. My dad didn’t want to work at it. I love him, I always will. So if your spouse is willing to work it out, really think to yourself - You made promises, and they can’t stop you. But if you really want to just walk out on what you’ve built together and throw it away instead of working at it, what are they supposed to do? At that point it’s all going to be on you. You will be the one that gave up. Don’t give up! If it’s not a fight, and if it isn’t work, then you’re lying to yourself.

A perfect marriage is two imperfect people working together. Fight for your happily ever after!