"The Miserables" around us...

 A fb post/story/fable:

"I locked the classroom door. The metal click echoed like a gunshot in the sudden silence.

I turned to the twenty-five high school seniors staring at me. They were the Class of 2026. They were supposed to be the “Zoomers,” the digital natives, the generation that had everything figured out.

But from where I stood, looking at their faces illuminated by the blue light of hidden phones, they just looked tired.

“Put the phones away,” I said. My voice was quiet, but they heard it. “Turn them off. Not silent. Off.”

There was a grumble, a collective shifting of bodies in plastic chairs, but they did it.

For thirty years, I have taught History in this gritty, working-class town in Pennsylvania. I’ve watched the factories close. I’ve watched the opioids creep in like a fog. I’ve watched the arguments at home turn into wars on the news.

On my desk sat an old, olive-green military rucksack. It belonged to my father. It smells like old canvas and gasoline. It’s stained. It’s ugly.

For the first month of school, the students ignored it. They thought it was just “Mr. Miller’s junk.”

They didn’t know it was the heaviest thing in the entire building.

This year’s class was brittle. That’s the only word for it. You had the football players who walked with a swagger that looked practiced. You had the theater kids who were too loud, trying to drown out the silence. You had the quiet ones who wore hoodies in September, trying to disappear into the drywall.

The air in the room was thick. Not with hate, but with exhaustion. They were eighteen years old, and they were already done.

“I’m not teaching the Constitution today,” I said, dragging the heavy rucksack to the center of the room. I dropped it on a stool. Thud.

The sound made a girl in the front row flinch.

“We are going to do something different,” I said. “I’m passing out plain white index cards.”

I walked the rows, placing a card on each desk.

“I have three rules. If you break them, you leave.”

I held up a finger. “Rule one: Do not write your name. This is anonymous. Completely.”

“Rule two: Total honesty. No jokes. No memes.”

“Rule three: Write down the heaviest thing you are carrying.”

A hand went up. It was Marcus, the defensive captain of the football team. A giant of a kid, usually cracking jokes. He looked confused. “What do you mean, ‘carrying’? Like, books?”

I leaned back against the whiteboard. “No, Marcus. I mean the thing that keeps you awake at 3:00 AM. The secret you are terrified to say out loud because you think people will judge you. The fear. The pressure. The weight on your chest.”

I looked them in the eyes. “We call this ‘The Rucksack.’ What goes in the bag, stays in the bag.”

The room went tomb-silent. The air conditioning hummed.

For five minutes, nobody moved. They looked at each other, waiting for the first person to crack.

Then, a girl in the back—Sarah, straight-A student, perfect hair—picked up her pen. She wrote furiously.

Then another. Then another.

Marcus, the football player, stared at the blank white card for a long time. His jaw was tight. He looked angry. Then, he hunched over, shielding his paper with his massive arm, and wrote three words.

When they were done, they walked up, one by one. They folded their cards and dropped them into the open mouth of the rucksack. It was like a religious ritual. A silent confession.

I zipped the bag shut. The sound was sharp.

“This,” I said, resting my hand on the faded canvas. “This is this room. You look at each other and you see jerseys, or makeup, or grades. But this bag? This is who you actually are.”

I took a deep breath. My own heart was hammering. It always does.

“I am going to read these out loud,” I said. “And your job—your only job—is to listen. No laughing. No whispering. No glancing at your neighbor to guess who wrote it. We just hold the weight. Together.”

I opened the bag. I reached in and pulled the first card.

I unfolded it. The handwriting was jagged.

“My dad lost his job at the plant six months ago. He puts on a suit every morning and leaves so the neighbors don’t know. He sits in his car at the park all day. I know he’s crying. I’m scared we’re going to lose the house.”

The room felt colder. I pulled the next one.

“I carry Narcan in my backpack. Not for me. For my mom. I found her blue on the bathroom floor last Tuesday. I saved her life, and then I came to school and took a Math test. I’m so tired.”

I paused. I looked up. Nobody was looking at their phones. Nobody was sleeping. They were staring at the bag.

I pulled another.

“I check the exits every time I walk into a movie theater or a grocery store. I map out where I would hide if a shooter came in. I’m eighteen and I plan my own death every day.”

Another.

“My parents hate each other because of politics. They scream at the TV every night. My dad says people who vote for the ‘other side’ are evil. He doesn’t know that I agree with the ‘other side.’ I feel like a spy in my own kitchen.”

Another.

“I have 10,000 followers on TikTok. I post videos of my perfect life. Last night, I sat in the shower with the water running so my little brother wouldn’t hear me sobbing. I am more lonely than I have ever been.”

I kept reading. For twenty minutes, the truth poured out of that green bag.

“I’m gay. My grandfather is a pastor. He told me last Sunday that ‘those people’ are broken. I love him, but I think he hates me, and he doesn’t even know it’s me.”

“We pretend the WiFi is down, but I know Mom couldn’t pay the bill again. I eat the free lunch at school because there’s nothing in the fridge.”

“I don’t want to go to college. I want to be a mechanic. But my parents have a bumper sticker on their car that says ‘Proud College Parent.’ I feel like I’m already a disappointment.”

And finally, the last one. The one that made the air leave the room.

“I don’t want to be here anymore. The noise is too loud. The pressure is too heavy. I’m just waiting for a sign to stay.”

I folded the card slowly. I placed it gently back in the bag.

I looked up.

Marcus, the tough linebacker, had his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking. He wasn’t hiding it.

Sarah, the girl with the perfect grades, was reaching across the aisle, holding the hand of a boy who wore black eyeliner and usually sat alone. He was gripping her hand like a lifeline.

The barriers were gone. The cliques were dissolved.

They weren’t Jocks, or Nerds, or Liberals, or Conservatives. They were just kids. Kids walking through a storm without an umbrella.

“So,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. “That is what we carry.”

I zipped the bag. The sound was final.

“I’m hanging this back on the wall. It stays here. You don’t have to carry it alone anymore. Not in here. In this room, we are a team.”

The bell rang. Usually, it triggers a stampede.

Today, nobody moved.

Slowly, quietly, they began to pack up their things. And then, something happened that I will never forget.

As Marcus walked past the stool, he didn’t just walk by. He stopped. He reached out and patted the rucksack, two gentle thumps. I got you.

Then the next student. She rested her palm on the strap for a second.

Then the boy who wrote about the Narcan. He touched the metal buckle.

Every single student touched that bag on the way out. They were acknowledging the weight. They were saying, I see you.

I have taught American History for three decades. I have lectured on the Civil War, the Great Depression, and the Civil Rights Movement. But that hour was the most important lesson I have ever taught.

We live in a country obsessed with winning. With looking strong. With the “highlight reel” we post on social media. We are terrified of our own cracks.

And our kids? They are paying the price. They are drowning in silence, right next to each other.

That evening, I received an email. The subject line was blank.

“Mr. Miller. My son came home today and hugged me. He hasn’t hugged me since he was twelve. He told me about the bag. He said he felt ‘real’ for the first time in high school. He told me he was struggling. We are going to get help. Thank you.”

The green rucksack is still on my wall. It looks like garbage to anyone who walks in. But to us, it’s a monument.

Listen to me.

Look around you today. The woman ahead of you in the checkout line buying generic cereal. The teenager with the headphones on the bus. The man shouting about politics on Facebook.

They are all carrying a rucksack you cannot see. It is packed with fear, with financial worry, with loneliness, with trauma.

Be kind. Be curious. Stop judging the surface and remember the weight underneath.

Don’t be afraid to ask the people you love: “What are you carrying today?”

You might just save a life."

This echoes exactly what I've been discussing with my teens, what I've been seeing in recent shows like "I Was A Stranger" and "Sight," in the Les Mis book I'm studying with my class, what I've seen in the lives of those around me whenever we get below the surface. We all are so human and have so much that we are bearing, the best we can.

And this quote from this post sums up the take home message...
"Be kind. Be curious. Stop judging the surface and remember the weight underneath."
Whether the situation in the story is real or fable, what it presents and the hope it gives--our shared humanity!--is real.

From Les Mis where I was listening this very morning:
"The mind's eye can nowhere find anything more dazzling nor more dark than in man; it can fix itself upon nothing which is more awful, more complex, more mysterious or more infinite. There is one spectacle grander than the sea, that is the sky; there is one spectacle grander than the sky, that is the interior of the soul.

"To write the poem of the human conscience, were it only of a single man, were it only of the most infamous of men, would be to swallow up all epics in a superior and final epic. The conscience is the chaos of chimeras, ...the furnace of dreams, the cave of the ideas which are our shame,...the battle-field of the passions. At certain hours, penetrate within the livid face of a human being who reflects, and look at what lies behind; look into that soul, look into that obscurity. There, beneath the external silence, there are combats of giants as in Homer, melees of dragons and hydras, and the clouds of phantoms as in Milton, ghostly labyrinths as in Dante. What a gloom enwraps that infinite which each man bears within himself, and by which he meausres in despair the desires of his will, and the actions of his life!"--Victor Hugo, "Les Miserables" Fantine, ch III

Mother Eve

 From a good friend, who's perspective echoes my own and who's eloquence I am preserving here: 

"Eve

Today I want to honor our Glorious Mother Eve, the Mother of all Living.

Some may wonder why? To answer this question we must look to the Creation. The Lord spent six days creating. On the sixth day man was created, Adam.

The Lord saw Adam alone and knew that it was not good for man to be alone. His creations were not quite complete. So they (yes here I affirm the existence of a living, loving Heavenly Mother, Gen. 1:26) created the crowning jewel of creation, woman. Eve. Named the Mother of all living. The help -meet- meaning the perfect partner, for Adam, the one who would be equal to him and to the task of helping Adam be all that God wanted and needed them both to be. And it was very good.

The Lord had created a beautiful garden place for them to live. Adam and Eve walked and talked with God in the garden. They were innocent and did not know good from evil. They were given two Commandments: do not eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil, and to multiply and replenish the Earth.

Some may think that these are not opposing Commandments. However, when we look closer at the scriptures, we recognize that there were no children in the garden. This is because they did not have knowledge. Adam could not "know" Eve.

Enter Satan. The great deceiver, destroyer and master of chaos. He thinking he could destroy the plan of God, introduces Eve to doubt.

Didn’t God say that you could eat all the fruit?

Doesn’t this one look delicious just like all the others?

Why can’t you eat this one then?

I know, it’s because the gods don’t want you to have knowledge like they do. (Gen 3:1-5)

I think some time passed in between Satan tempting Eve and partaking of the fruit. I think she thought a lot about the two Commandments God gave: not to eat the fruit and to multiply and replenish the Earth.

At this point, she didn’t know how to do that, she needed knowledge. So she partook of the fruit. Knowing full well that she would be cast from the garden and die. Yet she knew this is what she needed to do to fulfill God's greater commandment to multiply and replenish the Earth.

To fulfill her name, the Mother of all Living, she was willing to die to bring mankind into existence. To have children. Us.

Adam, seeing that she would be cast out and desiring to fulfill the commandment of the Lord to remain with Eve and multiply and replenish the Earth, also partook of the fruit. By doing so he was willing to die for Eve and mankind as well.

We know until this point they were innocent as the scripture says: their eyes were opened, and they recognized they were naked.(Gen 3:7)

In this modern world, and truly, for centuries, many mourn, the choice that Eve made to partake of the fruit, falsely thinking that if they hadn't eaten the fruit and just stayed in the garden, we would have no toil or trouble. Jesus would not have had to atone.

But this was not God’s plan. From the very beginning eating, the fruit was plan A. Agency of men is The Plan. Being able to choose and make choices about who we will be and how we will respond to opposition is The Plan. Work, hardship and death are The Plan. Choosing to Repent and follow God is The Plan! Jesus is The Plan! Oh what a merciful Plan!!

In the garden there was no opposition. No hard things to deal with. No pain. No death. They were eternal beings made in the image of God at one with Him in the Garden!

This also means that they could not know joy, sorrow, pain, triumph, happiness. Without one, you cannot know the other. Thus the scripture says that they transgressed the law. They did not sin. To sin, you must knowingly rebel. To transgress is to break a relationship. Eve and Adam did not rebel because they had no knowledge, they broke the personal relationship with God and so had to leave His presence aka.. The Garden.

Eve and Adam made the correct choice in Eden. They chose Knowledge which was sweet (as opposed to the fruit of the tree of Life which was bitter..life without knowledge would be bitter) and to learn in an environment with opposition, so that they could fulfill all the commands of God, most important of which was to bring mankind to the world.

So as I lay here in my bed, sick with the flu, and remembering the upcoming death day of my youngest son, I praise God for creating Eve, the Mother of all Living, because without her I would not be.

I would not be sick, I would not be well, I would not be happy. I would not be sad. I would not be lonely, I would not have friends. I would not be a mother to 8 wonderful children and Nana to 8 sweet grandchildren! I would not be joyfully married to Adam. I would not know and have a relationship with Jesus Christ because there would be no need.

So today I’m grateful to our first Mother whose courageous choice brought us here to experience all the ups and downs of mortal life, and the knowledge of a Perfect Plan to come back into relationship with God and Perfect Savior who voluntarily died so that I and my family can have the choice to love Him and return to Him!"            --Tina Robertson, fb

The Charging Block..

 Here's my set-up:

I like to get up early, so my desk in my room (which is a beautiful set-up) isn't really an option unless Quinn is up.  I'm learning those little things that bring peace in my journey and they are as unique and individually tailored as this set-up.  And as transitory.

I'm learning so much even in this too.

1) My health is important--hence the heightened platform for my computer so I can stand more often.

2) The charging block for my computer--next to which is the most easily damaged part of the essential recharging cord--needs to be supported and looked out for directly.  I am like that charging cord--receiving and passing forward power and direction--and my needs to be directly looked after.

3) Following little nudges like this can make a difference in the long-term that I don't foresee now.

This was reinforced yesterday. I wanted to make taco soup to use up the tomato soup and chicken broth that I had in the fridge (I hate waste).  It didn't make sense to just make one batch, so I asked the willing to learn Lily to make a double batch.  This double batch didn't really make sense because I have a fridge full of other leftovers ready to spoil. I reasoned that I could freeze and use the extras for my kiddos when I am gone.

I had Quinn divide it in half to only bring half to the lake with us that night when he met up with us.

Fast forward: end of rehearsal I reach out to a friend that we were going to the lake--almost like I couldn't stop myself. (We have had several days of rehearsals and I still have the unhealthy instinct to not "over-invite" people to things lest I overwhelm them. My therapist would call that taking charge of other people's happiness and decisions.)

She showed up!

I wanted to invite her to join us for dinner, but realized that I hadn't asked Quinn to bring all of the dinner, but I invited her anyway and we all had a little bit. She thanked me.

----

But I missed out.  She could see that we didn't have very much. She was so kind and responded to my multiple invitations, assuring her we had enough, which technically we did. But I had a pot full of extra soup at home, which in the long run begged so many lessons.

Lessons not of guilt (she was already planning on taking care of her family's own dinner and wasn't suffering because I didn't) but of missed opportunity and thereby learning:

-try not to overthink things, lol!

-by bringing my abundance with me, I might have enjoyed being able to serve dinner to a woman--a sweet new friend-- who was in the middle of a broken washing machine dilemma and had to go home now and gather her laundry and head to the laundromat!  Wouldn't that have been cool!

So here I am, the morning after...learning.  Not beating myself up. Learning.

What did that interaction feel like yesterday morning?  The interaction when it was probably God nudging me to make that illogical extra?  What made me start analyzing the why?

You see, I've had some people ask about or comment about my take on what I call following the Spirit--so many choices where I've just moved forward in a seemingly illogical direection and seen some cool miracles.  This is how I learn==by looking back at times where it might have been the Spirit and learning.

Not feeling guilty (can I say this enough?) because other people's happiness does NOT hinge upon me or my abilities.  But it does feel super cool to be part of something that brings a little more joy or eases someone's burden a little and I find that learning to recognize these interactions for what they are "mini-lesssons" I'm learning to pay attention more.  Kind of like a melody I recognize, or a feeling...like the groan one in too many romance movies where the main characters make stupid, out of character decisions to develop the plot or the sweet feeling of redemption at the end when all is restored--and one of the main reasons we watch it ;). 

Here's me, owning it! I like this.

Zen Visualizing Courtesy of Liesl

 Liesl is my seven year old. And she has SO much anxiety at times. One thing that helps her is routine. 

Part of that routine is reading scriptures at night and one night i was feeling particularly tired so I defaulted to one of my favorite scriptures: Psalm 23. 

Another part of her routine is listening to Spotify so this song was playing while I read it.  

I invited her to close her eyes and visualize while I read the following to her. 

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 

2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. 

3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. 

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 

5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. 

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

I felt so at peace.  Liesl said that she could picture herself as a lamb that Jesus loved and that He was taking care of. 

It is amazing how God can give us peace "in the presence of our enemies," whether those 'enemies' are circumstances, others or even ourselves and our own inner demons. 

I just wanted to share that moment of peace 🕊💛.

Crossing the Wilderness...on a Motorcycle... in the Rain??

I've been considering my role in the community and it's impact on my health and the wellness of my family.  These are big questions that I am almost constantly weighing: is the possible good I am doing in the community worth any negative impact it could be having on my family?  This last week I went to one of my favorite "ship building" chapters in the  Book of Mormon, 1 Nephi 17, and got stuck in the first three verses, when they went "into the wilderness"--this crazy desolate place--ate raw meat and their families not only survived but thrived, prospered and were content and "bore without murmurings" in the face of the logical result that they would just suffer and be miserable. "Your family is also protected, my daughter" I have felt.

We face so much of sin and hardship and unmet expectationsi in this life as a result of our own choices and that of others.  But as mentioned in the talk from last General Conference, "Mortality works!"  God's work and glory includes a great deal of pain and suffering for those very reasons. I was re-listening to that talk by Brad Wilcox about "His Grace is Sufficient"* on youtube the other day and he brought up that he doesn't think it will be the unrepentant sinner begging to be in heaven.  No, it will be Christ begging them to stay.  We obey the commandments not to earn heaven but to learn heaven, so that we will be comfortable there.  And that means turning the other cheek, loving as Christ did, forgiving as He did, trying again and again to live like He lives.  And His life was HARD. I can see many of us going up to heaven, realizing how much pain is involved in God's plan of mortality and how that is really a part of it and refusing to accept that.  But Eve--and Adam--did.  There is truly no other way. All these thoughts have culminated this week, leaving me a little breathless.

Regardless of whether I'm building the boat or crossing the wilderness, God is truly with me every step of the way. I realized this on Saturday in a very profound way:

My husband loves to ride his motorcycle. He loves to take people on rides on it, too. For the first maybe year or two of him having it, though, I was not going to go near it. However, over time I saw it as a potential "thing to do together" and braved my first ride. It was short. It was slow. It was terrifying. It was terrible. I kept trying to peer around him to see the road ahead to anticipate the bumps. I knew we were going to crash as we turned corners and tried to compensate by leaning the other way on the motorcycle...it just wasn't pretty.

But, I got up on it again and we went farther. And farther. I remember the first time we went on the actual freeway, Quinn must have felt that we were going at a snail's pace, but I was sure that I was facing death at every corner, especially at every corner. I remember distinctly employing my "birthing breathing techniques" as we went around a round-about and leaned into it. What???? And I was supposed to just lean into the quickly flying by asphalt?? Into my death?? I did so much "mental distancing" and "visualization" that trip!

Yet over time, I have gone again and again and gradually, I have been able to look up at the beauty around me and soak some in.

Last Saturday, Quinn and I opted to take the motorcycle to play football, meeting up with family and friends at the park. And en route, it started to rain. Red flags went up as I pulled myself from the happy realization that I had been calm for the whole ride to that point to the sudden awareness that my children would never see me alive again. Holding my arms around Quinn's waist, I looked at my options. I could panic--possibly increasing our chance of crash--or I could calmly choose to embrace death, knowing that either way, my fate was in Quinn's hands.

I chose calm.

After the cloudburst passed (Quinn muttering something about the inaccuracy of weather predictions), and we resumed our normal speed, I felt impressed that that experience was like me trusting God. It hasn't been my first preference, honestly, most of the time....to do what He actually wants of me, not "to do what He wants" theoretically. You see, where the rubber meets the road is a perfect analogy for my experience in the challenge of doing what God wants of me. Often it is terrifying. Often it is a blind experience, like sitting behind Quinn and not trying to look ahead. However, it is in those moments where I am invited to a different way, a higher way (although I'm not advocating motorcycling as a higher way, lol!). I am invited to "go on a ride" with God and so many aspects of this analogy really, really fit.

Cloudbursts and all.

*Brad Wilcox's talk:

My take on his talk:

Finding Symbolism in Airport Alarms

 Okay, if there's a perfect time ot be at the airport, I have to say, my favorite it in the week hours of the morning.  Well, only if you have a long layover.  So much seating available.  I can lay on the freshly cleaned floors with much less hesitation than usual. (Yes, I do sometimes because when you're tired... and honestly, will you ever see these people again?)

Yes, that's me.  With my eyes closed. I decided to keep it real and keep my first attempt at this selfie; besides, it's an adequate reflection of the time of day, right?

Well, something that happens at 1:30 am in an airport is the testing of an alarm system.  (Not so great for sleeping but I'm in a three hour lag, so 2 am in Vegas is about my normal wake up time in Ohio. Yes, Vegas!  The picture is a giveaway, right?  Too bad I don't care to gamble, although from what I overheard of the "success" stories of fellow travelers, it would be wise to not try, surprise surprise.  But I digress.) Back to the alarms...

So, right before the alarms came on, there was a loud announcement that basically let us know that the alarms were going to be tested, so to no panic.  Then, for the next 30 minutes (or so) they tested various sound and light alarms.  Good thing I was already awake!  Immediately after the first ones went off, I thought, that's super smart!  So many things can go wrong and you want to be sure everything is in place if that emergency should arise.

That was followed immedately by the thought, much like the voice of the prophets and apostles in our day.  This was fresh on my mind because I was listening to a General Conference talk at the time from President Nelson "Make Time For The Lord" from 2021. I had also just started reading the Doctrince and Covenants, honestly not my go-to book of scriptures. I had just prayed a week ago for God to show my why we study this book, to gain a testimony of it.  As I read the first section, I was immediately struck with several truths that not only applied ot some situations I had been seeking counsel from heaven about, but also the phrase the Lord uses, "to raise a voice of warning in the last days" as calamities and chaos foretold for millenia unfold.  So I'm reading.  And watching for those signs and warnings.

It probably was a natural jump for me to make a connection, then, this morning when the alarms were being tested, against the day of calamity. The airport administrators want everything up and running and in place against the day of emergency.  God wants our lives "up and running" to prepare personally against the impending events that signal the coming of our Lord.

The alamrs were repetitious, perhaps even obnocious.   I admit my heart is not always eager to accept and implement the warnings that seem ofttimes repetitious from the pulpit of those called of God to give us His word.  Here's a sample from the talk I was listening to you and see if any of it might be a familiar refrain...a drill as it were:

"My brothers and sisters, I plead with you to make time for the Lord! Make your own spiritual foundation firm and able to stand the test of time by doing those things that allow the Holy Ghost to be with you always.

Never underestimate the profound truth that “the Spirit speaketh … of things as they really are, and of things as they really will be.”¹ “It will show unto you all things what ye should do.”²

Nothing invites the Spirit more than fixing your focus on Jesus Christ. Talk of Christ, rejoice in Christ, feast upon the words of Christ, and press forward with steadfastness in Christ.³ Make your Sabbath a delight as you worship Him, partake of the sacrament, and keep His day holy.⁴

As I emphasized this morning, please make time for the Lord in His holy house. Nothing will strengthen your spiritual foundation like temple service and temple worship." (Nelson, October 2021)

 So even if those voices of warning may come when we'd rather be sleeping (literally or metaphorically), and even if they seem annoyingly repetitious, maybe it's because that's just what we need to be ready to know just what to do when that day comes...and every day in between.

The alarms were of relatively short duration and I could do other things while being mindful of them. I probably exaggerated when I said thirty minutes. It was probably ten.  Ten minutes. Is it worth those ten minutes, naturally incorporated, to be ready?

Ironically, the topic of the talk and the one that led me to it, "Seek Him With All Your Heart" by Bishop Budge 2024 both emphasized setting intentional, dedicated time to be with God, just as Jesus did during His earthly ministry. If the perfect Savior of the world needed that time, it's something to consider.  (Budge gives great ideas of how to make this time naturally and attainably incorporated into our schedule.)

Just thought I'd share! I'd love to hear ways that you find or make time to be still, to meditate, to take time to be with the Lord and experiences you've had when you've been successful...or not! 

P.S. I have plenty of the latter!  This line stood out from Budge's talk and I'm totally guilty of this! 

The Lord knew—in this fast-paced world full of distractions and in commotion—that making quality time for Him would be one of the major challenges of our day. Speaking through the prophet Isaiah, He provided these words of counsel and caution, which can be likened unto the tumultuous days in which we live:

“In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength: and ye would not.

“But ye said, No; for we will flee upon horses; therefore shall ye flee: and, We will ride upon the swift; therefore shall they that pursue you be swift.” 

In other words, even though our salvation depends on returning to Him often and resting from the cares of the world, we do not. And even though our confidence will come from a strength developed in quiet times sitting with the Lord in meditation and reflection, we do not. Why not? Because we say, “No, we are busy with other things”—fleeing upon our horses, so to speak. Therefore, we will get further and further away from God; we will insist on going faster and faster; and the faster we go, the swifter Satan will follow in pursuit.

Yikes!  Sometimes less is more.  I hear it a lot. Harder to apply for sure! It's one thing to know a thing and another to do it.  Good thing we have these regular "drills."

Madhouse Miracles

 I would be remiss (especially after reading the admonition of the Savior to record sacred things as found in 3 Nephi 27) if I didn’t record the miraculous happenings of the “Madhouse” play this weekend.  So very many things go wrong…equipment failure (from sound system overlap to the darn cans of spray paint), shipping problems (the critical deer portrait not arriving in time and having to do some last minute running around), scheduling issues with families that both they and I didn’t realize until the end…but so very many things go right.  Just because we are doing the work of the Lord, doesn’t mean that the path will be easy.  No example in the scriptures would validate this.  Every situation that comes to mind is rife with doubt, complications and outright heart-breaking moments.  Hannah and her son; Daniel and the lion’s den; Nephi and his brothers; Abinadi, Moses, Abraham….the list goes on.

(from a post of my mom's)

    But this morning, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep, I started reviewing scriptures that I have memorized and one floated to the surface in a different light, illuminated by the context of my life right now: Isaiah 41,  think…it’s the last verse in 40 or 41, I think.  But anyway, it basically goes like, “and they that wait upon the Lord shall rise up on their wings as eagles.  And they shall run and not be weary and walk and not faint.”  I thought it meant to wait for the Lord, as in be patient.  But maybe it also means the serving kind of “wait.” I am anxiously engaged in some super amazingly good causes. I also am mindful of the “it is not requisite that you run faster than you are able”...which means sleep!  But we shall be able to run and not be weary…and walk and not faint, meaning those times when we need to slow down, we will not be lost.  I was grateful for this reminder and different way of looking at it. I know that my God is an awesome God and that He truly will honor all of the words that He has sent and continues to send through the mouths of His servants, from prophets to babes, through the Holy Ghost and the scriptures.

Some images from the play (courtesy of Beth Flick, owner of BFlick Photography https://www.facebook.com/bflickphotography )