My brain tickles about doing an earlier post about this concept. I guess some lessons need more than once to take...or there are different levels of learning happening.
Yesterday, I was blessed to teach about the widow's mite in seminary. (1 min clip)
After we watched it I felt inspired to share how perhaps those around us are very emotionally or spiritually poor. Perhaps that young man that drives with us to mutual is giving his two mites just to show up each week when he comes from an emotionally abusive and love-deprived environment. Maybe those people at church that we so easily judge for not serving more or doing better in their callings are giving their widow's mites. Are we the Pharisees who have emotional, physical and spiritual wealth, giving of our largess compared to the new convert for whom it takes everything just to show up at church every so often?
It reminded me of President Hinckley's quote: "All the Lord wants us to do is try...but you have to really try."
The following scripture took on deeper meaning to me in my "perfection-driven" psyche:
I never really noticed the caveat that came after both of these: "it is expedient that he should be diligent" and " be diligent unto the end." Neither of the phrases allow for a cop-out. The widow gave of all she had. We are exhorted in covenants in our church to give of all that we have to the Lord's work.
I have found the limits of my strength, at least the current ones. "It is not requisite." A beautiful phrase. I have been holding myself to the ideal of a woman with no need for sleep and more than 24 hours in my day. You should see all the things I want to do! All good things :).
But apparently I have not yet really learned why we are bound by time and limited means in this life. I still beat myself up occasionally with an imaginary divine standard (although I am getting better). The Lord promises in the scripture of the widow's mite that "blessed is this poor widow." Blessed. Ahhhh, that divine approval. And it comes with so little!
Yesterday I was at the temple after weeks of frustration in trying to set up an appointment and having all the necessary items there. My attendance at the temple has been laced with grief and frustration almost all summer, almost a challenge to my faith as to whether or not I will still attend. However, knowing that the need to go to the temple out-weighs my offence at policy and procedure, I have not-so-humbly continued to attend. Anyway, going back to yesterday, I brought the stack of family names that I have been eager to start working on. We had about 30 females and I asked how many we could do. The gentleman said that they had five there that they wanted to have us do, if that was alright, and then we could do five more along with those temple names.
As I sat there with those 25 "extra" names in my hands, I plead heaven-ward: surely we can just do at least a few more? After all, this is Thy work and is so important for every soul.
The answer came back very simply: Daughter, I am content with your widow's mite.
At the end of my day yesterday, I felt a tender mercy. As I reflected on my diverse day of spiritual/educational highs to "mommy crash moments" of horrible deflation of children's self-esteem, I felt a gentle assurance that I had given my widow's mite and that God was happy with me. I needed to keep trying, that was a given, but he was satisfied with my widow's mite. As I felt lightened by the prospect, I heard a little chuckle and the following phrase drifted into my mind:
"The Lord loveth a cheerful giver."
Good point.
If He is truly satisfied as I give my all--the full extent of my strength, not measured in headlong pushing nor in excessive busy-ness (my day was a good balance of push and pause)--then I can be happy. The world of possible joyful endurance opened up before me. I felt giddy. I even woke up and thought politically and historically with joy at 3 am before reasoning myself back to sleep again. And then when I woke up again, I woke up laughing. (Quinn asked if there was anything wrong :D.)
Wrong? No. Things are very right. As I was able to have my mind open to consider accepting and recognizing might be the widow's mite of those around me, my own self-condemnation was tapered and again, I felt joy. Blissful contentment. And an enthusiasm to joyfully explore the capacity of my strength and ability to be still today.
Yesterday, I was blessed to teach about the widow's mite in seminary. (1 min clip)
After we watched it I felt inspired to share how perhaps those around us are very emotionally or spiritually poor. Perhaps that young man that drives with us to mutual is giving his two mites just to show up each week when he comes from an emotionally abusive and love-deprived environment. Maybe those people at church that we so easily judge for not serving more or doing better in their callings are giving their widow's mites. Are we the Pharisees who have emotional, physical and spiritual wealth, giving of our largess compared to the new convert for whom it takes everything just to show up at church every so often?
It reminded me of President Hinckley's quote: "All the Lord wants us to do is try...but you have to really try."
The following scripture took on deeper meaning to me in my "perfection-driven" psyche:
27 And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefore, all things must be done in order. (Mosiah 4:27)I "found" this scripture when looking for the reference and direct quote for the previous one:
4 Do not run faster or labor more than you have strength and means provided to enable you to translate; but be diligent unto the end. (D&C 10:4)
I never really noticed the caveat that came after both of these: "it is expedient that he should be diligent" and " be diligent unto the end." Neither of the phrases allow for a cop-out. The widow gave of all she had. We are exhorted in covenants in our church to give of all that we have to the Lord's work.I have found the limits of my strength, at least the current ones. "It is not requisite." A beautiful phrase. I have been holding myself to the ideal of a woman with no need for sleep and more than 24 hours in my day. You should see all the things I want to do! All good things :).
But apparently I have not yet really learned why we are bound by time and limited means in this life. I still beat myself up occasionally with an imaginary divine standard (although I am getting better). The Lord promises in the scripture of the widow's mite that "blessed is this poor widow." Blessed. Ahhhh, that divine approval. And it comes with so little!
Yesterday I was at the temple after weeks of frustration in trying to set up an appointment and having all the necessary items there. My attendance at the temple has been laced with grief and frustration almost all summer, almost a challenge to my faith as to whether or not I will still attend. However, knowing that the need to go to the temple out-weighs my offence at policy and procedure, I have not-so-humbly continued to attend. Anyway, going back to yesterday, I brought the stack of family names that I have been eager to start working on. We had about 30 females and I asked how many we could do. The gentleman said that they had five there that they wanted to have us do, if that was alright, and then we could do five more along with those temple names.
As I sat there with those 25 "extra" names in my hands, I plead heaven-ward: surely we can just do at least a few more? After all, this is Thy work and is so important for every soul.
The answer came back very simply: Daughter, I am content with your widow's mite.
At the end of my day yesterday, I felt a tender mercy. As I reflected on my diverse day of spiritual/educational highs to "mommy crash moments" of horrible deflation of children's self-esteem, I felt a gentle assurance that I had given my widow's mite and that God was happy with me. I needed to keep trying, that was a given, but he was satisfied with my widow's mite. As I felt lightened by the prospect, I heard a little chuckle and the following phrase drifted into my mind:
"The Lord loveth a cheerful giver."
Good point.
If He is truly satisfied as I give my all--the full extent of my strength, not measured in headlong pushing nor in excessive busy-ness (my day was a good balance of push and pause)--then I can be happy. The world of possible joyful endurance opened up before me. I felt giddy. I even woke up and thought politically and historically with joy at 3 am before reasoning myself back to sleep again. And then when I woke up again, I woke up laughing. (Quinn asked if there was anything wrong :D.)
I needed some healing and found it here. A widows mite morning made the rest feel terrible, even with many good things. Argh. Mothering is tough.
ReplyDeleteI heard a story in a talk this also reminded me of - the woman giving it was a stake leader and she was over a committee for some event. One of the women involved seldom attended the planning meetings or came late. Others said the leader should basically stop involving her, but instead she went to visit her and got to know her more. She discovered her story (I don't remember all the details, but maybe a single working mother seems right) and the meetings were a burden. She noticed her beautiful home, and asked if she likes decorating and found she loved it. She told the woman she didn't need to attend the meetings, but asked if she would cover table decorations. She quickly agreed, and though others were worried, she came through. She gave her widows mite and could feel wonderfully successful.
What a beautiful perspective! If only we could really see each other, and ourselves as God sees us...I wonder if we would have more mercy and compassion? Thank goodness the one who is truly meting out the justice also has that mercy. I think we would enjoy His peace a lot sooner if we could just embrace it! :)
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