The Magic of Sundays

 I have not had to fast many times over the past 25 years.   Being pregnant or nursing has kind of "given me the excuse" to not do it, although I've never be opposed to doing it.  It is just not something I've ever enjoyed and, quite frankly, felt somewhat relieved at times that I was not technically "required" or expected to do it.

A week ago Sunday marked my third time fasting since I stopped pumping milk for Penelope earlier this year.  I went into it with some things on my mind, some places where I would love to improve--marriage, ability to prioritize peacefully. 

As kind of a trailing thought, I kicked in, "Oh, and it would be really nice if Penelope could start sleeping better!!"

Now that kind of request is not frequent for me, lying in one of those "it's just part of the journey!" kind of trials or experiences. I had prayed about it for sure before. But I was feeling a little desperate. 

Just the evening before the fast, I was lying awake at 11:30 pm after a spell of trying to get her to sleep.  It seemed that everything I had been trying since she was born was just not working.  And I kept trying to gradually adjust how I was doing it so I could just get a few hours in a row consistently!  Most nights she would sleep for a couple hours in a row for part of the night, but was frequently up at less than hour intervals...still.  This particular Saturday night she was doing her monotone "whine no matter what I did and no matter what position I had her in."  Quinn was trying to read aloud a book that we have been reading to each other for about 6 months and once again Penelope was having the final say.  

I ranted heavenward, "This is ridiculous! It's affecting everything.  My love life, my emotional life, my physical life and I can't even read a stupid book at night aloud with my husband!  Yikes, child!"

Maybe that's why I tucked that request on the end of my "fasting requests."

And that's why I got my miracle.

Tuesday night I fell asleep at 9:30 pm.  I woke up at 6:30 am.  No breaks.  No stirrings.  Nothing. Just sleep.

After more than a year of interrupted sleep and never more than 4 hours in a row, I'll take that as a miracle.

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Sundays must be special because I realized the second experience that brought me back to recording here was another answer to a prayer.  This one a simple one: Please help me know how to prioritize what is really important and find peace.  Yes, an echo to my fasting prayer.

I have finally acknowledged that "successful" prioritizing doesn't mean that I get everything done on my to-do list and the house is still clean. :D  "Successful" means feeling peace.  

I have had a couple things that have just been hard to put into my schedule without making extreme sacrifices.  And I just kept feeling that there is a way to do it. I have spent years making extreme sacrifices of willpower and time.  But I have realized that God doesn't require us to push ourselves so that we come crawling into bed each night after "wearing ourselves out in His service." In fact, He wants us to be joyful and balanced.  And it's been beautiful to really internalize that truth.

However, there were still a couple of things that I knew I needed to start doing...things that are kind of just for me.  Which is hard.

After Isaak died, I went into a time of self-hating, self-damning, self-deprivation that lasted for years.  If it was for me, it wasn't allowed.  However, if it benefited even just one other person, voila!  Acceptable.

Exercise helps prep my body to serve.  Eating right.  Creating groups, cleaning house, watching movies as a family, reading good books to inspire my children or prep for groups...all beneficial in some other way and therefore doable.

Well, I have two things that are just for me: writing/illustrating my children's books and shooting my authentic Hungarian bow that Quinn got me for Christmas about 10 years ago. I have plenty of bad habits that are selfish...don't get me wrong!  I have plenty of selfish to contend with.  But to willfully engage in something like that--schedule it in, sacrifice other things for it--when I have other things I could be doing that benefit more than just me?  Even the thought makes me squirm a little still despite all the progress God has been helping me make internally. 

Anyway...those are the things that I needed to schedule in.  I feel like God is telling me that it is important.

I had a beautiful scripture reading time in 2 Nephi 17 that reminded me that God wants us to ask him for the desires of our hearts, to ask him for miracles...

10 Moreover, the Lord spake again unto Ahaz, saying:

11 Ask thee a ^asign of the Lord thy God; ask it either in the depths, or in the heights above.

12 But Ahaz said: I will not ask, neither will I ^atempt the Lord.

13 And he said: Hear ye now, O house of David; is it a small thing for you to weary men, but will ye weary my God also?

At the end of my scripture reading time I was pondering, "what would I ask of God right now that is deep in my heart?"  The answer came quietly, "Help including those two things into my life that would help me see that I am worth being me...just to be me."

So on Sunday (going back to the magic), I asked to be set apart as the 2nd counselor in Primary, which I had been called to months earlier during the COVID restriction time of no contact.  Despite the rush after church, one of the counselors was able to set me apart and his blessing was rich with promises that I would be able to prioritize "those things that are in your heart" and still bless my family and feel peace. 

It was just a sweet reassurance that God is completely mindful of me, as well as a reminder that our leaders can be inspired even when they are imperfectly trying to rush around taking care of what God wants them to do.

So did I do those things, you may wonder?

Well, I did work on my art yesterday and it felt beautiful.

And I thought about shooting my bow.  It's a start.

Visiting Teaching: A Window to God's Love for Me

I just had a tender epiphany with regards to visiting teaching.

I was praying for each my sisters, by name and out loud...something I don't do very often, sadly.  As I did it, the challenges that were either before or within each sister came to mind.  As I prayed about one sister in particular, I reflected as I have so often on how similar the two of us are in areas that I am particularly weak.  The seemingly frustrating shortcomings that I see in her (the motes) I have come to see are huge beams in my own personality.  I have seen in the past how loving her despite those traits have been gateways to loving myself despite those same weaknesses; loving her (and myself) while she has the weakness and not just after she conquers it.

As I reflected on that this morning once again, my mind's eye opened and I saw those challenges of my sisters (bitterness, busy-ness, independence, frustration with limits, etc.) were all reflections of things I struggle with.  Immediately the Spirit brought to my mind the scripture shared by the missionaries in our home last night:

Moroni 7: 47 But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.

 48 Wherefore, my beloved brethren, pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ; that ye may become the sons of God; that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be purified even as he is pure. Amen.

It came to my mind last night as we shared this scripture that as we seek to love like God, truly love others as He would, we will feel His great love for them.  And as we feel this great love, we will not approach the throne of God with fear and trembling but we shall look up at His face and see that same love for us that we felt for others, that same love that:

...suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things...(verse 45)

 We shall be eager to see our God, knowing how much He loves us in spite of our many weaknesses, just as we have shown an imperfect version of that love to our fellowmen.

I saw a connection with those I visit teach!!  When I come to love and reach out and accept those who struggle with those same things that I struggle with, I will be more accepting of my Father's love to me in those same scenarios.  I felt immediate confirmation that those sisters that I am called on to visit were truly and incredibly and perfectly inspired for me, individually.  As I come to love them, I will come to understand and see more clearly God "for him as he is,"  a merciful and loving God to all those who seek His face.

Visiting teaching?  Do I have time for it?  Now more than ever.  Is it important? Again, in more ways now that ever before.  For I am not only reaching out with the Lord's hands in love to others but I now realize that I am coming to understand more fully God's love for me.

Apostolic Warning for the Last Days...

...which we live in, Elder Ballard says!

I happened across this talk from a recent 220-stake conference to the Utah Salt Lake Area led by Elder Ballard. (Click on "this talk" for the video and text of it.)  We can be so easily led astray and it was eerie, yet comforting, for him to address how even the very elect are being deceived by false prophets and teachers who "have great signs following them."

I raise my voice as Paul did, that there are those “that trouble you pervert the gospel of Christ.” I would be shirking my duty if I did not raise my voice to warn you of the challenges we face today.
My brothers and sisters, never forget that there are two powers in the universe; one invites us to choose the right and experience eternal joy and happiness, and the other invites us to choose the opposite, bringing sadness and regret. Our doctrine teaches us that life is a test—a time to see which invitation we will accept.
I remind you of Jesus’s prophecy regarding the last days in which we now live (see?  crazy!): “For there shall arise false Christs, and false prophets, and shall shew great signs and wonders; insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall deceive the very elect.”^[5] We are saddened when we witness some of the “very elect” deceived as Jesus warned.
Recently I visited a small grove of sequoia trees planted many years ago on the BYU campus. A friend of mine explained to me that sequoias are the world’s largest trees and that they can grow to between 164 and 279 feet tall in the wild. They can live to more than a thousand years.
Another interesting fact about the sequoias is that their unique and resilient bark protects the trees from forest fires and also repels bugs and fungi that can damage and kill a tree.
One of the trees died and the dead tree needed to be cut down, leaving only a stump to remind anyone passing by that a tall, majestic tree once stood there.
The campus arborist wanted to know what killed the tree, as the sequoia certainly did not die of old age. After an examination, he determined that the tree’s feeding roots had died from a lack of water.
How was that possible since the tree had flourished there for more than five decades?
The arborist discovered that the aquifer that nourished the little grove had shifted as an unintended consequence of the construction of a new building, just east of the grove.
To me this is a perfect analogy of what happens when stalwart Church members, the “very elect,” those who for all appearances seem to stand tall and erect in the faith, die spiritually.
Like the dead sequoia, these Church members once received their spiritual nourishment from the well of living water offered by Jesus Christ. But for one reason or another, they have shifted away from the source of spiritual nourishment, and without that nourishment their spirit was dulled, and they eventually died spiritually.
Now I ask you, brothers and sisters, how can we ensure that our spiritual feeding roots are always connected to the well of living water?

As a messenger from Christ always does, he gave us the tried and true ways to stay connected with Heavenly Father and not be deceived.  Ways to find out for ourselves what is right and ways to hold fast to the iron rod.

My patriarchal blessing warns that if I do not read daily and faithfully from the scriptures I will be led astray.  No maybe about that one.

When darkness and confusion, frustration and dispair cloud over me, I know  that I can say a prayer, go to the temple, listen to the prophets, read my scriptures and partake of the sacrament, my feet will be firmly planted. 

I stand with the brethren and look forward to hearing their words this weekend.  Great talk.

Why go to church?

Through the years I have asked myself this many times:
-as a youth, who didn't feel like she fit in her class;
-as a college student in a university where the gospel doctrine teacher taught the Old Testament from a feminist slant, the branch president endorsed rated-R movies, and one student not only told us that we didn't need temples ("our churches are set-apart to do everything we need done"), but challenged visiting Elder Holland about why the church excommunicates so many intellectuals;
-as a mom with young kids who seemed bent on making sure each week was not only stressful and pointless (when I couldn't hear anything), but incredibly embarrassing;
-as a woman in an exclusively Hungarian-speaking meeting, not understanding more than "and" and "also" in sentences.

I never considered not going (alright, sometimes it seemed tempting :)...), but it was merely a question that would drift across my mind....particularly when I didn't seem to hear or understand anything.

Then, two days ago, I came across this powerful article in the March Ensign, called "A Sign from Mosetta".   In the story, the author met Mosetta, a woman in a ward in Mississippi, where the author, Heather, had just moved.  Heather says:

I learned that not only was Mosetta deaf, but she also had trouble speaking. She knew a southern dialect of ASL, could read simple things, and had learned to write the necessities: “I want to …”

Heather relates something Mosetta shared with her on one visit:

She motioned for me to sit down. It became clear that she wanted to talk about the gospel. She pulled out her copy of the Book of Mormon that the missionaries had given her before she joined the Church. She then showed me some other pamphlets she had received from representatives of other religions who had knocked at her door. She shook her head and signed, “No—not for me!” and then, holding the Book of Mormon, smiled and nodded her head “Yes!” while placing her hand on her heart.

I sat there amazed, wondering how she could have embraced the Church and all there is to know about the gospel. With her limited access to gospel knowledge, how did she know she wanted to commit herself to this Church? Did she really know all that Latter-day Saints believed? (At that time there weren’t as many materials as there are today for members who are deaf.) As I thought about it, the answer came swiftly and simply. She knew it was good because she had felt the Spirit in her heart, and that was enough. That realization strengthened my testimony, and I found myself wanting that kind of spirituality in my own life. Until I met Mosetta, I hadn’t known that such a deep level of spiritual sensitivity was possible. (See Alma 32:28.)

So, with that background, this next part of the story truly changed my perspective forever about church attendance:

Mosetta continued to come to church with me for several years. Each week, she sat patiently with a smile on her lips for three long hours on hard chairs. She never heard a word and never made a comment, but she was there.

Can you imagine?  Sitting for three hours in silence, not understanding a word--just to feel the Spirit?  It struck me so strongly:  that is why I go to church each week.  As I partake of the Sacrament (which I can do with squirmy, noisy kids or after listening to the prayer in a different language) and allow myself to feel the Spirit, I can be fed.

Thanks, Mosetta, for your example from Mississippi, and for Heather who shared it.  The power of one little candle, one little nail, sharing across the span of miles and time to touch my life in a powerful way.