Anxiety Part 2

My mom sent me a beautiful email.  She has always been a great example about just doing what she could and (at least seeming :)...) to be at peace with what she couldn't.  She says herself that she is not much ruled by anxiety.  I say "seeming" because I know that there are things that she has struggled with emotionally, but overall, she does exude a feeling of acceptance of the Lord's will in her life and acknowledgment that she can only do so much.

My mom mentioned that perhaps the unfinished state of our house could have something to do with my anxiety right now...my feelings that I cannot create a feeling of peace and refuge for my family.  I have wondered about that as the construction process takes much longer than we originally anticipated.  Yes, Dave...you were right :).  I still remember sitting across from my dear brother at a restaurant before moving to New York, sharing our family vision with this house and hearing him say, "You know, Mary, projects like that always take longer than you think." I remember distinctly feeling, "Well, yes, but this case will be different..."  Mm-hm!  I guess not :).

I have smiled so many times at the fact that many of the homes here in western New York are in varying degrees of construction so if I were to have a home under constant construction and a state of huge unfinished-ness, this is the place to feel at home with that!  Love this place. Love the people. It is just a reality of where we are.

But yes.  I think that this is part of the problem that I need to deal with.  My mom finishes up her email to me with this:

We come from a perfect calm place called heaven. To feel that peace we need a piece of it on earth. But then I think of the people in Africa with a tin roof that are full of peace and happiness and everything I wrote above goes out the window. Remember I love you and be a little kinder to my daughter. Love those chillins for me! 

Hugs!  Mom

These thoughts have run ruts around in my mind as well.  This unfinished state has been a very physical, seemingly drawn out reminder of my own unfinished state.  The challenge all along has been to find the peace in the process. To find that Africa-like place of contentment in the process of acknowledging there is simply nothing more to be done. This is simply all we can do.  Maybe it is so hard to acknowledge after seeing God do so much with me? Maybe I am left wondering, if you can fix so many things miraculously, why not me?

I replied to my mom:

I have also felt the same thing about the people in Africa.  Maybe the difference is that that is all they can do with their resources?  And this is not?  Maybe this is all we can do with our resources? I am learning a great deal about "finishing things" and my obsession with that in this process. Maybe this is my way to learn?  Thanks for your love and thoughts.  Maybe it is because I am so hard on myself that I am like this. Unlike the Amish, I haven't truly embraced the realization that I am just not perfect and will not be in this life..  Why is that so hard to learn?  Maybe it is because I have felt moments of perfection...although that has always been at times when the Spirit has been there, supplementing and enhancing my own efforts and contributions to a moment.  Interesting.   

That phrase after all I can do has been running through my head as I have experienced several days in a row of non-Spirit enhanced days.  And not for lack of trying.  The Spirit has been here, but I have distinctly felt a pulling back of the usual divine intervention to bless and accentuate my efforts to be more than my capacity. To leave me to my own.  And I am forced to see that I do have limitations :).  And I can still find joy.

Let me see if I can capture this in words.

I have experienced many moments in my life where God has distinctly and hugely added His divine touch to my efforts and created miracles: in youth groups, plays, talks, my family...and I have loved it.   In fact, I now realize that I love it so much, that I have looked around at my home and irrationally thought: if I just push myself hard enough, this would all be done. I list all my projects and think, I have seen miracles before...if I just do more, than this would be done...And that horrible follow-up thought, so why isn't my life "better"?

Wow.  This writing process, again.  The things I am learning.

My mentality is wrong.  It is false.

It is as if I am inherently believing that life is truly a check-list that if I throw myself into it hard enough, God will keep helping me check off things that seem "bigger and better." But right now, it is as if He wants me to see that while it is true that "all I can do" is not very much, it is still beautiful.  And I can still feel peace.  And not beat myself up.  And I can trust Him and that the battles are truly His.  The judging, protecting and providing are truly His, as I referred to in my previous article about the covenant relationship with God, and my job is to love.

I am my worse slave-driver and I think He is trying to teach me to stop. Stop beating myself up.  Trusting more.  Maybe He is trying to teach me the beauty of my perceived imperfection...to stop and be still.  Numerous previous posts center on this and I sense that anyone reading must tire of the repetition :).  I read my last post and see all the fighting words in it, as thought throwing myself at it will defeat the problem when what I need to do is be submissive, humble, trusting.

In my Amish book, it says that an Amish person would never apologize for the dirty state of their house when someone walks in.  To do so, would be to claim that you and your home should be perfect and there is none perfect but God.  I have thought about this a lot lately.  And that I am, in effect, continuously apologizing to the world and beating myself up because I am not perfect.  But there is none perfect but God.

Now I need to make sure that I don't beat myself up because I beat myself up :).  Ahhhh, the cruel cycles we get ourselves into.  Maybe I don't need to "make sure" of anything.  Maybe I just need to go and listen to the birds outside my window, the stream at the bottom of my messy yard and breathe.

In. Out.

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round,or listened to rain slapping the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight,or gazed at the sun fading into the night?
You better slow down, don't dance so fast,time is short, the music won't last.

Do you run through each day on the fly,when you ask "How are you?", do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,with the next hundred chores running through your head?
You better slow down, don't dance so fast,time is short, the music won't last.

Ever told your child, we'll do it tomorrow,and in your haste, not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a friendship die,'cause you never had time to call and say hi?
You better slow down, don't dance so fast,time is short, the music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere,you miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,it's like an unopened gift thrown away.
Life isn't a race, so take it slower,hear the music before your song is over.

Re-Post of "Finding Self-Worth in a Selfie World"

Just in case you didn't follow the earlier link, here is the short article I referred to in my last post.

I was 11 years old when I realized I had no friends. It was the beginning of 5th grade in a new school, and, besides, everybody probably feels similar when they’re that young anyway. But even if that’s true, it didn’t soften the blow when the Val-O-Grams—those special valentines students purchased and had sent to their best friends—were delivered to all the classrooms and everyone seemed to get ten and I only got one—and it was from my mom.

I was 17 years old when I experimented with the harshest of hair products because the statement I was making with my ripped jeans and worn boots wasn’t getting enough of the attention I wanted from my high school peers. If they weren’t looking at or talking about me, it was as if I didn’t exist.

I was 21 years old when I knew I was the worst missionary in the history of the Church. I wasn’t baptizing as much as others, I wasn’t called to leadership positions when younger missionaries were, and I simply didn’t feel the persistent, all-encompassing glow I once associated with missionary work and righteousness and following the rules.

I was 26 years old when I finally graduated from college and was offered a job I felt I had to accept to feel like a contributing adult. And soon after I took the job, I silently wished that I could go back and start over again. Because, at the time, I wasn’t brave enough to say no to a job I knew wouldn’t fulfill me even though it would pay my bills. Because I wasn’t traveling the world or interning at Universal Studios or playing in the NFL or publishing bestsellers or making the kind of money that would ensure an early and prosperous retirement. I was at a desk. And it appeared everyone else was living their dream.

And I was 28 years old when my wife was diagnosed with a terminal lung disease. And beyond how many friends I had, how good-looking I felt I was, how respected I was by my peers, how glamorous or rich I was or wasn’t, my understanding of self-worth became how I used my new pain and past experiences to acquire the compassion necessary to truly love someone other than myself. And what if that’s the secret? What if pouring yourself—the good and the hidden—into those around and beyond you afforded you the kind of self-worth you can’t get from social media or one of the thousands of self-help books crowding our shelves? What if outward compassion rather than inward reflection is the barometer with which God measures our intended purpose and value? Well, I think it might be. Or at least it’s a strong component. Because I’ve never felt more worthy as a son of God than when I first started washing my wife’s hair because lifting her own arms to shampoo her hair became too much for her lungs to handle. I’ve never felt so purposeful and satisfied than when I made the obvious choice of disappearing into the full-time care and round-the-clock concern of a most precious and delicate daughter of God.

Maybe not having friends in 5th grade meant I wasn’t being a friend to my classmates. Maybe not feeling attractive in high school meant I needed to step away from my mirror and look out my window. Maybe not receiving the leadership roles I felt I needed in order to really make a difference as a missionary meant that I wasn’t fully serving those closest to me—my missionary companions and the families who were looking to us for gospel understanding. Maybe feeling enslaved to a job that wasn’t the coolest or most lucrative meant that I didn’t yet understand that it would be outside the hours of 9 to 5 where my happiest, hardest, and most sacred work would be done. And maybe feeling cheated by 78 “likes” on a posted picture that I thought deserved a million means I’ve swung too far from what I once understood about self-worth and have parlayed my divine identity into an idea of someone I’m not quite and perhaps never will be.

I’m now 29 years old. And maybe that’s too young to know exactly who or what I am. But being 29 is probably old enough to know what I’m not. I know I’m not merely a resume or a cultural demographic or a body type or a tax bracket or a profile picture. And I know I’m not reduced to those arbitrary things because I know I am more than simply myself.

I am what I am to my wife and to my friends and family and to my neighbors and coworkers and fellow freeway drivers. I am what I am to the 54-year-old server who cleans up after me and thanks me for coming in even though I under-tipped. I am what I am to the person who doesn’t like me and especially to the person I’m not too fond of either. I am what I am to those I should be serving more, to those I should be reaching out to more, to those I should be writing to instead of writing this. I am how I love others because that’s one of the few things I can actually control in this life, and it’s possibly the only way I can tangibly measure my true self-worth. But mostly, I am how I love others because that’s all God asks of me—and because that’s all I can give Him. And maybe that’s good enough.

---

Henry Unga is a proud native of Provo, Utah, with a degree in literature and a voracious passion for food and his family. When he isn't blogging, hiking, or searching for the perfect burger, you'll find him sitting next to his lovely wife on a nearby park bench reading War and Peace, which he'll never finish.

Anxiety: Satan's Tool pt 1

Okay. I am so done with this.

The waking up in the middle of the night, panicking over what I am not doing right, over what I have done wrong, over the many things I think I should do...as if this life is all about getting a certain amount of things done for the grade.

When I was in high school, I got the instant (and relatively meaningless) gratification that comes from jumping through enough hoops in the right way to get an "A." Oh, I was good at it.

At school.  At church.  (Not so much at home, but that is the story of another time :).  It was my place to feel safely imperfect...and I was! Imperfect and safe, much to the sadness of my family many a time, I am sure.)

The grade.  The pat on the back.  The knowledge that I was doing at least enough to get the recognition of doing enough from those around me.  I don't know that it was to try and be better than others...just to prove to my doubting self, my struggling self-worth, that I was doing something right.

When I went to the Farm last week (yes, it is a title of a place in my heart right now), I felt peace. I felt no anxiety. I felt content.

Did that mean I didn't do anything?  That I got nothing "done"?  No.  On the contrary, my days were full of kids, work, studying, games, laughing, snuggling...peace.  There was something about that place (and I felt it in DC and when I went to visit other places, like Maryland two weeks ago, come to think of it), that washed away all these tiny doubts that plague me:
--am I doing enough in homeschooling?
--what about all those projects in the yard I could and should be working on to create not only a beautiful and clean environment for my family but would also be a way to beautify our neighborhood and show responsibility with our possessions?
--what about my time spent with my kids? Am I ruining it in my haste?..

...quick interjection on this one: just yesterday morning I was finally taking time for my little ones. I had even picked up some fruity cereal loops to make necklaces.  Little Spooner came running up to the table with glee when I said time for school.  I had pulled out some of the old workbooks that weren't done and they all started doing things with them.

Was I present? No. I was spending the time reorganizing and straightening around them, not really paying much attention to their chatter and enthusiasm.

So then I brought out the fruit loops.  And couldn't find any yarn.  Anywhere.  I spent 20 minutes heckling children to go and find some, missing the precious happiness at the table and spreading doubt and frustration as to what we were doing and what was important.  My kind and eager children's enthusiasm to help their stressing mother waned into doubt as to their ability to help me, despite their best efforts. (Story of all those wonderful people who try and help me in my life?)

We find some kind of thread to use.  I pour out bowls, turn to Spooner and get him started.  And then leave. I leave a three year old to make his own necklace.  Then come back moments later and get after him for heaven forbid eating most of what he puts on.  Right away.  I punish him by taking it away and with my mean tones.  Poor dear says, "Sorry, Mommy," with the saddest face ever.  Do I melt?  Now, I do.  Then I didn't. I sit next to him and fume about how I don't get unhealthy things for them just to eat...they have to mean something or have some worth.  Ouch.  I cringe just hearing myself in my head. 

Now.  I have a couple different options when I remember things like this (or when the Spirit brings it to my remembrance).  I can sit there and beat myself up.  Or, I can take this as one of those admonitions from the Lord, check my heart, repent, come up with a mental alternative for when this situation or one like it happens again, and determine to do better.

I need to deal with this.  This anxiety is ruining things. I spent I don't know how long yesterday just wandering from mess pile to mess pile in my house, uselessly wondering and wandering and feeling completely overwhelmed.
--I must have too many things
--should I just put everything down and go snuggle?
--who should I snuggle with first?
--what about that mess?
--what about the allowance that I told everyone I would get them yesterday?
--what about lunch?
--good, better, best...good, better, best...

I can hear this litany of questions even now!  I am so busy trying to answer them that I am getting nowhere.

I spoke with my mom yesterday about it, about knowing how unhealthy and wrong this is.  About how many friends I hear that deal with the same things.

How I am determined to find answers. To find peace. I have tasted it. It is possible.

I know this has been more of a rambling type post. I know that many others out there deal with this thing called anxiety.  We are many of us anxious about one thing or another. I know the scriptures tell us to be "anxiously engaged in a good cause" but so many more times tell us to trust God and be at peace, to do all that we can do and then rely upon the Lord. "Cheerfully do all things that lie in your power and then stand still, with utmost assurance, for the arm of the Lord to be revealed..." or something like that (D&C 123:17...check it out.  It's awesome.)

As I was looking up the end of that previously memorized scripture, the Lord showed me the beginning part of my answer in an article:
Finding Self Worth in a Selfie World

It confirmed my answer that I received this morning, recorded on my notepad on my phone and left upstairs:
-Be Present
-Follow the Spirit and keep doing that thing until the Spirit dictates that I should stop
-Laugh More and List Less
-Charity Never Faileth

These are all things I can do.  In fact, I need to stop doing things in order to do them, not do more.

Wow.  That's crazy.  (I am continually amazed by the things that "come out of my fingers" when I start writing, truths that seem to have been hidden therein.)

I don't have to add more time to do what will help. I can do this.  With God's help, we can do this, I should say.

My mind seeks to create a new list for today.  Sigh. Old habits will die hard.  However, with the recognition that this will not add more time, but take things out, why am I already worried about failing?  What is failure? I don't believe God will meet us at the pearly gates with a long list of everything we did in this life to prove our worth. It will be who we are and what we have become, who we have served and how we did it.  As my dear friend Andrea said, what if our life's mission is to help one person?  What if it is? And what if we spend so much time running around worrying about why our mission doesn't look like someone else's that we miss it?

Every time I turn to God, He is telling me to slow down. To trust more.  To have the peace and joy that comes through charity, which never faileth.  Charity: suffer long, envy not, seek not my own.

As I experienced that blessed peace on the Farm and now this debilitating anxiety and stress immediately afterward, I have wondered if maybe I am experiencing this (in part) so that I would know what it feels like, much as I learned depth of sorrow and the limitless power of the Atonement through the death of my son,...that dear,dear little boy that I yearn to hold in my arms in the eternities.
Maybe I am experiencing this so that I can not only relate to others, but so that we may find answers together, battle together, find peace together.

Satan is truly wielding his chain, swinging it over the whole earth and laughing, laughing at the paralysis he is causing among the women of the world and some men. I wonder if Anxiety is one of the modern plagues of this world, created by false reflections of self image, and, like in the article referenced above,

Maybe not having friends in 5th grade meant I wasn’t being a friend to my classmates. Maybe not feeling attractive in high school meant I needed to step away from my mirror and look out my window. Maybe not receiving the leadership roles I felt I needed in order to really make a difference as a missionary meant that I wasn’t fully serving those closest to me—my missionary companions and the families who were looking to us for gospel understanding. Maybe feeling enslaved to a job that wasn’t the coolest or most lucrative meant that I didn’t yet understand that it would be outside the hours of 9 to 5 where my happiest, hardest, and most sacred work would be done. And maybe feeling cheated by 78 “likes” on a posted picture that I thought deserved a million means I’ve swung too far from what I once understood about self-worth and have parlayed my divine identity into an idea of someone I’m not quite and perhaps never will be.

This is just the beginning. Part I, baby. Satan will not win.  I will fight. I will prove that charity never faileth...through the grace of God.

**I was going to post this on this blog. I accidentally pulled up my Singing Bees one and started writing.  When I discovered my "error," I feel it was for a reason. I will double post it, so sorry for the repeat for any who might read both (other than my dear husband :)...)..  Any others who have ideas or experiences that they would like to share, I would greatly benefit from your own experiences, your own successes.  We can do this!

True Faith: Believing Even "If Not"

Quick thoughts from scripture reading and seminary with my son...an answer to my "whine"?

 1 Peter 2:20 For what glory is it, if, when ye be buffeted for your faults, ye shall take it ^apatiently? but if, when ye do well, and ^bsuffer for it, ye take it ^cpatiently, this is ^dacceptablewith God.

From the following talk:

A furious Nebuchadnezzar told them that if they would not worship as commanded, they would immediately be cast into a burning fiery furnace. “And who is that God that shall deliver you out of my hands?”2The three young men quickly and confidently responded, “If it be so [if you cast us into the furnace], our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand.” That sounds like my eighth-grade kind of faith. But then they demonstrated that they fully understood what faith is. They continued, “But if not, … we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up.”3 That is a statement of true faith.

They knew that they could trust God—even if things didn’t turn out the way they hoped.4 They knew that faith is more than mental assent, more than an acknowledgment that God lives. Faith is total trust in Him.

Our scriptures and our history are replete with accounts of God’s great men and women who believed that He would deliver them, but if not, they demonstrated that they would trust and be true.

He has the power, but it’s our test.

What does the Lord expect of us with respect to our challenges? He expects us to do all we can do. He does the rest. Nephi said, “For we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do...”19

Our God will deliver us from ridicule and persecution, but if not. … Our God will deliver us from sickness and disease, but if not … . He will deliver us from loneliness, depression, or fear, but if not. … Our God will deliver us from threats, accusations, and insecurity, but if not. … He will deliver us from death or impairment of loved ones, but if not, … we will trust in the Lord.

Our God will see that we receive justice and fairness, but if not. … He will make sure that we are loved and recognized, but if not. … We will receive a perfect companion and righteous and obedient children, but if not, … we will have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, knowing that if we do all we can do, we will, in His time and in His way, be delivered and receive all that He has.20 

Whine

The Goob put Binks to bed at 10 pm for me last night as I gratefully sunk into bed. 

From 3:30 to 4:40 am I tried everything but nursing to get him to sleep again and finally succumbed.

Something woke me up at 6 am and I lay there wondering if I should try and show  the self-discipline to wake myself and my kids up with the 6:30 alarm--"early to bed and early to rise" and all that jazz going through my head--when my decision was made for me.  Wonder baby started fussing at 6:17 am.

All my Amish resolve and wisdom for the past week, along with years of attempted commitments to just "roll with it," go out the window at this little adversity.  Here I am on this computer, trying to pretend that I am not tired, not deep and fumingly angry at this innocent little lamb.  Ignoring him and his happy bubbly sounds as he wanders the house and as I wish I could just have a few hours more of sleep.  Knowing how unfounded and selfish my anger is.

I have been getting better but I guess this anger/entitlement thing isn't rooted out yet.

Our Job is to Love!

From Drew's seminary class:

"It may help to know that “the shame of thy youth” and “the reproach of thy widowhood” (Isaiah 54:4) describe the condition of the Israelites after being scattered and separated from their close, covenant relationship with the Lord. In this relationship the Lord is often symbolized by a husband whose wife is Israel. The phrases “shame of thy youth” and “reproach of thy widowhood” refer to the times when Israel turned away from the Lord.

Why would it be comforting for Israel to know that her “husband” is the Redeemer and God of the whole earth?"

My thoughts: The role of the husband is to protect, provide and preside.  The role of the mother is to love and teach: nurture.  I have never looked on our role as the house of Israel in that light and the role of God in the light of a husband.  He is to preside (pass judgment), provide and even protect His church.  Our role is to love.

Weather Forecasts and the Prophets

"Imagine that one day you were looking at a weather forecast on your weather app, and the forecast reported that a severe storm was approaching your town. This forecast made you angry because you had already made plans to spend the day outdoors, so you threw your phone on the ground and stomped on it. You then proceeded with your plans despite the weather report.

What effect would destroying your phone have on the weather?

This example can be compared to King Jehoiakim’s response to Jeremiah’s prophecies."

This quote was from the Goob's seminary class the other day. I thought it was an insightful look at the effect our ranting and railing against what the prophets warn or what the church teaches has...it only makes us less prepared for what is, in reality, going to happen if we ignore the warnings to prepare, to change.

God's Glasses

I came across an article this morning that was very moving. It started by referencing the following story in the scriptures and asked, What did Christ draw in the sand?

The author said:
"We’ll never know what he wrote, but I have an idea…

In a temple in Thailand’s ancient capital, Sukotai, there once stood an ancient clay statue of the Buddha, almost ten feet tall. It had been cared for over a period of five hundred years, though no one knew where it had come from or who had created it.

It had endured violent storms, turbulent changes of government, and invading armies. It was weathered and cracked, but still standing.

The monks caring for the statue worried that the cracks were getting too wide. It needed to be repaired.

One day a curious monk shone a flashlight into the largest crack and was astonished to see a gleam inside.

The clay shell was chipped away to reveal one of the largest, most beautiful, and most valuable golden statues of the Buddha ever created. Today, the statue is estimated to be worth $250 million.

It was believed that the gold had been covered in plaster and clay to protect it during times of conflict and unrest.

“In much the same way,” says mindfulness teacher Jack Kornfield, “each of us has encountered threatening situations that lead us to cover our innate nobility. Just as the people of Sukotai had forgotten about the golden Buddha, we too have forgotten our essential nature. Much of the time we operate from the protective layer.”

This protective layer, our defense mechanisms erected in response to the pain and terror of this life, causes us to do things for which we feel ashamed. We screw up time and time again.

We fight with our spouses and yell at our kids. We turn to our drugs of choice and ourcomfort objects instead of turning to God. We lie, cheat, and steal. We can be petty and jealous, ungrateful and mean, vengeful and unforgiving, lustful and greedy, fearful and prideful.

And we wonder if there is any redemption for us. In desperation and futility, guilt and shame — and yet with a sliver of hope — we think, “What would You do with us?”

Or, when wounded by others, we symbolically fling our offenders before God and demand that they be punished.

In both cases, I imagine Christ stooping down and, pondering how to really reach us, writing some secret in the dirt, some golden key of wisdom that could unlock an invaluable treasure trove of forgiveness, redemption, beauty, and joy, if we were to really understand it.

I like to find videos that go along with our message and "stumbled upon" (was led to) to the following.  At first glance (dare I say with the wrong goggles on?) I thought the "out-dated" videography could have little to teach me.  How wrong I was.

It made me commit within my heart to look for the gold behind the cracked clay exterior, to see the shining Buddha, the child of God within, the child who is so loved and cherished by our Father in Heaven.

I prayed for charity.

How Building Community is Like Walking on Water

I feel that the message to the Lord lately can be summed up in a passage I read in the scriptures this morning:

Will ye persist in turning your backs upon the poor and the needy, and in withholding your substance from them?

I don't feel I can take a lot of time to do this, but I have had some pretty life-changing thoughts in the past few days and want to capture them as quickly as I can, so please forgive any un-clarity in writing (like that made-up word I just used :)...).

Where to begin...

A dear friend recommended a book, "More Than Happy: the Secret to Amish Parenting," that has been quickly become one of my few all-time classics.  So many truths.  One thing the author points out as being a key ingredient to the peace and content that the Amish feel is their "connectedness." (That should be a word.)  She says it stems from the idea that every decision is made with the mind-set: how will this affect the well-being of our family?  Pretty powerful.  It is made on an individual level and as parents and I have pondered about the impact this mind-set would have on our society.

Imagine if, on an individual level, people made decisions for themselves based upon the premise: is this for the best of society? I am not talking about the government making that decision for individuals, but an individual recognizing their performance, their actions have an impact on society on the whole and how are they going to govern themselves accordingly.

Back to the smaller scale, how can our actions best bless our community, and in turn our family?  A family is more health-fully raised in a community that supports it.  To do that, you need to build and support the community. The benefits of this mind-set are best captured in the every day application you read about in this book among the Amish.  Each child knows that they are loved, cherished, protected and blessed by their community through the connectedness, the service, the intent to interact and bless that is exemplified among the Amish in the book.  They would be the first to admit that they are not perfect (in fact they would be horrified that anyone would think that they would pretend to be perfect!).  Yet, they live in a supported community that brings this peace and joy and happiness...this more than happiness through their connectedness and focus on what is best for the family unit.

I tend to draw back "protectively" or selfishly from over-commitment socially.  I think each person must make their own call on what is best for them.  But for myself, I have felt that I need to share my substance-- my children, my family, our resources, the peace that is within our home and our hearts,--with others.  The more I have thought about this, the more I have realized that this will also create that community. It is worth the dinners, the messes, the increased numbers to connect with people, have them connect with my children, work together, clean together, pray together, fail together, cry together and build anew together.

This idea has always been very overwhelming to me. I love the peace and quiet of my home and the overall kindness and stability that reigns in our tiny walls.  As I sit down and plan my day in the morning, I almost always pray that the Lord will guide me where I need to go, where I need to serve, and the Lord does...only I haven't recognized it up until now.

Those "interruptions," changes of schedules, last minute arrangements that I have so balked against in the past are actually the Lord steering me where He wants me to serve and to be.  Of course at the beginning of the day I will not always have a clear picture of what His will is for me...so He works with me throughout the day with nudges, requests, "catastrophes," etc. I wonder if I would panic if the Lord showed me what he actually wanted me to do during the day :).

Deep breath.  Pray and seek for the peace of the Spirit.  Eyes on the Savior.  Act.

I love the gaze of the Savior in this portrayal of Peter walking on water. I have envisioned Christ gazing at me as I struggle to come to Him and not be overwhelmed or tossed about by the storms around me or the depths below me..."Don't doubt," I hear him say. "Keep coming, Mary.  You know it will work out as it always has when you trust me, follow me.  Wherefore couldst thou doubt?"