Truth, Beauty, and BLTs

A Nasty Case of Fiery Serpents

2015-11-20T11:28:00.000-06:00

As I blew the dust off my long neglected blog this morning I found this piece I had written a couple of years ago and never published. It was during a time I was struggling and made an uncomfortable discovery about my attitude. With all that has been going on the last few weeks it was good for me to read again and remember...

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Do you have these Church-goer symptoms?

Irritated by people who cry in every testimony meeting?

Annoyed that every talk in Sacrament meeting is about missionary work?

Peeved that you have a calling you don't like?

Overwhelmed by the amount of "good works" everyone asks you to do?

Feeling snarky when someone comments that "they love everyone".

Perturbed that we are studying the same old stuff in every class?

Bothered by the non-stop disagreements among the members on social media?

If you answered yes to two or more of these symptoms you may be suffering from FSS, commonly known as Fiery Serpent Syndrome.

Over the last few months this intrepid blogger found herself in an ever increasing spiritual funk.

There were multiple factors contributing to the situation. A release from a beloved teaching calling, the ever increasing debate about equality of women in the church and gay marriage, a heavy load of family, church, work, and school responsibilities, and the herculean amount of energy required to get everything done had turned my usual cheery disposition to one of thunderclouds.

My frustration began to focus not on the Gospel itself but on some of the mundane cultural attitudes and practices that go on in the Church.

While I love and am completely enthralled and excited about the Gospel and the truths contained therein, many aspects of the culture that exist around the outside of it were making my eyeballs want to fall out of my head. Blech. "Why does everything have to be so homogeneous?" I wondered. To the same way most everyone starts a talk to the utterly predictable way classes proceed and the comments made in them it was all the "same as it ever was".

Church on Sunday was starting to feel like an exercise in patience. The same old lessons presented in the same way. The same sister boo-hooing about the same topics. Where was the excitement? Where was the spiritual lift? Why was everything so boring? Why couldn't we learn about the deep things of the Spirit instead of reconstituting the same worn subjects.

And then there was social media. Ugh. Every time the leadership reiterated their stance on unpopular social issues the tirades and hand wringing began. The jump to conclusions without fully investigating the facts, the outright criticism of those who remained faithful.

As weeks went on I could feel the soft corners of my heart begin to turn stony. The joy and love I used to feel on Sundays was replaced by critical thoughts and frustration. I went through the motions but I did not want to be there and it was everyone else's fault, or so I believed.

Stake conference rolled around and I found myself begrudgingly going to the Sunday morning session. "Don't tell me" I thought rolling my eyes, "missionary work again..."

Then, the Temple President got up to speak and his chosen scripture passage about the children of Israel as they wandered in the desert hit my whining soul with needed dose of reality.

Numbers 21:4-6

"And they journeyed from mount Hor by the way of the Red sea, to compass the land of Edom: and the soul of the people was much discouraged because of the way. And the people spake against God, and against Moses, Wherefore have ye brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? for there is no bread, neither is there any water; and our soul loatheth this light bread. And the Lord sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people; and much people of Israel died."

I had taught this passage in several stints of Sunday lessons but apparently never understood. The people following Moses were having a hard time. It wasn't very fun wandering in the desert. They were hot and tired and frustrated. It was hard work and even though they were miraculously being fed manna every day they were tired of not having any variety. They were to the point that they "loathed" the divine gift they were being given.

Lightning struck. "Holy cats, they are me... I am them" was all that kept going through my head.

Just like the people in that verse I had fallen into the all too human trap of ingratitude. Once that set in I had been bitten by a the serpent of criticism and pride and the result was that my spirit was filling with venom. I could feel it taking over but what was the cure?

"Therefore the people came to Moses, and said, We have sinned, for we have spoken against the Lord, and against thee; pray unto the Lord, that he take away the serpents from us. And Moses prayed for the people.

And the Lord said unto Moses, Make thee a fiery serpent, and set it upon a pole: and it shall come to pass, that every one that is bitten, when he looketh upon it, shall live.

And Moses made a serpent of brass, and put it upon a pole, and it came to pass, that if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld the serpent of brass, he lived."

Anyone who has been to Sunday school knows the brass serpent in those verses is a representation of Christ. But I already loved the Lord so where was I to look? The answer came in the same talk as a quote from a latter-day Moses.

"Consider the response of President Spencer W. Kimball when someone once asked him, 'What do you do if you find yourself caught in a boring sacrament meeting?' President Kimball thought a moment, then replied, 'I don’t know; I’ve never been in one.' With his long years of Church experience, President Kimball had undoubtedly been to many meetings where people had read their talks, spoken in a monotone, or given travelogues instead of teaching doctrine. But most likely, President Kimball was teaching that he did not go to sacrament meeting to be entertained; he went to worship the Lord, renew his covenants, and be taught from on high. If he attended with an open heart, a desire to be 'nourished by the good word of God' (Moroni 6:4), and a prayer—rather than judgment—for the speakers, the Spirit would teach him what he needed to do to be a more effective and faithful disciple."

With all my years of study I had somehow forgotten one of the most basic and important things in the universe. It is that truth and joy are gained by communing with the Spirit, end of story. Exciting sermons and dynamic teachers are fun. Folks being civil, fair, and objective on social media is nice. A life with no challenges sounds great. But the joy, fortitude, truth, perseverance, and other incredible blessings God gives us always come from exercising faith and communing with the Spirit.

That communion will happen any time and in any place if we are in tune and have our ears open. Even my seven year old knows this but somehow as my complaining, impatience, and self pity piled up I had forgotten. I was having too much fun being miserable to remember.

And how to commune? It's simple:

Be obedient. Be where you are supposed to be, doing what you are supposed to be doing.
Ask for it. Pray to have that connection. Ask for the light of Heaven to shine through whomever is teaching and that it enters your heart.
Get over yourself. This is most important. Thy will, not mine be done.
Be grateful. Give thanks for all the incredible blessings and knowledge God gives you. It is the antidote for a stony heart.

I'm happy to report that after my Stake Conference wake up call I followed those steps and have recovered from my bought of FFS. Now instead of grouchily criticizing everyone and everything (and unfairly at that) I can feel the Spirit speaking to me again on Sundays and every other day of the week. The messages are getting through and even though it takes concerted effort to continue to keep the lines open my attitude in general has vastly improved.

All it took was a prescription of "look and live" and in the process I learned something I hope to never forget. The lesson was how easy it is to start that slide towards inactivity even when you have a firm testimony, and most importantly that if you do start down that road there is always One who reaches out in mercy to bring you back if you will just humble yourself enough to take His hand.

Boy am I grateful for that.

Cheers,

Brenda

My Loaf

2014-12-12T01:58:00.000-06:00

If you are Mormon you've doubtless heard numerous accounts of Sisters feeling the influence of the Spirit to bring a loaf of bread to someone out of the blue. It always shows up just at the right time to prove that God loves and is aware of the recipient. These stories always bugged me because I have never had a prompting to deliver bread and have never had bread brought to me in a moment of need. Obviously I was doing something wrong.

Then there was this.

My workday had been rough. Too much to accomplish in a time frame that was nigh on ridiculous. It was usually a relief to walk through the doors of my home but that evening as I was assaulted with the mess that four kids make in their regular comings and goings I felt my tired start to ache.

Dirty bowls sat on the kitchen table with the remnants of hours old chicken Ramen in them. A tennis shoe that had been abandoned in the middle of failed bedazzling attempt was surrounded by a halo of pink glitter on the floor and nearby some lightly drooled on dog biscuits (which were doubtlessly involved in a vain attempt at teaching the skill of rolling over) littered the landscape. On top of that I was informed by the natives that in addition to the already malfunctioning dishwasher that now the decades old refrigerator had decided to go on to greener pastures.

My hubby was off doing something for someone while fulfilling his church calling and I was feeling overwhelmed in the midst of the usually happy chaos. I began to mutter in frustration under my breath. I needed to get all that food out of the frig before it ruined.

As I unloaded the perishables into a camping cooler my teenage son brought me my cell phone with a serious look on his face. “Mom, you've got a text you need to look at.”

I stopped arranging ice cubes around a large blue jar of mayonnaise and uprighted myself from my bent over position with a groan. I took the phone and saw that the text was from the number of a seriously ill friend. She had been in hospital for quite a while and had not been able to speak. I felt a brick drop into the bottom of my stomach. I swiped my finger across the text icon and slowly read the message “Nancy went home to her Father today. We will see her in eternity.”

I stood in the middle of the kitchen too numb to do anything. My friend was gone. Her long battle with cancer was over. I could feel the air moving in and out of my lungs but nothing else seemed to move or make a sound. Time stopped.

After a moment I closed the lid on the cooler and told my concerned son that I just needed a minute. I walked back to my bedroom and closed the door where the sorrow and frustration of the day descended on me with a physical weight, I hunched over as I felt it try to press me into the ground.

Silent prayer flowed out of me in an almost involuntary way. "I'm glad she isn't suffering any more Father...I'm so sad... Bless her family..."

A talk I had recently listened to in my car on the way to work came to mind. It was by President Monson and was about a woman who had received a prompting by the Spirit to take bread to someone she barely knew. That random delivery had touched a young mother who was struggling with deep depression. It was a love note from God sent in an unmistakable way to disciple in need.

I began to wonder why that hadn't ever happened to me? I had experienced moments of profound need and no one had ever showed up on my doorstep with fresh baked bread. Not to say that I had never received help, I had and in abundance, but never in this much talked about way. It seemed that every Relief Society lesson I had ever heard in the last decade had a similar story-line.

It seems selfish now but sitting on the edge of my bed with my husband unavailable, a houseful of problems to be solved, and the loss of my sweet friend coursing through me I needed a sign of God’s love and attention. I needed Him to notice me.

“Could you please send someone to me?” I prayed, but somehow knew nothing would happen. I knew that He could do something but it seemed in my experience the Lord wanted me to learn self-sufficiency. Crisis moments needed me to just buck up and be strong.

I waited a few minutes and no good sister rang the doorbell with baked goods in hand. "Deal with it Brenda." I said to myself.

At just that moment my 10 year old daughter quietly opened the door and came into the room. She stood in front of me and said “Mama, I know you are sad about Nancy and I wanted to give you a hug.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around my neck.

I couldn't stop the tears that flowed from my eyes. I should be strong and be taking care of her but as I wept on her shoulder I felt the unmistakable love of the Savior flow over me. He knew, He cared, and he had sent me my loaf not through an acquaintance but through a precious child.

No random sister was needed for me to feel that tender mercy, what came instead was so much better than any physical nourishment. A little girl who loved me best had delivered a message of peace and comfort from the Savior strait to my heart.

So if during the stress that always seems to come with Christmas you find yourself overwhelmed and wondering if God notices know this, loaves come in many different ways. They may be in a sunset or a song or the arms of a child but they do come and the love they convey is filling to the soul. God knows you, hang in there, it will be alright in the end.

Cheers,

Brenda

Always Remember

2014-03-28T06:10:00.000-05:00

Researchers increasingly believe that will power is a limited resource and that resisting repeated temptations takes a mental toll on us. Will power seems to be like a muscle that can increase in strength with proper use but with overuse can become fatigued. This theory makes sense as I well know that when a plate of fresh, soft, cinnamon crusted snicker doodles is placed in front of me it will take only a matter of minutes before I am overcome and inhale said plate of yumminess. The time it takes to indulge is even shorter if I have been eating vegetables all day.

With Mormonism and Christianity in general, there is a long laundry list of behaviors and items that require the use of will power. The Lord asks us to overcome our “natural man”. Our natural man seems to be the guy who lives in us who wants to party, carouse, and abuse everything in sight. He is like an out of control frat boy who is swinging from the chandelier, swigging a bottle of Absolute, and saying “how you doing?” to every cute thing that walks by. He thinks only of the here-and-now and how much fun he can have in this moment with no thought of the future. If it feels good let’s go, right now. Living a Christ-like life necessitates the ability to smack Bucky down and set our sites on the long term, the really eternal long term.

This fight against our natural man is tough and the casualties of the battle are all around us. Pornography addiction, drug and alcohol addiction, affairs, child abuse, overeating, gossip, unkindness, the list goes on and on. Pretty much everyone on planet earth is involved in the conflict and having different amounts of success.

Since we know that God isn’t the type of Father who just shoves His children out the door with no protection, what has he given us to aid in this epic fight?

The last couple of years some interesting research has been done by evolutionary psychologists trying to understand why “mankind created religion?” Obviously, I disagree with their premise that man created religion but their findings are really amazing.

Researchers ran a series of experiments that were similar to this: Test subjects were invited to unscramble a short sentence. Half of the people were given a neutral phrase such as “the train goes fast” and the other half we given a sentence with a subtle religious reminder. Words such as bible, divine, and spirit were used with that group. The subjects were then moved to another room where they were asked to drink as many paper cups full of an orange juice and vinegar mixture as they could. This mixture generally causes a gag reflex and is patently gross.

What the researchers found was that across the board the group who had received the reminders of religion and God were able to drink at least twice as many cups of this disgusting stuff. It didn’t matter if the test subject was an atheist, agnostic, or deeply religious. Those who were reminded of God had more will power to complete an unpleasant task than those who didn’t. This test was completed on hundreds of people.

The conclusion drawn from this group of psychologists was that religion must have been developed so that man could promote self-control which is necessary for us to survive as a species. With all due respect that seems like a pretty complicated way to achieve that goal.

What I submit is that one of the many powerful gifts that a loving creator gave to his children is a deeply rooted psychological tool that helps us to do what he has asked. We all seem to have it even if we are unaware and so the call in the scriptures to “remember” becomes all that more poignant. It isn’t just an exercise in obedience, God is giving us the key to self-mastery if we will but do!

This week during Sacrament Meeting my six year old was being unusually reverent. This anomaly allowed me to reflect a little on the words of the prayers that were being offered by my two older sons, who served as the Priests blessing the bread and water. (By the way that was a sweet and proud moment.) Both prayers use the language “always remember Him” that His spirit may be with us. Why is this so important that it is repeated in ritual every week and exhorted over and over again in the scriptures? It may be that there is an eternal law at work and that remembrance activates the process in our psyche that allows us to overcome the temptations in our life.

Elder Terence M. Vinson gave this short story in the last conference.

A young boy was trying to smooth out the dirt area behind his house so he could play there with his cars. There was a large rock obstructing his work. The boy pushed and pulled with all his might, but no matter how hard he tried, the rock wouldn’t budge. His father watched for a while, then came to his son and said, “You need to use all your strength to move a rock this large.” The boy responded, “I have used all my strength!” His father corrected him: “No you haven’t. You haven’t had my help yet!” They then bent down together and moved the rock easily.

Remembrance seems to be a way to activate this God-given gift and enlist His strength. Science is beginning to catch up to what prophets have known since the beginning.

Helaman 5:12 And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.

So when your natural man is beating you about the head with your favorite temptation you can remember by reading your scriptures, saying a prayer, singing a hymn, repeating a favorite psalm, attending the temple, keeping your covenants or whatever it is that helps you to think about Him. The Lord has given us all the tools we need to do what He asks, all we have to do is have faith and use them. And in those times when our natural man wins a round we can get up and try again. With the Lord's help that muscle of will power will get stronger and stronger until that bright day when we overcome all things.

Cheerio,

Brenda

The Roadrunner

2014-02-28T05:00:00.000-06:00

I hit a roadrunner today...

...and that sucks because I love roadrunners, they remind me of my grandma. She loved to watch them at her home in Arizona as they zipped through the field that was adjacent to her little white home. With the smell of orange blossoms on the morning breeze she would sit on her porch and make note of their comings and goings, of the lizards they caught for breakfast, and of which couples were raising chicks that year.

She was a lot like a roadrunner herself. Fast and sharp and yet somehow fragile, and so every time I see one I feel her nearby which is amazing, because I miss her with an ache that never really goes away.

Today as my little commuter raced down the winding country road towards work I was not thinking about grandma or roadrunners at all. I was deep in thought about something which I thought was of paramount import. The music was up and I was zooming (yes zooming, think the Jetson's car noise) and completely engrossed in my own ponderings. The outside world was merely something to be minimally observed just so that I could maneuver my way safely to my goal.

It was somewhere in the middle of this self-absorption that the lovely little roadrunner darted in front of my car. I was going too fast to even brake and watched in horror as it disappeared under my bumper. When I glanced out the rear view mirror all I saw was a cloud of brown and black feathers suspended in the air.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” I voiced to the universe, but it did no good. I had killed that beautiful creature simply by barreling along, I had a goal to reach and little roadrunner had simply gotten in the way.

The situation brought two ideas to my consciousness. The first was that no matter how sorry I felt about hitting the roadrunner there was absolutely nothing I could do to bring it back. I had not set out to injure him but nonetheless he was now fertilizing the landscape because of me. The second idea was just as upsetting, I wondered in the past how many other creatures I had run over on my way without realizing.

The fact of the matter is that even with our best intentions we are going to harm others as we make our way through life. Sometimes this comes because of selfishness and other times because we are unaware of the impact we are having on people and the natural world around us. Unfortunately, that does not negate the fact that we are indeed doing harm.

This of course is why we need the atonement through which a loving and magnificent Savior paid the entire price for all of our selfishness and the unintentional harm we create. He didn't just pay part of it, He paid all of it and Him asking us to do things like repent, be kind, and improve ourselves has no effect whatsoever on that payment. We don't have the ability to make payment for the dumb things we do. So why then does He ask us to do anything at all?

Consider the following analogy given by Brad Wilcox in a speech at BYU in 2011.

"Christ’s arrangement with us is similar to a mom providing music lessons for her child. Mom pays the piano teacher...Because Mom pays the debt in full, she can turn to her child and ask for something. What is it? Practice! Does the child’s practice pay the piano teacher? No. Does the child’s practice repay Mom for paying the piano teacher? No. Practicing is how the child shows appreciation for Mom’s incredible gift. It is how he takes advantage of the amazing opportunity Mom is giving him to live his life at a higher level. Mom’s joy is found not in getting repaid but in seeing her gift used—seeing her child improve. And so she continues to call for practice, practice, practice.

If the child sees Mom’s requirement of practice as being too overbearing (“Gosh, Mom, why do I need to practice? None of the other kids have to practice! I’m just going to be a professional baseball player anyway!”), perhaps it is because he doesn't yet see with mom’s eyes. He doesn't see how much better his life could be if he would choose to live on a higher plane."

This understanding leads to two scriptures that initially seem to be in opposition of one another.

Matthew 11:28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

Ether 12:27 And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.

I always used to wonder how can the rest promised in Matthew equate with the Lord showing me my weaknesses? Being shown my weaknesses is one of my least favorite things on earth. Just another item to beat myself over the head with. Reason number 2042 on my list of why I'm not good enough; doesn't sound like rest to me.

Once we see that the Savior pointing out our weaknesses is not done to show how short we are falling on paying our debt but an act of love which will lead us to a better life the shame goes out of it. I can know that I am a worthwhile person with flaws who God loves and that He sees the endless potential I have. He does not want me to beat myself up, instead He wants me to humble myself and become a little more like Him with each realization of weakness and the course correction that results. That is part of the rest that is promised.

Just living with our sins and weaknesses is draining but being made aware and them and with His help improving on those weaknesses gives us peace. Even when it takes a really long time to overcome those things that hang us up, and even when we mess the same things up over and over again, we can know that we are doing what He has asked and there is rest for our souls in that knowledge. We will also find that as we try we build spiritual muscles and become more loving and humble. We find through experience that we can trust that at some point He really will make all our weaknesses into strengths.

With the roadrunner this morning I was shown a weakness, a weakness in which I rush though life without paying enough attention to those around me be they birds or people. My goals are worthwhile but not more important than the impact I am having as I move toward them. I was shown that I can be more aware, slow down, and try to tread more carefully on my path. I can save the next roadrunner, I can pay attention to my teenage son when he tells me about the latest video game, I can be more patient with my co-workers, I can stop and be a listening ear to a friend in need. And while there is a great possibility that I have not seen the last roadrunner or armadillo or skunk disappear beneath my bumper I can do better at avoiding that possibility and eventually, with the Lord's help become perfect in that, and that gives me rest.

Cheers,

Brenda

A Very Special Day

2014-02-14T05:26:00.000-06:00

Today is a very special day.

And while the 2% of the population who actually enjoy Valentine's Day with it's gag a maggot PDA's (public displays of affection), stale chocolates, and stuffed animals made in work camps in China, today I offer the recognition of something other than commercialism and people stroking their own vanity.

I offer an example of true love.

February the 14th just so happens to be the birthday of a woman. This is a woman I have been friends with for nearly 30 years. It makes my brain cramp trying to count back that far. We were friends through jelly shoes and Esprit bags, through Jr. High squabbles and bangs that made the great wall of China look petite. We were friends through bad dates and high school milestones, through broken hearts and broke wallets, through marriage and mission, over thousands of miles and kids galore. And now even as we approach the dreaded 4-0 her wisdom, wit, and love are one of the best things of my day.

This woman is the funniest person I know, she is smart, she is beautiful and she is real. What you see is what you get. Her honesty is as hilarious as it is profound and there is never any pretending to be perfect. She gets overwhelmed at times with motherhood and wifehood and all the other hoods that good women are expected to bear but she keeps at it. She has a drive to raise good kids, and love her husband, be a good neighbor, and follow the footsteps of the Savior. She does this because her heart is gold and she genuinely loves her fellow man.

"True love blooms when we care more about another person that we care about ourselves." - Jeffrey R. Holland

So as you eat your pink cupcakes and read your love notes, or for those who subscribe to the Love Stinks! school of thought and angrily boycott all the festivities I ask you to take a moment today and think about the people in your life who personify real love. The folks that make your life better for their service and goodness. Once you have figured out who they are then tell them what they mean to you. That way this day of luuuve can have a touch of something true and real. Something that we can look to for inspiration and happiness. The things that really make life worth living.

But for those sappy chums that can't stand leaving romance out; here is a picture of Mr. Darcy.

You're welcome.

Happy Birthday Wendy and thanks for being you.

Cheers,

Brenda

Mind Reader

2014-01-21T01:09:00.000-06:00

Being married nearly 20 years does something to a relationship. It becomes like a favorite pair of worn tennis shoes. After thousands of miles run, rain storms, sweaty feet, and the occasional dog doo they are broken in and each shoe knows a lot about the other and how it deals with life.

The same goes for Buns and I. We've been up, down, and to hell in a hand basket and so there is an intuitive knowledge about the other and their status, it just manifests itself in different ways. Buns has the divine capability to notice when my eye twitch is reaching critical mass from stress and clears the air space around me. Granted this may be a self defense mechanism but nonetheless it works to bring balance back to the system. For me it works a bit differently.

For instance, when I have ruthlessly declared a ban on junk food in an attempt to get our family to be more healthy something amazing happens. Buns will be in a grocery store 30 miles from my office. He will drop a box of Twinkies into his basket. The molecules from that box crash into the molecules of the cart and a ripple is sent out into the universe. Sitting at my desk all those miles away my inner voice, who oddly sounds like Ewan McGregor will say "I feel a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of green beans suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I fear something terrible has happened."

This ability translates to other things and as a result most of the time I believe I know what is going on without even being told. I can, in my own reality, read his mind a great deal of the time and because of this wrongly expect the same thing from him. Unfortunately, it doesn't always work so well.

A couple of months ago Buns had been doing some service work with the missionaries for a Sister in our branch. This service had required that he load a large quantity of his beloved power tools into the back of our SUV. Power tools are to Buns what cheese is to a quesadilla. They are a part of him, he cannot exist without them, they are his other children, and provide him answers to the great questions of the cosmos.

Anyway, in his usual manly fashion of doing good and then not putting anything away the tools were still in the back of our conveyance on Sunday morning. The usual chaos of finding shoes, fixing hair, washing grubby faces and bemoaning the state of my teen sons white shirts was in full swing when Buns, looking quite dapper in his suit and tie walked out the door to go to early meetings. He of course took the other car.

One frantic hour later I herded my brood out the door and we raced off to church only 10 minutes late, a record I believe. On the way I could be heard grumbling under my breath about the load of tools clanging around the back every time we careened around a corner.

Church was attended and as usual Buns had more business to see to after the meetings and so I once again headed the troops out the door for home by myself. In the foyer it was decided that we would give another member a ride home since she was on our way. This pleasant lady had a walker but no problem, our huge vehicle could certainly handle that.

Out in the parking lot as my children fought over the candy they had received in Primary and the sweet sister was maneuvered into the front seat, my oldest son and I tried vainly to wrestle the walker into the back of our transport. We moved power tools to one side and then another but no dice, the back hatch would not close. The twitch in my eye was nearing nuclear fission when I noticed the car my hubby had brought just a few parking stalls away. A light bulb went off in my head.

Oldest son and I unlocked the back of that car and unceremoniously dumped all the tools into the trunk. The walker was then neatly arranged in the back of our humble chariot and we were off without another thought.

The following evening I stood in the kitchen bedecked in a Boise State apron cooking dinner when Buns walked through the door, he was pale and trembling. "Honey, what's the matter?" I asked. Just so you know Buns is not one for dramatics. I've seen him deal with death and severe pain rather nonchalantly so I knew something catastrophic had happened. He replied slowly, "Brenda my power tools have been stolen. I left them in the back of the Suburban and they are gone."

I stood silent for a minute as the realization of what was going on dawned in my brain. Then I began to laugh uproariously. Buns looked at me in horrified disbelief and then relief as I breathlessly explained what I had done the day before. "Well then" said he "I had better go out and tell the officer what has happened." "I'm so sorry Buns! I just assumed you could read my mind like I read yours." I said wiping the tears from my eyes. He looked at me with one raised eyebrow and stalked off towards the driveway to deliver the news.

Was there a lesson to be learned from all of this? I'm not sure. Maybe it is that husbands should put away their junk and it will save them a lot of heartache, calls to the police, and their wives a nervous tic. And wives, let's stop assuming our hubbies can read our minds, they can't. Communication is important and we should value what our husband values. If it is important to them we should respect that. And anyways you wouldn't want them in your head, they might find out Ewan McGregor is living in there.

Cheers,

Brenda

The Power of Potluck

2013-11-05T01:35:00.000-06:00

Just about 10 years ago in the parking lot of a small LDS church building sat a man waiting for his convert wife to come out of Sunday meetings. He was a rough looking character with a past to match. Tattoos crept up his arms, skulls adorned his shirt, and an unmistakable aura of cigarette smoke hung about his person. He was markedly out of place among the carefully manicured flower beds and fragrant blooming myrtle that lined the lot.

Inside, a humble group of Saints were eagerly anticipating the monthly potluck meal that was to follow the closing prayer. The smell of funeral potatoes , meatballs, green jello salad and homemade rolls with butter was wafting out of the kitchen. The aroma revealed the unmistakable hallmark of food crafted with loving care.

At meeting’s end the convert Sister was implored to stay and eat. She explained that her husband waited outside for her. She must go.

What happened next was not surprising. A ninety pound powerhouse of a woman, a widow, somewhere over the age of seventy, white hair tightly curled, marched out to the parking lot and strait up to the man in the car. She didn’t bat an eye at his appearance or the look on his face that clearly called for distance between the two of them. She greeted him warmly, told of her affection for his wife, and invited him in for dinner. He declined, but she kindly would not take no for an answer.

Disarmed, he climbed out of the car and walked arm in arm with her into the building.

Just about 10 years ago a young mother with rambunctious children and an inactive husband walked through the doors of the large established Ward she had recently moved into. She was nervous as the people there were obviously wealthier than she and seemed a close knit group that had been together for a long period of time. She had been born in the Church, had a strong testimony of the Gospel, but felt uneasy with the prospect of making new friends.

She received a few passing nods of hello and sat by herself through Sunday School and Relief Society. She observed the warm relations between the members but was not invited into any of the conversations. After the Sacrament she herded her little ones out the door. No one said good-bye.

The weeks rolled on and all stayed the same. She entered, received nods of greeting, and once in a while would be asked where her husband was. “Not here.” She would reply a little shamefully. “Hmm.” was the answer as they walked away. She would sit alone in her classes, would smile when while someone spoke to her, but was mostly ignored.

She began to find reasons not to attend. The baby had a stomach ache, she was too tired, no one would miss her anyway. She slipped into inactivity.

When Home Teachers were dispatched several months later to see what had happened they found the family reading scriptures together nightly and having family prayer. They could not understand why this Sister did not want to come to church in a Ward that had such good and talented people.

Back at the little branch, the man with the tattoos was welcomed and wrapped in the loving embrace of the members. No one stared at his appearance, no one asked about his checkered past. They simply and genuinely enfolded him into their family.

He came back next month only “because the food was so good” and then the month after that. One Sunday he asked his wife if he had anything he could wear to church. He only felt it right to attend if he was going to eat with them too.

Years passed, missionaries were contacted, truth was learned, old transgressions were wiped clean and the man became “a new creature”. His heart healed and softened and he found forgiveness through the atonement of Jesus Christ. He was baptized and ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood, took temple prep classes and prepared to receive the higher Priesthood. All the while he was loved and supported cheered for by the members of the little branch.

The same years passed and the less active Sister moved out of the old established Ward and found herself and her family walking through the doors of the same little Branch on a potluck Sunday. They were greeted, hugged, loved and included. They stayed for dinner and enjoyed the funeral potatoes, meatballs, green jello salad, and rolls with butter. They weren’t stared at because their clothes were different or the fact that they had a strange accent. They weren’t asked about their checkered past.

When they missed the next week there were phone calls wondering what could be done to help, was everyone alright? Did they need soup for sick kids?

Wrapped in the warmth of the Saints there, the Sister and her husband came every week and soon were in callings that stretched and taught them. Their testimonies grew and the impact on their family was vast. All the while they were loved and supported cheered for by the members of the little branch.

Two stories with the same result and potluck is the common thread. No, it wasn’t the funeral potatoes, meatballs, green jello salad, and rolls with butter. It was the members who prepared the meal each month and understood the promise of the Lord to encircle His children in the arms of His love. They knew that as members of His church they had been called to be those arms. They had been called to truly and completely love their neighbors regardless of what they looked like, how much money they had, and where they came from. They were able to see through spiritual eyes the divine potential of all of God’s children.

These stories can be (and are) replicated in all sorts of congregations; large or small, wealthy or poor, talented and educated or not. And as much as we like to think that “if folks know the church is true they should just show up even if the members are less than loving” it is not the Lord’s way. Zion equals unity and unity is only achieved through love, kindness, concern, patience, and effort.

As missionary work increases worldwide and Ward and Branch Councils pray over the people in their areas my hope is that we all take a page from the lesson of the potluck. That we find the lady sitting alone in Sunday School, the teen who is a little different at school, the father in our neighborhood who is struggling, and we enfold them in the arms of love the Savior has promised them. It will make a difference in their lives and in ours. This is the work we are asked to do, so let’s do it.

“I believe we members do not have the option to extend the hand of fellowship only to relatives, close friends, certain Church members, and those selected nonmembers who express an interest in the Church. Limiting or withholding our fellowship seems to me to be contrary to the gospel of Jesus Christ. The Savior offered the effects of his atoning sacrifice to all mankind. He said, ‘Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God.’ (D&C 18:10.) Can we justify doing less?” -Russell M. Nelson

Cheers,

Brenda

TMI: Testimony Meeting

2013-10-04T04:00:00.000-05:00

"There is a great responsibility in bearing pure testimony. Sometimes I think too little of it is done in the Church." – Elder Boyd K Packer

There are perks to living just west of nowhere. Wide open spaces where the deer and the armadillos play, sunsets that would make Monet fall over his paintbrushes, traffic jams that consist of a tractor and three horse trailers all showing up at the stoplight at the same time.

With all this country wholesomeness and fresh air comes the blessing of going to church in a little Branch of the Church. Best of all is fast and testimony meetings in that Branch.

Once a month Mormons observe what we call “fast Sunday”. Generally on the first Sunday of the month the members forego food and drink for two meals and donate the equivalent cost, or more, to the Church to assist the poor and needy. The congregational meeting on each fast Sunday, called fast and testimony meeting, is devoted to the voluntary expression of testimony by members.

This means anybody can get up and share their testimony with the congregation and in my Branch it is a faith filled incredible meeting every single week. I think that may be because we are so small and everyone feels like family. These are humble, loving, and awesome people who go to church not because it is expected, not because it is the social center of life or that it is easy, but because they know the Church is true. They bear simple, sweet, short testimonies and tell what they know. That’s it. I’ve learned what “pure testimony” is by associating with them.

When we lived in other areas of the country this was not always so. Testimony meetings were uplifting, sometimes entertaining, and other times made me want to crawl under my chair and hide from embarrassment.

I remember well one sister who would get up each month and give the congregation a rundown on all the marital problems she was having with her hubby who was sitting there three rows back. How he told her she was going to get fat if she kept eating chocolate and what went on in her therapy sessions. There was also the brother that would get up and give a sermon every week on some historical fact for 15 minutes at a time. He had to be escorted from the mic several times by the Bishop.

Then there were the well-meaning parents who exactly 30 seconds after hearing a letter read from the First Presidency asking that two-year-olds not give testimony in the main meeting, escorted those same kids right up to the pulpit and did exactly what they had just been asked not to do. This was followed up by folks giving travel logs of their trip to Branson and detailed information on the mole they had removed that week with the added bonus of taking off the band-aid so we could all see.

Mixed in generously with all that were the hoards of thank-a-mony givers. I was a part of that group. I got up, thanked my family, thanked God for the Gospel, thanked my friends, thanked a guy named Earl who happened to drive by the church that morning, and then sat down. And while being grateful is imperative to being a disciple it is not a testimony.

Said Elder Dallin H Oaks:

“A testimony of the gospel is not a travelogue, a health log, or an expression of love for family members. It is not a sermon. President Kimball taught that the moment we begin preaching to others, our testimony is ended.”

Hartman Rector, Jr. -Member of the First Quorum of the Seventy:

“Bearing testimony has to do with bearing witness to that which we know to be true. Much of what we call testimony bearing is not really testimony at all—it is a statement or expression of public thanks. It is good to be thankful, but public thanks is not testimony.

Testimony comes from the Holy Ghost. The Spirit of Christ, which John testifies is ‘the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world’ (Jn 1:9), will lead a man to Christ and help him get a testimony, and if followed will lead to baptism in Jesus Christ’s church.”

What I love about my Branch is that they instinctively follow the example of Joseph Smith in this area. Joseph bore powerful pure testimony over and over again throughout his life on the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and the miracle of the Restoration of the Gospel, but most significantly he declared:

“And now, after the many testimonies which have been given of him, this is the testimony, last of all, which we give of him: That he lives!

“For we saw him, even on the right hand of God; and we heard the voice bearing record that he is the Only Begotten of the Father—

“That by him, and through him, and of him, the worlds are and were created, and the inhabitants thereof are begotten sons and daughters unto God” (D&C 76:22–24).

He testified simply what he knew, that Jesus Christ lives. We can do the same by testifying about what we know. That the Gospel has been restored, that we are led by a prophet today, that the Book of Mormon is the word of God, that Jesus Christ lives and loves us. I testify that if we do this in our meetings and cut the other junk they will be filled with the Spirit and fast Sunday can be a joyous spiritual feast for everyone. Besides, nobody wants to hear about your mole.

Cheers,

Brenda

“…Personal testimony is the foundation of our faith. It is the binding power that makes The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints unique in the lives of its members, as compared with all other religious denominations of the world. The doctrine of the Restoration is glorious in and of itself, but the thing that makes it powerful and imbues it with great meaning is the personal testimonies of Church members worldwide who accept the Restoration of the gospel and strive to live its teachings every day of their lives.” -Elder M. Russell Ballard

Proper Etiquette for Young Ladies

2013-09-14T15:48:00.001-05:00

Oi vey people. This whole Miley Cyrus circus of repulsiveness lately has led to thought on my part. Dangerous I know.

In this post I will not lament on how as a culture we are sexualizing children or have located ourselves squarely on the deck of the Titanic as a civilization because of our collective nastiness. That has been done much more effectively and eloquently than I can manage. Instead I find myself wondering what happened to good old social convention, you know manners and such. It used to be important, so much so that way back people even wrote books about it, and other people read that and adhered to some of it. Were any of those old rules based in something deeper?

I found myself wondering what such a literary work would look like today, so I humbly submit the following with current social standards in place.

Here are just a few of the things a lady must keep in mind:

Proper young ladies should indulge in cosmetics, hair-dyes or other forms of insincerity in their personal appearance. Make-up should be applied so that the wearer is indistinguishable from a 45 year old truck stop waitress. Tattoos should be acquired as soon as possible without regard to the fact that as they get older that beautiful flower on the lower back will start looking like a dead bloated dog carcass.

Ladies should wear bling at all times possible and loudly broadcast how much the said bling was purchased for.

Under no circumstances should an unmarried young woman be accompanied by a chaperon when she goes out. There is no need to ensure that she is innocent or to compel others to respect her innocence. Girls as young as grade school should be dressed like adults and encouraged by parents, media, and other sources to date and become intimately active as soon as possible.

The primary mode of communication should be text message. Most especially when standing directly next to another person this technique should be employed. When cell service is unavailable a good conversationalist should be possessed of much information on the latest Boy Bands and Perez Hilton gossip. Acquired keen observation, attentive listening, a good memory, and logical habits of thought are unnecessary and unattractive.

Characteristics of a well-educated lady include demeaning men and using all possible strategy to emotionally destroy any other young ladies deemed competition. She uses vulgarisms, flippancy, coarseness, triviality and provocation in her speech.

A lady is unsympathetic, selfish and has no patience listening to others unless they are speaking about her. To show any interest in the immediate concerns of other people is very uncomplimentary. She must maintain herself as the only acceptable topic with one exception. Embellished and salacious stories about celebrities and classmates is required in all polite conversation.

A lady publicizes all exhibitions of temper before others. Whether grief or joy, emotions should be recorded and posted on Youtube, Facebook, and Twitter. The performance must be as dramatic as possible to get an acceptable number of views.

At a dance, a lady may refuse to dance with any gentleman who invites her by shamelessly snubbing him and then making comments about him to her friends. However, should a lady take interest in a young gentleman she should approach him first and then proceed to gyrate like a pole dancer once the music begins. An unattached lady must pair off immediately and spend the rest of the dance in a dark corner with her beau.

A lady is never seen in a ball-room with sleeves. Attire must be covered in sequins and short enough to leave nothing to the imagination. A spray on tan and heavy make-up must also be acquired to fulfill social protocol.

I could go on but you get the point. And yes I am a middle-aged fuddy duddy but for Pete's sake just because an idea has been around for a while doesn't make it any less worthy. This is not a call to return to corsets and girls who can't vote or speak for themselves. Obviously, there were problems back then too but there was something else buried under all the bowing and curtsying. There was a respect for oneself and others.

What I ask is for women everywhere to realize who they are, daughters of God who make an indelible mark on the world around them. Being kind, polite, modest, and virtuous both inside and out elevates yourself and everyone around you. Fight the filth in the world, cultivate the good that is inherently a part of your being, avoid the garbage- you know exactly what it is. Anything that makes you feel like less than a fabulous, incredible, good person who could stand in the presence of God without fear or guilt is it.

Reject the plastic revolting lies that media and evil people out to make a quick buck sell to you. You do not have to take your clothes off for guys to like you. The real men worth having won't have anything to do with the Miley's and Rhianna's of the world. They respect and love women too much to put up with girls who demean themselves.

Truly beautiful is the girl or woman who walks in the knowledge of her eternal worth, who keeps herself clean, and who shows who she is in every action. Manners rooted in respect are just one way of demonstrating that. Respect is where happiness is found so let's get off the Titanic, we know where it goes.

Brenda

A Word about Mormon Missionaries

2013-08-12T22:42:00.000-05:00

Hey there Neighbor,

You may have seen some of these guys around town lately.

Or maybe girls that look like this.

I'm not surprised, they seem to be everywhere these days and you are probably going to see a lot more of them in the coming months and years. This is because the number of full time missionaries for the Church has gone from somewhere around 55,000 world-wide to 70,000 and is projected to be to over 85,000 in a very short period of time. The young people in our church are choosing to go out and serve in astounding and ever increasing numbers.

These missionaries are good, honest, talented, wonderful kids. They love the Lord and are doing what He has asked. "Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."(Matthew 28:19) They have a glad message and they will share it with anybody who will stand still long enough to let them.

Missionaries are completely in the Lord’s service for 2 full years for the men and 18 months for young women. They put on hold schooling, jobs, dating, and all the things that others their age are doing. Their day starts at 6:30 am and ends at 10:30 pm every day of the week. They teach, proselyte, and do service projects. It is difficult and most times thankless work.

They do this willingly; they are not paid for their service. In fact, most of them worked jobs and saved before they went out to pay their way and in most cases their families and members of their home congregations are contributing to financially sustain them.

Intense sacrifice is made by the families of these missionaries; prayers are said daily and sometimes hourly for these beloved family members who are serving all over the world. “Keep them safe. Help them to find people to teach.” Mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, grandparents and friends, all of them are binding their hearts together in faith and love to ask for God’s blessing on these treasured youngsters.

So what I ask of you (my friends and neighbors who are not of my faith) is that when you see the missionaries out on their bikes, in the store, or on your doorstep please be kind to them. They know that this Gospel is not for everyone, but they want to give everyone a chance. They’ve seen it change lives, it has most likely changed theirs and so they are excited to tell you how the happiness that fills them can be yours as well.

When talking to them if you decide it is not for you then please just let them know. There is no need to be rude, call them names, or slam the door in their face. There is no need to get angry, or try to get them to fight with you. Try to remember that these are cherished sons and daughters, both of their parents and their Father in Heaven. So I ask you to be kind.

Also, please don’t tell them that you would like to hear more if you really don’t. Don’t make an appointment with them if you aren’t going to show up and don’t pretend not to be home if you are. They can tell you are in there, I promise. Instead just politely tell them you aren’t interested and that you appreciate their effort. They can handle it and then you won’t waste their time.

I know that you are awesome and good-hearted. I see your kindness and love as we work together in our community. Please take the same care and kindness you give to others and apply it to this situation as well. And who knows, when you chat with a missionary they may be able to teach you something that you didn’t know and you may have something to offer them.

Thanks folks and I’ll see you around the neighborhood.

Brenda

P.S. The examples I've used are not the case with many of my wonderful neighbors but all of these things happen to the Elders and Sisters in our area on a daily basis. Thanks to those of you who show compassion for everyone you meet regardless of who they are.

The Rest of the Story

2013-08-09T00:36:00.000-05:00

Dad owned a small motor rewind and repair shop for more than 30 years. The “shop” was a place many of my childhood and adolescent days were spent. It was a family business and as such the family was expected to work. Whether we wanted to or not.

The shop was a concrete building, a converted service station built in the early era of cars. The smell of oil and solvents and metal filled the air and counters were covered in well-used tools. There was a little transistor radio that was eternally tuned to the oldies rock ‘n’ roll station. The Monkeys and the Beatles were our constant companions.

At noon everyday dad would get his sack lunch out of an ancient refrigerator and come up to the front office. There he sat at a little desk that housed all the invoices and bills to paid, hand-written ledgers and deposit tickets. It was a wooden school teachers desk, a hand me down from a long forgotten donator which had a glass top laid over cutouts of peanuts comic strips and a small sign that read “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished”.

Dad would get a couple of empty Grainger shipping boxes and prop his leg up on them. His leg had been injured years before on an accident while on his mission and never fully recovered. He would unpack his sandwich and switch the radio over to Paul Harvey.

“The Rest of The Story” was the background for countless lunch breaks spent eating peanut butter and jelly or bologna with mustard. I can still see dad there in his blue work shirt, blue jeans and red Converse all-star high tops. Leg propped up, leaned back in his chair as the iconic voice of Paul wafted across the shop.

Over the radio that newscaster/storyteller taught us about farmers, government, and told folksy stories of every-day heroes. History and religion, composers and businessmen, the background you had never heard about George Washington and Elvis Presley. Then Mr. Harvey would sign off with “this is Paul Harvey, good day!” and lunch would be over, back to work we went.

Dad has been gone now for more than 5 years. Our bond in life had some cracks in it, especially in the early years. He had a lot of work to do when it came to family, but he did do it and by the time he exited this sphere had repented and purified himself to a degree which amazed those closest to him. And yet some of the pain of that previous life still lingered in my heart, even after he was gone.

I assumed that his death would be an ending of some sort. That no more progress could be made in our connection… at least for a time. But it has become clear that nothing is further from the truth. Dad has been around, he is actively working for the good of his family, he is mending things and occupied with healing old wounds. In experiences of all sorts I find him continuing his progress towards our eternal family and doing his best to help us along. It is amazing and I know that it is so.

President Joseph F. Smith said “I believe we move and have our being in the presence of heavenly messengers and of heavenly beings. We are not separate from them. … We are closely related to our kindred, to our ancestors … who have preceded us into the spirit world. We can not forget them; we do not cease to love them; we always hold them in our hearts, in memory, and thus we are associated and united to them by ties that we can not break. … If this is the case with us in our finite condition, surrounded by our mortal weaknesses, … how much more certain it is … to believe that those who have been faithful, who have gone beyond … can see us better than we can see them; that they know us better than we know them. … We live in their presence, they see us, they are solicitous for our welfare, they love us now more than ever. For now they see the dangers that beset us; … their love for us and their desire for our well being must be greater than that which we feel for ourselves.^"

So as I think about those lunch times at the shop all those years ago I can do it with fondness. The hurt that used to cling to my heart-strings is fading and the love I feel for dad increases every day. Dad is working for that and so am I. Relationships don’t end at death, not even temporarily. And that my friends is really the rest of the story.

Cheers,

Brenda

“Relationships can be strengthened through the veil with people we know and love. That is done by our determined effort to continually do what is right. We can strengthen our relationship with the departed individual we love by recognizing that the separation is temporary and that covenants made in the temple are eternal. When consistently obeyed, such covenants assure the eternal realization of the promises inherent in them.” –Richard G.Scott

Here is one of my favorite Paul Harvey tributes. Best if you listen with closed eyes.

Faith of Our Fathers

2013-07-23T03:10:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago I accompanied the Youth of our Stake on a week-long trip to historical sites of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It was a wonderful week spent soaking up the vibrant energy of the teens we were with punctuated by several powerful faith building experiences as we walked the paths of the early Saints.

Among the locations we visited were Nauvoo and Carthage Illinois. These sites are significant to members of my faith because of events that transpired there in the 1840’s.

The early church experienced significant growth in a short period time after being organized by the prophet Joseph Smith. These early converts gathered together in Kirtland Ohio and Jackson county Missouri. Soon these settlements grew to be some of the largest cities in their respective states.

Especially in Missouri the swelling ranks of the Mormons incurred the wrath of the neighbors. Their ideas about religion and the fact that they tended to vote in a united block threatened the interests of those who supported slavery at that time. Soon armed mobs were terrorizing the Saints. Homes and crops were burned, people severely beaten and killed, women raped, and leadership arrested on accusations of treason. This all culminated with an extermination order issued by the governor of Missouri which made it legal to drive the Mormons from the state and murder them if they would not go.

All this because a group of people wanted to practice their religion in the way they saw fit.

The members were driven out of their homes in a brutally cold winter with barely the clothes on their backs. The suffering endured is difficult to imagine. After a period of time they settled on the banks of the Mississippi River in a swamp that no one else would possibly want.

They then toiled and built the city of Navuoo, which means beautiful in Hebrew. It truly was a beautiful city with the gleaming white temple at the center.

Then in 1845 Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were martyred by an angry mob in Carthage which was located a few miles from Navuoo. The prophet was there under the promised protection of the governor of the state. History records that he was left to the designs of those who openly vowed to kill him in hopes of destroying the Church.

To their great surprise his death did not level the religion he had led. Once again the Saints were forced to leave their homes under threat of violence to cross the frozen prairie and move far enough west to a place they could finally live in peace.

The more you know about their situation questions begin to form. Why didn’t these people just give up, disavow the church, and go back to a life where persecution wasn’t raging around them? As I visited these sites the spirit of those pioneers seemed to imbue the landscape. There is a tangible feeling of faith and hope that penetrates your soul. These are sacred places.

It became clear to me that these people didn't just believe but knew that Gospel of Jesus Christ was a restoration of truth upon the earth. That Joseph Smith was exactly what he purported to be, just a man and a prophet called of God. They knew that God was at the head of this Church. They knew these things so deeply that they were willing to give their lives for the Kingdom. It led them from Jackson County to Navuoo and from there into the Salt Lake Valley and the thousands of graves that lie along the trail are testaments to their belief.

So what to do with this knowledge? How does their sacrifice apply to us today?

Elder Dallin H. Oaks

“Many of our challenges are different from those faced by former pioneers but perhaps just as dangerous and surely as significant to our own salvation and the salvation of those who follow us.For example, as for life-threatening obstacles, the wolves that prowled around pioneer settlements were no more dangerous to their children than the drug dealers or pornographers who threaten our children. Similarly, the early pioneers’ physical hunger posed no greater threat to their well-being than the spiritual hunger experienced by many in our day. The children of earlier pioneers were required to do incredibly hard physical work to survive their environment. That was no greater challenge than many of our young people now face from the absence of hard work, which results in spiritually corrosive challenges to discipline, responsibility, and self-worth. Jesus taught: “And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matt. 10:28).

In the latest Ensign Magazine President Thomas S. Monson, the current President of the Church and prophet wrote

“A dictionary defines a pioneer as ‘one who goes before to prepare or open up the way for others to follow.’ Can we somehow muster the courage and steadfastness of purpose that characterized the pioneers of a former generation? Can you and I, in actual fact, be pioneers?

I know we can be.

Oh, how the world needs pioneers today!”

Studying and understanding what the early Saints went through will inevitably lead one to the question “why did they do it?” Finding that answer for ourselves will allow us to follow in their footsteps and do the work God asks of us today. We can draw strength from their example and unite in heart with those wonderful people of the past. We too can sing with full purpose of heart that "all is well" even as the storms of life swirl around us. God was with them and He is with us as well.

I invite you find out for yourself what those Saints and I know. There is nothing more important. It will change your life.

Cheers,

Brenda

To find out more or request missionaries to visit with you please visit mormon.org.

Our Day of Deliverance

2013-07-04T13:21:00.001-05:00

The fourth of July was my dad's favorite holiday and I loved it too. I couldn't wait for the BBQ, the sparklers, the fireworks display by the city where we would lay on blankets in the local park and watch in wonder giant blooming radiant explosions of light. But every year before all of our festivities would begin dad would do something special. He would read to us from the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.

He knew that the fun and happiness we were enjoying had been won through the sacrifice and blood of patriots and it was important for us to know it. I'm grateful for his teachings.

I submit the following quotes as a reminder of the great men who God called to bring this blessed nation into being as well as leaders of our religion who knew that these things were sanctioned of God and divinely inspired.

“May it be to the world, what I believe it will be … the signal of arousing men to burst the chains … and to assume the blessings and security of self-government. That form, which we have substituted, restores the free right to the unbounded exercise of reason and freedom of opinion. All eyes are opened, or opening, to the rights of man. … For ourselves, let the annual return of this day forever refresh our recollections of these rights, and an undiminished devotion to them.” - Thomas Jefferson

“I am well aware of the toil and blood and treasure it will cost us to maintain this declaration, and support and defend these states. Yet through all the gloom I see the rays of ravishing light and glory. I can see that the end is worth all the means. This is our day of deliverance.” – John Adams

“Hence, we say that the Constitution of the United States is a glorious standard; it is founded in the wisdom of God. It is a heavenly banner; it is to all those who are privileged with the sweets of liberty, like the cooling shades and refreshing waters of a great rock in a thirsty and weary land. It is like a great tree under whose branches men from every clime can be shielded from the burning rays of the sun…We say that God is true; that the Constitution of the United States is true…” –Joseph Smith

"Here is my Creed. I believe in one God, the Creator of the Universe. That He governs it by His Providence. That He ought to be worshipped.

"That the most acceptable service we render to him is in doing good to his other children. That the soul of man is immortal, and will be treated with justice in another life respecting its conduct in this. These I take to be the fundamental points in all sound religion, and I regard them as you do in whatever sect I meet with them.

"As to Jesus of Nazareth, my opinion of whom you particularly desire, I think the system of morals and his religion, as he left them to us, is the best the world ever saw, or is likely to see” – Benjamin Franklin

On this independence day let us remember the sacrifices of our noble forefathers who closed the Declaration of Independence with these words. "And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor." May we do the same.

Cheers and God Bless America,

Brenda

Ten Reasons I Love Buns

2013-06-20T02:09:00.000-05:00

No I’m not talking about those buns, although they are delicious.

And not the other type either, granted you can always trust someone who likes big buns because they cannot lie.

Today I write about Buns, my compadre in life, my partner in crime, my hubby, companion, significant other, the eggs to my bacon, the Batman to my Robin, the beans to my... (you get the idea.)

Nearly two decades ago the two of us boarded the train of matrimony and waved goodbye to single life. Over the years and miles I have come to realize that Buns has many things about him that have made that journey possible. Someone knew what they were doing when they got us together.

I cover just a few here.

1. He won’t fight with me. Period. And there are times I want to, there have been moments I have gunned for conflict, pushed hard enough to drive any normal person past the point of reason and yet he will not engage. He knows my anger has a short lifespan and is patient enough to wait it out.

2. He grows things. Where plants scream when they see me coming under his care they flourish and flower.

3. Little kids love him. When Buns walks into a room full of kids they flock to him. He is big and burley and intimidating to adults but those little ones see the kindness in his eyes and they cannot stay away.

4. He fixes stuff even when he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Cars, dishwashers, science projects, toys, if it is broken he fixes it and if he doesn’t know how he finds out.

5. He is a sucker for strays. Animals or people. If he finds anyone or anything lost or in trouble he picks them up and brings them home. Sometimes they end up staying for a long time.

6. He is a magnificent dad. Tough when he needs to be which isn’t often and a trusted confidant the rest of the time. He is the first one to notice trouble on the horizon our children know without a doubt he has their back.

7. He is hilarious. He swears that when he dies he wants the inscription on his headstone to read “I’ve had worse in my eye.”

8. He isn’t needy. Husbands of my friends can’t seem to survive ten seconds without their wives. Buns has no issue with that. If I need to be away for a day or two there are no worries. He can cook and clean, he can kiss boo boos, he can take them to the park and the zoo with no hyperventilation.

9. Buns is always himself. Rain or shine, church or ballgame he is always himself. There are no pretenses or putting on of air. What you see is what you get.

10. He never gives up on family. Ever. Even when they don’t deserve it, especially when they don’t deserve it. Family is first and nothing changes that.

President Gordon B. Hinkley quoted columnist Jenkin Lloyd Jones in a speech given at BYU. Said he,

“Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just ordinary people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. . . .

Life is like an old-time rail journey—delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.”

As we approach another anniversary of the beginning of our journey together I’m thankful for all the things Buns is. The tracks up to this point have been varied. There has been heartache, headaches, and happiness.

In all of it I’m truly grateful that we are together and am glad we will ride this train for a long time more.

Cheers,

Brenda

But If Not

2013-06-14T10:22:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week I had a conversation with an old friend. He is very talented and through years of hard work has earned the accolades of his peers and the financial benefits of a very successful career. As a young man he served an honorable full time mission for the LDS church and graduated from BYU, but as his life progressed he started to stray from his beliefs. Now 10 years later he is living a lifestyle that is in nearly complete opposition to the precepts he used to know were true.

When I asked how he had gotten to this point he answered that he had tendencies towards certain types of behavior starting in high school and had been very unhappy about it. He thought that if he went on a mission and worked as hard as he could that God would remove his challenges. When that didn’t happen he became disillusioned and started to fall away from what he knew to be true. He felt it was too difficult to go on fighting against his “natural man” and simply gave in. My heart breaks for him. He is an elect son of God who has missed the point of the Gospel and it is leading him down a path that will not take him where he wants to go.

At this point I’m sure you are wondering how in the world this sad story relates at all to Father’s Day? As I thought about my friend and the countless others who mistakenly believe that God removes all problems and temptations from those who keep the commandments there were certain things that my dad taught me, mostly by example, that kept coming to my mind.

Dad grew up on a small farm in rural Idaho. His family was poor but hard working. He was intensely shy and so being called to serve a mission in Detroit Michigan in the midst of the 1967 race riots was obviously a stretch for him. Just as he was beginning to get comfortable being a missionary life changed forever. He and his companion were hit head on by a drunk driver. The crash killed dad’s companion and crushed him from the waist down. He spent 10 days in a coma and his parents were brought out to say their goodbyes. He was not supposed to live.

Astoundingly, he did wake up and was informed that there was no possibility he would ever walk again. He chose not to believe the doctors. After months in a body cast that reached from his armpits to his toes and scores of operations he was finally able to begin physical therapy. With the help of nurses and doctors he worked hard and suffered inhuman amounts of pain to get back on his feet. He was released from the hospital on the exact release date of his mission and he walked out of there.

Dad found that perseverance, prayer, humor and hard work can bring about miracles with the Lord’s help. He believed the words of President Hinkley who said "You have not failed until you quit trying." Even with the miracle that occurred he suffered immeasurably the rest of his life dealing with the after effects of such a devastating accident. The Lord allowed him to walk but did not remove the burden of pain and ill health.

“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. We must have the same faith as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego.

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.”

Forty years later Dad suffered a debilitating stroke which paralyzed ½ of his body and blinded one of his eyes. Out of necessity he came to live in a care facility. Even though he was severely handicapped he spent his time there comforting the afflicted and visiting with the lonely. Many nights would find aides and nurses receiving counsel about life at his bedside. He did missionary work and brought several people back into activity. The conditions were humbling in every way but dad kept a remarkably upbeat attitude during his time there. He told me that Heavenly Father was giving him opportunities to serve every single day and that he was making a difference.

When Dad passed away I had the distinct impression that his spirit stood up out of his wheel chair, shook off the effects of a body that had been ravaged by 40 years of unspeakable pain, sprinted out the door, and then put on his missionary suit and tie and went to work preaching the Gospel. He was going to finish what he started in Detroit all those years ago. He had trusted the Lord and the Lord had kept His promise.

Now don’t get me wrong, dad was certainly not perfect. He had his faults, and challenges and he fell down a lot. He made mistakes in his life and acted badly at times. He sometimes did things that hurt those around him, but the thing about dad that taught me the most was that even when the Lord doesn't take our burdens from us, even when they stretch us and hurt us more than we think it is possible to bear, even when we choose wrongly and fall from grace all we have to do is exercise a particle of faith, repent, get back up, work hard, do what we know is right, try again and the Lord will keep his promises to us. He will take our challenges and temptations and mold us into a new being. He will make us like Him.

On this Father’s Day I am grateful for Fathers and what they teach us. I’m grateful for flawed men who fall down and continue to get back up and try again. For dad’s who persevere, for dad’s that stalwartly hold to the truths of the Gospel, for dad’s who say “but if not… I will trust in the Lord.”

"God bless you, dear fathers. May He bless you with wisdom and judgment, with understanding, with self-discipline and self-control, with faith and kindness and love. And may He bless the sons and daughters who have come into your homes, that yours may be a fortifying, strengthening, guiding hand as they walk the treacherous path of life. As the years pass—and they will pass ever so quickly—may you know that "peace... which passeth all understanding" (Philip. 4:7) as you look upon your sons and daughters, who likewise have known that sacred and wonderful peace." (Gordon B. Hinkley)

Happy Father’s Day!

Brenda

For the Boys

2013-06-07T02:38:00.000-05:00

I happen to be mother of three handsome and incredible sons, two of whom are now in that enchanted and sweaty age range of being able to date. (Mormon youth are asked not to date until they are 16 years old and this is the rule we have in our family.) As much as this milestone in their young lives lends itself to a serious case of middle-aged hyperventilating on my part, I know that my kids will navigate this time brilliantly.

Still, students of life can avoid many pitfalls by learning from the awkward steps of their elders. With that in mind may I bring a few items of note which may assist the bright youth of today in their dating pursuits.

This week I focus on young men.

Dates do not need to be elaborate or expensive to impress a girl. In fact when you go over the top it sends the message that this is a serious proposition. Case in point- while I was at BYUI living in a large off-campus apartment complex full to the brim with LDS girls one of my next door neighbors was asked to a school dance. The boy who did this wanted to make an impact so while she was at class he brought in 50 pounds of Hershey kisses and covered her bedroom floor ankle deep in chocolate. He then left a cutesy note that said “now that I kiss the floor you walk on, will you go to the dance with me.” Aside from the diabetic coma enjoyed by everyone within a six-mile radius, the money and effort he put in to that endeavor did not pan out in the long run. She accepted but that was their only date. She liked him but the pressure she felt from that over the top effort scared her off.

Also, first dates are not the time to take a girl to serious family events. A friend of mine once accepted an invitation to the movies and was told “we just need to stop at a family gathering for a minute” before they went to the theater. That event turned out to be his grandmother’s funeral. Amazingly, she declined any
further dates with this guy.

The lesson here is that most times the best dates are simple and inexpensive. Take a walk, fly a kite, go to the dollar movie. Casual environments allow you to get to know your date without anyone thinking that it is more than just a fun experience. Later in life, when you find someone really awesome you think you want to spend the rest of forever with, you can break out the skywriters and mariachi bands.

The right questions are good, the wrong ones will deep six your date. Asking your date personal questions about her interests and background are a great way to get to know someone. Girls love to talk and most of all about themselves. Doing this will make her feel important and that you are truly interested in her as a person. Questions to avoid would be things like "If there was a nuclear war that destroyed most of humanity, leaving only 5 men in existence for you to marry, would I be one of them?" or “What temple would you like to get married in?” If you whip those out on a first date don’t be surprised when she runs screaming into the sunset without you.

Do not treat the girl you are out with like she is one of “the guys”. Boys bond by insulting each other and using physical horseplay. Let me tell you right now that girls take what you say seriously, so do not call her “chubster” or “psycho” or any other demeaning nickname and insult her thinking it is funny. She may laugh, but deep down you are hurting her feelings. This will result in her texting every one of her 900 friends and telling them what a jerk you are thus reducing the pool of those willing to go out with you in the future. Remember who she is as a daughter of God and treat her with respect.

Also, comparing arm hair amount, neck size, and athletic prowess should be avoided. It’s not her fault that you have the neck of a chicken or that you can destroy her in a weight lifting competition. These kinds of things will not make the kind of impression you are hoping for.

Let her see the real you. You are a fabulous kid with much to offer so there is no need to show her how you can pop your pecs or brag about the time you “totally saved a guy’s life” by some superhuman feat, and if you work at McDonald’s don’t tell her you are a Fast Food Engineer. Other titles to avoid are Pork Rind Expert and Aspiring Beta Tester. She will see right through that and know it means you are a chronic basement dwelling Cheeto eating gamer. Which leads to my next point.

Don’t be a chronic basement dwelling Cheeto eating gamer! There is a whole beautiful world outside of the internet and your game console. Read, think, look at art, go camping, play a sport, learn to work with your hands, have some interests outside of a dark stinky room full of boys staring at a TV nineteen hours a day. No girl in her right mind wants to date someone whose sole love in life is gaming. She also does not want to hear about how epic it was when you beat level 42 in record time so get outside, it won’t hurt I promise.

Keep an open mind. The girls you ask out don’t always need to be the Homecoming Queen or in the Peanut Festival Court. There are loads of intelligent, fun, girls out there who lovely both inside and out. Learn to recognize that beauty comes in many different forms and not just the kind that is on the cover of magazines. When you do this you will gain the benefit of meeting a lot of really great young women.

Stay Safe. This is advice that pertains to both boys and girls. Always let a friend or parent know where you will be and what time you will be home. Keep a phone with you and stay in public places. If something doesn’t seem right don’t be afraid to end the evening politely.

Also, there are a lot of girls out there who think that a date must end in a physical way. Date girls who have high standards and make sure that when you ask someone out they know that you are going to stay morally chaste and expect the same from them. Boys can have a massive influence on the girls around them by quietly and courageously standing for truth and righteousness. Give sincere complements when they dress modestly and let people know that you find honest, virtuous girls as the most attractive in the world. They will raise their standards when they see you lead out.

In the end these are going to be some of the most exciting times of your life. Appreciate it and try not to
stress. Ask for dates and if you are turned down let it go and move on. There are girls out there just waiting to get to know someone as remarkable as you. And when you are accepted let them see the real you, stay safe, have fun, treat them with respect, and most importantly act so that you may keep the companionship of the Spirit. Doing this stuff and listening to your parents will help make it all a life learning and awesome experience.

Happy Dating!

Cheers,

Brenda

Ducky Little Secrets

2013-05-24T02:40:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

I was nearly caught again tonight. Buns and the kids unexpectedly came home early from the Youth activity and I had to move pretty fast to cover up what was going on. Why can’t I give this up? This secret is killing me and Buns is getting suspicious.

It all started so innocently. A conversation at work that led to one thoughtless viewing and now I am addicted. I just can’t stop watching Duck Dynasty.

I’m so careful when I watch. The shades are drawn and I make sure the recall button on the remote is programmed to Nova or Downton Abbey in case I must change the channel quickly. I’ve covered my Uncle Si commemorative plastic cup in a “libraries rock” cozy to disguise it and I’ve become an expert at ripping off my American flag bandana and shoving it down the couch cushion when footsteps are heard outside the door.

What is it about the real life antics of self-proclaimed rednecks that is so compelling? Is it the hilarity of the ridiculous situations they get into? Is it their brazen attitude that doesn’t care one bit what the world thinks of them? Is it the deep faith that is the undercurrent of every episode? Is it the peek into a long-held southern and completely American way of life?

Whatever it is they are selling, I can’t get enough and have even found some of their backwoods wisdom creeping into my conversations.

“When you don’t know what you are doing, it is best to do it quickly.”

“That’s a fact- JACK!”

“It’s like a cat with his tail in an electric fan, it won’t be long now.”

Ok, so that last one isn't something I have ever said but undoubtedly as the wife of a bearded man I appreciate the sentiment.

From Phil and Miss Kay and their refreshing and hysterically funny relationship, to crazy Uncle Si who has had one to many iced teas, to the Robertson brothers and the grief they give each other, this family is absolutely committed to each other and you can see it in everything they do.

There is no worry about whether or not anyone takes you seriously in their world and intellectual stimulation is found in blowing up a beaver dam.

Still, letting this out might damage my reputation as a civilized person so no matter how much I want to share this with the world I guess I’ll keep watching incognito. I just hope the camo car seat covers I ordered last week don’t give me away.

Cheers,

Brenda

Love Your Choice

2013-05-20T22:45:00.000-05:00

Last Sunday my 16 year old son and I had a chance to watch a recording of the May 5^th CES Devotional by Elder William Walker. During his address Elder Walker related a story about President of the Church Thomas S. Monson.

It was just prior to a General Conference weekend and all of the senior leadership of the Church were gathered together to be instructed by the First Presidency. As they waited for the meeting to begin the 9 o’clock hour came and went. This was unusual and the brethren began to worry.

“Someone walked out a side door to check if some assistance might be needed. On his re-entrance to the room we were told President Monson would join us shortly. About 15 minutes after the meeting was to have started President Monson entered the room. Out of respect we stood as he entered. We were happy to see him and pleased that he looked well and it didn’t appear that there was any obvious reason why he would have been late. President Monson went strait to the pulpit and said ‘Brethren, I’m sorry to be late but my wife needed me this morning.’ I was deeply impressed and humbled and couldn’t stop thinking about President Monson’s words. This was a very important meeting. The entire senior leadership of the Church was assembled but President Monson set the example for us all. His wife needed him and he took the time necessary to care for her. It was a great sermon.”

At the end of this account my son said something very simple and profound. “Love is like faith isn’t it mom? Love without works is dead.”

As I sat there a little stunned at the beauty and truth of that statement it became clear to me that President Monson and his lovely wife Frances have spent a lifetime modeling that very idea. It is worthy of emulation.

In a conference talk called Hallmarks of a Happy Home President Monson spoke of a framed expression that his Aunt had embroidered which hung on the kitchen wall of his boyhood home. It carried a world of practical application:

Choose your love; love your choice.

That expression was put into practice early on as heavy responsibilities came shortly after their marriage. As Bishop, Mission President, and other callings came to the remarkably young and talented Monson Frances was unwaveringly supportive.

“It has never been a sacrifice to see my husband doing the Lord's work. It has blessed me, and it has blessed our children. He always knew that if it was for the Church, I expected him to do what he had to do.”

This support was received with thankfulness and love.

“I have never known Frances to complain once of my Church responsibilities,’ he says. ‘I have been gone many days and many nights, and I have rarely been able to sit with her in the congregation. But there is no one like her—absolutely no one. She is in every way supportive and is a woman of quiet and profoundly powerful faith”

“I thank my Father in Heaven for my sweet companion, Frances. … I could not have asked for a more loyal, loving, and understanding companion”

There has been a sense of fun in their relationship as well. Both are good-natured and able to see the humor in even difficult situations. President Monson related the following.

“My sweet Frances had a terrible fall a few years ago. She went to the hospital. She lay in a coma for about 18 days. I sat by her side. She never moved a muscle. The children cried, the grandchildren cried, and I wept. Not a movement.

And then one day, she opened her eyes. I set a speed record in getting to her side. I gave her a kiss and a hug, and I said, ‘You’re back. I love you.’ And she said, ‘I love you, too, Tom, but we’re in serious trouble.’ I thought, ‘What do you know about trouble, Frances?’ She said, ‘I forgot to mail in our fourth-quarter income tax payment.

I said to her, ‘Frances, if you had said that before you extended a kiss to me and told me you love me, I might have left you here”

Now with Sister Monson’s passing and as we bid her farewell for a time it seems appropriate to ponder the example she and President Monson have set.

Unconditional love, gratitude, support, and humor, all of these actions took effort. Truly love without works is dead and the Monson’s have been a magnificent example to all of us of the vibrant happiness that comes from that determination.

“Brethren, let’s treat our wives with dignity and with respect. They’re our eternal companions. Sisters, honor your husbands. They need to hear a good word. They need a friendly smile. They need a warm expression of true love.”

May we all take those words to heart and do the work of love by loving our choice a little more today.

Cheers,

Brenda

Gifts on the Day of Mothers

2013-05-10T01:30:00.000-05:00

Ahh, the underappreciated and overworked mother; deity of the dirty diaper crowd, superwoman of supper, lioness of the laundry room. The woman who loves you best and toils 24 hours a day, 7 days a week to make sure that noses are wiped, homework is done, and that the fruit of her loins turns out to be the most fantastic, spiritual, amazing adults that the world has ever seen.

She pulls off this miracle by sacrificing sleep, self-indulgence, and sometimes sanity amid the well-noted lack of accolades from the outside world and many times her family. This is why mothers get seriously out of sorts if her husband or children forget that one day in May when everyone is required to give her some much deserved recognition.

Just ask my hubby Buns what happens if even once you forget the sacred Day of Mothers. Your sweet companion will turn into something that resembles an angry Al Pacino with flames shooting out of the top of his head, and like an elephant Pacino never forgets.

Since that fateful Sunday all those years ago Buns has showered me with many an adorable card and beautiful bouquet of flowers. I also have a drawer in my bedroom that houses a growing pile of cherished macaroni art, cards with childish endearments scribbled on them, and glittery pictures given in love from my four offspring. One year I even got tickets to a Josh Groban concert (which was swoon worthy) but with all of these great things none of them are the best gifts I’ve received in appreciation of my motherly efforts.

Here is a list of the very best gifts I’ve ever gotten.

Dandelions picked with care from the back yard
Watching my newly ordained sons pass the sacrament for the first time

Witnessing the first vocal prayer of a little one kneeling next to me
Having my teenage son read to me when I was too sick to do it myself

Laughing hysterically at the joke “why did the chicken cross the playground?” (to get to the other slide) as told by a seven-year-old girl for the 17^th time

Receiving an answer to a fervent prayer for the healing of a critically ill child

Joy in water fights, kite flying, and shooting gingerbread houses with slingshots

The smell of a new baby snuggled safely in my arms

Being able to tell bedtime stories to a captivated audience every night

Sticky kisses

Gospel discussions with teens who blow me away with their understanding

A feeling of pride when one of my kids stands up to injustice

Burnt toast made by a budding chef

Warm Christmas mornings together

Having my cheeks grabbed by a five-year-old who then tells me in his most serious voice that “I wuv you mom”

The thing is that regardless of how much we mothers are ignored, unappreciated, and overlooked by the world at large, and even if our family has become complacent, there is One who appreciates us every single day for the hard work we put in. He recognizes our imperfect efforts, He sees the sacrifices, and rewards us openly and in exponentially greater amounts than the energy we put in.

He never waits for one Sunday in May to make known how much He loves, trusts, and sees us. His gifts are poured out day-by-day and minute-by-minute if only we have the eyes to see them. So as much as I adore the cards, words of appreciation, and the pansies I’ll get in Sacrament Meeting on Sunday, my favorite gift is the love of my Savior and the privilege He has given me of being a mom.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Brenda

What gifts has God given you?

Pointing Fingers

2013-05-08T03:00:00.000-05:00

Immediately following Elizabeth Smart’s remarks at a John’s Hopkins human trafficking forum on Wednesday May 1, the internet erupted in criticism of the Church and it’s instruction on virtue and chastity. In a way that ignored the premise of her comments, accusations filled the blogosphere that teaching abstinence before marriage is damaging to women who have been the victims of sexual assault .

Jay Evensen, Associate Editor of the Deseret News editorial page responded.

“Two issues are at stake here. One is consensual premarital sex, particularly as engaged in by teenagers (Smart was 14 when she was abducted). The other, more relevant one has to do with rape, sexual coercion and its relationship to chastity and the worth of a soul. Don’t confuse the two.”

“The problem wasn’t the way she had been instructed about chastity, it was the lack of instruction about how rape is a crime of violence and not a reflection in any sense on the victim. It was, as she said, a lack of training that it is OK to fight back and that no one can steal your self-worth.”

Well then, why didn’t the Church instruct her properly? Why didn’t the Church make sure she knew these things so that when she heard an unfortunate object lesson about chewing gum she was able to sort the truth from error?

This was my knee-jerk reaction to the articles I read and then I began to do a little research. Here are just three examples of an overwhelmingly consistent message.

From lds.org under the topic of abuse:

“Victims of abuse should be assured that they are not to blame for the harmful behavior of others. They do not need to feel guilt. If they have been a victim of rape or other sexual abuse, whether they have been abused by an acquaintance, a stranger, or even a family member, victims of sexual abuse are not guilty of sexual sin.”

For the Strength of Youth:

“Victims of sexual abuse are not guilty of sin and do not need to repent. If you have been a victim of abuse, know that you are innocent and that God loves you. Talk to your parents or another trusted adult, and seek your bishop’s counsel immediately. They can support you spiritually and assist you in getting the protection and help you need. The process of healing may take time. Trust in the Savior. He will heal you and give you peace.”

From the official leadership handbook:

“Parents have primary responsibility for the sex education of their children. Teaching this subject honestly and plainly in the home will help young people avoid serious moral transgressions. To help parents teach this sensitive and important information, the Church has published A Parent’s Guide.”

The finger I had pointed at the Church found itself turned right around and aimed directly at me.

Why haven’t I taught my children about this subject effectively? Do I really think that my eight-year-old's Primary teacher should talk to her about sexual exploitation on Sunday? Should my teenage sons be gaining all they know on abuse from their Young Men’s leader?

Absolutely not. That is my obligation as a parent to teach my kids about these difficult and tender subjects. It is my duty to prepare them for the possibility of terrible things. We live in a darkening world where so many people are subjected to appalling situations at the hands of evil people. I cannot turn the education of my child over to the Church. That is not its purpose. God called me to that important task. I’m responsible.

Far too many well-meaning and good parents are shirking their duty in the home. It is understandable, I don’t want to even consider that something awful might happen to one of my kids and it is an uncomfortable topic to talk about. But the safety of a warm, trusting, and loving home it is the only place these lessons can be learned effectively. We are accountable to God to create that home and teach the vital lessons.

So instead of hurling stones at the Church let’s take a closer look at what is being taught or ignored in our own homes. Are we teaching our kids the truths that will protect and comfort them when the trials of their lives come up? Or are we shoving that responsibility off on someone or something else? Are we doing enough to build the loving and trusted relationships that will bring them to us in times of need?

In my case I can do better. How about you?

Cheers,

Brenda

Personal Renovation

2013-04-18T11:23:00.005-05:00

With the bombing of the Boston Marathon and the explosion and fire at the fertilizer plant which has devastated our neighbors in West, the news is full of suffering people. When these types of events happen, as with the trials that crop up in our own lives it is natural to ask the question "why?" Why are we called to suffer as a nation, as families, as individuals? How can a God who loves us infinitely put us through all of this? Why? Why...

"I have beheld his glory, and I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love" (2 Nephi 1:15)

Over the years as I have searched for the full answer I came across several messages that have instructed and comforted me. I share them with you.

C.S. Lewis:

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself."

"The command Be ye perfect is not idealistic gas. Nor is it a command to do the impossible. He is going to make us into creatures that can obey that command. He said (in the Bible) that we were 'gods' and He is going to make good His words. If we let Him—for we can prevent Him, if we choose—He will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or goddess, dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness. The process will be long and in parts very painful; but that is what we are in for. Nothing less. He meant what He said."

Orson F. Whitney:

“No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God … and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire and which will make us more like our Father”

In all of this, let us not forget that we do not walk alone in our personal renovation.

“He knows of our anguish, and He is there for us. Like the Good Samaritan in His parable, when He finds us wounded at the wayside, He binds up our wounds and cares for us (see Luke 10:34). Brothers and sisters, the healing power of His Atonement is for you, for us, for all.”

“Lucifer whispers that life’s not fair and that if the gospel were true, we would never have problems or disappointments. … The gospel isn’t a guarantee against tribulation. That would be like a test with no questions. Rather, the gospel is a guide for maneuvering through the challenges of life with a sense of purpose and direction.”

Comfort, perspective, and peace are found through our Savior Jesus Christ. The One who loves us perfectly and has suffered what we suffer. As we follow Him and allow our trials to transform us into what He knows we can become I know that He smiles and "encircles us in the arms of His love."

Prayers today for all those who suffer.

Cheers,

Brenda

Praying for a Jerk

2013-03-26T15:59:00.001-05:00

If you’ve ever been in the sixth grade (and I’m assuming most of you have had that delightful experience) you will know that it is a time of drama and difficulty for the contenders of that epic occurrence. Physical, mental, and emotional upheavals are almost compulsory as those lovely tweens perilously reach for fleeting adulthood all the while frantically clawing to hang on to their slipping childhood. This ballet of life is completed with all the grace a penguin who has found himself straddling two icebergs that have decided to part ways. Disaster seems imminent.

Being the nice parents we are, my hubby Buns and I chose this time to uproot our eldest son and transport him 1500 miles to the foreign culture of the South. Our family first moved to the great state of Texas the summer before Dubs was to enter the sixth grade and it was an experience for all of us.

Socially Dubbers did well with his peer group. He was large for his age and had some physical prowess and that was accepted among the football loving natives. His relations with adults and in particular certain authority figures was another story.

You could say rural West Texas is a little old fashioned in what they regard as acceptable behavior in children. Spare the rod and spoil the child is rule. Many parents speak about how all kids need is a good “beating” once in a while so they will behave. Adults call for absolute obedience and respect just by virtue of the fact that they survived into adulthood. Children are to obey and not question anything, and a yes Ma’am and no Sir are the only allowable replies.

This was a shock to all of us but especially difficult for Dubs. He was not one to talk back or cause upset just for the fun of it, but he was raised and is a person who naturally questions dubious reasoning. We encouraged him to think for himself and to speak up against injustice. This did not go over well with one of his teachers.

One day Dubs committed the cardinal sin of challenging a principle this teacher was relating to the class. Honestly, I don’t even remember what the topic was but I know that I agreed with him. He wasn’t disrespectful in the way he did this, but she was insulted and sent him off to the principal’s office for the perceived insubordination.

Buns and I were summoned and told that our child had refused to say yes ma’am to a teacher and had questioned her authority in class. He was to be punished; either “swats” or in-school suspension for a day. I was incensed at the ridiculous nature of the situation but explained our position that we don’t allow anyone to hit our kids, regardless of policy. Unfortunately, our unorthodox standing on the matter just added fuel to the flames.

For the months following the situation that teacher singled Dubs out every chance she got. She accused him of things he didn’t do, harassed him on the playground, and acted like (for lack of a better word) a jerk. When I would contact her about what was going on I was met with sneering insolence and the communication we directed to administration just seemed to make things worse. Buns and I had no idea what to do and the bullying was wearing on our sweet boy. He became angry and withdrawn and started missing school frequently. The whole thing seemed completely unfair.

One night I was preparing a Sunday School lesson and the material included the Sermon on the Mount. As I read the words of the Savior it seemed He was speaking directly to me. “But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” I was angry at this woman and the situation, she was indeed my enemy. The words penetrated my soul.

With some resentment and hesitation I got down on my knees and prayed for her. Then I went in to talk to Dubs and read with him those same words. We decided that we had done what we could and now it was up to the Lord. We would pray for this teacher every day even though neither one of us really wanted to.

In the back of my mind I expected a miracle to take place. Surely all our good will and prayers for her would add up in our mercy account and that teacher would change. Instead, the year went on and the irritating behavior continued. Dubs learned to keep his head down around her and managed to stay out of her way.

Each morning before school he and I would ask the Lord to bless our enemy but nothing seemed to happen. She didn’t change her attitude towards us one iota. After several weeks of this experiment we noticed something else instead. The anger we both felt began to dissipate. Our perspective changed and we realized that this trial was a growing time. He and I both found ourselves able to forgive her and our prayers together became more sincere. I stopped calling her names in my head and elsewhere. We both came to understand that much of the problem came from culture differences. We repented. We both felt the love of the Savior through the Spirit on the hard days and instead of the Lord changing our enemy He changed us.

C.S. Lewis said “I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time- waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God- it changes me.”

It was precisely because Dubs was willing to follow the Savior in a difficult situation that hearts were changed and testimonies of forgiveness grew. As we prayed- God didn’t change, that teacher didn’t change, but we did and the result was a peace that surpassed all understanding. It was a lesson that neither of us will soon forget.

Thankfully, that teacher moved on to some other school district so she couldn't torture Dubbers for yet another year. I think it is one of the tender mercies of the Lord things worked out that way and hopefully one day she will learn what we did. That anger only hurts the one who holds it and peace is found through forgiveness.

Cheers,

Brenda

How have following the commandments brought unexpected positive outcomes in your life?

Has the Lord used the bad behavior of another to bless your life?

Brush Strokes

2013-03-08T02:17:00.000-06:00

Family Home Evening is a Mormon thing. Once a week (generally on Monday night) we gather together as a family to sing songs, read scriptures, hear a lesson, pray, and most importantly eat treats. From time to time we also engage in wholesome family activities on these nights like watching a good video, flying kites, having a picnic and so on. At least that is the idea.

What is a wonderful ideal is many times difficult to execute perfectly. School activities, homework, meetings, and flat out exhaustion are all barriers to FHE happening at all. It takes a concerted effort to get everyone there, and once you do the participants are less than interested in what is going on.

In our home the brief lessons are often punctuated with children hanging upside down off of the couch, making faces at each other, breathing each other's air (heaven forbid), incursions by princess figurines having loud tea parties on the coffee table, screaming, crying, pouting, and every so often outright bedlam.

As a parent it can be difficult to be enthusiastic about going through this rig-a-ma-roll every week. On top of that, coming up with an attention grabbing lesson of some sort that will instill Gospel principles in the minds of your little brood is problematic. How do you teach them the truths of eternity and help them feel the Spirit when they are either partially comatose or busy pulling a sibling's hair? You have to be creative, and that doesn’t always work out the way you think it should.

My friend Betty wanted to teach her family about how evil things can superficially look good. Things like movies in which the preview looks awesome but once you are watching the flick is full of bad language and raunchy behavior. It was an important topic and she felt prompted to teach it. She knew that if they paid attention it was a principle that could protect her kids from all kinds of unsavory influences. She had a lightning bolt idea for an object lesson.

One Monday afternoon before the kids came home from school, she took a cup of dog food from the 50 pound Costco sack in the garage and brought it to the kitchen. She then painstakingly dipped each individual piece in melted white chocolate. The nuggets were drizzled in more chocolate and carefully placed in a crystal candy dish. They looked amazing.

Betty wanted to make a point. Not everything is what it seems. Never judge a book by its cover. She would show the attractive looking “candy” to the kids during the Family Home Evening lesson and then tell them what it was. They would gasp about the grossness of it all. They would forever remember the lesson. It was going to be great!

With the decorating finished, she placed the dish high up in a cabinet above the refrigerator where no one would find it and went on with her day. Several hours later while she was in the laundry room doing laundry sorts of activities, her husband came home from work and began his usual prowl through the kitchen looking for his before-dinner snack.

Why he chose to look in the cabinet above the frig is a mystery. In all their years of living in that house he had never before opened the little hinged door that resided above the dusty appliance top. It may have been desperation, since Betty had recently cleared all the junk food out of the house as part of her latest diet. Regardless of the motivation, he did indeed open the door and there in the dark recesses of the cupboard shone the gleaming white chocolates. It was as if the angels of heaven were singing. They were quickly scooped up and taken to the family room where he would sit in a chair and enjoy the news, adorable children playing at his feet.

Shortly thereafter, Betty returned to the kitchen to check on the simmering pots of dinner. Just then her three-year-old streaked by at high speed chewing on something that made a unique crunching noise. Betty stopped the bright eyed little boy and said in a very motherly way “what’s in your mouth?” “Nuffin” was the answer, “just this weird candy dad gave me”. “What weird candy?!?” Betty made a B-line for the family room.

There on the end table next to her hubby’s designated chair was the now empty crystal candy dish. Horrified reality crashed down on Betty as she looked around the room. Every single kid was chewing. Then her husband said “that wasn’t the best candy you’ve ever made but it was alright.” Holy cats.

“I’m so glad you liked it!” ~~I said~~ Betty said and ran out of the room eye twitching uncontrollably.

So what is to be learned from this story of object lessons gone wrong? For me it is to stop putting so much pressure on ourselves to be perfect in this. Not every Monday night needs to be a life changing spiritual experience. Not every lesson should be one “they will remember forever”. It just needs to be.

Like the brushstrokes of the painting of a wheat field that hangs in Elder Bednar’s office “each family prayer, each episode of family scripture study, and each family home evening is a brushstroke on the canvas of our souls. No one event may appear to be very impressive or memorable. But just as the yellow and gold and brown strokes of paint complement each other and produce an impressive masterpiece, so our consistency in doing seemingly small things can lead to significant spiritual results. “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

So even if the paint to your masterwork ends up with some dog food in there, so be it. Those kids will never forget that bad things sometimes look good, and possibly the more important message, don’t EVER eat candy dad gives you without checking with mom first.

Cheers,

Brenda

“If you are trying to do the best you can—if, for example, you keep trying to hold family home evening in spite of the bedlam that sometimes reigns in a houseful of little bedlamites—give yourself high marks” -Jeffrey R. Holland

Windows

2013-02-28T21:36:00.000-06:00

A few years ago I read something that changed me. The author (I have forgotten the reference) related that when teaching, we need to get ourselves out of the way enough so that we are like windows through which the light of Heaven can shine.

The idea impacted me in a significant way. Obviously, the light of Heaven was going to be superior to anything my feeble intellect and knowledge could provide the students in my Sunday School class and I wanted that light as well. I began to prepare lessons differently with this idea in mind and prayed earnestly for the blessing.

That blessing came and my classes went from a struggle to keep everyone awake to wonderful discussions led by the Spirit. It was not anything I was doing that contributed to the improvement. I simply put my own personality in check and strove to listen for the still small voice. In fact, when I would start to feel too congratulatory about how well things were going the lights would go out.

This last week as I came to the conclusion that I was a self-righteous, sanctimonious jerk (recovering), another idea about windows came into my remembrance. In a beautiful talk titled Charity Never Faileth President Monson related the following story.

“A young couple, Lisa and John, moved into a new neighborhood. One morning while they were eating breakfast, Lisa looked out the window and watched her next-door neighbor hanging out her wash.

“That laundry’s not clean!” Lisa exclaimed. “Our neighbor doesn’t know how to get clothes clean!”

John looked on but remained silent.

Every time her neighbor would hang her wash to dry, Lisa would make the same comments.

A few weeks later Lisa was surprised to glance out her window and see a nice, clean wash hanging in her neighbor’s yard. She said to her husband, “Look, John—she’s finally learned how to wash correctly! I wonder how she did it.”

John replied, “Well, dear, I have the answer for you. You’ll be interested to know that I got up early this morning and washed our windows!”

Can’t you hear his voice as you read that story?

Not only can we be like windows when we are teaching, but it is just as important to be that window all of the time. As we humble ourselves and allow the light of Heaven to shine through, it warms and lifts those around us. In the process we are blessed to see the beauty and goodness of our spirit brothers and sisters through the eyes of the Savior. Our impatience and unrighteous judgement of others goes right out the window. We just need to get ourselves out of the way and keep clean.

Cheers,

Brenda

How has humbling yourself led to more light in your life?

My Pet Peeve

2013-02-26T02:46:00.000-06:00

I recently happened upon an online discussion about the culture that has developed in many Latter Day Saint congregations where meetings start at least 15 minutes late because a large portion of the membership can’t bother to get there on time. It is so prevalent that people pass it off by humorously saying we run on Mormon Standard Time.

While the article made some good points about the need to make punctuality a priority, the numerous comments that followed almost exclusively ran in the same vein. Things like “that is my pet peeve” and “people who aren’t on time think their time is more valuable than mine” and “I have 12 kids and I’m an hour early every week, others should be able to do it if I can!”

As I read I got mad, and found myself thinking the following. “What a bunch of self-righteous, sanctimonious jerks! Do they not understand that some of those folks dragging in 10 minutes after the festivities have started don’t have the same life they do? How many people have walked out of the Church forever because of unkind judgment and nitpicking just like this?”

7 seconds later while huffing and puffing, I was reminded by a still small voice that I was currently involved in the conduct I was so harshly condemning those commentators of. Not only that, but in the past had said some of the exact phrases they were using about people doing activities that irritated me.

People being perfectly punctual is not one of the things that bothers me (considering my family runs on Mormon Standard Time regularly) but I do have a large and assorted laundry list of behaviors I like to criticize others for.

Bugger.

So I started looking up information. Here’s what Princeton.edu defines a pet peeve as.

(pet peeve) an opportunity for complaint that is seldom missed.

A search on LDS.org brought up the topics murmuring, judging others, and gossip.

Double bugger.

While it is commendable to strive for the ideal, it is when we start criticizing others for not being as punctual, or neat, or as righteous as we are that we have stepped over into the realm of pride and unrighteous judgment.

Elder Neal A Maxwell said “Those of deep faith do not murmur. They are generously disposed, and they are reluctant to murmur, even while in deep difficulties…”

And in one of the best General Conference talks ever Elder Uctdorf said the following.

"This topic of judging others could actually be taught in a two-word sermon. When it comes to hating, gossiping, ignoring, ridiculing, holding grudges, or wanting to cause harm, please apply the following:

STOP IT!

It’s that simple. We simply have to stop judging others and replace judgmental thoughts and feelings with a heart full of love for God and His children. God is our Father. We are His children. We are all brothers and sisters. I don’t know exactly how to articulate this point of not judging others with sufficient eloquence, passion, and persuasion to make it stick. I can quote scripture, I can try to expound doctrine, and I will even quote a bumper sticker I recently saw. It was attached to the back of a car whose driver appeared to be a little rough around the edges, but the words on the sticker taught an insightful lesson. It read, “Don’t judge me because I sin differently than you.”

We must recognize that we are all imperfect—that we are beggars before God. Haven’t we all, at one time or another, meekly approached the mercy seat and pleaded for grace? Haven’t we wished with all the energy of our souls for mercy—to be forgiven for the mistakes we have made and the sins we have committed?

Because we all depend on the mercy of God, how can we deny to others any measure of the grace we so desperately desire for ourselves? My beloved brothers and sisters, should we not forgive as we wish to be forgiven? . . .

The people around us are not perfect (see Romans 3:23). People do things that annoy, disappoint, and anger. In this mortal life it will always be that way.

Nevertheless, we must let go of our grievances. Part of the purpose of mortality is to learn how to let go of such things. That is the Lord’s way."

Judgement of this kind is damaging in so many ways. It hurts the one it is directed at (yes, they can actually tell that you are annoyed and judging them) and it is destroying to our own souls. Meekness, patience, longsuffering, those virtues that we must acquire to make it home are demolished by this behavior, and it is so easy to fall into.

So the next time I catch myself thinking “it just drives me crazy that they can’t manage to…” or “that is one of my pet peeves” or “why can’t they just…” I think I’ll just STOP IT.

Cheers,

Brenda