Godly Potatoes

Thought of the day:

Tithing is like a potato. 

Say God gives you a potato. 

The potato represents the various talents and opportunities, and He promises that if you give him a portion of the potato back to him you will be blessed. If you keep the whole potato for yourself, you'll have one potato (until you eat it, or it goes bad). But if you take the eyes and plant 10% of the potato back into the ground, you'll get more potatoes, and before you know it, your blessings will multiply. 

That got me thinking about the parable of the talents, and the law of consecration. Should we not also give a tithing of our gifts back to the Lord? 

If we were to use just 10% of the time spent using our skills to serve Him and bring the spirit back into our homes, if we planted that portion to bear fruit, how much greater would our skills develop? 

Probably a bushel of potatoes worth. 

Spiritual gifts are potatoes.

Everything is potatoes.

Taking the Difficult Path

A few weeks ago I went to go see the bishop. I had been meeting with him weekly-ish for the past several months to resolve a personal matter. A matter of repentance. While my testimony remained sure, my heart had been hardened, and I had to chip away at it with the Lord's help, until all that was left was the truth - raw as it felt at the time. 

As I met with the bishop that day, I was in the Lord's hands. I felt humbled to the dust. I did not know what more I needed to do, but I would do it. I knew it may not be easy, but I knew it would be worth it.

Toward the end of our meeting, after pouring my heart out and promising to do anything else the Lord required, the bishop said I was ready to move forward. I didn't anticipate feeling so emotional about it, but it was all I could do to not fall to "prostrate myself" on the church carpet and praise the Lord. I sobbed and keeled over. I could feel the Lord's mercy pouring over me like a waterfall. Like a baptism of pure love. 

As soon as I had calmed down enough to speak, I asked when I could renew my temple recommend. And he said, "how about right now?" The joy that infused my soul as I answered each question, sure and certain for the first time in over a year that I was worthy and trying my best, brought me to tears once again.

After the meeting was over and I began to drive home, I imagined myself running on a path and remembered a dream I'd once had. It took me a few days, but I finally found it amongst the xml files I had kept from my old xanga account. 

    July 9th, 2011

I had the most interesting dream this morning. Dad, Kevin, and I were running through a forest. We had started off with a few of our acquaintances, but it wasn't long until it was just the three of us. It was a long journey and the trails were hard to see at times. Lush trees sometimes surrounded us, and sometimes we ran through fields over hills, small cliff-like jumps, and sandy or marshy plains. After some time running we came to a less dense forest with a few gullies with a sandy creek on one side. I saw a jump over a narrow part of the gully that led to another path, but it looked scary, and I was hesitant to take the path. I kept running a few feet with Dad and Kevin, but Dad stopped and turned around, telling me that I had to take that path. I told him I wanted to take the path that he and Kevin were taking, but he told me that my journey went down a different path, but they led to the same place.

I said goodbye, and they went on as I stood for a moment between the paths, the creek, and the sandy lake behind me. Courage began to swell within me as I remembered why we were on this long journey, and I hopped the small ditch onto the new path. I ran down the path with bare feet. My clothes were light and I couldn't even feel them, but I wore a light skirt that moved with the wind as I ran, and I remember thinking that I had never felt so free in my life. I continued to run, and I knew that my path would not lead me astray if I kept to it. I had looked to the forest twice, but I had no desire to explore the woods and kept running on my path.

Before long I began to see the entrance of a building. I passed a smoky colored cat that looked like it had never been so bitter when it saw me, but I paid it no heed and ran past it. Joy swelled in my heart, because this is why we had journeyed so long. Standing higher and brighter than all the trees stood the temple. I entered it's white front doors and looked around not knowing which doors to open or where I was allowed, but my dad appeared by my side, and Kevin did soon after, and we went through the two wooden doors I'd been facing together. This is where the best part comes in. Mom had started the journey with us, but for some reason she'd left, and I thought about her many times while running. When we entered the doors I saw Mom robed in white waiting for us, and I felt as though the happiness was flowing through my very veins, and my joy was full. The temple was filled with older people, and I'm fairly certain our other siblings were there too, but they were in other rooms. I had no fear or sorrow for them or for myself but a peace that permeated my entire being. It was amazing!

There's a bit more to the dream that I might be leaving out, but I am sure it's the coolest dream I've had in a long time.

---

Almost 10 years ago I had that dream. And only now do I realize what it meant.

I don't know what dad and Kevin's path was, but mine, it was a path to repentance. A path that took months for my heart to fully soften and realize that true joy cannot be of my own making. It's through the path that leads to the temples of God.

And as for the parts with Mom, I hadn't known what it meant all those years ago. Did it mean she would die before us? That especially plagued my mind when she was in the hospital a few years ago. Only now after all these years do I know that she was waiting for us to join her. I would not be where I am today without her spiritual fortitude. She was so in tune and knew exactly what I needed to hear to get me started on the path in the first place, and I owe her everything.

"yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them."

Thank you, mom. Thank you for leading the way and helping me take the difficult path. And thank God that I was able to take it. I will try my best to stay on that path for all of my days.

Hebrews 12:11-13

11 Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby.

12 Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees;

13 And make straight paths...

I'll Talk With You

I've been trying to be more open about what I feel are issues of morality and ethics. In the wake of the insurrection and attempted coup that resulted in storming the Capitol building on January 6th I felt it was overdue for me to speak my peace on social media. 

Today an old family friend made a comment on a post I had made that immediately resonated as hypocritical to me. It was so ridiculous, that I tapped the laughing emoji reaction. But as I did so, I felt bad. A wave of guilt washed over me, as though the simple click of a button served only to mock this person, and that nothing constructive could come of it. 

Then I heard a line from a song enter my mind:

"If you don't talk as most people do, some people talk and laugh at you, but I won't. I won't."

I removed the laughing emoji reaction and hoped she didn't see, but it made me ponder this new political interpretation of the primary song I loved so much as a child, and I saw so many layers of meaning beyond the surface.

I may choose not to speak or reply to some right now. I may choose to distance myself, but it's not because I hate you. It's because I love you and don't want to say something I may regret later because my perspective is so different from yours.

For now... "That's how I'll show my love for you."

Conversion Disorder and What it Means For Me

I was diagnosed with Conversion Disorder in 2019 after a series of medical tests with no conclusive cause. The doctor who finally told me this was likely the diagnosis was a kind, knowledgeable doctor who is so good at explaining things in a way that I could understand. 

Conversion Disorder is similar to PTSD in its root cause, starting after a physical trauma or intensely stressful situation. For me that was my experience giving birth to my son, George, in 2016. I had lost so much blood that when I tried to scoot upward to eat that I suddenly couldn't breathe. I've written about this experience before and how grateful I was to the team of nurses and doctors who saved me from going into Cardiac Arrest. 

It felt like I had sustained nerve damage in my left arm for over a year after all of the blood transfusions, but when it was confirmed that I have Protein S Deficiency, I realized that it could have been any number of issues from nerves to blood clots. 

I was also bedridden for weeks. Too dizzy and short of breath to do much of anything. This was a painfully long recovery, and likely the physical trauma that led to conversion disorder, although I had no clue what that was at the time.

I had several small bouts of fatigue and weakness that I attributed to being out of shape. I was "weak" and "lazy". I needed to push myself more. And so I did. And then I would be in bed for two weeks recovering each time.

In 2018 I went with Justin to a library conference in New Orleans and completely overtaxed myself physically, but it was amazing, and I had a wonderful time. 

Ten days later I began to feel a tremor in my left hand. Over the next few weeks, the tremor spread to both hands. It felt like my skin was always buzzing. My speech began to suffer, because my mind felt a weight on it. I couldn't speak as fast, and I developed a stutter. 

I began to lose strength in my hands at random times, and I kept dropping things by mistake. Within a month I began to lose coordination in my legs. I needed a cane to keep from falling, and for a short time I borrowed a wheelchair. 

A doctor suggested it might be MS, but by the time I was able to see a neurologist and get an MRI, over three months of this had passed. I was on the tail end of it. I could walk carefully without a cane (though I still felt more confident when I had it with me).

Every test was normal. The neurologist suggested I see a therapist, and I was frustrated at his obvious skepticism. I wasn't faking it. Why would anyone fake this?

Months later I found a new doctor, because I was having pain in my ribs. Turns out I had a few dislocated ribs, but that's neither here nor there. 

When we went over everything that had happened in 2018 and all the little problems I've had with anxiety wearing me out, he said, "It sounds a lot like conversion disorder." I had never heard of that, but as he explained it and we discussed medicines to help treat anxiety, I felt hopeful.

Over the next year I tried to take it easy, being careful not to overtax myself, failing at times, succeeding other times. I do feel the anxiety medicine helped me get back on my feet a lot faster though.

In the early fall of this year I felt stronger out of nowhere. More excited and energetic. It felt like a hypomanic episode, but who was I to deny the gifted surge of energy. And I did a LOT. I worked on several art projects and challenges, wrote stories, moderated twitch streams like a champion. I was supermom, supermod, and I was finally accomplishing personal goals. I felt unstoppable.

Then came Thanksgiving. Our home had suffered in cleanliness during 2020. We agreed to invite my nephew over, and we cleaned like crazy. I had a fool's hope that because I had already been doing so much that I would be okay.

I was not okay. Within a couple weeks I developed a tremor in my left hand, stuttering, began to lose strength at random moments, and I had to intensely focus to walk straight. And all night and through the day it feels like electric coils are buzzing under my skin. I'm upset with myself for not being more careful. Upset that a little stress triggers it so badly that it takes 3 times as long to type a text message because of my shaking hands.

I know this is neurological and that learning to manage stress is the key to keep myself from relapsing. I want to be like John Nash, who with the medicine and sheer force of will was able to manage and rise above his Schizophrenia. I want to be able to utilize my mental acuity to be able to will myself back to normalcy.

But until then, my hands shake every day, my speech is slow, my skin feels electrified, and walking is difficult. All I can do is wait and plan for the future. 

Thanks for listening. 

Dream, Ponder, and Pray

This morning I had a dream so realistic that I could scarcely believe how detailed it was. Justin and I were living in a small townhome. It was white and minimalistic with lots of windows. I wasn’t sure what any of us had done or said, but for some reason each of us were in danger and were trying to escape the city where we were living.

Justin came home from work one day and revealed to me that we were being watched. Sure enough, I could see a few men and a woman through the windows, watching the house from all sides. I accidentally made eye contact with the woman and faked a casual smile.

Justin told me that friends were trying to make arrangements for us to escape, and that we had to be ready to leave at any moment. Family members and friends who either knew about the plan or knew we needed help came over to help offer a distraction to the watchers and babysit while I inconspicuously gathered clothing and essentials.

Justin told me he was taking me to the store to get more supplies, and I left the kids with the friends and family members thinking I would be back soon. After a while of driving we drove near two sets of train tracks, and at that moment the two trains began to intersect from opposite directions. I said that those trains probably would have offered the perfect distraction needed to escape. Justin didn’t say anything, but as the first train passed he suddenly flipped a u-turn, and we were now traveling on a dirt path between the tracks. I think at that point I knew what was happening, but somehow I wasn't worried.

We arrived at a different house, and I was sneaked out through the side to a garage where I was hiding with a couple more people. Justin had to leave again, and I didn’t see him for the rest of the dream.

More watchers appeared around the neighborhood, though they couldn’t see exactly which house we were hiding in.

Several minutes passed, and another car pulled into a connecting garage. My children were immediately ushered out of that car into the one I was in (which I think was a station wagon with tinted windows), and I was filled with simultaneous relief and anxiety for the safety of my children. I remember feeling slightly struck at how small their backpacks were. It could have fit one, maybe two pairs of clothes in all.

From there we drove to an empty school parking lot, where we waited in tense silence for several minutes. Then another vehicle showed up that looked like an old cross between a van and a small SUV, and all of us were ushered into that vehicle by the driver, who looked and sounded Pakistani-American from my guess. Lydia however started crying and squirming when she was put into the back of the car with us, and actually climbed out of the car, and the man began yelling and panicking that if she drew attention she could get us all killed.

I was worried and scared for Lydia, and I didn’t know if we were going to be able to successfully escape. And then… I woke up.


I have a lot of thoughts and experiences I have been meaning to write down here, but this one is something I need to pray about and ponder I think. Maybe it was meant to show me what other people in the world are going through. Maybe it’s to reassure me that it’s okay to entrust my children with others. I don’t know. I have a lot to think about.

Test- RS LESSON 20NOV2016

Start 10:41
End 14:55

A dream I need to pray about

I had a dream this morning. I was 15-20ish in age at this event where I was being honored for something along with three other girls.  I found a seat next to these two boys within the large crowd who appeared to be brothers. I sat next to the older boy who was a little bit younger than me. He had dark to medium brown hair, and he was a special needs boy. When I sat down next to him, and I offered to play thumb war with him. He had previously been having a bit of a reaction or something that made it impossible for him to calm down. But as I played thumb war with him he calmed down, and I felt this instant connection with him. We talked for a while, and George appeared briefly in my arms. The boy asked if it was my son, and I said it was with a smile. After a bit the mother and a case worker appeared so they could take the boy home. I gave him a hug goodbye and told him that I wished I had met him earlier. And this music that I've never heard before was playing in the background the whole time I was saying goodbye to him. I was at this table trying to write my email address down for him, but I kept struggling to write it correctly. Then Justin woke me up to help with George.
This music piano and cello and violin melody was still in my head. I was so sad that he was gone that I started crying. Has anyone else ever had a dream so powerful that it made them cry? Sob even?