I had a good talk with Hannah about how hard it can be to be humble enough to seek and receive answers to prayers. She'd been missing a take-home library book for over 2 weeks. When Lydia "borrowed" the book I had a vague feeling that I shouldn't let her have it, but she loved the book so much, and it wasn't a battle I felt willing to fight at the time.
So yeah, it was my fault the book was missing. I had prayed nearly every day to find it, but I was pretty nonchalant about it, because I knew it was in a localized area and that I should search as hard as I could before asking God to solve my problems for me. It wasn't until last week that I really started looking and getting desperate to find it.
Well, Friday morning I woke up early and couldn't sleep, and amidst my sleep-deprived stupor I really talked out my heart via a sleepy prayer about how I was worried about late fines, and how I felt like I had failed Hannah for not listening to promptings in the first place, and I asked God to please help me find the book before school. Well, for what I think is the first (maybe second) time in my life, I actually saw an image of the answer in my mind, and it was a little brown box in the living room that was filled with toys.
I fell back asleep for an hour, eventually woke up and helped Hannah get ready for school. When I walked downstairs to make sure she had her coat, snowpants, backpack, etc. I saw the box and dumped it out, and right there, laying flat near the bottom of the box, was Hannah's missing library book.
How humbling, how amazing. I am blown away every time Heavenly Father sees fit to show myself and my children that there is no miracle too small. Hannah and Abigail I feel are beginning to understand why I have such a firm testimony of prayer, and I hope it's helping them get one too.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Deeper emotions beyond the veil
I wasn't sure if I felt comfortable enough typing this on a public blog, but I don't want to forget it, and this is my current journal for all intents and purposes.
There have been times in my life when my joy was so full, when I felt so filled with spiritual happiness, maybe even glory, that I felt like I'd gotten a glimpse of something more than I should be able to in this temporal frame.
I bring this up, because I had a dream about a month ago that was the complete opposite, which I will get to in a moment.
This pregnancy has been really hard for me emotionally. Though I did my darndest not to show it, I have been either depressed or manically irritable throughout most of it. Even when family was visiting for Christmas I felt inundated with emptiness and had to pretend it was all okay. That seems to have leveled off, but unfortunately Justin received the brunt of my callousness, crying, despair, and just plain meanness at times.
There was a point when he wasn't handling this swimmingly, and I in my depression and overemotional, erratic state wished that I had never had any children and could just leave. When this feeling peaked, I had a dream that I cannot forget.
In the dream I had chosen to leave Justin and the kids and seek my own vain path through life. We were in the spirit world, and I saw Justin and the kids with both of our families. I was separated from them. I couldn't reach them. No one could even hear me.
The emptiness I felt was beyond any feeling I'd ever had before in my temporal memory. It went beyond the pit of my stomach into an abyss of crushing nothingness.
It transcended any despair and sadness I had ever felt, and I not even sure there are words in the English language that can really describe it. It was feeling so empty and alone that gravity felt heavier, pushing on every part of me so much that I felt sickened with a thick weight of bitter hollowness.
It seems to be an oxymoron, but I'd never felt so miserable and alone, and I woke up feeling sickened with myself.
There are parts of our brain we never use, and I always figured we'd be able to after this life. Perhaps that goes for some emotions. There is eternal happiness greater than anything we have the capacity to feel in this short life. It makes sense that it's the same on the opposite side of the spectrum.
I can't really explain in an accurate way how truly awful it was. It's a perspective I never want to lose, but I hope to God that I never feel that way again.
There have been times in my life when my joy was so full, when I felt so filled with spiritual happiness, maybe even glory, that I felt like I'd gotten a glimpse of something more than I should be able to in this temporal frame.
I bring this up, because I had a dream about a month ago that was the complete opposite, which I will get to in a moment.
This pregnancy has been really hard for me emotionally. Though I did my darndest not to show it, I have been either depressed or manically irritable throughout most of it. Even when family was visiting for Christmas I felt inundated with emptiness and had to pretend it was all okay. That seems to have leveled off, but unfortunately Justin received the brunt of my callousness, crying, despair, and just plain meanness at times.
There was a point when he wasn't handling this swimmingly, and I in my depression and overemotional, erratic state wished that I had never had any children and could just leave. When this feeling peaked, I had a dream that I cannot forget.
In the dream I had chosen to leave Justin and the kids and seek my own vain path through life. We were in the spirit world, and I saw Justin and the kids with both of our families. I was separated from them. I couldn't reach them. No one could even hear me.
The emptiness I felt was beyond any feeling I'd ever had before in my temporal memory. It went beyond the pit of my stomach into an abyss of crushing nothingness.
It transcended any despair and sadness I had ever felt, and I not even sure there are words in the English language that can really describe it. It was feeling so empty and alone that gravity felt heavier, pushing on every part of me so much that I felt sickened with a thick weight of bitter hollowness.
It seems to be an oxymoron, but I'd never felt so miserable and alone, and I woke up feeling sickened with myself.
There are parts of our brain we never use, and I always figured we'd be able to after this life. Perhaps that goes for some emotions. There is eternal happiness greater than anything we have the capacity to feel in this short life. It makes sense that it's the same on the opposite side of the spectrum.
I can't really explain in an accurate way how truly awful it was. It's a perspective I never want to lose, but I hope to God that I never feel that way again.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Answered prayers and small miracles
Today after school Hannah came in crying. She had used her class points to buy a silver bracelet from the class store. She let Abigail hold it after they got off of the bus, and somewhere along the walk home Abigail accidentally dropped it in the snow.
I said a quick prayer and immediately put on my coat and snow boots to help Abigail with the search while Hannah stayed inside with Lydia.
Feeling self conscious with cars driving by, I said another quick prayer in my mind and hoped it would be enough, and we retraced Abigail's path from the bus stop.
Abigail walked past me as we crossed the street on the way back, and I remembered the times my dad used prayer to miraculously find car keys on the beach, and on a separate occasion - his glasses in the ocean.
Losing my self-consciousness enough to take off the hat covering my messy hair and kneel on the corner of the street for all the world to see, I prayed. I prayed that I wasn't sure I had the faith of my father, but asked if the Lord would hear me anyway.
I continued to pray as cars passed by, and partway through heard the words in my mind, "The picnic table."
I dismissed the thought, thinking that the picnic table was a distinct landmark of the grassy area between the street and my house, and that I must have subconsciously supplied my own answer. I continued to pray.
After I finished my prayer I mustered up every ounce of humbleness I could and just listened. Again I heard the words in my mind. "Go to the picnic table." Though I still doubted, I decided to follow this train of thought.
I got up, put on my hat, and walked in a slow, straight line through the snow toward the picnic table while Abigail searched where she had walked. Bootprints and tracks of many other children going to and from the bus stop throughout the past few days blurred together on the ground, and I just walked forward.
Hannah came out as I neared the picnic table, declaring that she was going to help us look for the bracelet, and I stopped. Looking down, partly buried in a small patch of fresh powder, lay a silvery bangle right in front of me, right in front of the picnic table.
I picked it up, shaking the snow off, and Hannah exclaimed with what I can only describe as unadulturated euphoria and joy that it was her bracelet. I was floored. Even though I had doubted the answer, even though I was unsure of my faith, Heavenly Father had helped us, heard us, answered our prayers.
Abigail was still sad about losing it in the first place, but Hannah and I both hugged her tightly and reassured her that because of what happened, we were able to witness a miracle. A tiny miracle - but a miracle nonetheless.
I said a quick prayer and immediately put on my coat and snow boots to help Abigail with the search while Hannah stayed inside with Lydia.
Feeling self conscious with cars driving by, I said another quick prayer in my mind and hoped it would be enough, and we retraced Abigail's path from the bus stop.
Abigail walked past me as we crossed the street on the way back, and I remembered the times my dad used prayer to miraculously find car keys on the beach, and on a separate occasion - his glasses in the ocean.
Losing my self-consciousness enough to take off the hat covering my messy hair and kneel on the corner of the street for all the world to see, I prayed. I prayed that I wasn't sure I had the faith of my father, but asked if the Lord would hear me anyway.
I continued to pray as cars passed by, and partway through heard the words in my mind, "The picnic table."
I dismissed the thought, thinking that the picnic table was a distinct landmark of the grassy area between the street and my house, and that I must have subconsciously supplied my own answer. I continued to pray.
After I finished my prayer I mustered up every ounce of humbleness I could and just listened. Again I heard the words in my mind. "Go to the picnic table." Though I still doubted, I decided to follow this train of thought.
I got up, put on my hat, and walked in a slow, straight line through the snow toward the picnic table while Abigail searched where she had walked. Bootprints and tracks of many other children going to and from the bus stop throughout the past few days blurred together on the ground, and I just walked forward.
Hannah came out as I neared the picnic table, declaring that she was going to help us look for the bracelet, and I stopped. Looking down, partly buried in a small patch of fresh powder, lay a silvery bangle right in front of me, right in front of the picnic table.
I picked it up, shaking the snow off, and Hannah exclaimed with what I can only describe as unadulturated euphoria and joy that it was her bracelet. I was floored. Even though I had doubted the answer, even though I was unsure of my faith, Heavenly Father had helped us, heard us, answered our prayers.
Abigail was still sad about losing it in the first place, but Hannah and I both hugged her tightly and reassured her that because of what happened, we were able to witness a miracle. A tiny miracle - but a miracle nonetheless.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Stronger than you think
Post 3/3
Last night I was up most of the night with Lydia. Her cough was terrible, and I kept praying and half-asleep praying that she would stop coughing so that she wouldn't be so miserable.
I'm not sure what time it was when I hit my breaking point. Lydia was absolutely miserable, and I spoke my mind to the Lord, expressing that I knew the Lord could take away her sickness and there was no good reason for Him not to.
After a few more minutes I said that I wished that I had gotten sick instead of her so that she wouldn't be suffering, and immediately received an answer in my mind: "You said you couldn't handle anymore."
I paused. For months I have constantly voiced my inability to take on anymore trials, praying and praying that I would not get sick, not have any problems, and not have to deal with stressful issues.
In that middle of the night moment I realized that I have been selfish and lazy, and I remembered my dad telling me many years ago, "You're stronger than you think you are."
I changed my prayer. 'Please help me to be strong...Please help Lydia to bear her burden...Please help us to be strong.'
I chanted it in both aloud and in my mind throughout the rest of the night. Yes, I was still up most of the night taking care of her, and yes, she continued to cough steadily, but she no longer cried miserably, and I no longer melodramatically bewailed the perils of my life. I praised her strength every time she needed help, and I prayed that it would continue, and it did.
Morning came, and Lydia's bearing her sickness tolerably. I have a renewed sense of vigor I did not expect, and I'm going to chase that feeling and keep praying.
I can be strong.
I can be strong.
The Blessings of Getting Set Apart
Post 2/3
Two weeks ago I stayed after church to get set apart for my new calling: Sunbeam C Teacher for Primary. I had neglected to do so for weeks with my previous Primary Secretary Calling and didn't bother getting it done at all when I was called for a brief time as Relief Society Substitute, but Brother Phillips said that all Primary Teachers should get set apart, and I had nothing to lose, so I went in.
Brother Phillips, who is over the primary in the bishopric, gave me my blessing. I don't tell many people about my fears and aspirations or anxieties, so it surprised me when he almost immediately led off with my fears of being able to handle having 4 children.
I was promised that the baby would be healthy and strong, which had weighed on my mind for some time. I was blessed that I would be able to handle another child, and that I when I did feel overly stressed, that putting on wholesome, spiritual music would create an atmosphere of calm and help bring a spirit of peace into the home. I was also blessed with the reassurance that when I felt overwhelmed that I could turn to the Lord and He would help.
Way less was said about my calling itself, but it was all good things. My lessons apparently won't always go to plan, but my being a teacher to those children will build a foundation for them throughout their lives.
I have a great deal of love for those crazy sunbeams, but it's had an added effect. Teaching them has helped me see my own children in a different light. It's helped me love them with a new layer, a layer of love for a child that only came to me after being called as a primary teacher.
I am grateful that I was set apart. I really felt like God was speaking through Brother Phillips, and it was awesome that I got all of those "bonus blessings" about having a baby. Being a primary teacher is really hard, but I'm glad I'm there to help.
Two weeks ago I stayed after church to get set apart for my new calling: Sunbeam C Teacher for Primary. I had neglected to do so for weeks with my previous Primary Secretary Calling and didn't bother getting it done at all when I was called for a brief time as Relief Society Substitute, but Brother Phillips said that all Primary Teachers should get set apart, and I had nothing to lose, so I went in.
Brother Phillips, who is over the primary in the bishopric, gave me my blessing. I don't tell many people about my fears and aspirations or anxieties, so it surprised me when he almost immediately led off with my fears of being able to handle having 4 children.
I was promised that the baby would be healthy and strong, which had weighed on my mind for some time. I was blessed that I would be able to handle another child, and that I when I did feel overly stressed, that putting on wholesome, spiritual music would create an atmosphere of calm and help bring a spirit of peace into the home. I was also blessed with the reassurance that when I felt overwhelmed that I could turn to the Lord and He would help.
Way less was said about my calling itself, but it was all good things. My lessons apparently won't always go to plan, but my being a teacher to those children will build a foundation for them throughout their lives.
I have a great deal of love for those crazy sunbeams, but it's had an added effect. Teaching them has helped me see my own children in a different light. It's helped me love them with a new layer, a layer of love for a child that only came to me after being called as a primary teacher.
I am grateful that I was set apart. I really felt like God was speaking through Brother Phillips, and it was awesome that I got all of those "bonus blessings" about having a baby. Being a primary teacher is really hard, but I'm glad I'm there to help.
Kings shall carry them
Post 1/3
A couple of months ago when I was still substitute teaching in Relief Society I taught a lesson about the Principles of Temporal and Spiritual Welfare. I had an epiphany while teaching that lesson that had to do with Members of the Church helping others in times of crisis.
There is a scripture that refers to Kings carrying the Israelites upon their shoulders, and I had never really thought much about it until I started planning my lesson. Even so...I didn't want to draw any tenuous parallels that might just be wishful thinking, so I put it out of my mind...UNTIL I read D&C 75:28 and read this:
"And again, verily I say unto you, that every man who is obliged to provide for his own family, let him provide, and he shall in nowise lose his crown;..."
His crown! I called my dad and talked to him about the Kings carrying them upon their shoulders may refer to the members of the church taking care of others during the Last Days, and he thought that was interesting.
Days went by, and I was listening to my favorite Fantasy Football Podcast, when the analyst mentioned that his mom loved genealogy and discovered that they were related to a peasant who had worked his way up the chain and became and advisor to a monarch.
I pondered that for a while. Justin and I have so much royalty in our lineage that I just assumed everyone was related to royalty, but maybe...they're not.
And of course that brought me back to the scripture I'd been thinking of all along:
2 Nephi 6: 6-7
"6 And now, these are the words: Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, I will lift up mine hand to the Gentiles, and set up my standard to the people; and they shall bring thy sons in their arms, and thy daughters shall be carried upon their shoulders.
7 And kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and their queens thy nursing mothers;..."
I had already made the connection that since we are Children of God, we have the potential to become royalty...spiritually. But what if that's not all? What if many of the pioneers descend from nobility, and we literally have the blood of Kings and Queens running through our veins, and THAT's what the scripture means??
Anyway, it really makes me think and want to be prepared to help my family and be able to help others.
A couple of months ago when I was still substitute teaching in Relief Society I taught a lesson about the Principles of Temporal and Spiritual Welfare. I had an epiphany while teaching that lesson that had to do with Members of the Church helping others in times of crisis.
There is a scripture that refers to Kings carrying the Israelites upon their shoulders, and I had never really thought much about it until I started planning my lesson. Even so...I didn't want to draw any tenuous parallels that might just be wishful thinking, so I put it out of my mind...UNTIL I read D&C 75:28 and read this:
"And again, verily I say unto you, that every man who is obliged to provide for his own family, let him provide, and he shall in nowise lose his crown;..."
His crown! I called my dad and talked to him about the Kings carrying them upon their shoulders may refer to the members of the church taking care of others during the Last Days, and he thought that was interesting.
Days went by, and I was listening to my favorite Fantasy Football Podcast, when the analyst mentioned that his mom loved genealogy and discovered that they were related to a peasant who had worked his way up the chain and became and advisor to a monarch.
I pondered that for a while. Justin and I have so much royalty in our lineage that I just assumed everyone was related to royalty, but maybe...they're not.
And of course that brought me back to the scripture I'd been thinking of all along:
2 Nephi 6: 6-7
"6 And now, these are the words: Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, I will lift up mine hand to the Gentiles, and set up my standard to the people; and they shall bring thy sons in their arms, and thy daughters shall be carried upon their shoulders.
7 And kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and their queens thy nursing mothers;..."
I had already made the connection that since we are Children of God, we have the potential to become royalty...spiritually. But what if that's not all? What if many of the pioneers descend from nobility, and we literally have the blood of Kings and Queens running through our veins, and THAT's what the scripture means??
Anyway, it really makes me think and want to be prepared to help my family and be able to help others.
Thursday, November 26, 2015
Thankful
It was the most easygoing Thanksgiving I've ever had. I'm thankful that Justin made the stuffing, and that 2 of my 3 children tried lots of food. All of them ate vegetables at least. I'm also grateful for feeling my baby kick 4 times today. I'll be 17 weeks tomorrow. I miss my parents and siblings, but life is good here too. They should all move to Utah.
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