Church – Page 21 – Letters from Home

Charity Never Faileth

Here is some of what “Charity Never Faileth” means to me:

It’s possible to have courage and wisdom during difficult visits to the grieving, lonely, sick, and depressed. (Charity won’t fail you in challenging moments.)
My love for a person can endure, whether my hopes for that person are realized or not. (Charity doesn’t stop when a person chooses a different path than we imagined for them.)
When my feet are tired after many hours of standing, I can still smile. (Charity gives physical and emotional strength.)
Love for an individual is not contingent on a person’s behavior or any other thing. (Charity doesn’t limit us to our own circle; it expands our hearts to others.)
Expressions of charity are possible even when a person is going through a difficult time herself. (Charity allows a person who is grieving to support others.)
It is one of those qualities that we will take with us when we die, and it is one mark of a true disciple. (Charity defines us as Christ’s in the eternities.)
People will never forget even simple acts which are motivated by pure love. (True charity is etched in hearts, unforgettable and treasured.)

I also believe that daughters and sons of God can have this gift of charity in abundance, equally, but expressions of it will look very different. We need both men and women to develop charity. When men and women are motivated by the pure love of Christ, miracles will happen.

I believe in miracles

A wise teacher taught me on Sunday that it’s not boasting to show ourselves as heroines in our stories, sharing our efforts to be disciples of Christ. Implied in every miracle in our work to follow the the Savior is the presence of the Savior, not the greatness of the disciple. Therefore, it would be a mistake to avoid sharing goodness for fear we sound like we are boasting. Miracles are not human made, not possibly earned, nor perfectly deserved. God is generous!

I draw a star on my calendar on days when I see miracles in my life or the lives of my friends. I can’t leave the month of July without trying to relate that I have seen miracles this summer, so I have decided to share two miracles with you. I want to show gratitude for these things, and if you, dear reader, are struggling, perhaps acknowledging miracles could be a good exercise for you.

Richard’s absence from home this month wore on me, and one day I felt especially tired, but followed through with my plan go to a viewing before a funeral to comfort my friend. I didn’t even wash my face before I left; I just threw on my dress and wore whatever was left of the makeup I had applied the day before. When I walked in the room, Linda K. Burton, Relief Society General President was standing right in front of me. I didn’t realize the deceased was her niece. She pulled me aside and asked me who I was, not allowing me to leave my introduction of myself as “a friend of the grandparents,” and asked to know my full name. She complimented me on my good countenance. Finally, I confessed that I was serving as a Relief Society president and she gave me a big hug and said no wonder she felt drawn to talk to me. She asked about my ward and listened to me rave about how good the sisters are. I felt the Lord had guided sweet Sister Burton to talk to me and tell me that she thought I looked like a good person. I don’t think of myself as someone who seeks the approval of others, but it felt so good to feel validation from her. This miracle makes me want to spread the love she showed to me.

I saw miracles from single verses of scripture. The previous Relief Society president in my ward always sent beautifully wrapped treats up to Girls Camp, so I was trying to follow the tradition to do the same. I realized as I looked down at the table of snacks that my secretary had prepared that this was NOT ME. I needed to add something; something truly from me, not just copy someone else’s tradition. I pulled out my phone and found my list of scriptures I have tagged as “words of encouragement” and wrote one scripture reference on the tag of each gift. I sent no other words, just a different scripture for each girl and leader to look up. Several people have stopped me to tell me how meaningful those verses were; that the words seemed to be “just for them.” These stories represent miracles. God was involved in the details of that day when those gifts were prepared and when the gifts were passed out at camp.

I don’t believe there are small miracles. If a miracle of “coincidence” or “kindness” gives someone strength to go on or change, this is no small thing. These miracles were important, even vital to me, and hopefully others this month.

Scout Camp 2016

This morning I went through the pictures from the last month. The High Adventure trip began on June 28, and since that time, someone in our family has been away on camps or vacations almost constantly. Richard came home from 3 weeks of missed work, ready to plan more trips. I don’t understand this man sometimes.

Timothy and Richard spent a week at Bear Lake for Scout camp. As I look through these pictures, I see how Timothy has matured this year. Richard didn’t get any photos of himself, except on the last day when he went water skiing with a couple of the dads.

Can we talk for a minute about what it’s like to be married to a Scoutmaster? In one word, for me, the experience is sleepless. Often I leave my lamp on all night, not fearful, but uneasy, and unable to sleep. I honestly don’t worry about their safety. I give that worry to God in prayer, but I feel loss when my family is away. I’m thankful that they are all home again. Timothy was still healing from a terrible motorcycle burn and came down with a case of Strep while at scout camp, but this week, all is well. Scout camp teaches all of us, even those at home, that we can do hard things. (Ha! These pictures don’t look like a trial at all.)

Extremity

(Image via Pinterest; originally from lisacongdon.com?)

I love comfort. I don’t like change, except maybe new knowledge or skills. Like a pebble in a stream, I want to find the perfect angle of repose, resting on the peaceful part of a gentle curve or at the bottom of a deep pool. But I am learning that my desire for quiet evenings wrapped in a soft blanket aren’t the best ground for my personal growth. It’s really in the extremities of my comfort zone that the Lord shows me what to do. Visiting, reaching out, praying for others besides myself, and being out of my comfortable house are my small sacrifices to gain the gift of charity. This enormous gift of charity is not proportional to my sacrifice, and it’s essential to the work.

A rock in the gentle part of the stream will become slimy, covered in algae, and certainly less beautiful as it just blends in to its surroundings. A rock, tumbling down the stream becomes smooth, clean, and beautiful. It may not be at rest; it may not be comfortable; but a tumbling pebble is moving forward with strength beyond its own. I am learning the ways of a tumbling pebble through some bumps, surges in speed, and lots of discomfort.

My goal is to reach out to someone every day. I knock on doors that I am pretty sure will not open. Sometimes it takes all my will to be brave and make a call or go to an event. I am not always successful, but I keep seeing that it’s in my extremity that I can be most helpful.

One day last week I had one unexpected hour without kids. I loaded my car with a few notes and papers to deliver. During this hour I was invited in to visit at two different houses. I learned that someone was in need of food and I helped with that. I prayed with someone. I saw the miracle of my time becoming magnified. I walked out of the second house the very minute I needed to get home to my kids, without needing to tell the person I was in a hurry. Later that evening, I felt like I needed to deliver one more thing. Once again I didn’t have much time, and I had already been out visiting, but I walked out of the house anyway. Immediately the person I saw said, “I was hoping I could talk to you. I just found out we need some help…. ”

I fail more than I succeed, but I can see that it’s truly the Lord that guides and fuels this work of helping others. And that lesson is much better than my limited, comfortable version of the good life.

Family update

Richard is a busy Scoutmaster. One night he took Mark with his Scout troop to tour the State Capitol.

1-DSC_0585 — Mark is in his last weeks as a Bear in Cub Scouts.

1-DSC_0598 — Richard is doing an amazing job working with these boys. Recently, all of the deacons completed their requirements for Duty to God. The incentive? Doughnuts.

1-DSC_1137 — Timothy participated in the school district band concert, the only trombone player from his band to be selected.

1-DSC_1150 — Our tree erupted into masses of blossoms, its boughs weighed down in heroic efforts to be lovely. Seriously, we have never seen such blossoms on our magnificent tree.

1-DSC_1191 — We watched our nephew for a couple of weeks and we resurrected the toys and board books from storage to entertain him.

1-DSC_1192 — Mark is our only baseball player this season, and from now on. If the pitch is good you can count on him to get a hit.

1-DSC_1204 — This is the ONLY quilting I have had time to do in a month, but this English Paper piecing project was mostly done by hand, while watching Fixer Upper on Netflix.

1-1-DSC_0630 — Paige moved out of the dorms and into a little apartment on University Avenue owned by my parents. She is attending school this summer. Over the past few weeks we learned that she received a full scholarship and was accepted into two art programs. She declared her major to be Illustration. Sorry, Paige if I have this project oriented the wrong way. I love it in any direction.

1-DSC_2479 — This is an old picture, but Daniel is elusive. Busy with a new job as a clerk at Geneva Rock, playing piano, and studying for an AP test, he has many interesting conversations with friends about Prom coming up in a few weeks.

1-2016-03-12 015 — Photo by Janine Clarke. When I looked at this picture of our Relief Society choir, the first thought was, a stranger would never guess that the little woman with the messy ponytail on the back row is serving as the Relief Society president. I don’t look presidential. I am young. When I sang in this choir I trembled and thought I was going to fall over from fright. See how weak I am? My calling is hard. I hear sad things and the hardest thing is that I want to run to people all the time, but I can’t and shouldn’t. I am not the solution to anybody’s problems, but I do think I can point them to the real solutions in Christ. I do this with hugs, meals, visits, notes, teaching, and prayer. So much of what I do is on my own, but my counselors and secretary are the very best and hold me up in countless ways, whether it’s encouraging words, powdered sugar late at night, driving, taking over when I am too busy with family emergencies, and teaching me. They also make me laugh. I didn’t know them when I asked for them to be in my presidency, but my Father in Heaven knew I needed them.

My Grandmother’s Obituary

1-DSC_0108 — Photo by Rachel Gee. We attended Richard’s dad’s 80th birthday party in St George. Good times.

Relief Society message

I give a 5-minute message at the beginning of our weekday Relief Society activity which happens 9-10 times a year.. This is the message I shared last night at our service activity. We had sisters ages 8 and older there, preparing fleece blankets, cards, framed gospel art, and necklaces for people in El Salvador. I told someone I would post my message because she wasn’t able to be there. I stumbled a little as I spoke, trying to remember what I prepared to say without reading from my notes. This is the more complete version of what I hoped to say.

When I was about 10-years-old, I was invited to participate with the Relief Society in a quilting activity. I came by myself because my mom wasn’t able to attend. I walked to the church and sat down next to my white-haired neighbor. The sisters showed me how to thread the needle and begin the stitches on the quilt that rested before us in the frame. My stitches weren’t tiny like the others, but I remember the women were so kind to me and said I was doing a good job. I ran home at dinnertime and told my mom I wanted to go back and spend some more time quilting.

Why do I remember this experience? I have an idea, but first I want to develop it with another story.

Just before Jesus went to Jerusalem for the last time, he was in Bethany, in the home of Simon the leper and a woman having an alabaster box of precious, expensive oil came and anointed Jesus’ head. (Mark 14) Some thought it a “waste” of precious money. Jesus said, “Let her alone; why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good work on me…She hath done what she could: she is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying.” In other words, he taught that her generous act showed that she understood that he was the Christ (The Anointed One).

Jesus also said, “Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of her for a memorial of her.” In the Gospel of Mark, the woman is not named, but her action is. Through her act, she testified of Christ.

Going back to my experience as a 10-year-old girl, quilting with the Relief Society sisters, perhaps I remember this experience because this was my first glimpse into what Relief Society really is: more than a club, more than a class, more than a place to go. It is the Lord’s organization for women of covenant, where women again and again do as the unnamed woman disciple: we do what we can to show that Jesus is the Christ. I couldn’t have put it into these words when I was ten, but I felt something special was going on with these sisters.

Beyond quilts and casseroles, we are true disciples when are patient with weaknesses in others and in ourselves, giving the benefit of the doubt. We do what we can and allow the Lord to make up the difference. Relief Society is one way the Lord helps us keep our baptismal covenant to always remember him and keep his commandments to serve others. I hope you remember that as you serve. You are a woman or young woman of covenant.

Holes in the wall

If the book club is meeting at our house, I will need to redecorate for weeks beforehand. Even after this, the gallery wall will need to be rearranged the day of the meeting, still to no effective end.

If I am arranging a gallery wall, I can’t handle climbing into the attic to place the bucket in the usual spot when the roof starts leaking. Richard will need to come home and do it because my mind can only juggle so much.

The gallery wall isn’t really what occupies my mind the most; it’s the new baby in the ward and a neighbor grieving; illnesses and milestones in people’s lives that I want to help them face; it’s juggling motherhood and being a wife; It’s worry for my grandmother who has had a major stroke. But I obsess about the gallery wall.

I need to do something that doesn’t involve making more holes in the wall, I think.

General Priesthood Session

Richard and the boys got to attend the General Priesthood session at the Conference Center. That outtake in the second position just makes me laugh. I didn’t watch the session, but it didn’t take me long to learn there was a Chewbacca reference in one of the talks. They never talk about Star Wars with the sisters, not that I am complaining.

Temple Celebration

My parents have served for many months on the Provo City Center Temple open house committee. They are so excited about the new temple near their home. My dad worked on the missionary committee and he and my mom helped direct visitors that walked through the temple. Did you hear that over 800,000 people toured this temple? There were many nights spent at planning meetings to make this run smoothly.

They took Paige and Daniel to the cultural celebration in the Marriott Center on the night before the dedication. Paige walked a few steps from her dorm and met them there.

My mom is an ordinance worker and organist for the new temple. She played for patrons for the first time yesterday. This is such an exciting time.

Our voices are needed

I shared this cartoon with my Relief Society sisters last night. I have seen over and over again how much our Priesthood leaders count on hearing the sisters’ perspective about issues; how sisters are needed in the complicated times of illnesses, births, weddings, deaths, and grieving, along with every day moments. Their voices are needed, not just to find pretty things, but to help with concrete, difficult issues.

The sisters in my congregation have been helping someone pack her house for a move. On Saturday our brothers carried the boxes we packed to the storage unit. It’s one of many examples of how we are all on the same team, doing the same work, but with different roles.

Sisters need their brothers’ perspectives and talents. Sometimes it’s the bishop who sees the roses when all I can find are thorns. More important than that, I am comforted to know that the bishop holds the priesthood keys to direct the Relief Society. His voice is essential to the work, but it doesn’t diminish my role. I counsel with the bishop and then we both work for a common goal. In my marriage, I depend on Richard to help me see situations with greater clarity. We have different jobs and ways of doing things, but the same work. And it’s a great work, requiring each person’s voice, heart, mind, and strengths.