I found this cover of "Baptism" while preparing my primary lesson. I love it. This is one of my favorite primary songs.
(Skip ahead to 0:29.)
Showing posts with label The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Show all posts
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Dear Friends,
I'm working on it. This whole blogging thing. Really.
It's just, I've had teaching and grading and playing and living to do. I've started a garden. I tilled the earth. Tilled with a shovel and my own strength, I tell you. I've been cooking more. I'm counting down the days to Cancun.
Life's busy and this 30 days of birthday celebration business was, quite honestly, an unrealistic goal I'm totally going to accomplish in one form or another.
Have patience, if you will. (I'm overrating the significance of my blog's role in your life, no?)
In the meantime, some rand-awesome thoughts I've been having:
1. An official state firearm, Utah. Really?
2. My suave and savvy, hip, amazeballs, too-cool-for-me AP students have designed a screen-print t-shirt design for our class. An AP t-shirt, folks! It features Henry David Thoreau. I'll show you all how trendy I am when I print mine and wear it the day of the exam (and thereafter). I feel like a celebrity: my class was cool enough in their eyes that they want a souvenir of the experience when it is over.
3. My birthday party featured balloons, gnome-esque party hats, Japanese food, ice cream, and good friends. I'll share the experience in pictures with you soon. Shout out to Alice for making it the best 30th a girl could ask for.
4. I spent as much on trashy dirt and rabbit poop (i.e. "compost") as I did on gasoline the other day. Both purchases are wrong on so many levels.
5. Cancun is coming! Cancun is coming!
6. I took the colors personality test a few weeks ago during a hang-out session with some good new gal pals in the ward and discovered that I'm not only a blue through and through (which I already knew), but I'm also very strongly a YELLOW? Say what? I've subsequently spent the past several weeks saying things to poor Alice like, "I did that because I'm a yellow." "I need party hats for my birthday because I'm a show-off yellow." It probably annoys her, but because I'm a yellow I sort of don't care that much.
7. The Adjustment Bureau = totally lame ending! Matt Damon's presence on the screen kind of made up for it.
8. Did you know that for two months out of the year I walk around spouting quotes from Romeo and Juliet in my mind (and sometimes out loud)? Yes, yes it is true. That's what happens when you've read it/taught it/watched it multiple times a day for those two months over the course of five years. It gets worse every year. February and March equate "[t]wo households both alike in dignity in fair Verona..." Furthermore, that poor little story is a REALLY awful plot line. One of Shakespeare's worst. And yet, so often copied.
9. Springing forward isn't my strong suit.
10. To make it an even 10, I think the first counselor in my bishopric is quite possibly the coolest man around. Word on the street is that he gave a 45 minute rant-lecture to all the fellas in our ward during priesthood meeting on Sunday about how lazy they are in regard to dating and the like. He said it is "time to push the reset button." Apparently between now and June our ward is practicing dating one another. Personally, I'm looking forward to extra-good people watching in sacrament over the next few weeks. I also think that my church needs to hire this guy as an official spokesperson who visits all singles wards. He could do firesides or something.
It's just, I've had teaching and grading and playing and living to do. I've started a garden. I tilled the earth. Tilled with a shovel and my own strength, I tell you. I've been cooking more. I'm counting down the days to Cancun.
Life's busy and this 30 days of birthday celebration business was, quite honestly, an unrealistic goal I'm totally going to accomplish in one form or another.
Have patience, if you will. (I'm overrating the significance of my blog's role in your life, no?)
In the meantime, some rand-awesome thoughts I've been having:
1. An official state firearm, Utah. Really?
2. My suave and savvy, hip, amazeballs, too-cool-for-me AP students have designed a screen-print t-shirt design for our class. An AP t-shirt, folks! It features Henry David Thoreau. I'll show you all how trendy I am when I print mine and wear it the day of the exam (and thereafter). I feel like a celebrity: my class was cool enough in their eyes that they want a souvenir of the experience when it is over.
3. My birthday party featured balloons, gnome-esque party hats, Japanese food, ice cream, and good friends. I'll share the experience in pictures with you soon. Shout out to Alice for making it the best 30th a girl could ask for.
4. I spent as much on trashy dirt and rabbit poop (i.e. "compost") as I did on gasoline the other day. Both purchases are wrong on so many levels.
5. Cancun is coming! Cancun is coming!
6. I took the colors personality test a few weeks ago during a hang-out session with some good new gal pals in the ward and discovered that I'm not only a blue through and through (which I already knew), but I'm also very strongly a YELLOW? Say what? I've subsequently spent the past several weeks saying things to poor Alice like, "I did that because I'm a yellow." "I need party hats for my birthday because I'm a show-off yellow." It probably annoys her, but because I'm a yellow I sort of don't care that much.
7. The Adjustment Bureau = totally lame ending! Matt Damon's presence on the screen kind of made up for it.
8. Did you know that for two months out of the year I walk around spouting quotes from Romeo and Juliet in my mind (and sometimes out loud)? Yes, yes it is true. That's what happens when you've read it/taught it/watched it multiple times a day for those two months over the course of five years. It gets worse every year. February and March equate "[t]wo households both alike in dignity in fair Verona..." Furthermore, that poor little story is a REALLY awful plot line. One of Shakespeare's worst. And yet, so often copied.
9. Springing forward isn't my strong suit.
10. To make it an even 10, I think the first counselor in my bishopric is quite possibly the coolest man around. Word on the street is that he gave a 45 minute rant-lecture to all the fellas in our ward during priesthood meeting on Sunday about how lazy they are in regard to dating and the like. He said it is "time to push the reset button." Apparently between now and June our ward is practicing dating one another. Personally, I'm looking forward to extra-good people watching in sacrament over the next few weeks. I also think that my church needs to hire this guy as an official spokesperson who visits all singles wards. He could do firesides or something.
P.S. Sorry for all the uber-LDS slang in this post.
P.P.S. I'm really do promise to do SOMETHING about my birthday posts.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
On. And on. And on.
I rather loathe this time of year--what seems to be an everlasting winter. The inversion hanging heavy in the sky. The light at the end of this bitter tunnel so very distant.
And yet, here it is: January. Which will eventually bleed into February which will eventually end. Eventually.
But until then I'm left trudging through the days. And that is precisely what I'm doing: trudging. Slowly making my way from here to there.
So much of life is like this: moving from one place to the next, journeying so slowly. Looking to the next milepost until I reach it. Then looking to the next and the next and carrying onward.
Except, lately I've been thinking that this mile is so much longer than the others. I feel myself lodged in January. I am stagnant in a way I never expected. I am ready to move on to the distant post but I never seem to reach it.
Tonight I went to my yoga class. I moved my body so gently. I breathed. At the end of the session I lay on the floor listening to the soft, simple notes breathing with me. The instructor told us to, "imagine [our] thoughts settling as sand to the ocean floor." So many thoughts. So many worries. Sand upon sand upon sand sifting and settling. My body sinking and drifting and floating down with each idea. I felt myself falling somewhere safe, as snow into the backyard of my childhood.
A good friend (and yes, I have so very many good friends--I am rich with an abundance of good people in my life) told me after dinner the other night that I simply need to get out of my own way. How right she was. How perceptive of my doubts and concerns for things I cannot control, for things that may never happen. She recommended I read this by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland.
Among the many truths I found in Elder Holland's address, this one idea keeps brushing against the edges of my mind:
Sometimes I imagine the people my arms might hold one day: my husband, my children, even my grandchildren. I imagine what it would be like to hold these beings close to me. To have them fill up my days, my thoughts, my time and energy in a way that will leave me questioning who I ever was before. These thoughts fill me with longing and dread; the act feels both foreign and familiar.
So often I've written here about waiting. About enduring. About how life is beautiful and rich and full. And yet, here is a piece of truth I must also admit: sometimes it isn't. Sometimes it feels empty and difficult and not what I expect or want. Sometimes life is so lovely it hurts. At other times it hurts so much it is ugly.
Each day on January's calendar will eventually show signs of wear: a list checked off, an X through each square day. I'll tear the thin sheet of paper from my desk and move on to the next clean month. Eventually--and I know this--eventually it will happen.
And yet, here it is: January. Which will eventually bleed into February which will eventually end. Eventually.
But until then I'm left trudging through the days. And that is precisely what I'm doing: trudging. Slowly making my way from here to there.
So much of life is like this: moving from one place to the next, journeying so slowly. Looking to the next milepost until I reach it. Then looking to the next and the next and carrying onward.
Except, lately I've been thinking that this mile is so much longer than the others. I feel myself lodged in January. I am stagnant in a way I never expected. I am ready to move on to the distant post but I never seem to reach it.
* * *
Tonight I went to my yoga class. I moved my body so gently. I breathed. At the end of the session I lay on the floor listening to the soft, simple notes breathing with me. The instructor told us to, "imagine [our] thoughts settling as sand to the ocean floor." So many thoughts. So many worries. Sand upon sand upon sand sifting and settling. My body sinking and drifting and floating down with each idea. I felt myself falling somewhere safe, as snow into the backyard of my childhood.
* * *
A good friend (and yes, I have so very many good friends--I am rich with an abundance of good people in my life) told me after dinner the other night that I simply need to get out of my own way. How right she was. How perceptive of my doubts and concerns for things I cannot control, for things that may never happen. She recommended I read this by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland.
Among the many truths I found in Elder Holland's address, this one idea keeps brushing against the edges of my mind:
It is the plain and very sobering truth that
before great moments,
certainly before great spiritual moments,
there can come adversity, opposition, and darkness.
Life has some of those moments for us,
and occasionally they come
just as we are approaching an important decision
or a significant step in our life.
before great moments,
certainly before great spiritual moments,
there can come adversity, opposition, and darkness.
Life has some of those moments for us,
and occasionally they come
just as we are approaching an important decision
or a significant step in our life.
* * *
Sometimes I imagine the people my arms might hold one day: my husband, my children, even my grandchildren. I imagine what it would be like to hold these beings close to me. To have them fill up my days, my thoughts, my time and energy in a way that will leave me questioning who I ever was before. These thoughts fill me with longing and dread; the act feels both foreign and familiar.
* * *
So often I've written here about waiting. About enduring. About how life is beautiful and rich and full. And yet, here is a piece of truth I must also admit: sometimes it isn't. Sometimes it feels empty and difficult and not what I expect or want. Sometimes life is so lovely it hurts. At other times it hurts so much it is ugly.
* * *
Each day on January's calendar will eventually show signs of wear: a list checked off, an X through each square day. I'll tear the thin sheet of paper from my desk and move on to the next clean month. Eventually--and I know this--eventually it will happen.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Light and Dark
I don't share what I believe, what I know to be true, often enough. But I must share this fact: I know that my savior, Jesus Christ, lives. I know He loves me unconditionally. I feel nothing but warmth and encouragement, support and strength from Him. He is, simply put, love in its greatest, most selfless form.
I am imperfect. We are each so imperfect. Yet He is perfect. He came to this world for each of us, to cover for our imperfections. His only motivation: love for us, a love so deep that He only wishes for us to reach our greatest potential. During this season of presents and things and family and friends and light, I must take a moment to acknowledge the greatest light in my life: my knowledge of who I am and what my purpose is in this life. I am here to get better at being me. And this me is an eternal being created by a loving Father and Mother. And the individual who makes it possible for me to improve, to dust off my knees after each stupid mistake is my brother, my savior, Jesus Christ. During this season, I celebrate Him. For where would I be without Him? In this world so often choking with darkness, He is my light.
If you're curious about anything I've written, or anything you viewed, please go here.
Monday, December 20, 2010
It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas
In lieu of blogging, I've been up to some of the following (and please forgive the limitations of my point and shoot--yep, blaming the camera, not the photographer):
I made a gingerbread house. My first ever. From scratch. It was fun and frustrating and messy and the roof may contain a multi-grain club cracker. You'll never know. OK, the roof does have a club cracker--but the solution worked!
Next year, I'm going with the kit...or graham crackers.
I went to these kiddos' Christmas performance.
It was fabulous because THEY are fabulous!
He is kind of a rock star.
She was skipping along with the animated snowman at our favorite little (tacky) pizza place in the hometown.
And then there is this...
We went and saw the lights at Temple Square with the ward.
(Blurry, I know. But lovely nonetheless.)
I love the lights at Temple Square. But they have certainly toned it down in recent years. I remember it being a wonderland of billions of lights when I was a little girl. Every single tree was aglow. Not quite the same, anymore--but still,
one of my favorite holiday traditions.
Our new bishop was recently released as a Conference Center usher. He got us up on the Conference Center roof with his hook ups (OK, he still had his magnetized tag that worked on the elevator).
It was the best possible view. I love this photo! Thanks, Bish!
I'd like to call this one "I WAS ROBBED!"
Because I was. We had a door decorating contest at school with cash prizes and everything. The theme: Winter decor that matches your content area. What could be better than some Robert Frost action
for the English teacher's door?
Store bought decorations do not trump creativity.
That's all I'm saying.
My little 9th graders worked like gangbusters and had to deal with my neurotic, controlling self. My favorite conversation of the great door decorating day (upon discovering a clueless 9th grade boy taping masking tape in giant strips on TOP of the paper--not the little double-sided circle strips BEHIND the decor):
Me: Chayse, WHY are you taping it like that?!?
Chayse: Ummmm...
Me: You need to re-do that. It looks terrible, you can't have the tape showing! Do it like this.
(I demonstrate appropriate taping strategy.)
Chayse: Oh, huh. That makes sense. Oops!
Me: Sheesh! Who raised you?
Chayse: My dad.
Me: It shows! No sense of the aesthetic, whatsoever!
HA! Poor things! Yes, I am a control freak.
Finally, on Thursday we headed back to Temple Square. My dear Momsy scored tickets to the MoTab Christmas concert. David Archuleta was adorable as their guest. Perfect for the holidays!
I kind of love this woman!
Can't tell we're related at all, can you?
Waiting for the show to start.
(My favorite part of this photo: Allyson holding both of our Kindles--our waiting entertainment.)
The traditional "Besties" shot.
Thanks for taking our picture, usher-man.
The set was sweet!
It has been a busy few weeks. But I'm off school for two weeks,
Christmas is coming, snow is flying and I don't have to commute in it at an inhumane hour.
I LOVE this time of year!
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Love this. Needed it.
I'm convinced that pretty much everything Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf says is meant entirely for me.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
A List of Gratitude
There are moments we must account for what is rich and good and right in our lives. This swinging motion called living can so easily pivot in a direction entirely unexpected. Today I take time to recognize the good.
1. I'm grateful for this weekend. I brought home a bag of grading and did none of it. I went swimming with my niece. I shopped the clearance racks. I went out to dinner. Twice. I did yoga before bedtime. I spoke to my eldest(ish) sister on the phone for an hour. I taught my final Sunday school lesson on Jonah and Micah (and realized I will possibly name the son I hope to have someday after one of them). I wandered in the coolness of the woods while talking with good friends. I lay on the bed for hours--reading of all great things.
2. I am grateful I have to give a talk this Sunday. Not because I love public speaking (ok, sometimes I kind of like the challenge of public speaking), but because I get to learn and grow and figure out my own perspectives on a specific gospel topic all week. I've already started studying and writing down thoughts that don't connect to one another. If it comes out decent, I might post it on here. Why not?
3. I am grateful for the silly rainbowed wrist band I found at Wal-Mart last night. It means that maybe, just maybe, I won't hide my school keys from myself anymore.
4. I am grateful for my hair. I admit it. I have a slight bit of hair vanity. It hasn't always been this way--natural curls are an acquired taste. But today at 29 and a half (almost), I can honestly say I've come to terms with all my hair is capable of: its uniqueness, its body, its rich color (thank you Redken & Ashley). I've finally embraced what I do have.
5. I am grateful for my students. They make me think and work and so often smile. They are these people who have so much to learn and yet offer such experienced perspectives. I love seeing them light up with these new ideas I introduce to them. I love how they challenge me. I love teasing them. I love making them laugh. I love helping them learn.
What are you grateful for today?
*image found here
Sunday, July 18, 2010
A Few Thoughts for Sunday
"The sharp, side-by-side contrast of the sweet and the bitter is essential
until the very end of this brief, mortal experience.
Meanwhile, even routine, daily life provides sufficient sandpaper to
smooth our crustiness and polish our rough edges, if we are meek."
&
"Part of enduring well consists of being meek enough,
amid our suffering, to learn from our relevant experiences.
Rather than simply passing through these things,
they must pass through us and
do so in ways which sanctify these experiences for our good."
~ Neal A. Maxwell
Source found here. (Do yourself a favor, read it!)
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
For You, Dear Reader
My cup runneth over. Life is good--there's nothing like Thanksgiving to remind me of that.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Later Gator
I'm taking off on The Big Summer Vacation. I'll be back the night of the 5th.
I'm going on a history tour of my particular religion of choice and then on to Chicago. I'm a desert girl who is dreading the humidity coming my way. My naturally curly hair is going to meet its ultimate volume potential, I'm sure.
Until then, enjoy the blogosphere. Pictures of my colossally frizzed head to come. Eventually. A few sites I'll be visiting to get you by until then:
I'm going on a history tour of my particular religion of choice and then on to Chicago. I'm a desert girl who is dreading the humidity coming my way. My naturally curly hair is going to meet its ultimate volume potential, I'm sure.
Until then, enjoy the blogosphere. Pictures of my colossally frizzed head to come. Eventually. A few sites I'll be visiting to get you by until then:
Monday, March 16, 2009
What is Sacred?
There's been a great deal of hoopla in my home state (and beyond) about last night's episode of the HBO series Big Love. Apparently, though I do not watch Big Love, there was a depiction of an ordinance performed in the temples of my personal religion of choice, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Alice, my bestie and brilliant roommate, wrote this post about her opinions on this controversy last week. My church officially made this statement and recently posted this video on you tube:
Then, today, I listened to a local radio program conversation (Radio West) and frankly, I wasn't too impressed by the discussion that took place.
So, now that I have links galore to the official and unofficial thoughts on the matter, I couldn't help but state my own:
I suppose there was a piece of disappointment when I learned HBO would be airing such things. Not angry-disappointment--I feel there really is little reason for outrage to enter the equation (after all, what purpose would that serve me?). Not surprised-disappointment--this isn't the first time, nor will it be the last, I'm sure, that this kind of misrepresentation has occurred in the media or by other means. But a sense of saddened disappointment. Saddened because the ceremonies performed in these temples are sacred to me. So sacred, in fact, that I do not speak of them outside the walls of the temple. And while what happens here may be cause for curiosity and perhaps even confusion in others, for me it is a deeply spiritual experience separate from the other ordinary, day-to-day parts of my life. And having something so special to me used for purposes other than what they were intended is hurtful.
I'm not calling for a boycott of HBO. I'm not out to get the executive producers, the writers, or the actors in the show. That all seems really fruitless for a no-name English teacher to take on. Instead, what this whole conversation has gotten me thinking about is humanity and the sacred. It has me thinking about how we all have different definitions of what is and what is not sacred, and that is okay. It has me thinking that I could always stand to improve in this department. That, though I view myself as a respecter of all beliefs--I find religion in all its forms beautiful and filled with many truths--I could still do better. We all could.
What this experience has reminded me of is that it hurts when someone doesn't recognize how important something is to you and treats it trivially. It doesn't feel okay when, because of their own ignorance or lack of understanding, they take something of a serious nature (to you) lightly or they take it out of context or they simply misuse or misrepresent it because they don't understand.
So, rather than let my feelings of hurt transform into feelings of anger, I think I want to let my hurt transform me. Every faith has beauty in its rituals and beliefs. Every faith is sacred. Every faith deserves to be treated as such--if for no other reason than that the individuals who follow and believe in its doctrines and philosophies are beautiful and deserving of all the respect and understanding I have to give.
Alice, my bestie and brilliant roommate, wrote this post about her opinions on this controversy last week. My church officially made this statement and recently posted this video on you tube:
Then, today, I listened to a local radio program conversation (Radio West) and frankly, I wasn't too impressed by the discussion that took place.
So, now that I have links galore to the official and unofficial thoughts on the matter, I couldn't help but state my own:
I suppose there was a piece of disappointment when I learned HBO would be airing such things. Not angry-disappointment--I feel there really is little reason for outrage to enter the equation (after all, what purpose would that serve me?). Not surprised-disappointment--this isn't the first time, nor will it be the last, I'm sure, that this kind of misrepresentation has occurred in the media or by other means. But a sense of saddened disappointment. Saddened because the ceremonies performed in these temples are sacred to me. So sacred, in fact, that I do not speak of them outside the walls of the temple. And while what happens here may be cause for curiosity and perhaps even confusion in others, for me it is a deeply spiritual experience separate from the other ordinary, day-to-day parts of my life. And having something so special to me used for purposes other than what they were intended is hurtful.
I'm not calling for a boycott of HBO. I'm not out to get the executive producers, the writers, or the actors in the show. That all seems really fruitless for a no-name English teacher to take on. Instead, what this whole conversation has gotten me thinking about is humanity and the sacred. It has me thinking about how we all have different definitions of what is and what is not sacred, and that is okay. It has me thinking that I could always stand to improve in this department. That, though I view myself as a respecter of all beliefs--I find religion in all its forms beautiful and filled with many truths--I could still do better. We all could.
What this experience has reminded me of is that it hurts when someone doesn't recognize how important something is to you and treats it trivially. It doesn't feel okay when, because of their own ignorance or lack of understanding, they take something of a serious nature (to you) lightly or they take it out of context or they simply misuse or misrepresent it because they don't understand.
So, rather than let my feelings of hurt transform into feelings of anger, I think I want to let my hurt transform me. Every faith has beauty in its rituals and beliefs. Every faith is sacred. Every faith deserves to be treated as such--if for no other reason than that the individuals who follow and believe in its doctrines and philosophies are beautiful and deserving of all the respect and understanding I have to give.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
General Relief Society Broadcast
Last night I had the opportunity to attend General Relief Society Meeting Broadcast at my local stake center. I am sure many of you reading this did the same. I enjoyed the Relief Society presidency's addresses, Sister Allred's really spoke to me simply because of how recently I attended the temple for the first time.
But beyond that, I wanted to mention here how much I appreciated the words of Elder Uchtdorf. The concepts and ideas he taught were inspiring. His words about our innate desire to create and be creative simply because we are children of a Heavenly Father who is, by His nature, a creator--our creator--touched me deeply. This isn't something we generally hear about from our leaders in this exact way, to hear that we are to beautify the world around us, to take disorder and chaos and form it into something that did not exist before, is, while not an entirely new concept, certainly put into a new perspective. We are to create (and that doesn't simply mean in artistic endeavors) because our Father is creative.
He then spoke about the need for greater service. We've heard this time and time again, I know, but I love that he mentioned that offering more service in order to relieve the tension and trials of life may seem counterintuitive. Indeed, it is just oppposite of what the rest of the world says. How often have we heard, "Your children cannot be happy if their mother is not happy." And, "If it makes YOU happy, then by all means, do it." This self-centered line of thought is, ultimately, destructive. However, by offering more service, by sacrificing more of ourselves, we come to fill more at peace. This is true. I've seen it in my own life, in my line of work. On days when I am exhausted and my students annoy me and I just want a moment of quiet and everything seems to be going wrong, it always seems that an opportunity to be of help to one student presents itself. Usually this student will come to me at the exact moment that I feel I can finally sit and relax and take a breath. And when they come in, I'll be honest, I cringe a little. But when I throw myself into helping them with whatever is going on, giving them that one-on-one attention that they need, I feel re-energized. I feel good. I feel like I was of value.
If you missed the opportunity to watch it, go here. It was edifying. It was good. Amen.
But beyond that, I wanted to mention here how much I appreciated the words of Elder Uchtdorf. The concepts and ideas he taught were inspiring. His words about our innate desire to create and be creative simply because we are children of a Heavenly Father who is, by His nature, a creator--our creator--touched me deeply. This isn't something we generally hear about from our leaders in this exact way, to hear that we are to beautify the world around us, to take disorder and chaos and form it into something that did not exist before, is, while not an entirely new concept, certainly put into a new perspective. We are to create (and that doesn't simply mean in artistic endeavors) because our Father is creative.
He then spoke about the need for greater service. We've heard this time and time again, I know, but I love that he mentioned that offering more service in order to relieve the tension and trials of life may seem counterintuitive. Indeed, it is just oppposite of what the rest of the world says. How often have we heard, "Your children cannot be happy if their mother is not happy." And, "If it makes YOU happy, then by all means, do it." This self-centered line of thought is, ultimately, destructive. However, by offering more service, by sacrificing more of ourselves, we come to fill more at peace. This is true. I've seen it in my own life, in my line of work. On days when I am exhausted and my students annoy me and I just want a moment of quiet and everything seems to be going wrong, it always seems that an opportunity to be of help to one student presents itself. Usually this student will come to me at the exact moment that I feel I can finally sit and relax and take a breath. And when they come in, I'll be honest, I cringe a little. But when I throw myself into helping them with whatever is going on, giving them that one-on-one attention that they need, I feel re-energized. I feel good. I feel like I was of value.
If you missed the opportunity to watch it, go here. It was edifying. It was good. Amen.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
I Love to See the Temple...
Last week I had the opportunity to go to the LDS temple for the very first time. It was a wonderful experience for me. I felt so blessed and filled with gratitude for the covenants I was able to make there. I felt such a powerful sense of peace and wholeness in this sacred building.
(Yes, these mediocre at best pictures are a result of very bad lighting)I am so lucky to have such supportive family and friends. I especially want to say thanks (again) to my sister, Amber, who left her kids and husband (except the baby) at home in Virginia in the midst of a possibly approaching Hurricane Ike and came all the way across the country to be my escort for my first time through. I felt so loved by all the people who came to support me on this big day.
I always feel a little uncertain when it comes to things like these as far as how much of my belief to bear in such a public forum. Afterall, one's spirituality is a very personal thing. That being said, this is not only a blog, but a journal of sorts and I can't help but share what I feel and know and how that impacted my decision to go to the temple. I know the gospel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is true. I know who I am and who it is my Father in Heaven wants me to be. I feel His influence in my life and in my progress. I feel a true sense of peaceful, contented joy knowing that I am living my life in the manner He would approve of, that I am moving in the right direction. I feel that this was a natural and timely step for me. Having the opportunity to attend the temple as yet another means by which I might grow closer to my Father in Heaven and progress as a person is one of the best blessings I've ever received.
That's all. Amen. :)
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Those Who Make a Difference
Did you miss me? I missed you all. I feel out of the loop as I've been bad at checking blogs. But I must say that five days without posting felt rather liberating. While I enjoy blogging, the pressure of once-a-day posting was getting to me more than I thought it was.
So, I'm back...in the new blogging war thanks to Chaos.
But what I really wanted to post about all week was him:
President Gordon B. Hinckley was sustained as prophet of the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on March 12, 1995, my 14th birthday. During all those important years when we figure out "Who We Are" in all our adolescent and young adult confusion, President Hinckley has been my prophet. And that is how I see him: as MY prophet.
During high school I lived in Alaska. Our small ward had a display with a picture of a temple on it and the gist of the message was to do missionary work. Missionary work brought more numbers which meant more stakes and wards which meant we might get a temple closer to home. The members of my ward up to that point had to travel to Seattle in order to visit a temple. It was always a sacrifice. I remember when President Hinckley announced his plan for small temples and Anchorage, Alaska was one of the temples he announced. This new temple, so close, was inspired. It was one of those moments when I felt that nudging that reminded me he was in cahoots with the big guy.
Flash forward a few more years. I sat in an institute building for a Sunday evening CES fireside broadcast. President Hinckley was to be the speaker that evening. It was his famous "Be" speech. I remember how touched I felt by that talk. All the love a prophet has for the youth of his church was felt in me that evening. But the part that stood out to me wasn't the list of Be's, as much as a story he told of train tracks:
Many years ago I worked for a railroad in the central offices in Denver. I was in charge of what is called head-end traffic. That was in the days when nearly everyone rode passenger trains. One morning I received a call from my counterpart in Newark, New Jersey. He said, “Train number such-and-such has arrived, but it has no baggage car. Somewhere, 300 passengers have lost their baggage, and they are mad.”
I went immediately to work to find out where it may have gone. I found it had been properly loaded and properly trained in Oakland, California. It had been moved to our railroad in Salt Lake City, been carried to Denver, down to Pueblo, put on another line, and moved to St. Louis. There it was to be handled by another railroad which would take it to Newark, New Jersey. But some thoughtless switchman in the St. Louis yards moved a small piece of steel just three inches, a switch point, then pulled the lever to uncouple the car. We discovered that a baggage car that belonged in Newark, New Jersey, was in fact in New Orleans, Louisiana—1,500 miles from its destination. Just the three-inch movement of the switch in the St. Louis yard by a careless employee had started it on the wrong track, and the distance from its true destination increased dramatically. That is the way it is with our lives. Instead of following a steady course, we are pulled by some mistaken idea in another direction. The movement away from our original destination may be ever so small, but, if continued, that very small movement becomes a great gap and we find ourselves far from where we intended to go.
Have you ever looked at one of those 16-foot farm gates? When it is opened, it swings very wide. The end at the hinges moves ever so slightly, while out at the perimeter the movement is great. It is the little things upon which life turns that make the big difference in our lives, my dear young friends.
I cannot be incredibly eloquent in all of this. I only know that those words at that time in my life have always stuck with me: a small three inches. The decisions I have made since then have at times been wise and at others have shown my pure stupidity. But President Hinckley impacted me as only a prophet can. He, along with many others, helped me to keep a steady course during the important years when one is setting up her life. And that has made all the difference.
I will miss him. I am grateful for all the years he inspired and uplifted. I know he will continue to do good things. Because that is just the way he is.
So, I'm back...in the new blogging war thanks to Chaos.
But what I really wanted to post about all week was him:
President Gordon B. Hinckley was sustained as prophet of the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on March 12, 1995, my 14th birthday. During all those important years when we figure out "Who We Are" in all our adolescent and young adult confusion, President Hinckley has been my prophet. And that is how I see him: as MY prophet.
During high school I lived in Alaska. Our small ward had a display with a picture of a temple on it and the gist of the message was to do missionary work. Missionary work brought more numbers which meant more stakes and wards which meant we might get a temple closer to home. The members of my ward up to that point had to travel to Seattle in order to visit a temple. It was always a sacrifice. I remember when President Hinckley announced his plan for small temples and Anchorage, Alaska was one of the temples he announced. This new temple, so close, was inspired. It was one of those moments when I felt that nudging that reminded me he was in cahoots with the big guy.
Flash forward a few more years. I sat in an institute building for a Sunday evening CES fireside broadcast. President Hinckley was to be the speaker that evening. It was his famous "Be" speech. I remember how touched I felt by that talk. All the love a prophet has for the youth of his church was felt in me that evening. But the part that stood out to me wasn't the list of Be's, as much as a story he told of train tracks:
Many years ago I worked for a railroad in the central offices in Denver. I was in charge of what is called head-end traffic. That was in the days when nearly everyone rode passenger trains. One morning I received a call from my counterpart in Newark, New Jersey. He said, “Train number such-and-such has arrived, but it has no baggage car. Somewhere, 300 passengers have lost their baggage, and they are mad.”
I went immediately to work to find out where it may have gone. I found it had been properly loaded and properly trained in Oakland, California. It had been moved to our railroad in Salt Lake City, been carried to Denver, down to Pueblo, put on another line, and moved to St. Louis. There it was to be handled by another railroad which would take it to Newark, New Jersey. But some thoughtless switchman in the St. Louis yards moved a small piece of steel just three inches, a switch point, then pulled the lever to uncouple the car. We discovered that a baggage car that belonged in Newark, New Jersey, was in fact in New Orleans, Louisiana—1,500 miles from its destination. Just the three-inch movement of the switch in the St. Louis yard by a careless employee had started it on the wrong track, and the distance from its true destination increased dramatically. That is the way it is with our lives. Instead of following a steady course, we are pulled by some mistaken idea in another direction. The movement away from our original destination may be ever so small, but, if continued, that very small movement becomes a great gap and we find ourselves far from where we intended to go.
Have you ever looked at one of those 16-foot farm gates? When it is opened, it swings very wide. The end at the hinges moves ever so slightly, while out at the perimeter the movement is great. It is the little things upon which life turns that make the big difference in our lives, my dear young friends.
I cannot be incredibly eloquent in all of this. I only know that those words at that time in my life have always stuck with me: a small three inches. The decisions I have made since then have at times been wise and at others have shown my pure stupidity. But President Hinckley impacted me as only a prophet can. He, along with many others, helped me to keep a steady course during the important years when one is setting up her life. And that has made all the difference.
I will miss him. I am grateful for all the years he inspired and uplifted. I know he will continue to do good things. Because that is just the way he is.
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