I Felt . . . OFFENDED!

"You and I cannot control the intentions or behavior of other people.  However we do determine how we will act.  Please remember that you and I are agents endowed with moral agency, and we can choose not to be offended."  - David A. Bednar

Many, many moons ago I received an anonymous letter in the mail.

And it wasn't nice.

No, it wasn't nice at all!

And to top it off  - it was from someone in my ward!!!

Up to that point in my life I had always believed that anyone who would be or could be offended had some troubles with their testimony.  After all, I naively surmised, if you had a testimony it wouldn't matter what anyone else says!

But it was on THAT day that I found myself with a deep, abiding testimony in my heart and a full-blown mean-spirited letter in my hand!!!

I felt hurt. I felt anger.  And I felt . . . OFFENDED!

All I wanted to do was crumble into a hundred, million, gazillion pieces right there and . . . never, ever go back to Church again!!

But at that very moment, while standing in the living room of our house, it was my children that kept me from crumbling . . .because, quite frankly, who has time to hide with pity in the closet when there's a menagerie of children all clamoring simultaneously for your undivided attention?

And my husband, who was the Bishop at the time, made sure I went back to Church the very next Sunday because there were six children under the age of six  that needed quieting during Sacrament Meeting and a piano that needed playing during Primary.

Talk about where "much is given . . ."

But going back to Church the next Sunday was not as easy as I thought it should be for people who had testimonies.  Because the moment I walked in those doors, I was enveloped with a claustrophobic air of suspicion.

And believe me when I say that I looked around and wondered . . .Who!

Who?

WHO?!

And why?

(Thank goodness playing the piano in Primary carries with it a sense anonymity!!)

For several days after my first Sunday back that letter a.b.s.o.l.u.t.e.l.y. plagued me.  It made me feel weak and vulnerable and on display.  It made me feel hurt and angry and insulted.  And almost instantaneously, I, who have always LOVED going and being in Church, decided that I maybe I shouldn't like it so much.

And I also decided that in order for me to stay on guard, I would keep the letter (frame it and place it on my nightstand) as a reminder of the mean, hurtful things someone had in their heart for me.

Oh my! Such a bad idea!

Such a very, VERY bad idea!

I honestly don't know how I came to my senses.

I don't know how the Lord ever got through to me in my miserable state!

But somehow, before the second Sunday dawned, I had successfully thrown that anonymous letter in the trash!!

Because it was destroying me!

To be honest, tossing the letter didn't mean that I was about to rush back to Church and shout "Gosh, I love Church and everyone in it, even those who anonymously send hate mail!

And to be even more honest, I was still very hesitant to return to Church the Sundays that followed.

But I went.  And I kept going.  And week by week going to Church got easier.

And I've learned that someone with a deep, abiding testimony can choose to feel offended! But, as Elder Bednar teaches, I'm also learning that "through the strengthening power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, you and I can be blessed to avoid and triumph over offense."

Facing the Giants

You'd think that in a house full of seven boys and a husband who enjoys playing sports with his sons, Super Bowl Sunday would be the most anticipated Sunday of the year.

But not at our house.

We chose long ago that for our family Sundays would be dedicated to the Lord, not to sports.

But just this last week we discovered this amazing, uplifting movie. . . just in time for the Super Bowl Weekend.

Very Random Sunday Thoughts

You know the scripture, "If ye are prepared, ye shall not fear." I'm seriously thinking it was referring specifically to bedtime and school.

Lack of a bedtime schedule, that is, and the beginning of school.

AGH!

School starts this week and all of my parental attempts at trying to get my children to go to s.l.e.e.p on time has been absolutely, positively fruitless.

So come Wednesday morning, when day dawn is breaking, that will be the sum of all my fears.

* * *

There's something to be said about remembering.

For because I find that I am more inclined to hang on remembering the bad and easily forget to remember the good.

I'm figuring it has to do with the "natural [wo]man" in me.

And in order to put off that natural woman I must find ways to remember the good.

For me, writing down the good is how I preserve what I need to remember.

The other part is reading (and rereading) what I have written so I will remember.

* * *

Because I just want to mention: Bed time at our home is like herding cats!

And those darn cats of mine have not gone to sleep yet.

Boy, I wish they were dogs.

Because you can at least send dogs to obedience school. . .

Aww, that's what we're doing this week, aren't we?

Yup, back to my fears . . .

* * *

Happy Birthday, dear President Monson!!

Sunday Thoughts

I remember long ago, before I had children, having a conversation with a co-worker. He came from a large family, with all of his siblings very close together. He related a story that once, during the times of such close pregnancies, his mother wondered aloud to a friend, “Why right NOW? Why do I have to be pregnant RIGHT NOW?” The response this mother received was taken with great surprise:

“This pregnancy is not about you. It’s the Lord who needs this child to be on earth NOW. Maybe the now-time for his mission will be shortly after his arrival, but maybe it will be 19 years down the line when the Lord needs your son to be in the right place at the right time to do something that only he can do in the place the Lord has appointed!”

Little did I know then that I would have 8+ children of my own and that conversation would repeat many times in my heart as a sweet reminder of Whose these spirits are.

* * *

Throughout my life I have wondered “Why am I where I am right now?”

Today that question floated through my mind as we listened to a young man in our ward who will leave Wednesday for the MTC on a full-time mission. I supposed that thought passed my mind as I realized that today marks year one of being in our “new” ward. And in these past twelve months my boys have been able to witness five missionaries leaving for full-time missions and one who returned home.

So this morning I thought that maybe I am where I am right now because my boys need to see and feel the power of worthy young men prepared and leaving on full-time missions for the Lord!

* * *

When I went to church today I had just place a brand-spanking new eraser into my mechanical pencil.

Which only needed to be replaced 6 months ago. . .But since 95% of my pencil is used for scripture marking, the eraser does go a long ways.

But I was still so elated to take to Church a new eraser attached to my old, mechanical pencil!

Well, I let me seven year old use the pencil during Sacrament Meeting. And every now and then I glanced down to see him drawing quite the intricate picture with mountains that were shadowed and trees with many leaves and a sun with very thick rays.

Near the end of the meeting I peered over his shoulder to see what had become of his picture and saw that he now had a clean, white sheet of paper.

Except, upon second glance, it wasn’t a new piece of paper. . .

No, it was his mountain/tree/sun with many rays picture that now had been meticulously erased WITH MY NEW ERASER. . . which, no longer looked new at all!

My eyes began to bulge and I was just beginning to feel some intense surges of provocation when there was a thought placed ever so tenderly and softly in my mind that said something like this, “Ahem, isn’t that what an eraser is for? That is why I came to earth.  I came to die for you you so that you could become as clean as that paper.  My Atonement is your eraser.  It is I who makes you clean."

And humility filled me as all the pencils that we have in our home flashed before my eyes and I realized that none of them have any eraser left on them!

Because in our house the eraser is the part of the pencil that goes first. And usually, when I find pencils without erasers, I throw away those darn pencils away because what good are they without erasers, anyway??

But today I figured it out.  Without Jesus Christ I would have been thrown out a long, long time ago.

Christ is my Eraser.

My Boys in Suits

This morning I really had something so profoundly blogworthy brewing up in my head . . . twelve hours later I’m wondering how to detox my day with a brainload of kids . . . I mean detox my brain after a day full of kids!

So now, I am just happy to report that I did accomplished everything I needed to do today – including taking my sons’ Sunday suits to the dry cleaners - which has been on my “To Do” list for FOUR weeks!

My. Boys. In. Suits.

Whoo-whee.

What a VERY handsome sight for me to see on Sundays!

However, my boys in suits when there is food around (or teeth to be brushed after getting dressed) is the very reason I needed to pay a visit to the Dry Cleaners.

I sure hope I can figure out how to teach those boys of mine the difference between a napkin and a suit sometime before they serve their missions.

I only have six years.

Wish me luck!

The Sacrament and the Stake President

Today our Stake President visited our ward.

His visit made him the presiding authority during Sacrament Meeting.

Before the meeting began I saw him take his seat right next to our Bishop.

A few moments later, when the Bishop stood up to welcome us to Sacrament Meeting, I noticed that the Stake President was no longer sitting next to where the Bishop would sit once the welcome was over.

Quickly scanning the rostrum I located the Stake President.

He was sitting at the sacrament table - between two priests.

In all my years of attending 48 weeks of Sunday Sacrament Meetings a year (minus General Conference Sundays, Stake Conference Sundays, and the Sundays I’ve had to stay home because of personal sickness, post-partum or having to nurse sick children),  I have NEVER - and I mean NEVER - had the privilege of having a Stake President administer the sacrament to a congregation!

As I tried to sing the sacrament hymn the words would not come.

I had to mouth them instead.

And I did such a poor job at that.

For because emotions pressed so intensely, so closely, so sweetly.

My tear ducts gave way to the inner feelings of my heart.

And I easily surrendered to the teachings of the Spirit.

As I watched this man of God tenderly and happily supply trays of bread and water to the members of the Aaronic Priesthood, I imagined that if the Savior were to visit a ward on a Sunday, He would take his place right there, too.

Right there. At the Sacrament Table.

Right there. Blessing and sanctifying His emblems.

Right there. Serving with young priesthood holders who worthily bear His vessels.

Right there. Reminding me, through His example of pure love, why I am to obey His commandments and why I must always remember Him. . .

And on this Sunday, I was taught by the Spirit, through the example of our Stake President, that "he that is ordained of God and sent forth, the same is appointed to be the greatest, notwithstanding he is the least and the servant of all" (Doctrine and Covenants 50:26).