Finding Light {My Battle Part 2}

It was towards the end of March that I finally decided to reach out for help.  My husband had asked me on numerous occasions if I wanted him to call my mom and seek out a doctor.  I turned him down each time, believing that I would get better if I just gave it more time.

I had tried exercising more frequently, changing my daily routine a dozen times, eliminating distracting activities...the list went on and on.  And while each of these solutions were good and should have helped, they didn't.  I realized that it was my body's hormones and not my external factors that needed a revamp.

But there were so many days that I wished I didn't even exist...for no tangible, logical reason.  My life was perfect, but I felt in the depths of despair.  Even the warm spring and the sunshine outside, which usually served to bolster me and fuel my joy, only made me feel like crawling up in a corner to cry.  The worst part of the depression seemed to hit me in the mornings.  Every morning the weight of the day would hit me like a ton of bricks the second I opened my eyes.  Sleep was my only escape from the terrible feelings of guilt, sadness, and despair.

In the last week of March I finally accepted my sweetheart's suggestions.  He called my mom because I was too sad to admit that I was depressed.  She immediately reached out and called me.  She found a doctor and I set up an appointment.  This was the turning point for me.  She prescribed a serotonin re-uptake inhibitor and I began faithfully taking the medicine.  It took a few weeks to fully kick-in, so to speak, but I found myself experiencing fewer and fewer bad days as time went on.

I continued to practice life-enhancing habits and did my best to eat and drink right.  I began taking afternoon naps with my little ones and found my days gradually normalizing.  I remember in April there was a day that I finally felt like my normal self.  At first these days were sporadic and unpredictable, but eventually they became the majority.

In May I noticed progress.  I noted that my afternoons began to be happier, and little by little, the hour got earlier that I would begin feeling happy.  Noon for a few days, then 11:00, then 10:00.  By June--I hit a landmark.  I was finally waking up happy.  I waited a few weeks and started to feel like my normal self again.  I am just now tapering off the medication and it feels so wonderful to be alive.

While the medication was definitely a catalyst in my progress, there was a spiritual power that activated it.  I truly learned how to call on my Heavenly Father moment by moment for grace and strength beyond my own to face the feats before me.  It was revolutionary and it has changed me forever...this calling upon Him for grace.  Early this year I had been contemplating how I could come to know my Savior better.  Truly, this was the answer.

Do I feel embarrassed, saddened, or bitter that this whole experience of postpartum depression happened to me?  No. 

Though it was excruciatingly difficult, I know that the Lord pulled me from the abyss.  As I learned to rely on Him more, and use the resources He put in my path, my burden was lifted.  And now as I gaze out at the sunlight falling on the summer countryside, I am truly happy.  And I know that even though I feel much like my normal self, I will never be exactly the same.  I am different now.  More refined, stronger than I was, and perhaps, a little more like Him.

I'm back.

Finally.  Here I am, back from my much-needed Sabbatical.  The winter was long, and spring was bumpy, but I have truly loved every minute of cradling my sweet little baby girl.  She is worth every struggle and turmoil.  I will recount my journey little by little, but for today, may I simply suggest that the Quest for Happiness is enhanced by suffering and trial.  While it never seems like it in the midst of the darkness, we know deep in our hearts that the dawn will come once again, and that knowledge is what sustains us until the happy sunshine rises again in our hearts.

It is through the hills and mountains we climb that we build stamina and muscle and shed the things that hold us down.  And when we reach the top, we feel enlightened and invigorated, and like we have finally found ourselves again.  But with the vast view below, the view of our inner selves is grander and larger as well.  We see who we were down at the bottom of the mountain, and now at the top, we realize we have become so. much. more.

And then we look heavenward and know with certainty that it was all because of Christ's grace that we have reached this point, this pinnacle.  The clouds roll blissfully above, and we reach up, feeling a vibrant connection with Deity.  We are His.  And now we are even closer to being like Him.

image via {pinterest}

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Thoughts.

I have long struggled with my thoughts.  It seems as if discouragement, negativity, and doubt enter in the holes in my heart so easily.  I have found that the adversary uses every means possible to tempt us and bring us down--and this is one of the ways he succeeds so often with me.

But today is a new day, a new dawn, a new beginning.  Each day can and must be so if we are to attain the perfection our Lord requires. (see 3 Nephi 12:48).  And today I have chosen to meditate upon a verse of scripture that will empower me to press on and rise above.  And perhaps when I do this, the Savior can heal my holes, patching them up with the perfect peace only He can bestow.

The word brings us closer to Christ.  And why limit the time we feast to the small hours of the morning when we study?  Shouldn't the word be a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path?  All day long?

They can be.  And these verses we ponder, and memorize, and cling to will become "stalwart friends" filed away in our memory to call upon when we are in need of comfort or guidance or strength.

So I write out a verse on a notecard...just a simple verse from Psalms, only eight words.  It's burning into my heart just a little more each time I recite it, building my faith, filling me with the Spirit.  And tomorrow there will be a new verse to memorize and recite and draw upon.  What grace the Lord has shown me today in prompting me to begin this small and simple practice.  He knew I needed empowerment.  He knew I needed Him.

"I will love thee, O Lord, my strength."

{Psalms 18:1}

Filled with Light.

"The light of the body is the eye; if, therefore, thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light."

{3 Nephi 13:22}

"And if your eye be single to my glory, your whole bodies shall be full of light, and there shall be no darkness in you; and that body which is filled with light comprehendeth all things."

{D&C 88:67}

How often I have read these words, like poetry, straight from the Lord's own mouth.

Knowing that the light of the body is the eye, I have become a vigilant observer of eyes.  After years of watching and feeling, it is usually easy to discern the state of one's heart from the light that shines forth from one's eyes.  In fact, the light of the eye reflects in the whole of the countenance.

But what of the eye being single to the glory of God?

How often I have pondered this deeper meaning.

Today light poured into my understanding, and I understood perhaps a layer of meaning to this phrase.

How do we glory God?  We live our lives in righteousness, always the best we can; we arise and shine forth an example of light; and then we bring Him praise for everything we receive...even the hardships.

This is, I believe, the summation of glorying God.

And if this, this glory-giving, glory-living life is what we focus on singly, or solely, it shows.  It manifests as a shining of light in our eyes.

I go to the mirror and examine my eyes.  There's the blue and the white and the black of the pupil, but I ignore all of these and look deeper.  Is the light there?  And my mind rolls back in time to nearly 7 years ago when I sat in a BYU-Idaho devotional in a little chapel on a cushioned bench.  I do not remember the name of the lady addressing, but I'll never forget what she taught.  She spoke of eyes and light and countenances reflecting the light of the Savior.  And she issued a challenge.   To rise up each morning, go to a mirror, and look for the light.  We were then encouraged to act that day in a way that the light in our eyes would be increased.

Here at my mirror, seven years later, and I still search for the light as often as I remember.  Maybe this coming year it will become a solidified routine.  

To check for the light.  

To examine the eyes.  

To live a life of glory to God...

And the list continues...
ever onward to 1000...

#752 Little inventive boys
#753 Old matchbox cars coursing through brown wrapping paper tubes.
#755 Sweet Pea's countdown inspired by the Spirit.
#757 Prayers and faith pulling Mother through her surgery and post-surgery with no epidural or pain medication.
#764 A sweet tender birthday hug from Pop
#771 Impromptu sweetness last night before drifting into slumber.
#772 This heart-building counting of the graces, while waiting for my own little "Grace" girl.
#773 Little Bug's pure, innocent, unrestrained laughter.
#775 Approaching the 1000 mark and wondering what lies beyond...

A Holy Experience Unwrapping...

Last night I read this:  "They were once a delightsome people, and they had Christ for their shepherd; yea, they were led even by God the Father." (Mormon 5:17)

And then this morning I read this:  "...yea, ye will not hearken unto the voice of the good shepherd..." (Helaman 7:18)

My mind has been pondering sheep and the Shepherd and discipleship ever since.

And then I read of how the Nephites grew proud because of their riches and blessings and then they let the adversary get hold over their hearts.  This all happened in just a few years (see Helaman 6-7).  And the question plagued me:  How do I prevent he adversary from getting a great hold on my heart?  What is the formula for keeping him at bay and away?  What is the antidote for pride?

Curled up in my armchair in the peace of this Autumn morning, the answers came...

First, I must listen to His voice moment by moment--continually seeking to do His will and not my own.  {This is how I can keep my heart centered on the Lord and reject the lures of the adversary.}

Second, I must give praise and thanks for every blessing which I receive, acknowledging that every thing comes from the Lord.  I can recognize that trials come to stir us up in remembrance of the One who descended below all things and shape us into more Christlike beings.  I can realize that blessings and talents, too, always come from Him. {This is how I can combat pride on the one hand and bitterness on the other--the two vices that distance ourselves from the Lord.}

And maybe, just maybe, I am beginning to unwrap the gift of learning to live A Holy Experience here in mortality.  To follow and to praise are perhaps two of the keys that unlock the beautiful mystery of learning how to live in holiness each day.

It's as if Autumn has brought me a turning.  A turning of green leaves to a golden hue...and a turning of my green heart to one with just a tint of gold now.

Yes.  All is Grace.

Preparing for the Sabbath

"Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.

"Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work:

"But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God. ...

"...Wherefore, the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it."

~Exodus 20:8-11

If He rested on the seventh day, and hallowed it, and made the Sabbath for man, should we not consider this the pinnacle of our week?

A time to come before Him in worship, for as Elder L. Tom Perry states so beautifully:

"The pattern of Sabbath day observance must always include worship." 

And we worship first and foremost by coming to the Sacrament table to partake of the sacred emblems.

The bread to remind us of His broken body which was bruised and torn for us, but now lives again triumphantly resurrected.

Teaching us that we too may become whole and healed in body and spirit through Him.

The water to signify his blood, which was shed in the garden "for the remission of [our] sins."

Truly, "Partaking of the sacrament is the center of our Sabbath day observance."

They who lived long ago would bring a sacrifice to the altar, to give away, pointing to the great and last atoning sacrifice of our Lord, Jesus Christ, who gave us His very life.

And while the burnt offering was fulfilled in Christ, we still can and must bring to the altar a sacrifice.

A sacrifice of sin, a desire to give them all away in order to know Him.

For our Savior said, "And ye shall offer for a sacrifice unto me a broken heart and a contrite spirit."

So might we begin anew? 

To come to the Sabbath with outstretched arms and cupped hands, ready to receive His divine grace.  Ready to receive His sacrament, ready to sacrifice our sins, ready to rest from all the cares of the world.  

For in Him, they are all swallowed up,

and only peace and joy and love left in return.

Indeed, the Sabbath is a hallowed and holy day.

{This post is also linked up with A Holy Experience and Women Living Well}

Walk as He would...

When shadows are all tucked into the blanket of sky and the moon shimmers as the world's one great nightlight I come to the posture of humble submissiveness--that of kneeling to bring before my Father the minutia of a day.  Somewhere in the middle of it all I ask a frequented question:

What wouldst Thou have me know tonight?

Then at the close of the prayer, I listen perched atop my bed covers, waiting, straining to hear the answer I'm sure will come.  And all I can feel is a tingling, numb sensation in my feet, which I try to brush off and ignore.  But the tingling intensifies and reality strikes me forcefully----

this is the answer. You must walk as He would walk in order to walk with Him.

It's as if the tingles are bathing my feet with a disciple's purpose, imbuing a stunning transformation.

I hold onto the tingles as long as I'm able, willing them to stay for just a moment longer, hoping this revelation will not slip into forgotten by morning.  But the miracle stays even when the tingle fades.   

My feet feel somehow different, more holy.  

And tomorrow I will look at my two feet with different eyes.  Where will they go?  What will they lead me to do?  All is adventure and all could be holiness if I can grant my feet willing emulation of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Listing--the Magic Button

Why do I always forget that gratitude, the special eyesight to see His wonder everywhere, is the answer to all woe?  When I refuse to "see" it is only because I have been blinded by he who wants my miserableness.  When my day (or just a few moments) go all wrong I search and seek for some magical answer, some perfect button to push and make everything happy again.  Then I moan when this magic button does not appear and I think I will never find the answers.

But somewhere in the back of my mind a little voice whispers, be thankful, give praise, see gratitude.  When I push it out, I remain in the unhappiness, but when I grasp onto those words and enact them by listing the gifts from God, I am restored to the happiness.

Why do I forget?  Why do I refuse to listen?  Is it because of the smallness of the task, the simpleness of the way?

Oh can I engrave these words into my heart forever?

 "...by small and simple things are great things brought to pass..."

I just need more practice.  And this year is the perfect time to do so...

     I will keep trying to remember...even when I forget or fail.

          Someday I will live eucharisteo perfectly.

{My list continues...}

#389. Open notebook just waiting for more grace.

#391. Pouring over Women's Conference details.

#402. Blueberry muffins in wicker basket.

#404. New day beckoning tomorrow-a perfect day to give away all my will.

#405. Little goodnights breathed through the dark.

#408. Beaded buds on tree limbs

#411. Raindrop smattered shopping trip.

#412 New shoes for little boys.

#414. Home to enjoy the rain from indoors

#415. Tortilla chips with a hint of pepper jack

#417. Forgiveness sweet from Little Bear.

#421. Slow dancing with my sweetheart.

#422. Soft music with breakfast.

#424. Inspiration from heaven teaching me to praise my boys--lavish them with it

#429. The opportunity to make a difference through blogging.

#430. Fresh fish delivered from a dear friend.

#432. Little Bug whispers.

#438. Lovely nap all snuggled under covers.

#446. My sweetheart's presence this morning.

Be Still.

There are times when clouds gather and snow falls in early April, when disappointment knocks on our door, when stress sets in like a frost and our emotions or anger or worry stir up inside of us. Like a pot of maple syrup set on the stove, we warm and then simmer and then heat into a stirring boil that threatens to overspill the confines and submerge the surroundings in a brown-steaming, sticky mess.

This is the way of the adversary. The one who seeks to make us miserable like unto himself.  "...and they were much disturbed, for Satan did stir them up...that he might harden the hearts of the people against that which was good..."  He does not want us to see the good, the beautiful gifts from God all around us.  He would rather us boil over and then harden into an impossible sheet of maple "rock."

But there is another way, a higher way. It is whispered by the dew drops of summer morn, the silent snowfall, the stately steadiness of distant mountains. 
        It is the way of "stillness."

And when the sun beams down in radiance, and the house is quiet, and the birds chortle their morning medley, it is easier to savor the stillness and say, yes.

But when tempers rise, toddlers topple, crumbs scatter themselves all over newly-swept floors, voices rise and so do our internal temperatures and something starts to stir.  Yet this is when the "still" makes all the difference, this is when the "still" calms the raging storm, and only He has power to do that.

"Still" is not easy, or convenient, or even desired in the midst of the way of he who stirs.

But only "still" will bring the inner peace we crave.

And so we fight the stirring, we settle and still and breathe. 

And if we wonder, "Master, carest thou not that we perish?" We will hear the tender rebuke, "O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?"

"Be still, and know that I am God..." 

Thoughtful Thursday

There were days when the very thought of getting ready for the morning...the washing, hair coiffing, and makeup painting...was enough to make me weary.  Then before I'd blink, sun would set, little ones were tucked away into dreamland, and night would be fast upon me.  The process would begin again....the washing, and the brushing, and the flossing.  Why so much hassled effort to get ready for the day just to turn around and get ready for the night?

I pondered this puzzle for years.  Until one evening, the water was running clear and my cupped hands reached up to fill with the purity that cleanses pores.   

"Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." 

 Could this be it?  Could I be engaging in a small ritual of not only physical, but spiritual washing in the morn and the eve?  At night, washing away distress and and anxiety and the tarnish of the day, and in the morn, washing away the soot and dust of slumber?

Washing to prepare to meet my Lord?

For isn't it ironic that evening prayers and a surge of the Word follow evening washing?

And isn't it interesting that morning prayers and a feast in the Word follow morning cleansing?

We wash to "strip ourselves of all uncleanness," to cleanse and purify our bodies and spirits for a small entrance into His presence, for "no unclean thing can dwell with God."

The scales of darkness fall from my eyes as the water runs down my face.

And now I understand.

{This post is also linked with Raising Homemakers, Time Warp Wife, and Women Living Well}

The True Easter Celebration

Even as I write this, chills tingle my spine and the Spirit whispers the confirming witness, that yes,

He Lives.

 Easter is nearing and my mind wanders the life and the ministry of Him who bore our griefs. How can I make this Easter experience one that washes over my family like a wave from the sea leaving us flushed with eternal water pure--His living water?

Our superficial world with its materialistic counterfeits for every holy thing has not left Easter unsaturated.  It is hard to break free from the traditionalism of Western culture--but we must return to the source of the water if we are to experience a rebirth.

This world with its holiday traditions is not evil, it is just distracting when there is so much more to derive.

My boys and I paint white clouds on blue cardstock, but do we snatch the opportunity to gaze up at the clouds that twist and float and change with each passing minute?

We blow bubbles and the ones that Pop holds are large and ethereal, soaring away on the April wind. And the ones that the little ones make are small and short-lived and we keep pointing to the colossal swirls of rainbow and say, "Look, look," but they don't hear or maybe they just ignore.

And Pop says it best, They are too focused on making their own that they don't look up to see the big ones.

When we focus so much on the fluffy traditions and forget to live the holy ones it's as if we are painting clouds and blowing small bubbles and forgetting to look up, to the source, to the real beauty and meaning.

Could we remove the layers of fanciful that quickly wither?  Could we refuse to go through Easter and instead pledge to have the experience of Easter go through us, and change us?

 Let us walk with Him today and everyday as we travel the road to the cross and the empty tomb.

Cupped Hands, broken world, Eucharisteo in practice

Last night was wonderful.  With the summation of General Conference and the words of a living prophet, my heart was happy as my sweetheart and I discussed the gems we heard.

But today has been a tornado of terribleness.  Boys crying and falling off chairs and puzzles missing pieces and I sit and wonder what pieces are missing in me.  Why is this all so hard?  Why can I not be just stronger and just truer and just better and just...something that I'm lacking?

I remember Ann's words I read last night when all was peaceful and still and just perfect.  And today with the turmoil the words are being put to the test:

"Eucharisteo makes the knees the vantage point of a life and I bend and the body, it says it quiet: 'Thy will be done.' This is the way a body and a mouth say thank you: Thy will be done. This is the way the self dies, falls into the arms of Love." ~Ann Voskamp, one thousand gifts

I felt it last night after prayer and while I quietly pondered.  I gave my will to Him and in response, a waterfall of joy and peace washing over me, making me feel cleansed and pure.

But in the here and now, the rush and franticness, the helter and skelter, the tears and the anger, "this fallen world [that] never stops dis-membering and we all break apart a bit more everyday," I am put to the test.  But what else could I expect when for Christmas I gave Him a gift of thanks, Eucharisteo, that would evolve into a new way of life for me and my family?

Do I not believe that He will therefore give me a chance to practice this Eucharisteo every day and perhaps every moment?  But what of when I don't feel joy brimming and overflowing?  What of the reality of diapers and laundry and stubbed toes and dishes and piano lessons and keeping the peace with a house of 3 boys?  What of the times when my heart fills empty and alone and angry?

This is the time when I can follow what I read from Ann last night:

"And I humbly open my hand to release my will to receive His, to accept His wind.  I accept the gift of now as it is -- accept God -- for I can't be receptive to God unless I receive what He gives."

And this too:

"True saints know that the place where all the joy comes from is far deeper than that of feelings; joy comes from the place of the very presence of God. Joy is God and God is joy and joy doesn't negate all other emotions--joy transcends all other emotions." 

~Ann Voskamp, one thousand gifts

So I keep counting and scrawling the gifts and little by little, with hands cupped, the winds start to cease--if not all around me then at least in my heart.  And my "I can't do this," turns into "We can."

Because the piece that was missing I can find everyday in Him and in seeing Him in every moment, every eyelash, every sound, ever tear.  He is here...giving me good gifts and I have cracked the code and will continue to re-crack it daily until it becomes in essence a very part of me. 

"In the remembering to give thanks, our broken places are re-membered — made whole."  ~Ann Voskamp

#175. Sunlight lacing edges of dark cloud
#183. Reminding myself that yes, even this is grace
#187. Not losing my temper once today
#202. Feeling the bread broken and the water cool--both healing my soul
#205. Prompting to call Mom and talk to her about my grace-trial
#223. Beethoven's Sonate drifting through my ears melancholy and somber and poignant
#227. Quiet moment in the Word
#228. Funny texts from sweetheart the make me smile
#230. Nudges to carry this notebook everywhere
#238. Warm purple socks snuggling cold feet
#239. Thinking of summer
#243. Day all mended with a call to my best friend
#253. Seeing my distorted reflection in the steel of cheese grater--reminding me that I see through a glass, darkly.  There is no veil veiling His view and perspective.
#260. Seeing the good adventure in living with family this year.
#279. A daily routine that finally words--Breakfast, chores, Sunrise Devotional, Preschool, lunch, naps, laundry and movie, playtime, scriptures and journals, bedtime
#280. Knowing soon I will have a Sabbath routine that will work.
#301. Warm, unseen hands on shoulders comforting me through my doctor's visit
#304. Little Bug running all cuddly to my lap.
#316. Needing more tape which seemed like storm of hail but was really grace because it led me to the store where I found the miracle of the 40 teal totes each $2.00
#318. Kind man fetching my lids when they blew away in the ferocious 35-40 mile an hour wind then going with me the extra mile to my car to keep the lids from flying away again.
#319. After completely dying, car starting again after a heartfelt prayer and many attempts.
#332. Trusting the Lord to cradle my day
#334. April 1st sunshine
#339. Rustles of pages and clicks of marker lids--the sound of boys coloring
#344. Little Bug saying "blanket" for the first time
#353. Little Bug wanting me to hold him all day-those days are so limited
#356. Little boys in little socks running in the sunshine and riding trikes
#359. Joy cackle of Little Bug on the swing for the first time this Spring.  Last year he went through a phase of fear for swings.  Had he just forgotten the magical wonder of it all?
#360. Waking up to Little Bear's voice singing, "Conference is today, Conference is today!"
#361. Spirit blanketing home today with General Conference streaming to our eyes and ears
#374. Bedlamites laughing manically while rolling on the ground.
#383. Little Bug's "Thank you Mommy's."

Multitudes on Monday

Last week I began my new book, One Thousand Gifts.

And last week I took the dare to live fully right where I am.

I bought a new journal to record the gifts...and recorded 100 on day 1.

I am just a beginner, but before I ever found this book or A Holy Experience, I gave my Savior the gift of gratitude for Christmas.  And gratitude is what I worked on through January and February, progress was minimal but concerted none the less.  But on March 1st when I found the book, and read the first chapter online, and found the blog, gratitude every day seemed no more like drudgery, but salvation.  And not only this, but attainable, within my reach, like a star falling right into my cupped hands.

A goal for Gratitude has become a year of Eucharisteo.

Now I am on gift #217 and I'm still a beginner, yet aren't we all?  Beginners at truly coming to know Christ? and His goodness? and mercy?

But I am starting to see, clearly, and finding joy in the process, in the journey, in the moments.

It seems that now my test is to endure the hard eucharisteo, and the things like rain and snowy trials that don't look like grace.  But they are.  Because all is grace, even this.  And all is well, because everywhere there is a well to drink the living waters, we just must search and seek to find.

Some days He showers down sunshine unending and we feel and taste of His love so abundantly.

Other days He showers down sleet and hail and we feel and taste of bitterness if we choose, or grace if we have eyes to see that storms grow the trees and plants just as much as the sunshine.  

And we are the trees....needing the sunshine...and the storms.

#1. Awakening to home all quiet and peaceful.

#2. Knowing I have a Savior.

#4. A new notebook with its promise of fresh pages.

#44. First somersaults

#48. Small tick of clock inviting me to slow and savor.

#60. Light sparkle in the cracks of blinds

#67. Kisses "left on."

#85. New spices wrapped in glass bottles.

#88. Laughing--really and truly with my sweeetie.

#96. The love-knowing that comes from 5 years of marriage.

#99. Aching hand from a day of gift-chronicling

#129. The joy of the unknown future and the adventure it will be.

#136. Red velvety cupcakes with cream cheese icing

#141. Little Bear telling me my fresh blow-dried hair was so beautiful.

#142. Burnt orange weeds all aflame with the fire of God.

#143. Warm home-baked bread with creamy honey or chunky peanut butter and raspberry jam

#145. Practicing Eucharisteo when it's hard.

#149. Mid-afternoon napping in my sweetheart's arms.

#151. Still hoping...

#162. Feeling the peace of being so close to nature and God...

Will I forget Him?

From my search in the Book of Mormon today, I found hard doctrines and piercing questions stung my heart.

"And thus we can behold how false, and also the unsteadiness of the hearts of the children of men; yea, we can see that the Lord in his great infinite goodness doth bless and proper those who put their trust in him.

"Yea, and we may see at the very time when he doth prosper his people, yea, in the increase of their fields, their flocks and their herds, and in gold, and in silver, and in all manner of precious things of every kind and art; sparing their lives, and delivering them out of the hands of their enemies; softening the hearts of their enemies that they should not declare wars against them; yea, and in fine, doing all things for the welfare and happiness of his people; yea, then is the time that they do harden their hearts, and do forget the Lord their God, and do trample under their feet the Holy One--yea, and this because of their ease, and their exceedingly great prosperity." (Helaman 12:1-2)

These thoughts cause me to examine my heart:  

Will I forget Him?

"Lord, is it I?" (Matthew 26:22) 

And my Savior is asking, "Will ye also go away?" (John 6:67)

And I want to answer with my whole heart and soul, "No, Lord, I will never leave Thee, I will never forget Thee or betray Thee."

But my question is, how?

How do I do this when the natural, carnal man is "quick to be lifted up in pride...quick to boast...slow...to remember the Lord their God, and give ear unto his counsels, yea, how slow to walk in wisdom's paths!" (Helaman 12:5)

And in His goodness, the Lord answers:  "And thus we see that except the Lord doth chasten his people with many afflictions, yea, except he doth visit them with death and with terror, and with famine and with all manner of pestilence, they will not remember him." (Helaman 12:3)

Is this one of the reasons there is death and darkness and affliction and heartbreak and trial and storm everywhere we turn in this fallen world?  To bring us back to Him?  To help us remember Him in the depths of humility?  Perhaps.

Ann says, "All is grace." And it is.  The Lord is over all and cradles each our lives in the palm of His hand, clothing us as the lilies of the field, and when it is eternally hard to see how our trials will bring us happiness, we must simply have faith in the Almighty that one day, our furnaces of affliction will have fired our souls into pure gold...when all the dross and impurities have melted away. (See 1 Peter 1:7)

And to be fit for the Kingdom, we must be fit...exercised through much trial.  Else, how will we feel worthy to be in the Savior's presence, eternally living in His kingdom, if we have never experienced the bitter?  He, who was perfect, descended below all things, and we who are ever so imperfect wish to be exempt?  The thought makes reason stare.  We are to follow His example in all things, even to Gethsemane and Calvary.  Only when we have passed through heart-wrenching experiences will we ever feel worthy to live with Him again...because even our greatest suffering cannot hold a candle to what He suffered infinitely for all mankind.

This is the bitter that will one day be sweet, Eucharisteo.  Full Eucharisteo and undefiled.

May I never forget, or leave, or forsake.

May I remember, even in my wealth, even in my poverty. May I remember Thee, and all the good Thou hast done.

{Initials}

What are your initials?

To me, initials are something to represent a life, a purpose, a mission even.

My initials used to be "JG" and my father one day told me they meant "Jewel of God," and for years this phrase directed my posture, my stance toward life.  I learned how to be a princess to my Heavenly Father and I gained a real sense of His love for me.

And just recently I was pondering my new initials of 5 years..."JGJ"

Last night I sat in my bed pondering what the Lord would have me know for the night and for the next day.  Words floated into my heart as they have so many times in the past:  

"Your theme is "Joy in the God-like Journey."  

Smiling, I knew why this was important for me to know at this time.  Because He has led me to find Ann Voskamp's daily journal and her 1000 Gifts which I am patiently dying to read...maybe for my birthday (or sooner)?  And He knows I have been searching for a life transformation.  It began with finding Ann Voskamp and using her insights about life to make mine more holy, more Christ-like.  And the capstone was placed last night with a life's mission given to me in the quiet chambers of the heart.

He is walking with me now, but I guess He always has, it's just that I have become more attuned to notice Him everywhere.  I feel close to heaven, closer than ever, and this process of coming to know God better and better each day is really all quite natural when we really believe with all of our hearts that this life is the time to prepare to meet God (Alma 34:32).

Year of Eucharisteo.

Ann Voskamp says:

"I name years like I’ve named babies because each one births a different life that needs to be raised up and remembered."

 I've recognized this with the passing of each year, how each one presents itself differently woven together with common thread that make a tapestry theme.

I have noticed the last few years have taken on their theme from the "gift" that I've decided to give my Savior on Christmas for the coming year.

And this past Christmas I gave Him the gift of "living in Thanksgiving daily."

Some days life has poured me joy unending.  Other days it has been an upward battle.  But in it all, I have been practicing an attitude of gratitude like President Monson counseled us to cultivate.

Said he, "...to express gratitude is gracious and honorable, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live with gratitude ever in our hearts is to touch heaven."

This is, in essence, what "eucharisteo" means.

 From Matthew 15:32-38:

“And Jesus saith unto them, How many loaves have ye? And [the disciples] said, Seven, and a few little fishes.
“And [Jesus] commanded the multitude to sit down on the ground.
“And he took the seven loaves and the fishes, and gave thanks, and brake them, and gave to his disciples, and the disciples to the multitude.”

President Monson says, "Notice that the Savior gave thanks for what they had—and a miracle followed: “And they did all eat, and were filled: and they took up of the broken meat that was left seven baskets full.”

From the pen of Sharaya Crossan:

"In the original language, 'gave thanks' is written eucharisteo. He gave thanks. He broke apart. He gave. The bread. Himself. Eucharisteo.

"The root word of eucharisteo in the Greek is charis meaning gift or grace. He took the bread and saw it as a gift...Do we see the common like bread and drink as pure grace, unmerited gifts from He who can do nothing but give? Do we take up each moment of life in this way, both the mundane and the trials of life?

"Charis also forms the root of the Greek word chara, meaning joy. Those three words...grace, thanksgiving, joy...come together. In all circumstances, even in our greatest trial, we can receive from Him this sustenance. Now served to us with nail-scarred hands, first we taste of grace—that He delights in us in His generous benevolence. Then we savor it with thanksgiving that both springs up from our spirit and nourishes us right down to our souls. And our dessert? Joy! Joy...from thanksgiving...from grace, freely bestowed on us, His beloved.

"With the taking, with the thanking, comes the breaking. As we feast upon His eucharisteo, so we then take our lives...our time, our talents, our treasure...and in the power of grace and in the spirit of thanksgiving, 'break' them to share them with a hungry world around us—our spouse, our children, our extended family, our community, our world. It is our gift...because freely we have received; therefore, freely we give."

And so this year, this beautiful year of eucharisteo, I will gather the daily manna sent so lovingly from my Father.  I have lingered long in the attitude of the Israelites when they saw the manna from heaven and "wist not what it was."  But now the Spirit whispers as perfectly clear as Moses spoke in response:  "This is the bread which the Lord hath given you to eat." (Exodus 16:15)

The bread He gives me is the only Begotten Son and all of the miracles and beauty which, because of Him, are showered down upon me as abundantly as the manna from heaven.  I need only to gather, to notice, to relish each sweet morsel.  And then I will break my own bread of service for all around me, especially my dear family loved ones.  I will give myself as an offering, just as He did, but in a much smaller and more finite way.

How can I say it better than Ann?

"This work—the thousand endless jobs—they each give the opportunity for one to become the gift, a thousand times over!

"Because with every one of the thousand, endless jobs, I become the gift to God and to others, because this work is the public God serving, the daily liturgy of thanks, the completing of the Communion service with my service."

"...our happiness comes, too, not in the having but in the handing over.

"Give your life away in exchange for many lives, give away your blessings to multiply blessings, give away so that many might increase, and do it all for the love of God. 

"I can bless, pour out, be broken and given in our home and the larger world and never fear that there won’t be enough to give. because eucharisteo has taught me to trust that there is always enough God. He has no end. And it is God Himself who serves me as I serve.

"Here you can enact eucharisteo; here you can become a current in a river of grace that redeems the world!

"God can be in me, even me, and use these hands, these feet, to be His love, a love that goes on and on and on forever, endless cycle of grace.

 

"I am blessed.
"I can bless.
"So this is happiness."