I clearly remember the day I sent my first child off to public school. She wasn’t the traditional child of five. She was a teenager entering junior high school after being taught at home for six years. She was the first of five to leave my little educational nest. I prepared her that day with all the things you’d expect: a sack lunch, pocket folders, new pencils and pens, a spiral notebook, a map of the school, and a lot of “You’ll be OK! You’re going to do just fine!”
I waved good-bye as she headed out into the fall air to catch the school bus. As I turned to go into the house and face the new day with my home school class, smaller by one, something very painful tightened in my throat and tears started to spill from my eyes. “I’ll be back in a minute!” I called through the opening in the door to the little group of four, who were giggling and eating Cheerios and bananas around the kitchen table.
I didn’t venture too far off, but that morning I walked around the block a good many times before going back in the house to be the mother and teacher. I cried and I talked to God. “Lord, if I can’t teach all of them, I’m not sure I can or want to teach any of them. It feels sad. It feels incomplete.”
That was the morning the Spirit told me I had to become forever willing to be fully present with the members of my family at hand. “Work with the ones you are with Nannette. The family is not an all or nothing proposition, not the Lord’s vast family or your little family.” He reminded me that my all or nothing mother mentality extended into subjects other that education. It threatened the way I felt about spiritual family activities, recreational family activities, celebrations and holidays. This was the morning the Lord invited me to accept the truth that as my family grew I would not always have everyone at family prayer, family night, family scripture study, family dinner, on the family vacation, at the wedding, sitting around the table at Thanksgiving dinner, or at the yearly Christmas Sing Along.
I remember finally pulling myself together that morning and gathering my group for opening prayer, the Pledge of Allegiance, a brand new scripture and a poem to memorize, new books, and a new schedule. Without missing too many beats we were off and running. Since that day I’ve had many “family” experiences with three out of five, two out of five, and even one out of five. I have felt the Lord smile at my willingness to participate with Him in family activities with all those willing and able to be present.
For many of us the joy of the holidays is threatened by the sadness we feel over the ones who are missing for whatever reason. Today, when I’m tempted to allow the joy I might experience, with the ones I’m with, to be overshadowed by the emptiness of a less than perfect attendance, I get honest with the Lord. I say to Him, “Lord, I just want everyone present and accounted for.” “Me too!” I seem to hear my Heavenly Father whisper. “Me too. But just like you, though my heart longs for the presence of all my children, I can’t hold myself back from the ones who are present. I give myself fully to being, teaching, loving, and celebrating with one or with all.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, December 31, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
“Michael’s Thanksgiving Day Prayer” - Abstinence
It was finally pie time. So many pies! So many flavors! So many decisions! Pie with whip cream? Pie with ice cream? “Maybe just a little of both,” I heard someone say. The turkey and rolls started to make their way back out onto on counter, something to balance out all that pie I suppose. “Hey, who brought the eggnog and seven-up?” questioned one of the uncles with great excitement!
The Thanksgiving Day sun was setting. The cousins were starting to get a little wound up. My grown children, the parents, were starting to say things like, “Stop! Remember we don’t run in Grandma’s house!” and “No you may not have a fourth piece of pie!” In our family, generally speaking, the later it gets the more energy the children have. With 17 children and 21 adults we were almost outnumbered and it was time to either mesmerize them by playing The Santa Clause 1, 2, 3, and 4 videos, or for the adults to gather up all the energizer turkeys and head toward home for a long post pie nap.
I stood at the kitchen sink visiting with my brother. “Before we leave,” he said, “I’ve got a story to tell you: This morning before driving down to your house for dinner I gathered every one for family prayer. I called on Michael (age 14)to pray for the family and this is what he prayed, ‘Heavenly Father,Please bless us that we will be able to eat as much as possible without getting sick.’”
We had a good laugh. I’ve prayed that prayer myself a thousand times. I’ve been so certain Heavenly Father would hear my prayer and grant me my wish that I’ve gone ahead and put him to the test. Time and time again I have hoped for a negligible outcome as I’ve taken in more food and more calories than my body has the capacity to deal with in a healthy way only to be shocked at the after pains. Without exception I felt sick not only physically, but also emotionally and spiritually.
I don’t think you have to be a compulsive eater to relate to Michael’s prayer. In many Addiction Recovery Meetings I’ve heard participants say, “Hi, I’m _____ and I’m addicted to MORE.” It doesn’t seem to matter if our destructive practices center around the computer, the bar, the refrigerator, the Mall, or the neighborhood pharmacy, our prayer has been much like Michaels Thanksgiving Day request. “Dear Heavenly Father, Please, just this time, grant me the miracle of indulging without consequence.”
This year I am happy to be a compulsive eater who is a grateful Thanksgiving Dinner survivor, ninety-seven pounds down from my top weight, but I certainly have not finished my course work on the subject of cause and effect. I had to smile at the Lord’s sense of humor the other night. I started developing this little piece of writing late in the evening. Before climbing into the covers and without thought of what I had just finished writing, I knelt at the foot of my bed and said, “Dear Heavenly Father, Once again I’ve stayed up much too late. I know I should have been in bed a long time ago, but please bless me with the ability to wake up early, feeling great, and with energy to accomplish good thing in the morning.” As I whispered these words Heavenward I could almost see the corners of the Lord’s mouth turn up just a bit, and with a twinkle in his eye, and His brows slightly raised He seemed to whisper back, “Oh, I see Nannette, might you be asking for the miracle of indulging without consequence? It reminds me a of the Thanksgiving prayer of a little by I know, ‘Please bless us that we will be able to eat as much as possible without getting sick?’”
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, December 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
The Thanksgiving Day sun was setting. The cousins were starting to get a little wound up. My grown children, the parents, were starting to say things like, “Stop! Remember we don’t run in Grandma’s house!” and “No you may not have a fourth piece of pie!” In our family, generally speaking, the later it gets the more energy the children have. With 17 children and 21 adults we were almost outnumbered and it was time to either mesmerize them by playing The Santa Clause 1, 2, 3, and 4 videos, or for the adults to gather up all the energizer turkeys and head toward home for a long post pie nap.
I stood at the kitchen sink visiting with my brother. “Before we leave,” he said, “I’ve got a story to tell you: This morning before driving down to your house for dinner I gathered every one for family prayer. I called on Michael (age 14)to pray for the family and this is what he prayed, ‘Heavenly Father,Please bless us that we will be able to eat as much as possible without getting sick.’”
We had a good laugh. I’ve prayed that prayer myself a thousand times. I’ve been so certain Heavenly Father would hear my prayer and grant me my wish that I’ve gone ahead and put him to the test. Time and time again I have hoped for a negligible outcome as I’ve taken in more food and more calories than my body has the capacity to deal with in a healthy way only to be shocked at the after pains. Without exception I felt sick not only physically, but also emotionally and spiritually.
I don’t think you have to be a compulsive eater to relate to Michael’s prayer. In many Addiction Recovery Meetings I’ve heard participants say, “Hi, I’m _____ and I’m addicted to MORE.” It doesn’t seem to matter if our destructive practices center around the computer, the bar, the refrigerator, the Mall, or the neighborhood pharmacy, our prayer has been much like Michaels Thanksgiving Day request. “Dear Heavenly Father, Please, just this time, grant me the miracle of indulging without consequence.”
This year I am happy to be a compulsive eater who is a grateful Thanksgiving Dinner survivor, ninety-seven pounds down from my top weight, but I certainly have not finished my course work on the subject of cause and effect. I had to smile at the Lord’s sense of humor the other night. I started developing this little piece of writing late in the evening. Before climbing into the covers and without thought of what I had just finished writing, I knelt at the foot of my bed and said, “Dear Heavenly Father, Once again I’ve stayed up much too late. I know I should have been in bed a long time ago, but please bless me with the ability to wake up early, feeling great, and with energy to accomplish good thing in the morning.” As I whispered these words Heavenward I could almost see the corners of the Lord’s mouth turn up just a bit, and with a twinkle in his eye, and His brows slightly raised He seemed to whisper back, “Oh, I see Nannette, might you be asking for the miracle of indulging without consequence? It reminds me a of the Thanksgiving prayer of a little by I know, ‘Please bless us that we will be able to eat as much as possible without getting sick?’”
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, December 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, November 23, 2009
“Pray As If…” Step 3 Trust In God
There’s old saying goes something like this: “Pray as if everything depends on God and then get up and go to work as if everything depends on you.” The point of this adage is to remind us that we shouldn’t pray and then simply sit around and wait until God takes action. I get the point, and I don’t want to offend anyone who has used this thought in a motivational talk, but I have a problem with this advise.
My problem is that any notion that I am alone in my work either paralyzes me into inaction or terrifies me into a workaholic frenzy. I absolutely cannot do the work of the Lord, in the Lord’s way, if I entertain the idea that it all depends on me. I have to go to work knowing I can absolutely, thoroughly, completely, without doubt, with out question depend on God to help me!
King Benjamin shares the secret of his power “to do” when he says he has served the people with “all the might, mind, and strength which the Lord hath granted unto” him. (Mosiah 2:11). Those words are among the most hopeful in all scripture. Sometimes a good old saying brings good old-fashioned wisdom, but sometimes a good old saying brings the “same old, same old” behavior that keeps me going in non-productive circles.
I believe I work harder knowing He is with me then I do trembling in perceived loneliness. Today I pray as if everything depends on God and then I get up and go to work as if the Lord is completely dependable.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, November 23, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
My problem is that any notion that I am alone in my work either paralyzes me into inaction or terrifies me into a workaholic frenzy. I absolutely cannot do the work of the Lord, in the Lord’s way, if I entertain the idea that it all depends on me. I have to go to work knowing I can absolutely, thoroughly, completely, without doubt, with out question depend on God to help me!
King Benjamin shares the secret of his power “to do” when he says he has served the people with “all the might, mind, and strength which the Lord hath granted unto” him. (Mosiah 2:11). Those words are among the most hopeful in all scripture. Sometimes a good old saying brings good old-fashioned wisdom, but sometimes a good old saying brings the “same old, same old” behavior that keeps me going in non-productive circles.
I believe I work harder knowing He is with me then I do trembling in perceived loneliness. Today I pray as if everything depends on God and then I get up and go to work as if the Lord is completely dependable.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, November 23, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Potato Peels Are Just The Beginning - Steps 4-10
Who knew a few potato trimmings could cause such trauma in the kitchen! The day of rest turned into the day of the big mess with just a flick of the disposal switch. With chicken gravy on the stove and the taters my daughter had cleaned and seasoned baking in the oven, Sunday dinner looked like it was going to be a great success. I glanced into the sink as I passed by and noticed a few potato trimmings way down in the disposal. “Oh, it doesn’t look like there’s much there. I bet it will go down the drain just fine,” I said to myself as I flipped the disposal switch. I had an immediate second thought about my decision, but it was too late. Within seconds I knew I had created a giant problem. “Why oh why hadn’t I just reached down and pulled those scraps out and put them into the trash?”
My husband walked through the kitchen just as water with hundreds of little tiny potato peelings began welling up on one side of the double sink. The memory of the Sunday I put brown rice down the drain came to my mind. My husband just shook his head. He was silent, but “here we go again” was written all over his face. “Don’t you worry!” I assured him and invited him to leave the kitchen. I grabbed the plunger, ran the water and the disposal and plunged for all I was worth. Nothing! “Maybe if I just let it sit for a while something will break through,” I thought as I worked toward dinner. I could see that I was getting nowhere.
Eventually my husband and my son-in-law got into it. We did all the things people do. We ran more and more water. We ran the disposal again and again and of course, we plunged and plunged. We stopped up the disposal side of the sink to create some resistance and plunged and plunged some more. Nothing!
We used a pail and got all the water out of the sink, disinfected the area around the sink and sat down to Sunday dinner. We took a short break and for thirty minutes and we all pretended there was no problem. I sat and visited and ate and hoped that something miraculous was going on down in those pipes.
I won’t bore you or disgust you with all the details of the next two days. Suffice it to say that today our sink works. No small thing. One husband, one son-in-law, one neighbor, two plumbers and a lot of money later, the water flows freely.
I’ve learned a thing or two about our plumbing. A little disposal worth of potato peals can a very large mess make if those peals are trying to get down a small already mucked up pipe. The plumber says that once a month we should fill the sink with water, turn on the disposal and run water through the line to keep the pipes cleaned out!
This little experience with a plugged up pipe in the house made me think of the brilliance of Steps 4-10. I am like that pipe! Many of us come to apply the 12 Steps because in some aspect of our lives we are stuck. We can’t move forward and it isn’t for lack of trying. We are aware of many of our imperfections. Most of us have done some confessing. We’ve told God we wish we were making greater progress. We’ve said we were sorry and asked for forgiveness on several occasions, and we try not to go to bed angry. But we are still stuck.
When I first read through the 12 Steps I thought to myself, “Well, I kind of like the first three and the last three, but I’m not doing the ones in the middle. The following are the Gospel principles represented by the middle Steps:
Step 4 “Truth”
Step 5 “Confession”
Step 6 “Change of heart”
Step 7 “Humility”
Step 8 “Seeking forgiveness”
Step 9 “Restitution and Reconciliation”
Step 10 “Daily Accountability”
Today I see that not being willing to take those steps thoroughly and dabbling about with repentance is like using a plunger on a plugged up drain that is ultimately going to require a fifty-foot plumbing snake and daily maintenance.
The fellow that unplugged the sink was finally able to get to the root of the problem. Tuesday morning I woke up to a sink where the water could run freely, something I won’t take for granted again.
That’s the purpose of Steps 4-10 too. As I do the work required I discover a kind of water that runs more freely in me too. It’s the “Living Water”, the life changing water the Lord promised to that ancient “Woman at the Well” in John 4:10.
Now I truly don’t mean to offend by comparing our emotional and spiritual inner workings to the plumbing in my house. I know it’s not a very pretty picture, but it’s a picture the Spirit used to get my attention.
As it turns out, the potato peels were not the real culprit. The real problem was a pipe with years and years of build up that had to be cleaned out. It’s the same with our personal cleansing. Eventually, if we want to get unstuck we have to surrender to the process that promises to clean out the years and years of accumulation and free us to move forward.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
My husband walked through the kitchen just as water with hundreds of little tiny potato peelings began welling up on one side of the double sink. The memory of the Sunday I put brown rice down the drain came to my mind. My husband just shook his head. He was silent, but “here we go again” was written all over his face. “Don’t you worry!” I assured him and invited him to leave the kitchen. I grabbed the plunger, ran the water and the disposal and plunged for all I was worth. Nothing! “Maybe if I just let it sit for a while something will break through,” I thought as I worked toward dinner. I could see that I was getting nowhere.
Eventually my husband and my son-in-law got into it. We did all the things people do. We ran more and more water. We ran the disposal again and again and of course, we plunged and plunged. We stopped up the disposal side of the sink to create some resistance and plunged and plunged some more. Nothing!
We used a pail and got all the water out of the sink, disinfected the area around the sink and sat down to Sunday dinner. We took a short break and for thirty minutes and we all pretended there was no problem. I sat and visited and ate and hoped that something miraculous was going on down in those pipes.
I won’t bore you or disgust you with all the details of the next two days. Suffice it to say that today our sink works. No small thing. One husband, one son-in-law, one neighbor, two plumbers and a lot of money later, the water flows freely.
I’ve learned a thing or two about our plumbing. A little disposal worth of potato peals can a very large mess make if those peals are trying to get down a small already mucked up pipe. The plumber says that once a month we should fill the sink with water, turn on the disposal and run water through the line to keep the pipes cleaned out!
This little experience with a plugged up pipe in the house made me think of the brilliance of Steps 4-10. I am like that pipe! Many of us come to apply the 12 Steps because in some aspect of our lives we are stuck. We can’t move forward and it isn’t for lack of trying. We are aware of many of our imperfections. Most of us have done some confessing. We’ve told God we wish we were making greater progress. We’ve said we were sorry and asked for forgiveness on several occasions, and we try not to go to bed angry. But we are still stuck.
When I first read through the 12 Steps I thought to myself, “Well, I kind of like the first three and the last three, but I’m not doing the ones in the middle. The following are the Gospel principles represented by the middle Steps:
Step 4 “Truth”
Step 5 “Confession”
Step 6 “Change of heart”
Step 7 “Humility”
Step 8 “Seeking forgiveness”
Step 9 “Restitution and Reconciliation”
Step 10 “Daily Accountability”
Today I see that not being willing to take those steps thoroughly and dabbling about with repentance is like using a plunger on a plugged up drain that is ultimately going to require a fifty-foot plumbing snake and daily maintenance.
The fellow that unplugged the sink was finally able to get to the root of the problem. Tuesday morning I woke up to a sink where the water could run freely, something I won’t take for granted again.
That’s the purpose of Steps 4-10 too. As I do the work required I discover a kind of water that runs more freely in me too. It’s the “Living Water”, the life changing water the Lord promised to that ancient “Woman at the Well” in John 4:10.
Now I truly don’t mean to offend by comparing our emotional and spiritual inner workings to the plumbing in my house. I know it’s not a very pretty picture, but it’s a picture the Spirit used to get my attention.
As it turns out, the potato peels were not the real culprit. The real problem was a pipe with years and years of build up that had to be cleaned out. It’s the same with our personal cleansing. Eventually, if we want to get unstuck we have to surrender to the process that promises to clean out the years and years of accumulation and free us to move forward.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
My God in Simple Terms – Addiction Prevention
Several months ago my nephew received the Priesthood. As a special surprise for him my sister-in-law asked each member of our extended family to write him a note. In this note we were supposed to share something of ourselves. She gave us several ideas. The option I chose was to put into words some of the most important things I have ever learned. I’ve decided to share my letter with you:
Dear ______,
As you know your Uncle and I are serving a mission. Our work is to help members of the Church who have become addicted to substances and behaviors that are destroying their lives. We have seen many miracles in our own lives and in the lives of others. I want to share some of the most important things I have learned about the Gospel during my mission.
1. Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit love me and you more than we can even imagine. Even though we have not been perfect, even though we make mistakes they still love us.
2. They are “omniscient.” That means they know everything in the universe. That includes everything about you and me. They know exactly what we need in order to continue to learn and grow.
3. They are “omnipotent.” That means that they have all the power. Any power you and I have comes from them. Any power we need must come from them.
4. So, when I do anything good (accomplish a goal, repent of a sin, serve another person) I am being directed and given power by God.
5. They will help me with anything I need help with - Nothing is too small and nothing is too big. I use to think that maybe some things were too insignificant, too small to bother my Heavenly Father about. I use to think that some things in my life were too hard, that even God couldn’t help me with some things. Today I know that if I am filled with worry and care over anything, Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit care too.
6. I use to think that they would only help me with “good kid problems” like if I lost my keys or I needed to find a job or had the flue. I’ve learned that they want to help me especially with things that cause me to feel bad about myself, things in my life I need to repent of, ways I need to change. In fact, I have learned that I can’t change without their help.
7. I have learned that I can go to them and be honest about any of my weaknesses and admit that I can’t change, or solve a particular problem, or endure a trial, or accomplish a goal by myself. I can ask them to change my heart and help me know what to do and to give me the power to do the right thing. They will always respond.
8. I have learned that when I live the commandments to the best of my ability it’s a way of telling them I love them and that I need their help. When I pray, or read the scriptures, or go the church it’s like sending them a little invitation giving them permission to help me.
9. Finally I have come to appreciate the life and work of Jesus Christ and His Atonement. It is because of the Atonement that I can receive help from Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. The help we receive because of the Atonement is called Grace. Grace is the “enabling power” that can help us do something we would not be able to do by ourselves. I need this power every day in small things and in big things. You will too.
10. One of my favorite songs is “Choose the Right.” Choosing the right is more than just knowing right from wrong. There are many people in the world who know what they should do. Today I know that the Jesus will not only help me know what is right but that He can give me the strength to actually do what is right.
I love you. You are going to be a great man. I hope the things I have shared with you will help you on your way.
With much love,
Aunt Nan
The things I shared with my nephew are foundational to Addiction Recovery, so why would I share them with a 12-year-old young man who is about to receive the Priesthood? I shared them because I believe they are not only foundational to recovery; they are the foundation of addiction prevention. Addiction is what I turn to habitually, that’s destructive, instead of turning to God. I wanted to share with my nephew and now with each of you the things I know about God today that help me feel comfortable and willing to turn to Him instead of anything else. They can be taught in very simple terms. They can be taught to children of every age, and they can be demonstrated in the way we solve our own problems in front of children.
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, October 24, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Dear ______,
As you know your Uncle and I are serving a mission. Our work is to help members of the Church who have become addicted to substances and behaviors that are destroying their lives. We have seen many miracles in our own lives and in the lives of others. I want to share some of the most important things I have learned about the Gospel during my mission.
1. Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit love me and you more than we can even imagine. Even though we have not been perfect, even though we make mistakes they still love us.
2. They are “omniscient.” That means they know everything in the universe. That includes everything about you and me. They know exactly what we need in order to continue to learn and grow.
3. They are “omnipotent.” That means that they have all the power. Any power you and I have comes from them. Any power we need must come from them.
4. So, when I do anything good (accomplish a goal, repent of a sin, serve another person) I am being directed and given power by God.
5. They will help me with anything I need help with - Nothing is too small and nothing is too big. I use to think that maybe some things were too insignificant, too small to bother my Heavenly Father about. I use to think that some things in my life were too hard, that even God couldn’t help me with some things. Today I know that if I am filled with worry and care over anything, Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit care too.
6. I use to think that they would only help me with “good kid problems” like if I lost my keys or I needed to find a job or had the flue. I’ve learned that they want to help me especially with things that cause me to feel bad about myself, things in my life I need to repent of, ways I need to change. In fact, I have learned that I can’t change without their help.
7. I have learned that I can go to them and be honest about any of my weaknesses and admit that I can’t change, or solve a particular problem, or endure a trial, or accomplish a goal by myself. I can ask them to change my heart and help me know what to do and to give me the power to do the right thing. They will always respond.
8. I have learned that when I live the commandments to the best of my ability it’s a way of telling them I love them and that I need their help. When I pray, or read the scriptures, or go the church it’s like sending them a little invitation giving them permission to help me.
9. Finally I have come to appreciate the life and work of Jesus Christ and His Atonement. It is because of the Atonement that I can receive help from Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. The help we receive because of the Atonement is called Grace. Grace is the “enabling power” that can help us do something we would not be able to do by ourselves. I need this power every day in small things and in big things. You will too.
10. One of my favorite songs is “Choose the Right.” Choosing the right is more than just knowing right from wrong. There are many people in the world who know what they should do. Today I know that the Jesus will not only help me know what is right but that He can give me the strength to actually do what is right.
I love you. You are going to be a great man. I hope the things I have shared with you will help you on your way.
With much love,
Aunt Nan
The things I shared with my nephew are foundational to Addiction Recovery, so why would I share them with a 12-year-old young man who is about to receive the Priesthood? I shared them because I believe they are not only foundational to recovery; they are the foundation of addiction prevention. Addiction is what I turn to habitually, that’s destructive, instead of turning to God. I wanted to share with my nephew and now with each of you the things I know about God today that help me feel comfortable and willing to turn to Him instead of anything else. They can be taught in very simple terms. They can be taught to children of every age, and they can be demonstrated in the way we solve our own problems in front of children.
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, October 24, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, October 19, 2009
A Big Message from the Loss of a Little Bunny
When I was eleven-years-old we had a Primary activity at my house. Each girl brought her mother. I don’t remember anything about it except the grand finale. Each young girl was supposed to stand and express their love to their mother and share some things they appreciated about her. I was part of a large class of young ladies. Girl after girl stood up and shared and cried and cried. Then it was my turn. I stood up, smiled, told the audience that I loved my mother very much. Then I shared some of the things I loved about her and sat down. No Tears! I was sure that for that reason alone my mother and everyone else doubted my sincerity.
Then it was on the Church’s Young Women’s camp. Traditionally, the last night of camp is devoted to sitting around the campfire and sharing testimonies. Summer after summer I shared an upbeat, sincere, optimistic but tearless testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon, my love for Heavenly Father and Jesus, and my gratitude for my family and my friends. As the other girls shared and cried and cried, mostly over their sorrow and remorse in connection to the damage they had done to each other during this week away from home, I waited for my turn. Sometimes I would try to think of something sad like, “What if I had a dog and it died?” It seemed that for absolutely everyone else this was a very wet event. I always went to sleep after this experience knowing that any testimony minus tears was suspect.
Last week my brother and his family had a sad experience. Their little pet, a lop-eared bunny rabbit named Ruby died. My brother and sister-in-law have four sons, age twelve and ten and twins age five. They held a little funeral for their pet and talked to the boys about the Spirit world where their little bunny was no doubt now nibbling on heavenly grass. My oldest nephew held back the tears until his just younger brother fell apart and gave him a hug. Then he lost it. Taking particular notice of one of the twins and wanting to assist him with this sad family event my sister-in-law said, “Landon, it’s OK if you don’t cry, but are you sad? Do you understand about Ruby? Are you doin’ OK? You know it’s alright to cry.” Landon replied, putting his hand on his heart, “Well, I feel it here.” Then pointing to his eyes he said, “But not here.” Landon’s heart hurt, but his eyes were OK.
“Out of the mouths of babes!” Something healed in me when I heard that story. Landon’s response awakened in me a new tenderness toward myself and all other people whose tear ducts are not constantly connected to their hearts. Someone well versed in psychology might want to delve deeper and discuss the grief cycle or repression of feelings. I choose to keep it simple. Sometimes my heart is full of pain, but my eyes are OK. Sometimes my heart is full to the brim with joy, but my eyes are OK, and that’s OK.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, October 19, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Then it was on the Church’s Young Women’s camp. Traditionally, the last night of camp is devoted to sitting around the campfire and sharing testimonies. Summer after summer I shared an upbeat, sincere, optimistic but tearless testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon, my love for Heavenly Father and Jesus, and my gratitude for my family and my friends. As the other girls shared and cried and cried, mostly over their sorrow and remorse in connection to the damage they had done to each other during this week away from home, I waited for my turn. Sometimes I would try to think of something sad like, “What if I had a dog and it died?” It seemed that for absolutely everyone else this was a very wet event. I always went to sleep after this experience knowing that any testimony minus tears was suspect.
Last week my brother and his family had a sad experience. Their little pet, a lop-eared bunny rabbit named Ruby died. My brother and sister-in-law have four sons, age twelve and ten and twins age five. They held a little funeral for their pet and talked to the boys about the Spirit world where their little bunny was no doubt now nibbling on heavenly grass. My oldest nephew held back the tears until his just younger brother fell apart and gave him a hug. Then he lost it. Taking particular notice of one of the twins and wanting to assist him with this sad family event my sister-in-law said, “Landon, it’s OK if you don’t cry, but are you sad? Do you understand about Ruby? Are you doin’ OK? You know it’s alright to cry.” Landon replied, putting his hand on his heart, “Well, I feel it here.” Then pointing to his eyes he said, “But not here.” Landon’s heart hurt, but his eyes were OK.
“Out of the mouths of babes!” Something healed in me when I heard that story. Landon’s response awakened in me a new tenderness toward myself and all other people whose tear ducts are not constantly connected to their hearts. Someone well versed in psychology might want to delve deeper and discuss the grief cycle or repression of feelings. I choose to keep it simple. Sometimes my heart is full of pain, but my eyes are OK. Sometimes my heart is full to the brim with joy, but my eyes are OK, and that’s OK.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, October 19, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
“I Don’t Want Jesus to Come and Visit Me!” Step 11 - Personal Revelation
Some time ago Ethan (then age 6) experienced some very real spiritual feelings one morning as he was reading the children’s version of the Book of Mormon. That evening Ethan lay snuggled in his bed thinking about Joseph Smith’s experience. He pondered how it was that the Prophet Joseph, while just a boy, received a visit from Heavenly Father and Jesus. Suddenly out of the darkness this little guy with some newly discovered spiritual feelings and curiosity about such things called out to his mom. It was not the standard, “Can I have a drink,” call, but “Mom, do you think that if I read the whole Bible that Jesus would come and visit me too?”
Eliza, his older sister and a real practical gal answered from the room next door in just the way you would expect from a serious minded first child. Her simple response was an emphatic, “NO!”
His little brother Carson rested quietly on the bottom bunk bed right below his very imaginative, very courageous, “excited about the scriptures and things of the Spirit” older brother. I’m sure he was trying to process just what the ramifications were of his brother’s apparent desire to have a Joseph Smith experience. Suddenly it dawned on him that he was sharing a room with this seeker of revelation. After a few minutes of silence Carson little voice rang out in the darkness, “Well, I don’t want Jesus to come and visit me!”
I think there must be something of Carson in me, and maybe in all of us, when it comes to things not commonly seen with the eye, things connected with the very real world of the Spirit. Sometimes I feel afraid like Carson, or unworthy, or lazy, or unprepared for the responsibility such interactions seem to command. Though I’m fascinated by the promised gifts of visions and personal revelation, when it comes right down to it I sometimes prefer that Divine interaction remain just outside my personal space, be it hearth or heart.
Things haven’t changed too much with Carson. Last week he lost his first tooth. After this developmental event, when all the kids were tucked into bed, I visited with my daughter on the phone. We had a good laugh when she told me, “Carson’s tooth is not under his pillow. It’s on the front porch. He says he doesn’t like the idea of the Tooth Fairy coming into his room.” We like the idea of fairies and such as long as they stay on the front porch.
Now I hope you don’t think that I’m somehow comparing communication with the Lord with a visit from the Tooth Fairy. I’m not. What I am saying is that sometimes I’m like Carson. I want the prize, but I don’t want to pay the price in closeness.
Joseph Smith taught, “God hath not revealed any thing to Joseph, but what he will make know unto the Twelve and even the least Saint may know all things as fast as he is able to bear them.”(Ehat and Cook, ed. The Words of Joseph Smith, p. 4; emphasis added).
We become “able to bear” the wondrous possibility of daily interaction with our Father and our Savior through the Spirit as we live for it and then practice it. We must become willing to open the front door of our homes and our hearts and invite them to come in. When we ask, “What would Jesus do?” it is very different than inviting Him in from the porch and saying, “Lord, what would Thou have me to do?” Wondering what it would be like to have Jesus with me all day long and trying hard to adjust my behavior to such a possibility is very different than really believing He is with me at all times.
I don’t know about anyone else, but for me keeping God at any distance for any reason will not do in these trying times. Sure I am tempted to feel embarrassed that I’m not all that He would want to be yet. But someday Carson and I have to climb up the ladder to the top bunk with Ethan and entertain the idea that God might just talk to us too. I need to know I’m loved and I need daily counsel and power, things I’ll never be able to receive from the front porch.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Eliza, his older sister and a real practical gal answered from the room next door in just the way you would expect from a serious minded first child. Her simple response was an emphatic, “NO!”
His little brother Carson rested quietly on the bottom bunk bed right below his very imaginative, very courageous, “excited about the scriptures and things of the Spirit” older brother. I’m sure he was trying to process just what the ramifications were of his brother’s apparent desire to have a Joseph Smith experience. Suddenly it dawned on him that he was sharing a room with this seeker of revelation. After a few minutes of silence Carson little voice rang out in the darkness, “Well, I don’t want Jesus to come and visit me!”
I think there must be something of Carson in me, and maybe in all of us, when it comes to things not commonly seen with the eye, things connected with the very real world of the Spirit. Sometimes I feel afraid like Carson, or unworthy, or lazy, or unprepared for the responsibility such interactions seem to command. Though I’m fascinated by the promised gifts of visions and personal revelation, when it comes right down to it I sometimes prefer that Divine interaction remain just outside my personal space, be it hearth or heart.
Things haven’t changed too much with Carson. Last week he lost his first tooth. After this developmental event, when all the kids were tucked into bed, I visited with my daughter on the phone. We had a good laugh when she told me, “Carson’s tooth is not under his pillow. It’s on the front porch. He says he doesn’t like the idea of the Tooth Fairy coming into his room.” We like the idea of fairies and such as long as they stay on the front porch.
Now I hope you don’t think that I’m somehow comparing communication with the Lord with a visit from the Tooth Fairy. I’m not. What I am saying is that sometimes I’m like Carson. I want the prize, but I don’t want to pay the price in closeness.
Joseph Smith taught, “God hath not revealed any thing to Joseph, but what he will make know unto the Twelve and even the least Saint may know all things as fast as he is able to bear them.”(Ehat and Cook, ed. The Words of Joseph Smith, p. 4; emphasis added).
We become “able to bear” the wondrous possibility of daily interaction with our Father and our Savior through the Spirit as we live for it and then practice it. We must become willing to open the front door of our homes and our hearts and invite them to come in. When we ask, “What would Jesus do?” it is very different than inviting Him in from the porch and saying, “Lord, what would Thou have me to do?” Wondering what it would be like to have Jesus with me all day long and trying hard to adjust my behavior to such a possibility is very different than really believing He is with me at all times.
I don’t know about anyone else, but for me keeping God at any distance for any reason will not do in these trying times. Sure I am tempted to feel embarrassed that I’m not all that He would want to be yet. But someday Carson and I have to climb up the ladder to the top bunk with Ethan and entertain the idea that God might just talk to us too. I need to know I’m loved and I need daily counsel and power, things I’ll never be able to receive from the front porch.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
“Mom, Don’t You Think I’d Be Like One of Those Guys?” – Patience with the Process
Before we get too far into October I have a thought that was inspired by ten words spoken this year, by a little boy, on September 11th. My four young grandchildren woke up and got going on the day, like it was the same as any other. They busied around taking care of the standard daily kind of things – bed making, jimmies back in the drawer, a little cold cereal, the trash emptied, and a little time improving skills at the piano. As they proceeded on this fall morning, with the regular things of life, my daughter – their mother, realized that although September 11th was significant to her and will be forever imprinted on her mind, her four young children knew little or nothing about its importance. She determined to sit down with them and see what she could do to pass on the meaning of a day she had actually experienced, a day that has simply become a piece of history for the nations children.
I imagine that for my Grandchildren it was like the day I came home and told my mother that we were learning about World War II in school and she proceeded to describe what is was like to sit around the radio as a twelve year old girl and hear President Roosevelt announce that our country was under attack, or the day I shared with my children what it was like to wake up, as a young girl to the news that someone had shot the President of the United States - and then his brother, or where I was on the Junior High grounds the day we lost Martin Luther King, that man who had a magnificent dream for our country.
Before they got too far into the day my daughter gathered her little crew around her and unfolded for them the details of her life on September 11th 2001. She described where she had been when she received the news that our country was under attack, how it felt to turn on the TV and watch with horror and disbelief as the Twin Towers fell over and over again, replay after replay. She got out old newspaper clippings and tried the best she could to help them understand the great sadness that came over the world because of the tremendous loss of life. She told them stories of sacrifice and tried to convey the tenderness towards humanity and the love of country that awoke in her that autumn day. “Ethan,” she said, “All this happened when you were a brand new baby. You know how your baby blanket is red, white and blue? Why do you think I made it out of those colors?” Suddenly, an under-appreciated piece of Ethan’s life took on new meaning. “Oh!” he said with newfound understanding. “I never knew!”
She finished her history lesson by telling them about the sacrifice of the men and women on Flight 93, how they had determined to do whatever it took to fight back and put a stop to the death and destruction of that day even though it meant giving everything they had to give. “Because of their sacrifice they kept their airplane from crashing into the White House or the Capitol and killing countless others.” Ethan’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. For this little 8-year-old Jedi, with a closet full of light sabers, this real life tale of people willing to oppose the dark side with there lives if necessary, hit home. It struck him in a way all parents hope the lessons of history will strike their children. Speaking of the willingness to fight back to the point of the ultimate sacrifice he said, “Mom, don’t you think I’d be like one of those guys? Don’t you think I’d fight the bad guys like they did?”
I had just gotten home from an evening Addiction Recovery Meeting when my daughter called to say good night and to share this experience. Ethan’s simple innocent question struck a tender chord inside of me. I had just spent an hour and a half with a group of individuals who at one time in their lives had probably been as hopeful of making future courageous choices as my grandson. Somewhere along the way though, we encountered the unpredictability of life and the reality of the forces of evil, combined with our own weaknesses. In one way or another we had each become a disappointment to ourselves.
Thinking of Ethan and his 8-year-old innocent optimism I silently asked,” Dear Heavenly Father, How do we ever cross that great gulf that lies between today’s disheartening reality and yesterday, when we anticipated only the best in ourselves?”
Immediately I pictured myself sitting with Heavenly Father in my pre-earth life, gazing down as history unfolded, watching all the great and brave souls that walked the earth before it was my turn to come down. Inspired and full of pre-mortal optimism, yet completely inexperienced with the rigors of the test just ahead, I looked on and asked, “Father, don’t you think I’d be like them? Don’t you think I’d do what they did? Don’t you think I’d be that kind of girl?”
In my imagination I could see Him smiling at my innocence and then tears welling up in His loving eyes. “Yes, you have every potential of becoming that kind of a girl, but remember, you will not become such over night and you can only become such with Our help. There is a sure bridge that crosses that great gulf that lies between today’s reality and yesterday’s divine potential. It’s made of patience with the process of becoming, humble reliance on your Heavenly Father and your Savior, Jesus Christ, and remembering again and again and again that you are headed for earth life precisely because you are ‘that kind of girl’ or ‘that kind of boy’ in the making.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, October 3, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
I imagine that for my Grandchildren it was like the day I came home and told my mother that we were learning about World War II in school and she proceeded to describe what is was like to sit around the radio as a twelve year old girl and hear President Roosevelt announce that our country was under attack, or the day I shared with my children what it was like to wake up, as a young girl to the news that someone had shot the President of the United States - and then his brother, or where I was on the Junior High grounds the day we lost Martin Luther King, that man who had a magnificent dream for our country.
Before they got too far into the day my daughter gathered her little crew around her and unfolded for them the details of her life on September 11th 2001. She described where she had been when she received the news that our country was under attack, how it felt to turn on the TV and watch with horror and disbelief as the Twin Towers fell over and over again, replay after replay. She got out old newspaper clippings and tried the best she could to help them understand the great sadness that came over the world because of the tremendous loss of life. She told them stories of sacrifice and tried to convey the tenderness towards humanity and the love of country that awoke in her that autumn day. “Ethan,” she said, “All this happened when you were a brand new baby. You know how your baby blanket is red, white and blue? Why do you think I made it out of those colors?” Suddenly, an under-appreciated piece of Ethan’s life took on new meaning. “Oh!” he said with newfound understanding. “I never knew!”
She finished her history lesson by telling them about the sacrifice of the men and women on Flight 93, how they had determined to do whatever it took to fight back and put a stop to the death and destruction of that day even though it meant giving everything they had to give. “Because of their sacrifice they kept their airplane from crashing into the White House or the Capitol and killing countless others.” Ethan’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. For this little 8-year-old Jedi, with a closet full of light sabers, this real life tale of people willing to oppose the dark side with there lives if necessary, hit home. It struck him in a way all parents hope the lessons of history will strike their children. Speaking of the willingness to fight back to the point of the ultimate sacrifice he said, “Mom, don’t you think I’d be like one of those guys? Don’t you think I’d fight the bad guys like they did?”
I had just gotten home from an evening Addiction Recovery Meeting when my daughter called to say good night and to share this experience. Ethan’s simple innocent question struck a tender chord inside of me. I had just spent an hour and a half with a group of individuals who at one time in their lives had probably been as hopeful of making future courageous choices as my grandson. Somewhere along the way though, we encountered the unpredictability of life and the reality of the forces of evil, combined with our own weaknesses. In one way or another we had each become a disappointment to ourselves.
Thinking of Ethan and his 8-year-old innocent optimism I silently asked,” Dear Heavenly Father, How do we ever cross that great gulf that lies between today’s disheartening reality and yesterday, when we anticipated only the best in ourselves?”
Immediately I pictured myself sitting with Heavenly Father in my pre-earth life, gazing down as history unfolded, watching all the great and brave souls that walked the earth before it was my turn to come down. Inspired and full of pre-mortal optimism, yet completely inexperienced with the rigors of the test just ahead, I looked on and asked, “Father, don’t you think I’d be like them? Don’t you think I’d do what they did? Don’t you think I’d be that kind of girl?”
In my imagination I could see Him smiling at my innocence and then tears welling up in His loving eyes. “Yes, you have every potential of becoming that kind of a girl, but remember, you will not become such over night and you can only become such with Our help. There is a sure bridge that crosses that great gulf that lies between today’s reality and yesterday’s divine potential. It’s made of patience with the process of becoming, humble reliance on your Heavenly Father and your Savior, Jesus Christ, and remembering again and again and again that you are headed for earth life precisely because you are ‘that kind of girl’ or ‘that kind of boy’ in the making.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, October 3, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Getting on the Bus – Step 3 - Trust in God
On the day my husband turns the kitchen calendar page from August to September something awakes inside of me. The air feels different to me on September 1st than on August 31st. The feel of the air, the colors on the mountain – even the sunshine isn’t the same, and it seems to me that EVERYONE is going back to school. No matter what’s going on in my life I suddenly want to buy supplies; a little plastic ruler, a pink pearl eraser, new #2 pencils, a new box of 64 Crayons, and one of those little zippered pencil keepers that snap into a new three ring binder. I want to go to the Utah Idaho School Supply and decorate a classroom or put up a bulletin board in my kitchen and another one in the living room. I want a new lunch box with a thermos with glass on the inside. I want my mom to take me to JC Pennys or Sears and buy me five new little dresses, one for each day of the week and a pair of buster brown shoes. I want to wake up on crispy fall mornings, when it’s still a little bit dark and get all ready for the day. Will my teacher be nice? Who will be in my class? Where will I sit? Who can forget the smell of a brand new math book and the fear of saying your name and a “little bit about yourself” in front of everyone. Such preparation and such anticipation!
I have a friend whose five-year-old little boy couldn’t wait to start kindergarten. For him it seemed like the first day of school would never come. When it finally did he waited anxiously for the early morning to pass and for the moment to arrive when he could board the bus. “Is it time?” “Is it time?” “Is it time?” When the moment finally did arrive she placed his Spiderman backpack lovingly over his little shoulders and kissed her baby boy on the cheek. She opened the door just as the bus pulled up. Standing firmly in the doorway, a portal that this day marked the end of something so hard to let go of, holding back the tears, she nudged him on to the front step. Suddenly all anticipation and excitement turned to something else. No amount of August preparation had readied him for this September reality. His little body froze, his chin began to quiver, “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?”
As she described this little scene I wondered how it was when I left my Heavenly Parents for Earth School. I’m definitely the frightened type – scared of the dark, scared of being alone. When Heavenly Father presented His beautiful plan I think my “shout for joy” had everything to do with the fact that Jesus promised to get on the bus with me. I bet that’s the part of the plan I liked best. We call the 12 Steps the Steps of Recovery. One of the most important things I have “recovered” is my understanding that I am not alone here. Today I like to imagine that when I asked Heavenly Father “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?” He said “No, but your Big Brother is already waiting on the bus and He’s saving a seat for you right next to Him!” I was not alone on the bus and I’m never alone at school. Now that is Good News!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
I have a friend whose five-year-old little boy couldn’t wait to start kindergarten. For him it seemed like the first day of school would never come. When it finally did he waited anxiously for the early morning to pass and for the moment to arrive when he could board the bus. “Is it time?” “Is it time?” “Is it time?” When the moment finally did arrive she placed his Spiderman backpack lovingly over his little shoulders and kissed her baby boy on the cheek. She opened the door just as the bus pulled up. Standing firmly in the doorway, a portal that this day marked the end of something so hard to let go of, holding back the tears, she nudged him on to the front step. Suddenly all anticipation and excitement turned to something else. No amount of August preparation had readied him for this September reality. His little body froze, his chin began to quiver, “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?”
As she described this little scene I wondered how it was when I left my Heavenly Parents for Earth School. I’m definitely the frightened type – scared of the dark, scared of being alone. When Heavenly Father presented His beautiful plan I think my “shout for joy” had everything to do with the fact that Jesus promised to get on the bus with me. I bet that’s the part of the plan I liked best. We call the 12 Steps the Steps of Recovery. One of the most important things I have “recovered” is my understanding that I am not alone here. Today I like to imagine that when I asked Heavenly Father “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?” He said “No, but your Big Brother is already waiting on the bus and He’s saving a seat for you right next to Him!” I was not alone on the bus and I’m never alone at school. Now that is Good News!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, September 7, 2009
“Right Face! Right Face! Right Face!” – The Tools
In a high school biology class we all learned a little bit about genetics. I’m sure you remember the day you were asked to go home and check the ear lobes of everyone in your family to see whose were attached and whose were not. I remember spending the late afternoon of a school day collecting and recording family genetic data. We all waited anxiously for my dad to come home from work so the family genetic picture could be complete, at least as far as eye color, ear lobes, and rolled tongues were concerned. My first lessons in genetics occurred the summer before my sophomore year, but my understanding of what I’d inherited from my parents did not end with Biology class.
Football season was upon us and I decided to try out for the drill team. I can’t even begin to describe the amount of courage it required for this young girl, with absolutely no confidence in her physical abilities, to show up and learn the audition routine. “Anchors Away My Boys” - I’ll never forget that music. I practiced night and day and wonder of wonders I made the team. This was the kind of team that did a lot of marching and a little dancing. This was just the right kind of team for me. Surely I could march!
That brings me to a genetic trait I had never considered. The first day of practice we marched around the football field for hours after school. It didn’t take very much time to recognize that I was in a lot of trouble. Who could have guessed the grief that four little words could impose on the life of a teenage girl. The words were, “Left Face” and “Right Face.” For some strange reason when the team captain shouted, “left” or “right” it did not come automatically to me to turn, along with all the other girls, according to instructions. After one disastrous day of marching I went home and told my parents that dancing was going to be the least of my worries. The amount of time it took my brain to relay to my marching feet to turn right or left on demand was unacceptable for a precision drill team.
To my great astonishment my dad understood exactly what I was talking about. He told me of his experience marching in the army. “Same Thing!” he admitted. “Genetics!” So that was my problem! The great thing was that my dad had hit upon something that helped him during his army days. “When you are marching just cross your fingers on your right hand. It’s a great little reminder.” Well, it worked like a charm. Now I could do “Left Face” “Right Face” on demand. I don’t know if it was because the distance between my head and my fingers was shorter than the distance between head and my feet or what, but with my fingers crossed on my right hand I never again missed a turn on the football field or the basketball court. All it took was a simple reminder between my brain and my feet.
These memories came back to me the other day as I was thinking about another set of reminders I try to use every day. The struggle to choose between right and left is pretty insignificant when compared with the struggle to choose between right and wrong. I haven’t tried crossing the fingers on my right hand to remind me to choose the right, but I have learned that what helps me most is dedicated prayer, dedicated scripture study, dedicated attendance at meetings, and dedicated service etc., with emphasis on the word “dedicated.” I dedicate my private religious activities to my need for Heavenly Help. These things are no longer things I do so I can check them off or so God will like me. They are invitations to the Lord to help me - to remind me - to allow His Spirit to intervene between His command and my inconsistent ability to follow directions.
With dedicated prayer and study, and a prayerfully made plan for attending meetings and serving others, I’m figuratively crossing my fingers on my right hand. Now my march through this day is more likely to be in line with my Captains call. “Right Face, Right Face, Right Face!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, September 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Football season was upon us and I decided to try out for the drill team. I can’t even begin to describe the amount of courage it required for this young girl, with absolutely no confidence in her physical abilities, to show up and learn the audition routine. “Anchors Away My Boys” - I’ll never forget that music. I practiced night and day and wonder of wonders I made the team. This was the kind of team that did a lot of marching and a little dancing. This was just the right kind of team for me. Surely I could march!
That brings me to a genetic trait I had never considered. The first day of practice we marched around the football field for hours after school. It didn’t take very much time to recognize that I was in a lot of trouble. Who could have guessed the grief that four little words could impose on the life of a teenage girl. The words were, “Left Face” and “Right Face.” For some strange reason when the team captain shouted, “left” or “right” it did not come automatically to me to turn, along with all the other girls, according to instructions. After one disastrous day of marching I went home and told my parents that dancing was going to be the least of my worries. The amount of time it took my brain to relay to my marching feet to turn right or left on demand was unacceptable for a precision drill team.
To my great astonishment my dad understood exactly what I was talking about. He told me of his experience marching in the army. “Same Thing!” he admitted. “Genetics!” So that was my problem! The great thing was that my dad had hit upon something that helped him during his army days. “When you are marching just cross your fingers on your right hand. It’s a great little reminder.” Well, it worked like a charm. Now I could do “Left Face” “Right Face” on demand. I don’t know if it was because the distance between my head and my fingers was shorter than the distance between head and my feet or what, but with my fingers crossed on my right hand I never again missed a turn on the football field or the basketball court. All it took was a simple reminder between my brain and my feet.
These memories came back to me the other day as I was thinking about another set of reminders I try to use every day. The struggle to choose between right and left is pretty insignificant when compared with the struggle to choose between right and wrong. I haven’t tried crossing the fingers on my right hand to remind me to choose the right, but I have learned that what helps me most is dedicated prayer, dedicated scripture study, dedicated attendance at meetings, and dedicated service etc., with emphasis on the word “dedicated.” I dedicate my private religious activities to my need for Heavenly Help. These things are no longer things I do so I can check them off or so God will like me. They are invitations to the Lord to help me - to remind me - to allow His Spirit to intervene between His command and my inconsistent ability to follow directions.
With dedicated prayer and study, and a prayerfully made plan for attending meetings and serving others, I’m figuratively crossing my fingers on my right hand. Now my march through this day is more likely to be in line with my Captains call. “Right Face, Right Face, Right Face!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, September 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Humility, It’s About US
We often talk about the need to “be” humble. Today I want to speak of humility as something we can “do” something about. I’m not sure I was ever very acquainted with real humility until receiving understanding through recovery from addiction. Humility was always something pretty nebulous. I was taught that it was something we should possess, something we should seek, but if we thought we had it, we could be assured we didn’t. A pretty complicated concept for a child or an adult!
I was the oldest child of seven, the classic first child – the very responsible second mother type. My parents use to introduce me as their child who, “never gives them any trouble.” That was a hard description to live up to. I certainly was not perfect. I was a victim of the Fall just like the rest of mortality. In my mind the gulf between me and perfection was much greater than anyone knew. I was pretty sure I was humble because I didn’t like myself very much.
Today I understand that the feeling of self-disapproval does not constitute real humility. Humility is a keen awareness of God’s qualities and my need for Him. I must come to believe that, in spite of my weaknesses, God knows me, and loves me, and can be trusted with me and with the other people in my life!
Sometimes we use the adjective “humble” to describe someone who is shy or fearful, someone who lacks confidence, someone full of negative feelings about themselves, but a life of true humility is a life driven by the Gospel principles embodied by the 12 Steps. This is the description of humility as a way of life. It’s the description of a relationship:
1. Be honest about my need for help
2. Develop the hope of receiving divine help because of Jesus Christ
3. Trust Him with my problems and the problems of others
4. Be willing to look at the truth about me
5. Confess the truth about me
6. Become willing to be changed
7. Ask Him to change me
8. Become willing to look at how my imperfections have effected others
9. Make amends
10. Be accountable for my behavior every day
11. Seek His direction and power
12. Be willing to help others find this path and then allow this humble stance with the Lord to begin to order more and more areas of my life
When we use the word “humble” in regard to another person we are describing the kind of relationship they seem to have with God. To grow in humility is to live in greater and greater awareness of His magnificence and my tremendous need and to receive all the love and direction and power He extends my way. The word “humble” describes my part of a right relationship with God. Humility is never about me. It’s always about Us. Humility is not about loathing myself. It’s about loving my God!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
I was the oldest child of seven, the classic first child – the very responsible second mother type. My parents use to introduce me as their child who, “never gives them any trouble.” That was a hard description to live up to. I certainly was not perfect. I was a victim of the Fall just like the rest of mortality. In my mind the gulf between me and perfection was much greater than anyone knew. I was pretty sure I was humble because I didn’t like myself very much.
Today I understand that the feeling of self-disapproval does not constitute real humility. Humility is a keen awareness of God’s qualities and my need for Him. I must come to believe that, in spite of my weaknesses, God knows me, and loves me, and can be trusted with me and with the other people in my life!
Sometimes we use the adjective “humble” to describe someone who is shy or fearful, someone who lacks confidence, someone full of negative feelings about themselves, but a life of true humility is a life driven by the Gospel principles embodied by the 12 Steps. This is the description of humility as a way of life. It’s the description of a relationship:
1. Be honest about my need for help
2. Develop the hope of receiving divine help because of Jesus Christ
3. Trust Him with my problems and the problems of others
4. Be willing to look at the truth about me
5. Confess the truth about me
6. Become willing to be changed
7. Ask Him to change me
8. Become willing to look at how my imperfections have effected others
9. Make amends
10. Be accountable for my behavior every day
11. Seek His direction and power
12. Be willing to help others find this path and then allow this humble stance with the Lord to begin to order more and more areas of my life
When we use the word “humble” in regard to another person we are describing the kind of relationship they seem to have with God. To grow in humility is to live in greater and greater awareness of His magnificence and my tremendous need and to receive all the love and direction and power He extends my way. The word “humble” describes my part of a right relationship with God. Humility is never about me. It’s always about Us. Humility is not about loathing myself. It’s about loving my God!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Vision, A View Through God’s Eyes - Step 11
So weary, growing older, widowed in young motherhood, blind for many years, and recovering from knee surgery, my sweet friend told Heavenly Father one evening she needed something to help her keep going. That night the Lord sent her a beautiful dream. My friend can see when she’s dreaming. She sees sharp, focused, detailed images, in living color. This particular night, hour after hour she traveled in the land of dreams, on a dirt trail, through landscapes of rolling hills, green valleys, breathtaking vistas, tall multi-colored autumn trees, and majestic pines, with magnificent mountains rising up in the distance.
That night the Lord answered my friend’s prayer by showing her something spiritually she’s incapable of seeing with her physical eyes. That is the definition of a vision. It’s a view that would be impossible if left to our mortal ability, our earthly reality. It’s God’s view.
If someone asked me if I’d ever had a vision, I would have to think a minute. After all, when it comes to visions I think of Lehi, and Joseph Smith, and Ezekiel. But, when I remember that a vision from the God is the gift of seeing things with His eyes, through His glasses, from His far reaching observatory, I’d have to say “yes.” I have had the experience of being shown what I never could have seen, left to my own myopic view, things beyond my human capability, and so have you!
God’s view is a highly motivating thing to experience, and it’s something we can seek. To see things His way, through His glasses always moves us forward with renewed willingness to do the work required in the present moment, even though it may involve personal discomfort or outright pain.
Visions come in many shapes and sizes. There is one example of a motivating view that stands above all the rest. It’s the most striking illustration in heaven and on earth of a vision that motivated an individual to do His work. It was work so difficult it defies description. It was Jesus’ divine view of His Father’s plan, and His vision of you and me, and of our worth and possibilities that motivated Him to complete His excruciating, saving work in our behalf.
In contrast, in a recent a recovery meeting, a woman who has struggled for many years with a difficult reality in her life shared that even though her problem has not been resolved, she has miraculously been filled with a new view. She went on to describe not a panoramic vision but simply a distinct impression that everything is going to be OK, and that at some future point in time the Lord will give her understanding she does not presently possess.
Now this God given, hopeful view might not seem significant when stacked against Lehi’s vision of the Tree of Life or Joseph F. Smith’s vision of the Redemption of the Dead, but it is the most common type of vision we can experience. It’s the gift of a new and divine view of an old seemingly hopeless situation.
One of President Hinckley’s hallmarks was his steady, dynamic, unfailing, optimistic view of everything. It’s true that his vision included things like 100 temples dotting the land. However, the vision or divine view that seemed to move him from day to day (from one conference to the next, from flight to flight, on to the next meeting with the press, and from one problem to another) was a perspective or view straight from heaven and not founded on the ten o’clock news.
In the face of this crazy world that seems to be headed downhill at a fast pace these simple words express President Hinckley’s vision of the future: “It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us.” (Jordan Utah South regional conference, priesthood session, 1 Mar. 1997).
The view beyond ourselves is individual, it’s personal and it’s miraculous. When we are blessed to receive a new outlook we know inside that it’s not the result of our exercise of a human positive mental attitude or an optimistic personality. It’s a gift, a spiritual gift.
If there were glasses to enable my blind friend to see the beauty of this earth, believe me she would have found them by now. Nothing short of divine intervention can give her a glimpse beyond her present physical reality. Though I am not physically blind I have an equal need to see beyond myself.
The blessing of vision in our lives may come as a dream, in living color that transports us through majestic forests, past deep blue lakes, and through fields of wild flowers. On the other hand, it may be that we simply can’t see how our finances will ever work out, or our marriage, or our health, or our child’s battle with the dark side, and as we seek we are given a hopeful feeling, or impression, or understanding, or just the vision of the next right thing to do. It’s all a vision. It’s God’s view, and it is His invitation to us to keep going and do the work required between here and there.
If you or I are impaired by blindness, of any type, we can pray for vision, a quick look through God’s glasses, His microscope, His telescope, His binoculars, and receive the same priceless gift of knowing, like other visionaries, that “It will all work out!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, August 20, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
That night the Lord answered my friend’s prayer by showing her something spiritually she’s incapable of seeing with her physical eyes. That is the definition of a vision. It’s a view that would be impossible if left to our mortal ability, our earthly reality. It’s God’s view.
If someone asked me if I’d ever had a vision, I would have to think a minute. After all, when it comes to visions I think of Lehi, and Joseph Smith, and Ezekiel. But, when I remember that a vision from the God is the gift of seeing things with His eyes, through His glasses, from His far reaching observatory, I’d have to say “yes.” I have had the experience of being shown what I never could have seen, left to my own myopic view, things beyond my human capability, and so have you!
God’s view is a highly motivating thing to experience, and it’s something we can seek. To see things His way, through His glasses always moves us forward with renewed willingness to do the work required in the present moment, even though it may involve personal discomfort or outright pain.
Visions come in many shapes and sizes. There is one example of a motivating view that stands above all the rest. It’s the most striking illustration in heaven and on earth of a vision that motivated an individual to do His work. It was work so difficult it defies description. It was Jesus’ divine view of His Father’s plan, and His vision of you and me, and of our worth and possibilities that motivated Him to complete His excruciating, saving work in our behalf.
In contrast, in a recent a recovery meeting, a woman who has struggled for many years with a difficult reality in her life shared that even though her problem has not been resolved, she has miraculously been filled with a new view. She went on to describe not a panoramic vision but simply a distinct impression that everything is going to be OK, and that at some future point in time the Lord will give her understanding she does not presently possess.
Now this God given, hopeful view might not seem significant when stacked against Lehi’s vision of the Tree of Life or Joseph F. Smith’s vision of the Redemption of the Dead, but it is the most common type of vision we can experience. It’s the gift of a new and divine view of an old seemingly hopeless situation.
One of President Hinckley’s hallmarks was his steady, dynamic, unfailing, optimistic view of everything. It’s true that his vision included things like 100 temples dotting the land. However, the vision or divine view that seemed to move him from day to day (from one conference to the next, from flight to flight, on to the next meeting with the press, and from one problem to another) was a perspective or view straight from heaven and not founded on the ten o’clock news.
In the face of this crazy world that seems to be headed downhill at a fast pace these simple words express President Hinckley’s vision of the future: “It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us.” (Jordan Utah South regional conference, priesthood session, 1 Mar. 1997).
The view beyond ourselves is individual, it’s personal and it’s miraculous. When we are blessed to receive a new outlook we know inside that it’s not the result of our exercise of a human positive mental attitude or an optimistic personality. It’s a gift, a spiritual gift.
If there were glasses to enable my blind friend to see the beauty of this earth, believe me she would have found them by now. Nothing short of divine intervention can give her a glimpse beyond her present physical reality. Though I am not physically blind I have an equal need to see beyond myself.
The blessing of vision in our lives may come as a dream, in living color that transports us through majestic forests, past deep blue lakes, and through fields of wild flowers. On the other hand, it may be that we simply can’t see how our finances will ever work out, or our marriage, or our health, or our child’s battle with the dark side, and as we seek we are given a hopeful feeling, or impression, or understanding, or just the vision of the next right thing to do. It’s all a vision. It’s God’s view, and it is His invitation to us to keep going and do the work required between here and there.
If you or I are impaired by blindness, of any type, we can pray for vision, a quick look through God’s glasses, His microscope, His telescope, His binoculars, and receive the same priceless gift of knowing, like other visionaries, that “It will all work out!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, August 20, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Taking My Hands Off My Ears – Step 6
When we turn two-years old, most of us experience what I like to call an attitude explosion. Gracie has taken her attitude to a new level lately. Her new practice is comical and typical for her age and stage. Whenever she perceives she’s in trouble or that someone desires to give her any type of correction or a little council and advise she puts her hands over her ears. Without saying a word she announces, “I’m not going to listen! I can’t hear you! You can’t make me!”
I’ve discovered that if I watch how children behaved toward me I can learn something about the way I sometimes behave toward the Lord. Their very innocent behavior is a mirror that allows me to see my own childish ways.
I did a little word search in the scriptures on the word “ears” (I didn’t get to the words “hear” “listen” “hearken”) and discovered that our propensity to behave like Gracie and cover our ears when it comes to receiving any type of correction or even a little council and advise from our Heavenly Father is a frequently addressed problem. I found repeated invitations from the Lord to His two-year-olds (spiritually speaking) to take our hands off our ears and listen.
Where my daughter might say, “Gracie, take you hands off your ears. Mommy is trying to tell you something!” the Lord says, “If any man have ears to hear, let him hear” (Mark 7: 16) “give ear" (Ps. 49: 1) “incline your ears to the words of my mouth” (Ps. 78:1) “bow thine ear to my understanding” (Prov. 5:1) “Apply…thine ears to the words of knowledge” (Prov. 23:12) “hear my voice, give ear unto my speech” (Isa.32: 9)
As you can see, the counsel is worded several different ways, depending on which prophet was speaking in behalf of the Lord, but the message is clear. The Lord wants us to take our hands off of our ears and hear what He has to say.
The view of myself standing before God with my hands over my ears, in Gracie fashion, helps me understand the recovery step I am presently trying to take. Step 6 says, “Become entirely really to have God remove all your character weaknesses.” Part of becoming ready to have my weaknesses removed is discovering exactly what my weaknesses are. This requires me to take my hands off my ears in ALL things, in all circumstances (entirely ready) and willingly hear what the Lord has to say to me, about me. I t requires me to be a full time listener.
Before I put the scriptures away that talk about my ears I learned several more things:
The Lord will help me - “he wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned” (2 Nephi 7: 4)
I’m in charge of my own ears - “And they shall turn away their ears from the truth” (2 Tim. 4: 4) “Wo unto the deaf who will not hear [who choose not to hear]” (2 Nephi 9:31)
I pay a high price when I cover my ears – “But they hearkened not, nor inclined their ear, but walked in the counsels and in the imagination of their evil heart, and went backward, and not forward.” (Jeremiah 7: 24)
When I put my hands over my ears I am “trifling” with the word of God (see Mosiah 2:9) A trifle is a thing of little consequence, of little value or importance.
The more I listen, the more God speaks – “Unto you that hear shall more be given” (Mark 4:24)
Hearing is about having a relationship - “My sheep hear my voice and I know them” (John 10:27)
Hearing is about understanding - “He that heareth reproof getteth understanding” (Proverbs 15:32) “Hearken unto me, and open your ears that ye may understand” (Mosiah 2:9)
Hearing is about healing - “For the heart of this people is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes have they closed; lest they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.” (Acts 28:27)
Today I will be tempted, at some point, to shut down my ability to hear the word of the Lord to me. At that moment I pray I may have the humility to take my “two-year-old-ish” hands off my ears. The last verse of scripture I found expresses in just six little words the willingness to listen that has to exist in order for me to make progress today. “Speak Lord for thy servant heareth” (1 Samuel 3:9)
By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, August 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
I’ve discovered that if I watch how children behaved toward me I can learn something about the way I sometimes behave toward the Lord. Their very innocent behavior is a mirror that allows me to see my own childish ways.
I did a little word search in the scriptures on the word “ears” (I didn’t get to the words “hear” “listen” “hearken”) and discovered that our propensity to behave like Gracie and cover our ears when it comes to receiving any type of correction or even a little council and advise from our Heavenly Father is a frequently addressed problem. I found repeated invitations from the Lord to His two-year-olds (spiritually speaking) to take our hands off our ears and listen.
Where my daughter might say, “Gracie, take you hands off your ears. Mommy is trying to tell you something!” the Lord says, “If any man have ears to hear, let him hear” (Mark 7: 16) “give ear" (Ps. 49: 1) “incline your ears to the words of my mouth” (Ps. 78:1) “bow thine ear to my understanding” (Prov. 5:1) “Apply…thine ears to the words of knowledge” (Prov. 23:12) “hear my voice, give ear unto my speech” (Isa.32: 9)
As you can see, the counsel is worded several different ways, depending on which prophet was speaking in behalf of the Lord, but the message is clear. The Lord wants us to take our hands off of our ears and hear what He has to say.
The view of myself standing before God with my hands over my ears, in Gracie fashion, helps me understand the recovery step I am presently trying to take. Step 6 says, “Become entirely really to have God remove all your character weaknesses.” Part of becoming ready to have my weaknesses removed is discovering exactly what my weaknesses are. This requires me to take my hands off my ears in ALL things, in all circumstances (entirely ready) and willingly hear what the Lord has to say to me, about me. I t requires me to be a full time listener.
Before I put the scriptures away that talk about my ears I learned several more things:
The Lord will help me - “he wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned” (2 Nephi 7: 4)
I’m in charge of my own ears - “And they shall turn away their ears from the truth” (2 Tim. 4: 4) “Wo unto the deaf who will not hear [who choose not to hear]” (2 Nephi 9:31)
I pay a high price when I cover my ears – “But they hearkened not, nor inclined their ear, but walked in the counsels and in the imagination of their evil heart, and went backward, and not forward.” (Jeremiah 7: 24)
When I put my hands over my ears I am “trifling” with the word of God (see Mosiah 2:9) A trifle is a thing of little consequence, of little value or importance.
The more I listen, the more God speaks – “Unto you that hear shall more be given” (Mark 4:24)
Hearing is about having a relationship - “My sheep hear my voice and I know them” (John 10:27)
Hearing is about understanding - “He that heareth reproof getteth understanding” (Proverbs 15:32) “Hearken unto me, and open your ears that ye may understand” (Mosiah 2:9)
Hearing is about healing - “For the heart of this people is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes have they closed; lest they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.” (Acts 28:27)
Today I will be tempted, at some point, to shut down my ability to hear the word of the Lord to me. At that moment I pray I may have the humility to take my “two-year-old-ish” hands off my ears. The last verse of scripture I found expresses in just six little words the willingness to listen that has to exist in order for me to make progress today. “Speak Lord for thy servant heareth” (1 Samuel 3:9)
By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, August 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
“Surprise! Life IS Unmanageable!” Step 1
Step 1 challenges me to see that my life “has become unmanageable.” I actually find it helpful to acknowledge that my life IS and has always been unmanageable. No matter how hard I try to keep all my ducks in a row, sometime during the day they all go waddling off in strange unpredictable directions. The fascinating thing is that I’m always so shocked. “Things are not going as I have outlined! What’s going on here?” I ask myself in dismay. Then I make a firmer resolve and I get up the next morning and try keeping it all together again. There is nothing more plain, that I resist with more gusto, than the fact that life IS basically unmanageable.
This truth is right before our eyes from the get go. Last week I took a look around at the Grand-kids. Gracie had a big bruise on her forehead from running into something she hadn’t counted on. Ethan had road rash on his arm from a unpredictable scooter crash, and one-year-old Matthew decided to give Esther a surprise bonk on the head to commemorate her first birthday.
There are surprises around every corner. Things are not going to go as planned. One key to a happy day is to resist the temptation to take all the surprises personally. No one is out to get me. It’s the nature of life. Today I make a prayerful plan with a pencil, and that pencil has an eraser on it for good reason. God’s not just watching for my commitment and dedication. He’s helping me learn to roll with the punches. He does that by allowing for plenty of surprises. Surprises make life rich. They keep it fresh and interesting.
Yesterday Matthew was playing with a large wooden maraca he’d gotten out of my box of musical instruments from the toy closet. I picked him up to give him a little love and before I knew it he’d wound up and whacked me on the head. It wasn’t personal. It was just a “Surprise Grandma!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, July 25, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
This truth is right before our eyes from the get go. Last week I took a look around at the Grand-kids. Gracie had a big bruise on her forehead from running into something she hadn’t counted on. Ethan had road rash on his arm from a unpredictable scooter crash, and one-year-old Matthew decided to give Esther a surprise bonk on the head to commemorate her first birthday.
There are surprises around every corner. Things are not going to go as planned. One key to a happy day is to resist the temptation to take all the surprises personally. No one is out to get me. It’s the nature of life. Today I make a prayerful plan with a pencil, and that pencil has an eraser on it for good reason. God’s not just watching for my commitment and dedication. He’s helping me learn to roll with the punches. He does that by allowing for plenty of surprises. Surprises make life rich. They keep it fresh and interesting.
Yesterday Matthew was playing with a large wooden maraca he’d gotten out of my box of musical instruments from the toy closet. I picked him up to give him a little love and before I knew it he’d wound up and whacked me on the head. It wasn’t personal. It was just a “Surprise Grandma!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, July 25, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Gratitude In the Laundry Room
In February our son Andrew returned home from a mission to Uruguay. The afternoon and evening of his first day home were filled with family and food and old friends. Not much attention was paid to his luggage or its contents until the next morning. “Mom, I need you to help me with some wash,” he said, standing in the living room with an arm full of what might have once been called a batch of “whites.”
Down the stairs we headed, into the laundry room. After receiving an email from him every week for two years I suddenly had new appreciation for his experience as he let me in a little fact I had not known. “Ya, I’ve been washing my clothes by hand for two years.” I lifted up the lid and he put in a large batch of “grays.” I reintroduced him to the mechanics of this machine that I take for granted at least twice a day. In his best Spanish drenched English, his next words spoke volumes on the dedication and humility of a full time representative of Jesus Christ. With a little wonder in his voice he simply said, “Hey, these cleaning machines are really nice!”
I’ve been doing laundry in the same room for 34 years now. “Inspired” is not the word I would use to describe my daily experience with the family wash. However, that morning as I closed the door and climbed the stairs, hearing Andrew’s dingy whites sloshing in the background, I felt a keen desire to be more willing to make sacrifices in order to do the Lord’s work and to never take “cleaning machines” and such for granted.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, July 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Down the stairs we headed, into the laundry room. After receiving an email from him every week for two years I suddenly had new appreciation for his experience as he let me in a little fact I had not known. “Ya, I’ve been washing my clothes by hand for two years.” I lifted up the lid and he put in a large batch of “grays.” I reintroduced him to the mechanics of this machine that I take for granted at least twice a day. In his best Spanish drenched English, his next words spoke volumes on the dedication and humility of a full time representative of Jesus Christ. With a little wonder in his voice he simply said, “Hey, these cleaning machines are really nice!”
I’ve been doing laundry in the same room for 34 years now. “Inspired” is not the word I would use to describe my daily experience with the family wash. However, that morning as I closed the door and climbed the stairs, hearing Andrew’s dingy whites sloshing in the background, I felt a keen desire to be more willing to make sacrifices in order to do the Lord’s work and to never take “cleaning machines” and such for granted.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, July 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Enjoying An Evening of Abstinence Book of Mormon Style
One morning during Family Scripture Study I read my four verses aloud and then paused before commenting with that well used expression “Hmmm?” My family broke into laughter, poking fun at their scripture-loving /scripture-likening mother. “She’ll find something in it. You just watch,” said my husband, giving me his vote of confidence. These were the verses at hand:
Alma 55:29-31
29 Many times did the Lamanites attempt to encircle them about by night, but in these attempts they did lose many prisoners.
30 And many times did they attempt to administer of their wine to the Nephites, that they might destroy them with poison or with drunkenness.
31 But behold, the Nephites were not slow to remember the Lord their God in this their time of affliction. They could not be taken in their snares; yea, they would not partake of their wine, save they had first given to some of the Lamanite prisoners.
32 And they were thus cautious that no poison should be administered among them; for if their wine would poison a Lamanite it would also poison a Nephite; and thus they did try all their liquors.
When the Lord says to liken all scripture unto ourselves these verses were not on the list of exceptions. There was definitely something instructive to me. These were my thoughts.
1. “Many times did the Lamanites attempt to encircle them about by night…”(v.29) - For many of us the hardest time of day to remain abstinent from destructive substances and behaviors is during the nighttime hours. How many daytime hours of abstinence and sanity have I experienced that ended in nights of over-eating, over my bedtime, over-thinking, over-worry, over-crafting, or over-organizing etc.
2. “And many times did they attempt to administer of their wine to the Nephites, that they might destroy them with poison or with drunkenness…”(v.30) - I’ve never been drunk with wine, but I can easily lose focus and stop doing the will of God as a complex day comes head to head with my weariness at day’s end. Often no one knows but me. I know it! To others it just looks like an evening “snack” and a project “she’s” excited about, but to my physical and spiritual welfare it’s poison. It’s addiction.
The next verses beautifully express the way to spend an evening of abstinence Book of Mormon style. These verses help us understand how they resisted.
3. “But behold, the Nephites were not slow to remember the Lord their God in this their time of affliction…” (v.31) - First and foremost they remembered their God.
4. “They could not be taken in their snares; yea, they would not partake of their wine, save they had first given to some of the Lamanite prisoners…” (v.31) - They would not partake. They abstained from anything that might possible be unsafe.
5. “And they were thus cautious that no poison should be administered among them; for if their wine would poison a Lamanite it would also poison a Nephite...” (v.32) They were cautious.
6. “and thus they did try all their liquors.”(v.32) “To try” is not necessarily to taste. Sorry! “To try” is to examine, to prove, to check.
So, if you are like me and the evening is a challenge to your abstinence and sanity, perhaps we should join our ancient brothers and sisters in remembering the love and power of our Lord Jesus Christ; in not partaking, in abstaining; in being a little more cautious with the setting of the sun; and in testing or examining what is offered to us, behavior or substance, before accepting it. This is how to Enjoy An Evening of Abstinence Book of Mormon Style!
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, June 29, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Alma 55:29-31
29 Many times did the Lamanites attempt to encircle them about by night, but in these attempts they did lose many prisoners.
30 And many times did they attempt to administer of their wine to the Nephites, that they might destroy them with poison or with drunkenness.
31 But behold, the Nephites were not slow to remember the Lord their God in this their time of affliction. They could not be taken in their snares; yea, they would not partake of their wine, save they had first given to some of the Lamanite prisoners.
32 And they were thus cautious that no poison should be administered among them; for if their wine would poison a Lamanite it would also poison a Nephite; and thus they did try all their liquors.
When the Lord says to liken all scripture unto ourselves these verses were not on the list of exceptions. There was definitely something instructive to me. These were my thoughts.
1. “Many times did the Lamanites attempt to encircle them about by night…”(v.29) - For many of us the hardest time of day to remain abstinent from destructive substances and behaviors is during the nighttime hours. How many daytime hours of abstinence and sanity have I experienced that ended in nights of over-eating, over my bedtime, over-thinking, over-worry, over-crafting, or over-organizing etc.
2. “And many times did they attempt to administer of their wine to the Nephites, that they might destroy them with poison or with drunkenness…”(v.30) - I’ve never been drunk with wine, but I can easily lose focus and stop doing the will of God as a complex day comes head to head with my weariness at day’s end. Often no one knows but me. I know it! To others it just looks like an evening “snack” and a project “she’s” excited about, but to my physical and spiritual welfare it’s poison. It’s addiction.
The next verses beautifully express the way to spend an evening of abstinence Book of Mormon style. These verses help us understand how they resisted.
3. “But behold, the Nephites were not slow to remember the Lord their God in this their time of affliction…” (v.31) - First and foremost they remembered their God.
4. “They could not be taken in their snares; yea, they would not partake of their wine, save they had first given to some of the Lamanite prisoners…” (v.31) - They would not partake. They abstained from anything that might possible be unsafe.
5. “And they were thus cautious that no poison should be administered among them; for if their wine would poison a Lamanite it would also poison a Nephite...” (v.32) They were cautious.
6. “and thus they did try all their liquors.”(v.32) “To try” is not necessarily to taste. Sorry! “To try” is to examine, to prove, to check.
So, if you are like me and the evening is a challenge to your abstinence and sanity, perhaps we should join our ancient brothers and sisters in remembering the love and power of our Lord Jesus Christ; in not partaking, in abstaining; in being a little more cautious with the setting of the sun; and in testing or examining what is offered to us, behavior or substance, before accepting it. This is how to Enjoy An Evening of Abstinence Book of Mormon Style!
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, June 29, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, June 22, 2009
“Good Job Grandma!” - Step 12 Service by Example
I’ve spent a lifetime teaching children about doing good and then keeping a careful watch over them. I’ve taught children all about prayer, who we pray to, the reasons we pray, and the parts of prayer, how to open a prayer, and in whose name we pray. I’ve listened to their prayers and whispered ideas into their ears to help them with content when they get stuck. That’s all well and good and very important, but I think we do our most effective teaching when we set the example with our own good work, in the open, in front of our kids.
Not long ago Sammy was visiting for the morning. I was tending and at the same time I was trying to sneak in the things that help me start my day off on the right foot. Sammy wandered into my office just as I was kneeling down to pray.
“Sammy, Grandma needs to say her prayers. Do you want to have a prayer with Grandma?”
“No, I just want to listen to your prayers.”
“OK,” I said. Sammy sat in the chair and listened as I prayed about my need to have heavenly help throughout the day and expressed my gratitude to Heavenly Father for my blessings, making a special point of thanking Him for her.
I closed my prayer with the customary “Amen” and before I could get to my feet Sammy patted me on the shoulder with her little hand and congratulated me for a job well done.
I will never forget the words that came with the gentle pat on my back. Night after night times five kids I have said them myself, but it had been many years since my mother praised my effort to pray. Sammy simply said, “Good job Grandma!”
It was a teaching moment that came about not because of a big plan, but because I was trying to carrying out the Lord’s plan in my own life with a little learner near by.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, June 22, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Not long ago Sammy was visiting for the morning. I was tending and at the same time I was trying to sneak in the things that help me start my day off on the right foot. Sammy wandered into my office just as I was kneeling down to pray.
“Sammy, Grandma needs to say her prayers. Do you want to have a prayer with Grandma?”
“No, I just want to listen to your prayers.”
“OK,” I said. Sammy sat in the chair and listened as I prayed about my need to have heavenly help throughout the day and expressed my gratitude to Heavenly Father for my blessings, making a special point of thanking Him for her.
I closed my prayer with the customary “Amen” and before I could get to my feet Sammy patted me on the shoulder with her little hand and congratulated me for a job well done.
I will never forget the words that came with the gentle pat on my back. Night after night times five kids I have said them myself, but it had been many years since my mother praised my effort to pray. Sammy simply said, “Good job Grandma!”
It was a teaching moment that came about not because of a big plan, but because I was trying to carrying out the Lord’s plan in my own life with a little learner near by.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, June 22, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
"Aren’t You Going To Take Your Present Grandma?” - Step 6 Change of Heart
“It sounds like you’re in the car. What are you up to tonight?” I ask my daughter who lives four hours away.
“Oh the kids are restless after sitting in church, so we thought we would take a little drive before dinner.”
After wishing her well I hung up the phone, gathered my Sunday dinner contributions, and walked across the street to my mothers house. My hands were full. I knocked on the door with my foot. Without any wait at all, the door was thrown open, and I was greeted by three young guests I hadn’t expected. Apparently the kids had been so restless that my daughter and her husband had taken them on what certainly would be considered more that just a Sunday drive.
Then there were the kinds of things said that you would expect. “No Way, I can’t believe you’re here!” “How long can you stay?” “When did you decide to come?” - And lots of hugs and kisses!
Finally we settled down and ate Sunday dinner and then sat around the living room chatting. While we were visited a little finger poked me on the arm to get my attention. It was Madeline. “Grandma, I brought you a present. Do you want to see it?”
Maddie placed in my lap a small gift bag. It was obvious that in preparing this gift Maddie had been given full reign of the family ribbon collection. On the front was an aqua blue store-bought bow, the kind you peal the back off and stick on a package. On the handles of the gift bag she had tied a crayon blue ribbon with shredded ends for decoration and a green cloth “Dillard’s” kind of ribbon. Out of the top of the bag flowed tissue paper. Not the kind that is customary today but the kind that comes off the roll in the bathroom.
I placed my hands inside the bag and drew out a 4-inch wooden birdhouse. Maddie had painted it pink and decorated it with a butterfly sticker on the front and on the back a lavender hand-painted heart. On the top was a hanger. Knowing I love birds and bird “things” and that I decorate my Christmas tree with birds she said, “You can hang it on your tree Grandma!” I thanked her profusely, showed it to everyone in the room, placed the gift back in the bag, and set it on the floor beside my chair.
The next morning my scripture study took me to the vision of the Tree of Life in the Book of Mormon. Nephi says the tree is “precious above all,” and the angel of the Lord says that this precious tree is a symbol of God’s love for us. I also read the description of the exquisitely delicious fruit this tree produces. For me the tree has come to represent Jesus’ great expression love for you and for me - the Atonement. And the fruit – well once when I was studying this section of scripture with my dictionary near by. I decided to look up the word “fruit.” I was reminded that although “fruit” is apples, oranges, and bananas, it’s also a synonym for the word “results.” This thought came to me: “Nannette, those who partake of the fruit of the Tree of Life are the partakers of the fruits or the results of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, and the greatest result or gift that comes out of His sacrifice is your personal conversion or change through His love and direction and power.”
As I was doing the dishes later that day I was thinking about the word “precious” and just what makes a gift “precious.” I determined that gifts are precious to me based on my love for the giver, the personal cost at which the gift is given, the motivation behind the giving, and my personal need or enjoyment of the gift. All of these factors make the fruits or results of the Atonement the most valuable gifts we can ever receive.
At that moment my thoughts drifted to my little pink birdhouse and my final interaction with Maddie the night she gave it to me. “Nannette, Maddie’s gift qualifies as precious too. You accepted it. You thanked her for it. You showed it around. You placed it back into the bag and set it beside your chair. You finished the evening, went to the door, said good-bye to everyone. You were ready to leave when Maddie came running up to you holding the little decorated gift bag. “Aren’t you going to take your present Grandma?” “Oh yes, thank you Maddie!” Then you set it down again. She had to bring it to you twice.”
Then right there in my kitchen tears sprang to my eyes with this final thought. “Nannette, Jesus is like Madeline. He will bring you His precious gifts as many times as it takes for you to actually walk out the door holding them in your hands.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
“Oh the kids are restless after sitting in church, so we thought we would take a little drive before dinner.”
After wishing her well I hung up the phone, gathered my Sunday dinner contributions, and walked across the street to my mothers house. My hands were full. I knocked on the door with my foot. Without any wait at all, the door was thrown open, and I was greeted by three young guests I hadn’t expected. Apparently the kids had been so restless that my daughter and her husband had taken them on what certainly would be considered more that just a Sunday drive.
Then there were the kinds of things said that you would expect. “No Way, I can’t believe you’re here!” “How long can you stay?” “When did you decide to come?” - And lots of hugs and kisses!
Finally we settled down and ate Sunday dinner and then sat around the living room chatting. While we were visited a little finger poked me on the arm to get my attention. It was Madeline. “Grandma, I brought you a present. Do you want to see it?”
Maddie placed in my lap a small gift bag. It was obvious that in preparing this gift Maddie had been given full reign of the family ribbon collection. On the front was an aqua blue store-bought bow, the kind you peal the back off and stick on a package. On the handles of the gift bag she had tied a crayon blue ribbon with shredded ends for decoration and a green cloth “Dillard’s” kind of ribbon. Out of the top of the bag flowed tissue paper. Not the kind that is customary today but the kind that comes off the roll in the bathroom.
I placed my hands inside the bag and drew out a 4-inch wooden birdhouse. Maddie had painted it pink and decorated it with a butterfly sticker on the front and on the back a lavender hand-painted heart. On the top was a hanger. Knowing I love birds and bird “things” and that I decorate my Christmas tree with birds she said, “You can hang it on your tree Grandma!” I thanked her profusely, showed it to everyone in the room, placed the gift back in the bag, and set it on the floor beside my chair.
The next morning my scripture study took me to the vision of the Tree of Life in the Book of Mormon. Nephi says the tree is “precious above all,” and the angel of the Lord says that this precious tree is a symbol of God’s love for us. I also read the description of the exquisitely delicious fruit this tree produces. For me the tree has come to represent Jesus’ great expression love for you and for me - the Atonement. And the fruit – well once when I was studying this section of scripture with my dictionary near by. I decided to look up the word “fruit.” I was reminded that although “fruit” is apples, oranges, and bananas, it’s also a synonym for the word “results.” This thought came to me: “Nannette, those who partake of the fruit of the Tree of Life are the partakers of the fruits or the results of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, and the greatest result or gift that comes out of His sacrifice is your personal conversion or change through His love and direction and power.”
As I was doing the dishes later that day I was thinking about the word “precious” and just what makes a gift “precious.” I determined that gifts are precious to me based on my love for the giver, the personal cost at which the gift is given, the motivation behind the giving, and my personal need or enjoyment of the gift. All of these factors make the fruits or results of the Atonement the most valuable gifts we can ever receive.
At that moment my thoughts drifted to my little pink birdhouse and my final interaction with Maddie the night she gave it to me. “Nannette, Maddie’s gift qualifies as precious too. You accepted it. You thanked her for it. You showed it around. You placed it back into the bag and set it beside your chair. You finished the evening, went to the door, said good-bye to everyone. You were ready to leave when Maddie came running up to you holding the little decorated gift bag. “Aren’t you going to take your present Grandma?” “Oh yes, thank you Maddie!” Then you set it down again. She had to bring it to you twice.”
Then right there in my kitchen tears sprang to my eyes with this final thought. “Nannette, Jesus is like Madeline. He will bring you His precious gifts as many times as it takes for you to actually walk out the door holding them in your hands.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Little Fingers on the Grand Piano - "Acceptance is the Answer"
Sometimes I attend an event and I just know that I am going to learn a lesson in living. I never know for sure how or when, but if I watch with my eyes on the lookout for true principles I usually don’t have to wait long. Such was the case at the piano recital I attended recently. It involved beginning students including two of my grandchildren and my niece. The concert had not even gotten off the ground when my eyes and ears perked up.
Several people arrived just before the recital was about to begin - a grandparent couple with an elderly great grandma and a young couple with a little girl and a baby. The young adult gentleman asked if perhaps people could open up a few seats on the isle, I assume so they would not have to climb over everyone. As people scooted about to provide seating I heard one man say just loud enough to be heard, “Great, you’re late and we all have to move,” and a woman within my earshot concurred. “Arrogant,” she said smugly.
That was Scene One. There was no compassion for someone’s grandma and grandpa who had traveled an hour after work, picked up a feeble great grandma, and come with her to the concert. There was no understanding for someone’s aunt and uncle who made the sacrifice, after a long days work, to drag their tired kids across town to support a hand full of budding pianist cousins.
Scene Two involved a room full of adults, who for the next hour watched silently as one little child after another took their turn at the shiny black grand piano - little pieces of music and little novice fingers on an instrument fit for Thaikovsky or Rockmanonoff. We were the picture of complete acceptance, ready patience, and perfect appreciation for each attempt at musical perfection. Unequivocal support filled the air. Smiles! Clap Clap Claps! Hugs! Flowers! Pats on the back! Good Job! “A” for effort!
Scene One and Scene Two, side by side, prove to be pretty instructive. We’re all pretty selective when is comes to cutting each other some slack. The truth is that all of us who come to earth are in over our heads. This “earth life” experience is a bit like each of us taking our turn at the shiny black grand piano. We are all beginners. Not one of us is proficient. None of us has it down. There was only one Child Prodigy and none of us are He.
I came away from the little sixty-minute event wanting to work on my attitude toward the little people and big people who make up humanity, not just at the piano recital, but also in the grocery line, on the freeway, at the parade, in the middle of sacrament meeting, at all family events etc. I left the recital that night with this thought, “Every new minute, every new interaction is a kind of recital in that it’s a demonstration of what we’ve practiced and learned to this point.” Today I want to treat people with my best recital etiquette!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, June 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Several people arrived just before the recital was about to begin - a grandparent couple with an elderly great grandma and a young couple with a little girl and a baby. The young adult gentleman asked if perhaps people could open up a few seats on the isle, I assume so they would not have to climb over everyone. As people scooted about to provide seating I heard one man say just loud enough to be heard, “Great, you’re late and we all have to move,” and a woman within my earshot concurred. “Arrogant,” she said smugly.
That was Scene One. There was no compassion for someone’s grandma and grandpa who had traveled an hour after work, picked up a feeble great grandma, and come with her to the concert. There was no understanding for someone’s aunt and uncle who made the sacrifice, after a long days work, to drag their tired kids across town to support a hand full of budding pianist cousins.
Scene Two involved a room full of adults, who for the next hour watched silently as one little child after another took their turn at the shiny black grand piano - little pieces of music and little novice fingers on an instrument fit for Thaikovsky or Rockmanonoff. We were the picture of complete acceptance, ready patience, and perfect appreciation for each attempt at musical perfection. Unequivocal support filled the air. Smiles! Clap Clap Claps! Hugs! Flowers! Pats on the back! Good Job! “A” for effort!
Scene One and Scene Two, side by side, prove to be pretty instructive. We’re all pretty selective when is comes to cutting each other some slack. The truth is that all of us who come to earth are in over our heads. This “earth life” experience is a bit like each of us taking our turn at the shiny black grand piano. We are all beginners. Not one of us is proficient. None of us has it down. There was only one Child Prodigy and none of us are He.
I came away from the little sixty-minute event wanting to work on my attitude toward the little people and big people who make up humanity, not just at the piano recital, but also in the grocery line, on the freeway, at the parade, in the middle of sacrament meeting, at all family events etc. I left the recital that night with this thought, “Every new minute, every new interaction is a kind of recital in that it’s a demonstration of what we’ve practiced and learned to this point.” Today I want to treat people with my best recital etiquette!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, June 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
“What’s Next Grandma?” - Step 11
President Benson taught that, “The most constant and most recurring question in our minds touching every thought and deed of our lives, should be, ‘Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?” (Ezra T. Benson, Ensign, Dec 1988, p. 2)
One of five-year-old Sammy’s most frequent expressions is, “What’s next?” The TV show ends and Sammy says, “What’s next Grandma?” I sing her one lullaby, thinking she’ll dose off and it will be the last, but she pipes up, “What’s next Grandma?” I have grown to love this little question. I think I’ll use it when I talk to God. It’s the innocent child like essence of President Benson's, “Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?” Sometimes I just might just say it Sammy’s way. There is something completely trusting and unpretentious about it. It seems to communicate that I am ready and willing to get going on what ever the Lord thinks is best. “What’s next Lord?”
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, June 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
One of five-year-old Sammy’s most frequent expressions is, “What’s next?” The TV show ends and Sammy says, “What’s next Grandma?” I sing her one lullaby, thinking she’ll dose off and it will be the last, but she pipes up, “What’s next Grandma?” I have grown to love this little question. I think I’ll use it when I talk to God. It’s the innocent child like essence of President Benson's, “Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?” Sometimes I just might just say it Sammy’s way. There is something completely trusting and unpretentious about it. It seems to communicate that I am ready and willing to get going on what ever the Lord thinks is best. “What’s next Lord?”
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, June 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
“I Do It Myself!” - Step 1,2,3
Two-year-old Gracie is declaring her independence lately. Among other things, she has decided that she’s old enough to extricate herself from the high chair without help. Recently after finishing her breakfast her mother approached her as usual to help her out of the chair by taking off the tray and lifting her into a standing position. This time Gracie reacted to her mother’s willingness to help in a new a spirited way.
After the tray was removed and she was raised to her feet, she pitched a royal fit and said, “I do it myself!” Then the little lady, in complete rejection of the assistance she had just received, plopped herself right back down in the seat of the chair. Her desire for independence was so strong she was willing to start completely over. When we are dealing with a two-year-old we often smile and shake our heads and view this kind of behavior as a phase that will pass with time. We’ve even given it a name. We say, “She going through the Terrible Two’s!”
I wonder if God ever looks down at me and says to the angels, “Nannette’s going through the Terrible Two’s.” I think it’s possible to get stuck in the Terrible Two’s in some aspects of our lives? It’s a situation demonstrated by a stubborn desire to do “it” our selves. I reject God’s help when I say to Him in my heart or with my actions, “I do it myself” and then figuratively plop myself willfully back down where I started. When I place independence above divinely assisted progress, it’s not a passing phase, it doesn’t have a funny little name any more, and it's not so cute. It’s called pride.
On some level, no matter how grown up we get to be, we never out grow the need for the kind of help Gracie’s mother was willing to give her. Not a day goes by that I don’t find myself confined by some barrier I can’t seem to remove by myself or in need of a gentle lift to my feet. That’s the kind of thing the Lord is willing to do for me. In fact, He has told us it brings Him joy.
Sometimes the first three steps are summarized like this: “I can’t” “God can.” “I think I’ll let Him.” Today I won’t let any Terrible Two-Year-Old stubborn pride stand between my great need and His great willingness to remove the things obstructing my way and raise me up when I am down.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, June 4, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
After the tray was removed and she was raised to her feet, she pitched a royal fit and said, “I do it myself!” Then the little lady, in complete rejection of the assistance she had just received, plopped herself right back down in the seat of the chair. Her desire for independence was so strong she was willing to start completely over. When we are dealing with a two-year-old we often smile and shake our heads and view this kind of behavior as a phase that will pass with time. We’ve even given it a name. We say, “She going through the Terrible Two’s!”
I wonder if God ever looks down at me and says to the angels, “Nannette’s going through the Terrible Two’s.” I think it’s possible to get stuck in the Terrible Two’s in some aspects of our lives? It’s a situation demonstrated by a stubborn desire to do “it” our selves. I reject God’s help when I say to Him in my heart or with my actions, “I do it myself” and then figuratively plop myself willfully back down where I started. When I place independence above divinely assisted progress, it’s not a passing phase, it doesn’t have a funny little name any more, and it's not so cute. It’s called pride.
On some level, no matter how grown up we get to be, we never out grow the need for the kind of help Gracie’s mother was willing to give her. Not a day goes by that I don’t find myself confined by some barrier I can’t seem to remove by myself or in need of a gentle lift to my feet. That’s the kind of thing the Lord is willing to do for me. In fact, He has told us it brings Him joy.
Sometimes the first three steps are summarized like this: “I can’t” “God can.” “I think I’ll let Him.” Today I won’t let any Terrible Two-Year-Old stubborn pride stand between my great need and His great willingness to remove the things obstructing my way and raise me up when I am down.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, June 4, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The Bird Clock - Step 12 “Having Had A Spiritual Awakening”
There is a transformation that takes place when a woman moves from being a “forty-something” year old mother of teenagers to being a grandmother. One of the early signs of this change is the acquisition of little eccentric things around the house. It’s quite unexplainable, but grandmothers purchase things to hang on walls and sit on shelves they wouldn’t have considered bringing home in the past. Quite often these are fragile things that little children find fascinating but are not allowed play with: figurines, music boxes, lava lamps, doorbells that play Christmas carols etc. Clocks are high on the “top-ten-list” of grandmotherly acquisitions. My Grandma on my Dad’s side owned a cuckoo clock. It just wasn’t grandma’s house unless that cuckoo squawked out every new hour, on the hour, all night long, followed by a little German folk song. My Grandma on my Mother’s side had a cat clock on the kitchen wall. As the seconds ticked away the tail of the cat which hung below the clock wagged back and forth, and the big round eyes on the face of the cat clock looked left and then right in concert. Strange but quite captivating.
A novelty clock was my first peculiar purchase when I became a grandma. I’m sure I have made others, but I think one becomes so accustomed to being a grandma that we stop noticing. The transformation is almost imperceptible. And our home decorating is not the only sign. One day we simply decided our own mother was perfectly sensible in wearing an apron when she cooked Sunday dinner, and we get one of the many we have inherited but never worn out of a drawer, and we tie it about our waste. More and more often we hear ourselves saying to young people, “Well, when I was a little girl…” Hot cereal is a treat, and finding a pair of sensible shoes is a thing to celebrate. Who knows how it is accomplished. Only God can make a Grandma.
This week I had an experience that involved my bird clock. I share this experience at some personal risk, the risk of revealing that my mind is also showing my age. The other evening I was eating dinner on the back patio. While I was eating I heard my clock announce the hour of the day. Each hour is sounded off by a different birdcall. Several other times in the last ten years I’ve heard this particular call while I’ve been outside close to my house. My mother has a similar clock and lives just across the street. “Perhaps there are others in our maturing neighborhood who own the same clock,” I always wonder. This particular call is so mechanical I can hardly believe there’s a real bird that makes such a noise. I was in a hurry to finish eating and get to an evening appointment. I glanced down at my watch. It read 6:20. “What, my clock must be broken. That bird call is not sounding on the hour.” Then came the great awakening. “Wait a minute! Could that be a real bird! Could it possibly be that every time I’ve been outside and heard that call it’s been a real bird?” My mother phoned while I was taking this in. “Oh, you mean the Morning Dove,” she laughed as I told her about “my moment.”
The next day as I was riding my bike I heard the call of the morning dove again. This time I didn’t wonder which grandma in the neighborhood had just bought a bird clock. No! I looked around and sure enough, up on the telephone wire was the real thing. I was suddenly mindful or awake to something that had always been a reality.
Step 12 speaks of having “a spiritual awakening as a result of Atonement of Jesus Christ.” As we apply Steps 1 through 11 the cumulative effect is a growing spiritual awareness. The before and after distinction is so great that sometimes we say we have come from a place where we were spiritually asleep or dead. This spiritual awakening is directly connected to Jesus. Over time and with hard work we become awake to the Lord. We become acutely aware that the Savior we have read about, and sung about, and been taught about all our lives is more alive and interested in us as individuals than we ever dared imagine.
As a result of applying these Gospel principles to my everyday life I am waking up. I’m beginning to see and feel and hear His persistent witness, to me personally, that He is alive. Through the Holy Spirit I’m learning to recognize His voice. I’m learning to feel His presence. I have experienced His desire to give me direction and power in any aspect of life where I struggle.
My experience with the Morning Dove reminds me of my experience with the Lord, who the Apostle John called “Morning Star.” With the little dove I became suddenly and keenly aware that the call I was hearing was the voice of a living thing. Now that I’m conscious I hear that little bird call many times each day. My awakening to the Lord has been a gradual process but just a real. As I sit hear writing with my office window open I can hear the call of a nearby dove. I think the Lord must intend the little bird and his call to forever remind me that my living Savior is very much alive and always near!
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, May 31, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
A novelty clock was my first peculiar purchase when I became a grandma. I’m sure I have made others, but I think one becomes so accustomed to being a grandma that we stop noticing. The transformation is almost imperceptible. And our home decorating is not the only sign. One day we simply decided our own mother was perfectly sensible in wearing an apron when she cooked Sunday dinner, and we get one of the many we have inherited but never worn out of a drawer, and we tie it about our waste. More and more often we hear ourselves saying to young people, “Well, when I was a little girl…” Hot cereal is a treat, and finding a pair of sensible shoes is a thing to celebrate. Who knows how it is accomplished. Only God can make a Grandma.
This week I had an experience that involved my bird clock. I share this experience at some personal risk, the risk of revealing that my mind is also showing my age. The other evening I was eating dinner on the back patio. While I was eating I heard my clock announce the hour of the day. Each hour is sounded off by a different birdcall. Several other times in the last ten years I’ve heard this particular call while I’ve been outside close to my house. My mother has a similar clock and lives just across the street. “Perhaps there are others in our maturing neighborhood who own the same clock,” I always wonder. This particular call is so mechanical I can hardly believe there’s a real bird that makes such a noise. I was in a hurry to finish eating and get to an evening appointment. I glanced down at my watch. It read 6:20. “What, my clock must be broken. That bird call is not sounding on the hour.” Then came the great awakening. “Wait a minute! Could that be a real bird! Could it possibly be that every time I’ve been outside and heard that call it’s been a real bird?” My mother phoned while I was taking this in. “Oh, you mean the Morning Dove,” she laughed as I told her about “my moment.”
The next day as I was riding my bike I heard the call of the morning dove again. This time I didn’t wonder which grandma in the neighborhood had just bought a bird clock. No! I looked around and sure enough, up on the telephone wire was the real thing. I was suddenly mindful or awake to something that had always been a reality.
Step 12 speaks of having “a spiritual awakening as a result of Atonement of Jesus Christ.” As we apply Steps 1 through 11 the cumulative effect is a growing spiritual awareness. The before and after distinction is so great that sometimes we say we have come from a place where we were spiritually asleep or dead. This spiritual awakening is directly connected to Jesus. Over time and with hard work we become awake to the Lord. We become acutely aware that the Savior we have read about, and sung about, and been taught about all our lives is more alive and interested in us as individuals than we ever dared imagine.
As a result of applying these Gospel principles to my everyday life I am waking up. I’m beginning to see and feel and hear His persistent witness, to me personally, that He is alive. Through the Holy Spirit I’m learning to recognize His voice. I’m learning to feel His presence. I have experienced His desire to give me direction and power in any aspect of life where I struggle.
My experience with the Morning Dove reminds me of my experience with the Lord, who the Apostle John called “Morning Star.” With the little dove I became suddenly and keenly aware that the call I was hearing was the voice of a living thing. Now that I’m conscious I hear that little bird call many times each day. My awakening to the Lord has been a gradual process but just a real. As I sit hear writing with my office window open I can hear the call of a nearby dove. I think the Lord must intend the little bird and his call to forever remind me that my living Savior is very much alive and always near!
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, May 31, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Memorial Day, Celebrating The Power to Live On!
This morning I attended a recovery meeting using the technology of the phone bridge. Present at the meeting were more than thirty participants from all spiritual walks of life. The reading for this meeting came from an AA piece of literature called “Came to Believe.” I listened as one participant after another took part in reading a story about a man whose wife had been diagnosed with cancer. Instead of resorting to his former means of coping, God guided him to seek fellowship in AA. His AA friends encouraged him to pray for the power to accept the will of God in regard to the life or death of his wife. The story concludes in great happiness. The man’s wife was blessed with the gift of health and life and they went on to enjoy many happy sober days together.
As I listened my thoughts were driven to my own experience with my father who, in the spring of 1970 was diagnosed with cancer. Today is Memorial Day. It’s the day we all travel to the grave where my mother and my Grandpa and Grandma and a batch of seven little children ages 3 to 16 placed his body in the summer of 1971.
As I listened to the reading I thought, “Nannette, you need to share your experience with the many people listening in at this meeting. Your story did not end like the one being read, but tell all the people listening in at 5:00 am on a Memorial Day morning that your experience with the blessing of God was no less miraculous.”
I gathered my courage. “I’d like to share,” I ventured in. For the next three minutes I told the friends I only know by voice and not by face of my father’s illness. I spoke of the positive mental attitude – the “I know that he will live” - kind of faith I tried to hang on to through the year he was so very sick. I told them how finally, as a family, in prayer, we became willing to completely turn our will and his life over to the care of God and that God took him home.
Then I testified, not of the Lord’s power to heal and restore life, although I know He surely can, but that He can and does and did in the case of our family, bless us in the face of great tragedy. We were given power from above just a surely as if we had been given life itself. The miracle God had in store for us was the heart, might, mind, and strength to go on living. He did not preserve the life of my Father, but He filled us, the living, with that peace “that passeth understanding.” He surrounded us with human sustenance in the form of family and friends whose love and support has been endless, and He illuminated the way before us. The Lord witnessed to us that because of His great redeeming sacrifice our Dad would Live On and that He could and would help us to Go On. The Lord’s power to heal is very real, but the most common miracle, the one that we may each experience in this life is the renewal of our own lives in the face of great loss and the power the live on!
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, May 25, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
As I listened my thoughts were driven to my own experience with my father who, in the spring of 1970 was diagnosed with cancer. Today is Memorial Day. It’s the day we all travel to the grave where my mother and my Grandpa and Grandma and a batch of seven little children ages 3 to 16 placed his body in the summer of 1971.
As I listened to the reading I thought, “Nannette, you need to share your experience with the many people listening in at this meeting. Your story did not end like the one being read, but tell all the people listening in at 5:00 am on a Memorial Day morning that your experience with the blessing of God was no less miraculous.”
I gathered my courage. “I’d like to share,” I ventured in. For the next three minutes I told the friends I only know by voice and not by face of my father’s illness. I spoke of the positive mental attitude – the “I know that he will live” - kind of faith I tried to hang on to through the year he was so very sick. I told them how finally, as a family, in prayer, we became willing to completely turn our will and his life over to the care of God and that God took him home.
Then I testified, not of the Lord’s power to heal and restore life, although I know He surely can, but that He can and does and did in the case of our family, bless us in the face of great tragedy. We were given power from above just a surely as if we had been given life itself. The miracle God had in store for us was the heart, might, mind, and strength to go on living. He did not preserve the life of my Father, but He filled us, the living, with that peace “that passeth understanding.” He surrounded us with human sustenance in the form of family and friends whose love and support has been endless, and He illuminated the way before us. The Lord witnessed to us that because of His great redeeming sacrifice our Dad would Live On and that He could and would help us to Go On. The Lord’s power to heal is very real, but the most common miracle, the one that we may each experience in this life is the renewal of our own lives in the face of great loss and the power the live on!
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, May 25, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, May 18, 2009
The Light at the End of the Tunnel – Steps 10, 11, and 12 The Maintenance Steps
Sunday I attended church with my children and their children. The service closed and before Carson could run off (I mean walk reverently) to Primary I grabbed him and gave him a big hug and asked him how he had enjoyed the Saturday excursion with his family to the zoo.
He reported that it had been fine and fun, “except for the part where I was walking through the prairie dog tunnel and I saw the light and thought I was out of the tunnel and stood up and hit my head on the top of the tunnel!”
Carson ran off to Primary. I thought about how many times in my journey through life I’ve seen the light at the end of the tunnel and thought I’d arrived. And what do I get for my anxious desire to be completely out of the dark? I get a bump on the head and a big reminder that the light I can see up ahead in this tunnel called “mortality” is God’s encouraging invitation for me to press forward in the dark, not a sign that I’ve arrived!
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, May 18, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
He reported that it had been fine and fun, “except for the part where I was walking through the prairie dog tunnel and I saw the light and thought I was out of the tunnel and stood up and hit my head on the top of the tunnel!”
Carson ran off to Primary. I thought about how many times in my journey through life I’ve seen the light at the end of the tunnel and thought I’d arrived. And what do I get for my anxious desire to be completely out of the dark? I get a bump on the head and a big reminder that the light I can see up ahead in this tunnel called “mortality” is God’s encouraging invitation for me to press forward in the dark, not a sign that I’ve arrived!
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, May 18, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
The Yellow Bedroom
In my home there is a room that in hindsight seems to have had a dedicated purpose. This room is affectionately known as the Yellow Bedroom. When I moved into this home in 1975 I had just had my first child, a little girl, and this small room with pale yellow walls became the nursery. Over the next thirteen years four more babies were introduced to our home and given a place in the Yellow Bedroom.
As the children grew older they began to occupy others rooms of the house and the mission of the little yellow room expanded. Over the next many years it became a place of safety and nurture for step children, my Grandma who had broken her hip, my mother as she recovered from quadruple bypass surgery on her heart, friends of my children who were here to attend school, and a place of recovery from addiction for two foster daughters and one Great Dane who came a puppy and evolved into a small live-in pony. No matter who occupied the Yellow Bedroom they become fully a part of our family.
There is something very sacred to me about inviting someone to be a part of my home and family. This experience has come to me through the blessing of childbirth and also as God has simply delivered others to my home for a time, and time after time it has seemed just right to invite them to be a part of us.
One day while I was reading the scriptures I ran across an ancient term for this experience. In the Book of Mormon we are told of a man named Zoram who leaves Jerusalem and travels to the Land of Promise with the family of Lehi. Zoram is given the great opportunity to move out of a city that is going to soon be destroyed and “have place” with Lehi’s family. The stipulations are that he must remain with the family and be true to his oath - keep his promises. (see 1 Nephi 4:34)
As I read about Zoram I was struck with the truth that the Lord’s offer to each of us is very similar. He has extended the opportunity to you and me individually to “have place” with Him. He says, “In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also” (John 14:2-3) To have place with someone is “to occupy the same space or location, to occupy the same position, class, capacity, character, situation, state, station, and to have the same job or work.”
Over the years I have come to terms with the fact that I cannot “give place” in the Yellow Bedroom to everyone my heart goes out to. Today the sweet little room is my place for prayer and study and writing. It comforts me to know that our Lord has “many mansions,” and that there is no shortage of room, no lack of “place.” As with Zoram, the only stipulation is that we remain committed to The Family and continue to grow in our ability to keep our promises.
The result of doing the will of the Lord, of keeping His commandments, of living true to my covenants is to be “have place” with Him. That’s no small reward. It is to occupy the location, be gifted with the capacity, and share in the work of God.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, May 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
As the children grew older they began to occupy others rooms of the house and the mission of the little yellow room expanded. Over the next many years it became a place of safety and nurture for step children, my Grandma who had broken her hip, my mother as she recovered from quadruple bypass surgery on her heart, friends of my children who were here to attend school, and a place of recovery from addiction for two foster daughters and one Great Dane who came a puppy and evolved into a small live-in pony. No matter who occupied the Yellow Bedroom they become fully a part of our family.
There is something very sacred to me about inviting someone to be a part of my home and family. This experience has come to me through the blessing of childbirth and also as God has simply delivered others to my home for a time, and time after time it has seemed just right to invite them to be a part of us.
One day while I was reading the scriptures I ran across an ancient term for this experience. In the Book of Mormon we are told of a man named Zoram who leaves Jerusalem and travels to the Land of Promise with the family of Lehi. Zoram is given the great opportunity to move out of a city that is going to soon be destroyed and “have place” with Lehi’s family. The stipulations are that he must remain with the family and be true to his oath - keep his promises. (see 1 Nephi 4:34)
As I read about Zoram I was struck with the truth that the Lord’s offer to each of us is very similar. He has extended the opportunity to you and me individually to “have place” with Him. He says, “In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also” (John 14:2-3) To have place with someone is “to occupy the same space or location, to occupy the same position, class, capacity, character, situation, state, station, and to have the same job or work.”
Over the years I have come to terms with the fact that I cannot “give place” in the Yellow Bedroom to everyone my heart goes out to. Today the sweet little room is my place for prayer and study and writing. It comforts me to know that our Lord has “many mansions,” and that there is no shortage of room, no lack of “place.” As with Zoram, the only stipulation is that we remain committed to The Family and continue to grow in our ability to keep our promises.
The result of doing the will of the Lord, of keeping His commandments, of living true to my covenants is to be “have place” with Him. That’s no small reward. It is to occupy the location, be gifted with the capacity, and share in the work of God.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, May 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
"I Learned How to Love Them, Dear Mother, from You "– Perfectionism and Step 11
As I live my days, I often find myself overwhelmed at the seemingly infinite number of good things to do. I feel confined by time and space and body. I wish with all my heart that I could do it all. With goals and planners, I try to make sure I don’t miss anything. Even so, it seems I can never hug enough, visit enough, help enough, get everything clean enough, study enough, teach enough, be awake long enough, sleep in enough, sing enough, or save enough pictures or scraps of memory.
It is said that we must ‘seize the day,’ but I swear I cannot take in the whole of it. I try and try, but I am always left with the feeling that dozens of good things are falling out of my arms. The Eternal in me cries out to be free to live and love it all. While all of nature seems to be filling the measure of its creation, I seem to be incapable of filling the measure of my own.
Despite all these feelings, however, I often find myself inadvertently humming a little melody. One day, as I was busy with the many activities of my life, I caught myself humming again. This time I took note of just which song it was and filled in the words:
"I often go walking in the meadows of clover
And I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue.
I gather the blossoms the whole meadow over.
Dear Mother, all flowers remind me of you."
This song always has and always will remind me of my own sweet mother, but this day, out of the blue, into my mind came a new view and a new understanding. In my imagination the blossoms were transformed into all the good things there are to choose from on this Earth. The vast meadow became all of creation, and my Mother in Heaven became the Mother I am reminded of by every sweet and beautiful thing. With this realization came a definite knowing that once, long ago as Her child, I learned to gather armfuls of flowers all over creation. There was no lack of time or strength or resources. There was only joy and delight in gathering what I saw Her gather. And so it came to my mind that perhaps my love for harvesting every good thing on earth has its roots in Heaven.
As I allowed this image to dwell in my mind I imagined the words she might speak to me and to each of Her daughters:
Dear Daughter,
All good is of God. May you be blessed to discern the will of the Jesus Christ. His word to you, through the Holy Spirit, will tell you the good He would have you do. Remember, that you are in a meadow of darkness. As you search in the darkness, using only His Light to lead you from flower to flower, from good to good, each flower you bring to me is most precious. Because of your willingness and desire to glean beauty even in darkness, every flower you gather is wonderful to me! The value of each Christ directed task you do more than makes up for all the flowers we have gathered in the brightness of Heaven. Peacefully surrender and bring me only those flowers He directs and empowers you to bring. It is enough!
And then, there was only the last verse of the song left to sing. This is my reply:
“Dear Mother, I bring you my love with each flower.
To send forth sweet fragrance a whole lifetime through.
For if I love flowers and meadows and walking
I learned how to love them dear Mother, from you.”
P.S. This is my Earthly Mother’s favorite Mothers Day song too. She's the one who taught me about His Light and pointed out to me that the finest flowers from Heaven on Earth are the Gospel of Jesus Christ and my family. I thank her with all my heart.
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, May 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
It is said that we must ‘seize the day,’ but I swear I cannot take in the whole of it. I try and try, but I am always left with the feeling that dozens of good things are falling out of my arms. The Eternal in me cries out to be free to live and love it all. While all of nature seems to be filling the measure of its creation, I seem to be incapable of filling the measure of my own.
Despite all these feelings, however, I often find myself inadvertently humming a little melody. One day, as I was busy with the many activities of my life, I caught myself humming again. This time I took note of just which song it was and filled in the words:
"I often go walking in the meadows of clover
And I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue.
I gather the blossoms the whole meadow over.
Dear Mother, all flowers remind me of you."
This song always has and always will remind me of my own sweet mother, but this day, out of the blue, into my mind came a new view and a new understanding. In my imagination the blossoms were transformed into all the good things there are to choose from on this Earth. The vast meadow became all of creation, and my Mother in Heaven became the Mother I am reminded of by every sweet and beautiful thing. With this realization came a definite knowing that once, long ago as Her child, I learned to gather armfuls of flowers all over creation. There was no lack of time or strength or resources. There was only joy and delight in gathering what I saw Her gather. And so it came to my mind that perhaps my love for harvesting every good thing on earth has its roots in Heaven.
As I allowed this image to dwell in my mind I imagined the words she might speak to me and to each of Her daughters:
Dear Daughter,
All good is of God. May you be blessed to discern the will of the Jesus Christ. His word to you, through the Holy Spirit, will tell you the good He would have you do. Remember, that you are in a meadow of darkness. As you search in the darkness, using only His Light to lead you from flower to flower, from good to good, each flower you bring to me is most precious. Because of your willingness and desire to glean beauty even in darkness, every flower you gather is wonderful to me! The value of each Christ directed task you do more than makes up for all the flowers we have gathered in the brightness of Heaven. Peacefully surrender and bring me only those flowers He directs and empowers you to bring. It is enough!
And then, there was only the last verse of the song left to sing. This is my reply:
“Dear Mother, I bring you my love with each flower.
To send forth sweet fragrance a whole lifetime through.
For if I love flowers and meadows and walking
I learned how to love them dear Mother, from you.”
P.S. This is my Earthly Mother’s favorite Mothers Day song too. She's the one who taught me about His Light and pointed out to me that the finest flowers from Heaven on Earth are the Gospel of Jesus Christ and my family. I thank her with all my heart.
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, May 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
“To Be Opened and Used Immediately!”
My mother-in-law was very generous with other people but frugal to a fault with herself. She was a serious minded young adult during the Great Depression. Thus she brought into her future, the modern age of materialism and waste, and into family view, a curious attitude toward gifts. Finding the right gift for her at Christmas, Mothers Day, and on her Birthday, was forever troublesome to me. I would worry worry worry over the perfect gift, find great delight in finally purchasing it, and then watch as she opened it, for any sign of joy and excitement.
Her reaction to my gifts was as predictable as the sunset. No matter what I’d purchased for her it was either the wrong kind of something, or something she didn’t feel she really needed, or, and this was the hardest of all, it was something too nice to use now. Most gifts were either returned or put on a shelf or under plastic, to be saved for a special occasion. One year for Christmas I searched and searched until I found a robe I thought she would enjoy. On a hanger, under plastic, and into the back of the closet it went. She said she would save it for a future hospital stay. And bless her heart, when she died it was still in the back of the closet.
In recent years I’ve become aware that I am not so different from my mother in law when it comes to accepting and using certain gifts. As crazy as it might seem, the gifts I seem to be most resistant to and suspicious of are the gifts sent from God. Instead of continually receiving them and putting them to good use today, I’m tempted with the thought that they’re just not quite right, not what I wanted or need at this time, or that they are so special perhaps I should store them away for another day.
I found a scripture that in the Doctrine and Covenants that helped me to see that one of the things Jesus was perfect at was receiving gifts (grace) from His Father. Being a perfect gift (grace) receiver was a very important part of fulfilling His mission.
Jesus did not return or reject even one of the gifts (grace) sent from Above. In Doctrine and Covenants 93:12-14 it says that Jesus accepted every gift sent by His Heavenly Father. “And I, John saw that He received not of the fullness at first, but received grace for grace.”
Next John tells us that the way he progressed toward all His Father would have Him receive (a fullness) was to act upon or use the gifts of God to fulfill His mission. “And He received not of the fullness at first but continued from grace to grace, until he received a fullness.” To “continue” is to “endure, to last, to persist.” Jesus was able to endured as He received and put to use gift after gift from His Father.
Jesus himself was the greatest example of receiving grace from His Father. We become more and more like Jesus Christ as we more consistently receive (accept) grace for grace and then continue from grace to grace (endure by acting upon the gifts received).
Recovery, healing, and progress are made possible in proportion to my willingness to receive and use the gifts the Lord chooses to send me today. The Lord doesn’t send “white elephants” and the Lord doesn’t send gifts that are so fragile or seasonal or special that they must sit in storage. He sends me the perfect gift. He sends me what is expedient, what I really need, when I need it. And written on all His packages, all His gracious gifts, are the words, “To Be Opened and Used Immediately!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Her reaction to my gifts was as predictable as the sunset. No matter what I’d purchased for her it was either the wrong kind of something, or something she didn’t feel she really needed, or, and this was the hardest of all, it was something too nice to use now. Most gifts were either returned or put on a shelf or under plastic, to be saved for a special occasion. One year for Christmas I searched and searched until I found a robe I thought she would enjoy. On a hanger, under plastic, and into the back of the closet it went. She said she would save it for a future hospital stay. And bless her heart, when she died it was still in the back of the closet.
In recent years I’ve become aware that I am not so different from my mother in law when it comes to accepting and using certain gifts. As crazy as it might seem, the gifts I seem to be most resistant to and suspicious of are the gifts sent from God. Instead of continually receiving them and putting them to good use today, I’m tempted with the thought that they’re just not quite right, not what I wanted or need at this time, or that they are so special perhaps I should store them away for another day.
I found a scripture that in the Doctrine and Covenants that helped me to see that one of the things Jesus was perfect at was receiving gifts (grace) from His Father. Being a perfect gift (grace) receiver was a very important part of fulfilling His mission.
Jesus did not return or reject even one of the gifts (grace) sent from Above. In Doctrine and Covenants 93:12-14 it says that Jesus accepted every gift sent by His Heavenly Father. “And I, John saw that He received not of the fullness at first, but received grace for grace.”
Next John tells us that the way he progressed toward all His Father would have Him receive (a fullness) was to act upon or use the gifts of God to fulfill His mission. “And He received not of the fullness at first but continued from grace to grace, until he received a fullness.” To “continue” is to “endure, to last, to persist.” Jesus was able to endured as He received and put to use gift after gift from His Father.
Jesus himself was the greatest example of receiving grace from His Father. We become more and more like Jesus Christ as we more consistently receive (accept) grace for grace and then continue from grace to grace (endure by acting upon the gifts received).
Recovery, healing, and progress are made possible in proportion to my willingness to receive and use the gifts the Lord chooses to send me today. The Lord doesn’t send “white elephants” and the Lord doesn’t send gifts that are so fragile or seasonal or special that they must sit in storage. He sends me the perfect gift. He sends me what is expedient, what I really need, when I need it. And written on all His packages, all His gracious gifts, are the words, “To Be Opened and Used Immediately!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
The Family Photo Shoot – “Smile…PLEASE!” Step 6
There should be studies made by university Family Science graduate students at family photo sessions. Perhaps more family frustration is generated during the attempt to capture the “happy family” group for posterity than at any other family function. When friends tell me that they are going to have a family picture taken I almost feel like I should take a meal in. What to wear? Where to go? Indoor or out? How much money to spend? Who will be missing in the photo, and is that acceptable? Those are some of the frustrations and issues that have to be addressed far in advance. We collect opinions, change locations, and change the time and the tee shirt color scheme so many times that on the actual day of the event relatives may struggle to remember which plan was eventually settled upon.
One year, two of my daughters had what I refer to as a “clothes war” just minutes before our scheduled appointment. We all remember the tears that flowed just before we all stood together and said, “Cheese!” The picture hung on the wall for several years to both girls’ embarrassment, until we were all together again. It now resides in photo albums throughout the family. Every once in awhile we run across it while we’re together and the same little knowing smile comes to our lips.
Now that I’m the grandma the family photo shoot is bigger and more complicated than ever, with 11 adults and 10 children. Some things never change though. Last month I attended our first family reunion completely planned by my children. On a beautiful, crispy, spring morning the 21 of us met at a very picturesque location. We had successfully made it past all the discussion about time and location and clothing color. Everyone looked fabulous. Now all that was required was to follow the directions of the photographer and smile.
Things went relatively well with the big family shot. Children stood close to parents in family groups. Moms and dads held the babies; Grandma and Grandpa were in the middle.
The next shot we wanted was a picture of just the grandkids. Things deteriorated fast. A perfect spot was chosen; three picture perfect stone steps, just the right size for the ten of them. The oldest ones had the task of holding the babies. Knowing I won’t do it justice I will attempt to describe the situation:
For at least ten minutes all the adults (parents and grandparents) stood behind the photographer trying to do what ever they could possibly do, from in front of the scene, to somehow get the kids to cooperate and smile all at the same time. I’m sure you can imagine it. Fill in the picture with the faces of your own family. The kids were bombarded with helpful suggestions like, “say cheese or ice-cream.” Then the adults tried the comedian route - making funny faces, placing rabbit ears over one another’s heads, and making noises reserved only for making children laugh. Finally came the promises – rewards and threats, not to mention the way we kept flashing them huge smiles - trying to model for them what we were going after.
But alas, the babies and the toddlers and the two year olds continued to scream, and all the rest of the children (those between age five to ten) kept looking with disgust at all the criers, instead of looking at the camera. That’s just the way it was. It never improved. That’s the picture that got taken. I wish we had a picture of the adults trying with absolutely every thing they had to convince the children to be happy against their wills. That picture remains in my mind but is no less humorous than the picture of the kids wailing and whining.
As I took in this scene, into my mind came a picture of all of us, God’s family, having a photo shoot at The Extended Family Reunion. I imagined our Father our Brother Jesus and all the Holy Angles out in front of us, the “heavenly” siblings, trying to get us all to smile and be happy. I think the final product would be very much like the one that will hang on my wall soon. It would reflect a great truth:
No matter how intent and desirous God and others are to convincing us that things are just not that bad, it is not possible for them to change us against our wills. Sometimes when things go well I hear people say, “Heaven Smiles!” According to the resent study conducted at my family reunion, it doesn’t matter how big “Heaven Smiles.”
All the angles in heaven and on earth cannot convince me to be happy against my will. The “Heavenly” Photographer and all His helpers can plan for my happiness and remind me of all the things I have to smile about, but when He says, “1, 2, 3 Smile!” It’s all up to me.
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, May 3, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
One year, two of my daughters had what I refer to as a “clothes war” just minutes before our scheduled appointment. We all remember the tears that flowed just before we all stood together and said, “Cheese!” The picture hung on the wall for several years to both girls’ embarrassment, until we were all together again. It now resides in photo albums throughout the family. Every once in awhile we run across it while we’re together and the same little knowing smile comes to our lips.
Now that I’m the grandma the family photo shoot is bigger and more complicated than ever, with 11 adults and 10 children. Some things never change though. Last month I attended our first family reunion completely planned by my children. On a beautiful, crispy, spring morning the 21 of us met at a very picturesque location. We had successfully made it past all the discussion about time and location and clothing color. Everyone looked fabulous. Now all that was required was to follow the directions of the photographer and smile.
Things went relatively well with the big family shot. Children stood close to parents in family groups. Moms and dads held the babies; Grandma and Grandpa were in the middle.
The next shot we wanted was a picture of just the grandkids. Things deteriorated fast. A perfect spot was chosen; three picture perfect stone steps, just the right size for the ten of them. The oldest ones had the task of holding the babies. Knowing I won’t do it justice I will attempt to describe the situation:
For at least ten minutes all the adults (parents and grandparents) stood behind the photographer trying to do what ever they could possibly do, from in front of the scene, to somehow get the kids to cooperate and smile all at the same time. I’m sure you can imagine it. Fill in the picture with the faces of your own family. The kids were bombarded with helpful suggestions like, “say cheese or ice-cream.” Then the adults tried the comedian route - making funny faces, placing rabbit ears over one another’s heads, and making noises reserved only for making children laugh. Finally came the promises – rewards and threats, not to mention the way we kept flashing them huge smiles - trying to model for them what we were going after.
But alas, the babies and the toddlers and the two year olds continued to scream, and all the rest of the children (those between age five to ten) kept looking with disgust at all the criers, instead of looking at the camera. That’s just the way it was. It never improved. That’s the picture that got taken. I wish we had a picture of the adults trying with absolutely every thing they had to convince the children to be happy against their wills. That picture remains in my mind but is no less humorous than the picture of the kids wailing and whining.
As I took in this scene, into my mind came a picture of all of us, God’s family, having a photo shoot at The Extended Family Reunion. I imagined our Father our Brother Jesus and all the Holy Angles out in front of us, the “heavenly” siblings, trying to get us all to smile and be happy. I think the final product would be very much like the one that will hang on my wall soon. It would reflect a great truth:
No matter how intent and desirous God and others are to convincing us that things are just not that bad, it is not possible for them to change us against our wills. Sometimes when things go well I hear people say, “Heaven Smiles!” According to the resent study conducted at my family reunion, it doesn’t matter how big “Heaven Smiles.”
All the angles in heaven and on earth cannot convince me to be happy against my will. The “Heavenly” Photographer and all His helpers can plan for my happiness and remind me of all the things I have to smile about, but when He says, “1, 2, 3 Smile!” It’s all up to me.
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, May 3, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
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