My sharing about the lessons I learned during the triathlon come in three parts. First, I was taught that the number one, most essential element in accomplishing something hard is to TRY! I must resist the temptation to be afraid of how I look to others or to be embarrassed by how my skills stack up to my competitors’ abilities. Second, I am never alone. The Lord is my constant companion in carrying out any and all tasks, and often he rallies ordinary people to cheer me on.
Finally, I want to share several little things I observed in others and in myself that might make the next challenge I face (race or not) a good experience.
Enjoy the view:
The country surrounding me was absolutely beautiful - desert red plateaus in the foreground and snowcapped mountains in the distance. I made a conscious effort to bike and run with my head up. It reminded me of the advice I’ve received in facing other challenges, to not focus on the problem. As I looked out and tried to drink it all in it seemed to help me forget the hill I was climbing (the problem) and my tired legs (my own weakness).
Don’t be embarrassed by baby steps or using first gear:
I know President Kimball counseled us “to lengthen our stride.” I want to, I really do, but sometimes baby steps are all I’ve got in me. When I’m exhausted and tempted to sit down in the middle of the trail and be done before “it’s” over I remember that baby steps and first gear are a blessings. They keep me moving forward. Even if my progress is almost imperceptible, it’s real. Just pick one foot up and put it in front of the other.
Be prepared for surprises:
I should have seen it coming. It seems that no matter how familiar you think you are with the route, until you have actually, physically traveled the course, there will be some element of surprise. The first time I ran a half marathon I did a lot of training, at least more than I was use to. Down the mountain trail I would run Saturday after Saturday. This was a downhill event, and I love going downhill!!! My daughter and I ran the marathon together. I remember thinking, “Down Down Down! This is the only way to run a race!” Ahead of us, as far as I could see, was a stream of runners. Remembering my first race (10K 1992) and the solitary experience it had been, it was fun to keep my eyes on the other runners. This was progress. But suddenly I observed them doing something that immediately brought a sinking feeling to my heart and my legs. The whole group made a hairpin turn down below me and started jogging up hill. “No way!!!” I exasperated to my daughter and anyone else in earshot. “You said this was a down hill race!” The answer, of course, was “It mostly is Mom. SURPRISE!”
During the Triathlon 2009 I had a surprise as well. Just as I was finishing what I thought was the entire bike ride and thinking the 10 miles had gone unbelievably fast and thinking, “Yea for me!!!” – The biking official said something that clued in me to reality. I was only half way done. I would need to bike the entire hilly loop again. SURPRISE!
Biking finished; I was on to the run. As I looped back to where I had started the run there was little doubt in my mind. “We run this loop twice too, right?” “That’s Right.” Surprises are part of the adventure. They keep things interesting. Surprises cause me to rise to the occasion. Surprises make me do things that are hard that I wouldn’t have signed up for. Surprises make me strong.
It’s not about being finished:
When I was half way through the biking portion with the run still to go, to my total dismay, I saw that there were actually people walking their bikes back to their cars. Why? Because they were FINISHED! I mentioned my astonishment to the Lord and the thought that came back to me was, “Nannette, they’re not finished. They’re fast. They’re fast because they will be up every morning next week putting themselves through the paces again. They are going home, but they aren’t done. Being “finished” is a fantasy.”
Finally, it’s never going to be “all down hill from here”:
Sometime during the triathlon someone yelled out to me, “Hey, it’s all down hill from here.” They had no idea where I was in the race. I had many hills ahead of me. One of the most helpful things I have learned is that every important journey has lots of ups and downs. It doesn’t serve me well to imagine that I am going to magically arrive at a place where there is no more challenge. In fact there is a kind of serenity that comes when I accept the reality that I am not going to simply coast across the finish line, not in a race and not in life.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, April 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.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Triathlon Part 2 - Never Alone!
As I began the biking part of the triathlon my mind went back to the first time I participated in an organized challenge of this type. It was a 10 K run on the Fourth of July. I remember feeling nervous and excited as I joined all the other athletes that summer morning in 1992. There was great energy, anticipation, and camaraderie in the air. The starting gun sounded. I moved forward with the crowd, giving it all I had. One after the other, each person in the group sped past me until I was looking at every runner from behind. Up ahead there was a bend in the road. I jogged on and watched as the crowd ahead of me disappeared around the corner. That was the last I saw of my “comrades.” I felt entirely alone. During the rest of the race I never saw another runner. My one and only running partner that day was the Lord.
Much of the time I wondered if I was really on the route. Then I would come upon the water station hosted by “the Culligan Man.” The volunteer would assure me that I was on the right track, wish me well, and then close up shop. I never quit running and I never quit praying. The last couple of miles I actually ran along the parade route, along side a parade that was in full swing. The words come to mind, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” I wasn’t beating anyone so I might as well join the parade.
I had never actually run six miles in my life. Three miles was my top run in preparation. By mile five I was really beyond myself. I continued to ask for the strength to finish. I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I’m sure to the onlookers it seemed like I was nearly jogging in place. Somewhere between a float passing by and the striking up the next band I realized that I had no idea where the race ended. I kept jogging. Then suddenly out of the crowd appeared two of my teenage children. “Yea Mom! You can do it!” My greeting to them was far from characteristic. I managed to pant out “Where’s the end of the ‘darn’ race’?” (Language has been revised to protect this Grandma) “Mom!!!” They laughed. I think they were as shocked as I was.
I crossed the finish line about forty minutes after everyone else. The fruit was gone. The tee shirts were gone. Most of the people had gone off to watch the parade with their families. The thing that was not gone and that lives on with me to this day is what it felt like to do something hard with next to no human support. I came away that day with a greater witness that with God nothing is impossible.
I’ve come a long way in the last 17 years and I’m very grateful. During Triathlon 2009 I wasn’t alone or without encouragement from other participants for even a minute. At the end of each lap, during the swim, a young girl assigned to my lane announced how many laps had done and cheered me on. As I swam to the other end, there were my kids, waiting their turn to swim and chiming out, “You’re doing it Mom!”
The fellowship didn’t end with the official volunteers and my family. The participants themselves were more than willing to encourage this perfect stranger. The bike section was accomplished in two five-mile loops and the run in two mile and a half loops. If you were slow, and I was, you met the same faster racers several times as they literally ran circles around you. My personal favorite was the young fellow who passed me several times and reminded me not only that I wasn’t alone, but that I was doing something kind of cool “for my age.” Four times he passed me and shouted out, “Ata Girl!” It wasn’t just the perfect strangers who biked and ran circles around me. My own kids passed me coming and going. As each one saw me in the distance, coming toward them, a hand would reach out and meet mine with a slap that said “don’t give up” mom! It’s a great thing to watch your kids accomplish something challenging, on purpose, together! True fellowship is not competitive; it’s compassionate.
As I finished the Triathlon I had to run past all the racers that had completed the experience well before me, including my children. I ran through the finish line and received cheers from a large crowd (one of the benefits of coming in at the tail end) and hugs from my children (one of the benefits of being the mom). I didn’t have any sense that I was being congratulated by people who had beaten me in a race but by people who had taught me how to race.
As I look back today on my first and now my last athletic experience I see that each of these events taught me something important. In my first race, 17 years ago, I discovered that with God alone, I can do hard things. In this last race I was reminded that the Lord often surrounds us with fellow travelers. Whether He gifts us with His very personal company or with an army of mortal encouragers we are never ever required to go it alone!
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, April 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.
Much of the time I wondered if I was really on the route. Then I would come upon the water station hosted by “the Culligan Man.” The volunteer would assure me that I was on the right track, wish me well, and then close up shop. I never quit running and I never quit praying. The last couple of miles I actually ran along the parade route, along side a parade that was in full swing. The words come to mind, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” I wasn’t beating anyone so I might as well join the parade.
I had never actually run six miles in my life. Three miles was my top run in preparation. By mile five I was really beyond myself. I continued to ask for the strength to finish. I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I’m sure to the onlookers it seemed like I was nearly jogging in place. Somewhere between a float passing by and the striking up the next band I realized that I had no idea where the race ended. I kept jogging. Then suddenly out of the crowd appeared two of my teenage children. “Yea Mom! You can do it!” My greeting to them was far from characteristic. I managed to pant out “Where’s the end of the ‘darn’ race’?” (Language has been revised to protect this Grandma) “Mom!!!” They laughed. I think they were as shocked as I was.
I crossed the finish line about forty minutes after everyone else. The fruit was gone. The tee shirts were gone. Most of the people had gone off to watch the parade with their families. The thing that was not gone and that lives on with me to this day is what it felt like to do something hard with next to no human support. I came away that day with a greater witness that with God nothing is impossible.
I’ve come a long way in the last 17 years and I’m very grateful. During Triathlon 2009 I wasn’t alone or without encouragement from other participants for even a minute. At the end of each lap, during the swim, a young girl assigned to my lane announced how many laps had done and cheered me on. As I swam to the other end, there were my kids, waiting their turn to swim and chiming out, “You’re doing it Mom!”
The fellowship didn’t end with the official volunteers and my family. The participants themselves were more than willing to encourage this perfect stranger. The bike section was accomplished in two five-mile loops and the run in two mile and a half loops. If you were slow, and I was, you met the same faster racers several times as they literally ran circles around you. My personal favorite was the young fellow who passed me several times and reminded me not only that I wasn’t alone, but that I was doing something kind of cool “for my age.” Four times he passed me and shouted out, “Ata Girl!” It wasn’t just the perfect strangers who biked and ran circles around me. My own kids passed me coming and going. As each one saw me in the distance, coming toward them, a hand would reach out and meet mine with a slap that said “don’t give up” mom! It’s a great thing to watch your kids accomplish something challenging, on purpose, together! True fellowship is not competitive; it’s compassionate.
As I finished the Triathlon I had to run past all the racers that had completed the experience well before me, including my children. I ran through the finish line and received cheers from a large crowd (one of the benefits of coming in at the tail end) and hugs from my children (one of the benefits of being the mom). I didn’t have any sense that I was being congratulated by people who had beaten me in a race but by people who had taught me how to race.
As I look back today on my first and now my last athletic experience I see that each of these events taught me something important. In my first race, 17 years ago, I discovered that with God alone, I can do hard things. In this last race I was reminded that the Lord often surrounds us with fellow travelers. Whether He gifts us with His very personal company or with an army of mortal encouragers we are never ever required to go it alone!
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, April 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.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Triathlon – Part 1
Several weeks ago I actually dialed a phone number and used my credit card to sign up for a triathlon - On Purpose! - Just for the experience. Swim, then bike, then run! As I rolled up my sleeve and revealed my lily-white arm, the event official used a permanent marker to identify me in bold as number 236. This was my first attempt at a triathlon.
The first event was the swim. I arrived with three of my grown children who unanimously sent me to the head of the long line of swimmers to beg my way to an early entrance into the pool. “I’m not going to be very fast,” I explained to the youthful group in black Speedos, goggles, and swim caps. “Can I stand here so I can get into the pool and out again before this whole thing is over?” I think my flowered suit gave my request a lot of credibility. “Sure!” they said.
I watched as swimmer after swimmer entered and exited the pool. I can swim, but I’m not what you would call “a swimmer.” I’m not fond of putting my head into the water, and my general mode of operation is the breaststroke. Sixteen lengths of the breaststroke was exactly how I planned to accomplish the first part of the challenge. I knew my friends in line and my children further back in line were going to speed through the water like torpedoes. I questioned the group, “You can swim however you want, right?” “Absolutely!” they reassured me.
Just then a swimmer caught my attention. In the closest lane to me was gentleman who gave me courage to just be myself and try with everything I had. This older fellow was not doing a sleek forward crawl or the breaststroke. He was doing the elementary backstroke, back and forth, lap after lap.
The first lesson I learned during my triathlon experience was that the number one qualifier is the willingness to try. To “try” is “to make an effort to do something hard to endure.” The most important thing I had to do to get from one end of this experience to the other was to make an effort.
As I jumped into my lane, head up, nose out of the water, a thought came to me that made me smile. Think of this as a Try-athlon Nannette!
That’s when I suspected that God was going to teach me some important things that spring day in April, not just about swimming, biking, and running, but about making it from one end to the other in the Try-athlon we call Life. I decided to pay attention.
By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, April 21, 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 first event was the swim. I arrived with three of my grown children who unanimously sent me to the head of the long line of swimmers to beg my way to an early entrance into the pool. “I’m not going to be very fast,” I explained to the youthful group in black Speedos, goggles, and swim caps. “Can I stand here so I can get into the pool and out again before this whole thing is over?” I think my flowered suit gave my request a lot of credibility. “Sure!” they said.
I watched as swimmer after swimmer entered and exited the pool. I can swim, but I’m not what you would call “a swimmer.” I’m not fond of putting my head into the water, and my general mode of operation is the breaststroke. Sixteen lengths of the breaststroke was exactly how I planned to accomplish the first part of the challenge. I knew my friends in line and my children further back in line were going to speed through the water like torpedoes. I questioned the group, “You can swim however you want, right?” “Absolutely!” they reassured me.
Just then a swimmer caught my attention. In the closest lane to me was gentleman who gave me courage to just be myself and try with everything I had. This older fellow was not doing a sleek forward crawl or the breaststroke. He was doing the elementary backstroke, back and forth, lap after lap.
The first lesson I learned during my triathlon experience was that the number one qualifier is the willingness to try. To “try” is “to make an effort to do something hard to endure.” The most important thing I had to do to get from one end of this experience to the other was to make an effort.
As I jumped into my lane, head up, nose out of the water, a thought came to me that made me smile. Think of this as a Try-athlon Nannette!
That’s when I suspected that God was going to teach me some important things that spring day in April, not just about swimming, biking, and running, but about making it from one end to the other in the Try-athlon we call Life. I decided to pay attention.
By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, April 21, 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, April 18, 2009
Vacation Break
I am out of town with my family having a wonderful time. I will resume my writing next week.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Easter Sunday – Step 2 Hope
Today was Easter Sunday. All day long I have been trying to think of a message worthy of the greatest event in the history of mankind. I was not successful. Tonight as I was getting ready for bed this simple thought came to me. The most important thing about Easter Sunday is that Jesus will be there for me on Monday. Now that IS grand!
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, April 12, 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.
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, April 12, 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, April 11, 2009
“I A Princess!”
The princess theme has been a massive marketing success. Princess dolls, and posters, and playthings abound. The fascination of today’s little girls with Princesses has definitely hit my family. I have five little princesses of my own: Eliza, Madeline, Samantha, Gracie and Esther.
Eliza, now age ten is the Senor Princess. She was the first among my granddaughters to own a Cinderella blue gown complete with crown and slippers. I asked her tonight if she has a favorite Princess. “Well Grandma, I do, and you can probably guess which one. She looks like me, except she doesn’t have any freckles, and she likes to do what I like to do,” replied my little bookworm. “Belle!” I guessed, and I was right.
“Grandma, which is your favorite Princess?” asked five-year-old Sammy as I entered her house last week. Then she gave me a hand full of little princess action figures representing each of my choices. “You can only pick one, Grandma!”
Maddie’s mother overheard a conversation between her five year old and a neighbor girl the other day that went something like this:
“Let’s play modeling,” suggested the friend.
“What’s that?” questioned five-year-old Madeline.
“Well, you walk out and walk down a little way and turn around and walk back.”
“That sounds boring,” responded Maddie. “Let’s play Royalty!”
Gracie, our little redheaded two-year old is really into the princess thing already. The other night she was dressed in her pajamas and ready for bed but fought tooth and nail against being put in her crib for the night. Her issue? Well these were her words:
“I Princess!!!” she cried out.
She was full of resolve and would not budge until her mother got a princess dress out of the box of dress-ups and put it over her pajamas.
Finally last and littlest of all, Esther recently left the realms above to join her Princess Cousins. Esther has no present interest in Princessie things, but there is no name more regal in all of scripture than Esther. She reminds us that the great plan of the King is for all girls to become Queens.
I must have been about eight or nine the first time I saw the Shirley Temple version of “The Little Princess.” I’ll never forget her words to the crotchety, bitter woman Miss. Muenchen, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that all girls are princesses?”
“That’s right!” I remember thinking. Somehow, even then, I knew it was true.
There are so many grown up Princesses among us who are in grave trouble today. We seem to have lost sight of our true identity. We’ve decided that because we aren’t perfect we probably aren’t on the list of “favorite” Princesses. We’ve decided to play “model” even though it’s boring, instead of practicing our own, “Royalty.” And we have treated ourselves and allowed others to treat us as less than daughters of The King. We pick and choose when to wear our crown and our sparkly shoes and poofy dress and when to dress down because all that Princess stuff gets in the way.
I wonder if there’s a bit of Eternal understanding being awakened in our little girls. I want to stand up and cheer for all of them. I want to tell Sammy that there is no Princess in God’s Kingdom more important or more valuable to The King, Jesus Christ, than her. I want to tell Gracie, “You are indeed a little Princess. You can and should dress like one inside and out, all day, every day. Don’t allow any one to treat you like any thing less, and don’t ever treat yourself as anything but!” I want to tell Madeline that we are not here to just “play Royalty” but to practice and develop our very authentic “Royalty.” And finally I want to tell Eliza who has outgrown the Princess clothes in the dress up box and Esther who hasn’t grown into them yet, that even in your blue jeans or bundled in a blanket in your mother’s arms you are still Princesses.
“I A Princess!”
“That’s Right Little Girls, And Don’t You Ever Forget It”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, April 11, 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, now age ten is the Senor Princess. She was the first among my granddaughters to own a Cinderella blue gown complete with crown and slippers. I asked her tonight if she has a favorite Princess. “Well Grandma, I do, and you can probably guess which one. She looks like me, except she doesn’t have any freckles, and she likes to do what I like to do,” replied my little bookworm. “Belle!” I guessed, and I was right.
“Grandma, which is your favorite Princess?” asked five-year-old Sammy as I entered her house last week. Then she gave me a hand full of little princess action figures representing each of my choices. “You can only pick one, Grandma!”
Maddie’s mother overheard a conversation between her five year old and a neighbor girl the other day that went something like this:
“Let’s play modeling,” suggested the friend.
“What’s that?” questioned five-year-old Madeline.
“Well, you walk out and walk down a little way and turn around and walk back.”
“That sounds boring,” responded Maddie. “Let’s play Royalty!”
Gracie, our little redheaded two-year old is really into the princess thing already. The other night she was dressed in her pajamas and ready for bed but fought tooth and nail against being put in her crib for the night. Her issue? Well these were her words:
“I Princess!!!” she cried out.
She was full of resolve and would not budge until her mother got a princess dress out of the box of dress-ups and put it over her pajamas.
Finally last and littlest of all, Esther recently left the realms above to join her Princess Cousins. Esther has no present interest in Princessie things, but there is no name more regal in all of scripture than Esther. She reminds us that the great plan of the King is for all girls to become Queens.
I must have been about eight or nine the first time I saw the Shirley Temple version of “The Little Princess.” I’ll never forget her words to the crotchety, bitter woman Miss. Muenchen, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that all girls are princesses?”
“That’s right!” I remember thinking. Somehow, even then, I knew it was true.
There are so many grown up Princesses among us who are in grave trouble today. We seem to have lost sight of our true identity. We’ve decided that because we aren’t perfect we probably aren’t on the list of “favorite” Princesses. We’ve decided to play “model” even though it’s boring, instead of practicing our own, “Royalty.” And we have treated ourselves and allowed others to treat us as less than daughters of The King. We pick and choose when to wear our crown and our sparkly shoes and poofy dress and when to dress down because all that Princess stuff gets in the way.
I wonder if there’s a bit of Eternal understanding being awakened in our little girls. I want to stand up and cheer for all of them. I want to tell Sammy that there is no Princess in God’s Kingdom more important or more valuable to The King, Jesus Christ, than her. I want to tell Gracie, “You are indeed a little Princess. You can and should dress like one inside and out, all day, every day. Don’t allow any one to treat you like any thing less, and don’t ever treat yourself as anything but!” I want to tell Madeline that we are not here to just “play Royalty” but to practice and develop our very authentic “Royalty.” And finally I want to tell Eliza who has outgrown the Princess clothes in the dress up box and Esther who hasn’t grown into them yet, that even in your blue jeans or bundled in a blanket in your mother’s arms you are still Princesses.
“I A Princess!”
“That’s Right Little Girls, And Don’t You Ever Forget It”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, April 11, 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, April 8, 2009
“You Are More Important Than The Couch!” - Step 5 - Confession
I started babysitting when I was about 10 years old, mostly for my own family. I had one little sister and by the time I was twelve I had five little brothers. My favorite part of the babysitting was when everyone was finally in bed. That was when I could watch TV, make cookies, or just work on a project in solitude, a hard thing to find in a house of nine. There were times when my parents came home to find me in tears because I was not successful at crowd control, and my little brothers refused to take their “tween” babysitter seriously.
The “while I was babysitting” tears I remember most poignantly though, had nothing to do with my noncompliant siblings. On this particular night they were all sound asleep. My parents had just purchased a new couch. It was something they afforded over time by saving a portion of my dad’s monthly schoolteacher salary. To that point most of the family furniture had been the, “We have a couch if you think you could use it” variety. The kind that newly weds are grateful to get. That night I sat on the new sofa wondering what to do with all the quiet when I suddenly had a fancy idea. I would do my nails. Well you probably have guessed where this story goes, or at least where the nail polish went. The bottle of clear polish that I set on the middle cushion of the long saved for piece of furniture tipped over and spilled.
There was absolutely nothing I could do to fix the mess. I cried until I didn’t think I could cry any more and then I cried some more. It was the longest evening of my life. I imagined over and over the moment when my parents would enter the door and I would have to tell them what I had done.
Well, of course the moment finally arrived. My confession was short and full of genuine remorse. I don’t know what I expected, but what I received from my mother was the following:
· Truth - “What’s done is done.”
· Direction - “Please don’t paint your nails on the couch.”
· Action - “Let’s turn the middle cushion over.”
· Empathy – “I remember the day,” my mother shared, “when I broke my mother’s beautiful vase and thought I’d die, and she told me I was more important that the vase.”
· Love - “You are more important than the couch, Nannette!”
As parents, my husband and I have used similar words with our children who were in the painful position of needing to confess something difficult. “Your more important than the car, the insurance rate, the lamp, rug, the money...”
Step 5 is one of the most courageous Steps we ever take. It is to “Admit to yourself, to your Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ, to proper priesthood authority, and to another person the exact nature of your wrongs.” Now, I certainly realize that spilling fingernail polish on the new sofa is hardly representative of the very difficult things we are called to confess in Step 5, but my experience and the experience of others who have taken this step bears out that our loving Heavenly Father and the ecclesiastical leaders that represent Him are as merciful as my mother was that sad night.
When we turn to the Lord in honesty and humility and share those things we profoundly wish we had never done, He meets our confession with truth, direction, action we can take, empathy, and love. The old saying goes, “Confession is good for the soul.” The great blessing of confession is the peace that comes from knowing that we have been square with ourselves, with another human being, and with God. Now we can move forward. And if we listen carefully we will feel Him say: “You are more important to me than any mess you have made!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, April 8, 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 “while I was babysitting” tears I remember most poignantly though, had nothing to do with my noncompliant siblings. On this particular night they were all sound asleep. My parents had just purchased a new couch. It was something they afforded over time by saving a portion of my dad’s monthly schoolteacher salary. To that point most of the family furniture had been the, “We have a couch if you think you could use it” variety. The kind that newly weds are grateful to get. That night I sat on the new sofa wondering what to do with all the quiet when I suddenly had a fancy idea. I would do my nails. Well you probably have guessed where this story goes, or at least where the nail polish went. The bottle of clear polish that I set on the middle cushion of the long saved for piece of furniture tipped over and spilled.
There was absolutely nothing I could do to fix the mess. I cried until I didn’t think I could cry any more and then I cried some more. It was the longest evening of my life. I imagined over and over the moment when my parents would enter the door and I would have to tell them what I had done.
Well, of course the moment finally arrived. My confession was short and full of genuine remorse. I don’t know what I expected, but what I received from my mother was the following:
· Truth - “What’s done is done.”
· Direction - “Please don’t paint your nails on the couch.”
· Action - “Let’s turn the middle cushion over.”
· Empathy – “I remember the day,” my mother shared, “when I broke my mother’s beautiful vase and thought I’d die, and she told me I was more important that the vase.”
· Love - “You are more important than the couch, Nannette!”
As parents, my husband and I have used similar words with our children who were in the painful position of needing to confess something difficult. “Your more important than the car, the insurance rate, the lamp, rug, the money...”
Step 5 is one of the most courageous Steps we ever take. It is to “Admit to yourself, to your Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ, to proper priesthood authority, and to another person the exact nature of your wrongs.” Now, I certainly realize that spilling fingernail polish on the new sofa is hardly representative of the very difficult things we are called to confess in Step 5, but my experience and the experience of others who have taken this step bears out that our loving Heavenly Father and the ecclesiastical leaders that represent Him are as merciful as my mother was that sad night.
When we turn to the Lord in honesty and humility and share those things we profoundly wish we had never done, He meets our confession with truth, direction, action we can take, empathy, and love. The old saying goes, “Confession is good for the soul.” The great blessing of confession is the peace that comes from knowing that we have been square with ourselves, with another human being, and with God. Now we can move forward. And if we listen carefully we will feel Him say: “You are more important to me than any mess you have made!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, April 8, 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, April 6, 2009
"Who’s Character Is In Question?" - Step 7 - Humility
Recently, while I was on my knees speaking to my Heavenly Father I was struck with a thought that made me pause. It seemed to be a call to rethink the kinds of things I say to the God of the Universe. What came to me was that often in my prayers I pray for Heavenly Father, the perfect Father of my spirit, to be kind, to be patient, to be aware of me, to be cognizant of my children, to care for the earth, and to be mindful of our country and our economic situation. “It sounds, Nannette, like you are praying for God to develop His character in your behalf.” Heavenly Father’s character, His nature is already divine. It’s my nature that must change. My prayer time would be better spent “humbly asking Him to remove my character weaknesses (see Step 7) so can more fully enjoy His divine nature. Paul advised us to “…be a partaker of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4). I can be assured that His patience and long suffering and loving kindness are well in tact. It’s my character that needs an overhaul, not His.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, April 6, 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.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, April 6, 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, April 3, 2009
Practice Makes Progress - Principles For a Lifetime
I can’t remember when I took my first piano lesson, but as far back as I can remember, practicing the piano daily was a part of my routine. In my elementary school years my teacher was the traveling variety. She came highly recommended, gray haired, thick-rimmed glasses, and very old. Once a week I would sit at the piano with her and try to demonstrate that I had made some kind of progress in the six days of rehearsal between this lesson and the last. She was what you might call a “hands on” teacher, always grabbing at my fingers, stretching them this way and that, correcting my fingering, not with a word or two, but with what I thought was brute force. My mother sat on the couch at my back. Sometimes I would put my hands behind my back and rub and sooth my poor fingers just to show my mother that I was not a happy musician. Eventually, like most kids, I won out and the lessons stopped. I remember crying though. It's funny how we know we are going to miss something, even when we have fought so hard and finally won.
In high school I decided to give the piano another try. I had a wonderful teacher. Each week my mother would take me to her home where I would take a lesson in her lovely studio on a shiny, black, grand piano. She taught me how to practice and she taught me to love the piano. My mother was a stickler for daily practice. I got up before it was light and practiced before early morning Seminary. During this time I made great progress. My practice was consistent and I experienced the joy of working until I really felt that a piece of music was not perfect, but was “coming right along.” One of the pieces I worked hard on was by Bach. It was one in a series of Two Part Inventions. It was fast and challenging.
I haven’t spent much consistent time at the piano for many years. I still have my copy of the Bach piece and one day, just for fun, I gave it a whirl. Let’s just say it was only slightly better than if I had never ever laid eyes on it. Not long after, I was preparing to teach the Gospel Doctrine Lesson. The subject was decidedly important but one that would be very familiar to my students. I wondered as I sat preparing the lesson, “Why do we have to go over the same things time and time again?” Then my Two Part Invention by Bach came to mind.
That Sunday I opened the class by announcing I had something very exciting I wanted to share with my ward family, a little introductory musical number. I told them that it was a piano piece from my youth and that I remembered working and working on it hour upon hour for months.
Well, of course, it was terrible! I pretended utter embarrassment, came away from the piano and back to my teaching position. I explained that the constant review and practice of Gospel principles is critical to our progress. What we once knew has to be constantly renewed. Without repeated study and self-examination we not only quit making spiritual progress, we actually regress!
Alma puts it this way, “And now behold, I say unto you, my brethren, if ye have experienced a change of heart, and if ye have felt to sing the song of redeeming love, I would ask, can ye feel so now?” (Alma 5:26)
According to the prophets, in order to maintain and deepen the progress we have made toward Eternal Life as we have applied the principles of the Gospel, we have to continue our devoted application of the principles that have blessed us thus far.
The same truth that holds true with Gospel principles in general also holds true to the application of the 12 Steps. Without continued practice my answer to Alma’s question will have to be, “No, I cannot feel so now.” I’ve had people ask me, “Nannette, Do you have to live this way the rest of your life? When can you say you’ve “recovered? When do you graduate?” My answer is that I strive to live every day in recovery, in a recovered and growing relationship with my Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ. There is no graduation, at least not in this life.
If I stop practicing these principles, my progress will eventually be as rusty as my resent Sunday school recital. Most of us are familiar with the old saying “Practice Makes Perfect.” I have to admit that as of yet my practice has never made anything perfect. I vote we change the saying to “Practice Makes Progress.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, April 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.
In high school I decided to give the piano another try. I had a wonderful teacher. Each week my mother would take me to her home where I would take a lesson in her lovely studio on a shiny, black, grand piano. She taught me how to practice and she taught me to love the piano. My mother was a stickler for daily practice. I got up before it was light and practiced before early morning Seminary. During this time I made great progress. My practice was consistent and I experienced the joy of working until I really felt that a piece of music was not perfect, but was “coming right along.” One of the pieces I worked hard on was by Bach. It was one in a series of Two Part Inventions. It was fast and challenging.
I haven’t spent much consistent time at the piano for many years. I still have my copy of the Bach piece and one day, just for fun, I gave it a whirl. Let’s just say it was only slightly better than if I had never ever laid eyes on it. Not long after, I was preparing to teach the Gospel Doctrine Lesson. The subject was decidedly important but one that would be very familiar to my students. I wondered as I sat preparing the lesson, “Why do we have to go over the same things time and time again?” Then my Two Part Invention by Bach came to mind.
That Sunday I opened the class by announcing I had something very exciting I wanted to share with my ward family, a little introductory musical number. I told them that it was a piano piece from my youth and that I remembered working and working on it hour upon hour for months.
Well, of course, it was terrible! I pretended utter embarrassment, came away from the piano and back to my teaching position. I explained that the constant review and practice of Gospel principles is critical to our progress. What we once knew has to be constantly renewed. Without repeated study and self-examination we not only quit making spiritual progress, we actually regress!
Alma puts it this way, “And now behold, I say unto you, my brethren, if ye have experienced a change of heart, and if ye have felt to sing the song of redeeming love, I would ask, can ye feel so now?” (Alma 5:26)
According to the prophets, in order to maintain and deepen the progress we have made toward Eternal Life as we have applied the principles of the Gospel, we have to continue our devoted application of the principles that have blessed us thus far.
The same truth that holds true with Gospel principles in general also holds true to the application of the 12 Steps. Without continued practice my answer to Alma’s question will have to be, “No, I cannot feel so now.” I’ve had people ask me, “Nannette, Do you have to live this way the rest of your life? When can you say you’ve “recovered? When do you graduate?” My answer is that I strive to live every day in recovery, in a recovered and growing relationship with my Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ. There is no graduation, at least not in this life.
If I stop practicing these principles, my progress will eventually be as rusty as my resent Sunday school recital. Most of us are familiar with the old saying “Practice Makes Perfect.” I have to admit that as of yet my practice has never made anything perfect. I vote we change the saying to “Practice Makes Progress.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, April 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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