LDS 12 Step Reflections - Addiction Recovery and Healing - Notes from Nannette

Change in Blog Address

2011-09-29T16:18:00.001-07:00

Dear Readers,

I want to thank each of you who have found interest in this blog, “LDS 12 Step Reflections.” This blog is dedicated to my personal sharing on the 12 powerful gospel principles or 12 steps of recovery and the gospel-centered tools of recovery that are blessing my life and the lives of so many people all over the world. Through the LDS Addiction Recovery Program countless individuals are finding recovery and healing through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. They are finding power and direction to move forward in their lives.

I find great joy in keeping my eyes and my heart open to the lessons I can learn about the 12 Steps from everyday life and through the wonderful people in my life, recording these lessons and sharing them with you.

“LDS 12 Step Reflections” has found a new home. I am switching my blog to a new address. I have recently given my blog a new look with a few new features. There are now several drop-down menus for those searching for thoughts on a specific step or tool of recovery or for a thought connected with scripture, children, a specific holiday, or nature etc. I hope this will be helpful.

The new address is

http://lds12stepreflections.wordpress.com

If you want to receive e-mail notification when something new has been posted, go to the new address http://lds12stepreflections.wordpress.com

If you are interested in getting an e-mail each time I post you can go down to the bottom of any post and click the place where it says “Leave a Reply.” There is a box at the bottom of the reply space to check and then leave you email address if you want to get a notice when there is a new post.

Thanks you each for taking time to read and respond. I know with all my heart that our Heavenly Father and our Savior and the Holy Spirit are very aware of our most personal struggles and that they can and will help us each progress. It is their work and their glory. Please know that my prayers are with you.

If you have questions or comments or want to share your progress with me, please feel free to contact me at lds12stepreflections@gmail.com

Your sister in Christ,

Nannette

“Nannette, do you know any four-year-olds?” – Step 5 The Gift of Perspective

2011-08-23T16:49:00.000-07:00

We turn to addictive substances and behaviors instead of turning to God, and one of the reasons we do is because we don’t think God likes us very much. Many of us start feeling bad about ourselves when we are very little, at least I did, and it doesn’t take much. I’ll never forget sitting across from my sponsor, opening up my notebook and beginning to read. “Age two,” I started, “I resented the little boys who pushed my tricycle into the gutter full of water on irrigation day and who rubbed grapes in my hair.” “Age four” I continued with trepidation “I regret going into a shed with some little boys who wanted to have a two second peek at my “backside” and then lying to my dad about it. There, I’d said it! So embarrassing!

My sponsor’s response – “Nannette, do you know any four year olds?” Four year olds? My thirty-eight year old mind scanned through all the little people I knew and loved. Tears came to my eyes. In an instant, I came to grips with the fact that this moment of immodesty, the moment that was the beginning of all future certainty that God was disappointed in me occurred when I was only four years into earth life. New perspective is one of God’s great gifts as we take Step 5, the confession step. Do you know any four-year-olds?

By Nannette W. Posted Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Copyright 2011 by Nannette W. All right 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.

Spinning Goals into Gifts, Heavens Great Transformation

2011-08-12T15:52:00.001-07:00

Today I would like to share that much of what I desire in this life is surprisingly coming to me as a gift from God rather than a goal for God.

In the book “Alcoholics Anonymous” page 8 one of the founders, Bill W. shares, “I was to know happiness, peace, and usefulness in a way that is incredibly more wonderful as time passes.”

Happiness, peace, and usefulness, in great abundance, are certainly what I have always wanted and thought I was working toward. The paradoxical thing about my life today is that happiness, peace, and usefulness are no longer the focus of my desires, but they have become the byproduct applying each of the gospel centered 12 Steps and using all the tools the Lord has given me to live in daily, hourly, moment by moment connection with Him. The other day, I simply had to pause in the middle of an activity and acknowledge the peace I was feeling. I hadn’t been “working” on peace. I hadn’t set a new goal to be more at peace, but there I was feeling it. It was given to me. It was a very tangible thing like being cold or hot or tired or rested or full or hungry. I was in peace, a fact I never could have manufactured. I do desire even greater happiness, peace, and usefulness. Who doesn’t! However today I know that this cannot be my focus. In fact when I make these things my aim I begin to feel crazy inside. My experience is this - First I must come unto Christ in all the ways I know how and seek to know what He wants me to do next, then I must seek His power to do what I think He wants me to do, and finally I must take action believing that He is helping me. I am nowhere near perfect or even proficient at living this way, but when I do the happiness, peace and usefulness I obsessed over for so many years come – as gifts received from God rather than goals achieved for God.

By Nannette W.

Posted Friday, August 12, 2011

Self-Knowledge is Overrated

2011-08-11T20:45:00.000-07:00

Today I would like to share on the words from the book Alcoholics Anonymous, “Self-knowledge availed us nothing.”

There has been much scientific advancement in the study of addiction. I must admit that it does bring a certain relief to know that those of us who struggle with addictive substances and behaviors have developed scientifically measurable signs of illness of both mind and body, that our ability to make good choices has actually become physiologically weak. However, knowing about me does not fix me. Self-knowledge is not the cure. The best self-knowledge can do is motivate me to seek the cure. It’s no different than any other illness in that naming it, describing it scientifically, and even finding its root cause will never have the power to heal it. I find it very important to remember that I can never replace understanding my disease, though interesting and perhaps motivating, with the real work of overcoming my disease.

By Nannette W.

Posted Thursday, August 11, 2011

Fellowship with a Capital "F"

2011-08-10T21:31:00.000-07:00

Today I would like to share about Fellowship, "Association between individuals especially on pleasant or intimate terms. Synonyms: company, companionship, society" (see Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

Fellowship in recovery is critical. Giving individual support, receiving personal support, attending meetings, reaching out on the telephone, giving service, and seeking ecclesiastical and family support; these are all effective ways of building a foundation of fellowship as we strive to abstain from the harmful substances and behaviors that threaten us. Every one of these avenues for fellowship is part of my everyday life in recovery. However, I have found another source of fellowship that is unlike any of the things I just listed. This fellowship is different because I can enjoy it any time, night or day. I can experience it in a crowd or in the quiet of my own solitary company, in my pajamas, my jeans, or my Sunday best, in my car or lying on my pillow. It is fellowship with the Lord through His Holy Spirit. In every recovery meeting I have ever attended one or more participants mention that they come to the meeting to feel the Spirit. I hope they understand that the Spirit they feel is not limited to the meeting they are sitting in, that the same Spirit they are feeling in the rooms of recovery can leave with them, strengthen them against temptation, and give them the comfort they seek all day and all night long. This is Fellowship with a capital “F.”

By Nannette W.

Posted Wednesday, August 10, 2011

“Fly Little Bird!” –Step 12 Service

2011-07-11T00:27:00.000-07:00

“There’s a bird somewhere in my house,” my mother’s voice trembled. I hung up the phone and my daughter and I went to see what could be done. My mother was terribly frightened at having a wild creature captive in her territory, and I believe the bird was just as scared as Mom. I admit I was a bit frightened myself. We entered the house tentatively and quickly located a young robin on top of a tall book case. The bird was very reluctant to accept our assistance. We talked to the frightened thing as though it were a lost puppy or a child. “Come on little bird. It’s OK.” We opened the sliding glass door so he could escape and then coaxed him to fly toward it, but he flew into the window, bumped his little noggin, and retreated immediately to his library perch. We convinced him to try again. This time he flew out the sliding glass door and onto the covered deck. For several minutes he wandered about, not flying, but walking, hiding under chairs and exercise equipment. Finally he took flight. As he spread his baby wings and headed enthusiastically into the blue sky and toward the lovely park across the street we were thrilled.

Being a support to someone struggling with addiction is much like being called into such a situation. Like the bird, the addict is terrified of the circumstance they have created, so terrified that their behavior becomes very threatening to those with whom they share their lives.

As we open the door to freedom and show them the way to it, those in dangerous captivity and full of fear do not fly free immediately. They often leave their deadly perch and dart about the room. Out of terror and misunderstanding and the desire to find their own way, they fly into painful barriers. Then, covered with bumps and bruises they retreat back. It takes lots of patience to help a frightened bird to freedom, and it takes a great deal of patience to help a person escape the confines of addiction. We cannot make them and we cannot take the flight for them.

The fear and frustration associated with this work is absolutely real, but so too is the joy of assisting in the cause of freedom. As we help the Lord “bring liberty to the captive” (Isaiah 61:1) our experience can harmonize with that of the Book of Mormon missionary Ammon who said:

And we have suffered all manner of afflictions, and all this, that perhaps we might be the means of saving some soul; and we supposed that our joy would be full if perhaps we could be the means of saving some. (Alma 26:30)

It was beautiful to see the little bird take flight. Watching him rise on the fresh morning air against the backdrop of snow tipped June mountains, surrounded by blue forever sky took my breath away. But there is nothing more breathtaking than seeing a child of God grow weary of flying about in deadly captivity and finally head for the blue sky of recovery and the lush green safety of the Kingdom of God, where life and freedom and nourishment and fellowship are in endless supply.

By Nannette W. Posted Monday, July 11, 2011

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right 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.

Keep It Simple, Change Your Mind – Step 11

2011-06-24T12:44:00.000-07:00

Esther, age 2, sat patiently on the bathroom counter while I, Grandma Nan, attempted to rekindle whatever skills I had once possessed in the combing of a little girl’s hair. With her mommy at work and her daddy being even less talented than I, the task fell to me. My mind was drawn back to all the hair wars I had participated in as a mother of three daughters.

We did OK together at first. I pulled a section of little blond curls to the side and secured them with a rubber band. I was preparing to top off my work with a bow or a ribbon or barrette when suddenly and unexpectedly we came to an impasse.

“I want purple bows, Grandma!” she said emphatically.

Not wanting to ignite any kind of tantrum, I replied with sensitive sensibility, “Well Esther, your dress is red.”

This was apparently not a problem in Esther’s mind. “Well” she said, “Probably we should paint my dress purple!”

Esther’s creative solution to dressing for success in the Primary nursery seemed to go a bit too far, when a simple change of the mind would do. Sometimes I’m like Esther. I choose the most difficult option to fix a simple problem. Figuratively speaking of course (as I have outgrown wearing decorations in my hair), instead of changing my mind about the color of my ribbons, I opt to paint my dress to match my bows! Today as I work away at the problems that arise and complexity threatens my serenity, I want to remember that there are options, and that sometimes I can keep it simple by simply changing my mind.

By Nannette W.

Posted Friday, June 24, 2011

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right 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 Know the Answer to Who! Will Someone Please Tell Me What? Hope and Trust in God Steps 2 and 3

2011-06-14T21:16:00.001-07:00

I had a woman call me for support today. She and her family have experienced a life full of abuse. She is trying to work through the 12 Steps of Recovery and she’s stuck on steps two and three and. the principles of developing hope and trust in God. She cannot figure out what it is she is can trust about God. What can she trust Him to do or to be in her life? Because of life’s trials, she feels she cannot trust that he will always keep her or her children safe from harm or accident or trial.

Her questions and frustration caught me off guard. I was in the middle of a personal cleaning and organizing project with my 12 year old granddaughter. I quickly shared with her a thought that came immediately into my mind and hung up feeling like I hadn’t really hit the mark. As I drove Eliza home I asked her how she would have answered this sister’s question. She said, “Well, in the end we can trust that the Lord will save us.” We kept talking as we drove and even after I dropped her off the Spirit kept working with me on the answer. After all, I thought, this is the question of the ages. This is a question every believer has to answer.

The following thoughts came to me:

1. I can trust that because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, in the end, everything will work out. My life is more that this life.

2. I can trust that the Lord loves me. He gave His life because He loves me.

3. I can trust that He knows me, my life, my strengths, my weaknesses, everything about my situation.

4. I can trust that Jesus has experienced everything I have experienced. Jesus knows how I feel!!! That’s what the Atonement is all about.

5. I can trust that all things are for my experience and will ultimately be for my good. That’s what He taught Joseph Smith.

6. I can trust that Jesus is more powerful than anything that has or will ever happen to me. If I turn to Him He has all the love and understanding and power necessary to work all things together for my good, even the most horrific things.

7. I can trust that He loves to do this work in my life, that it is His work and His glory to help me.

8. Most of my hardships are either caused by my own poor choices of the unrighteous choices of others. The Lord cannot interfere with agency, mine or anyone else’s. He does not always remove our trials, but I can trust that if I invite Him, He is absolutely willing and desirous to walk through any hardship with me. It doesn’t seem to matter where the blame lies. It doesn’t seem to matter weather my trial is of my own making, my own misuse of the freedom to choose, or the harsh reality of great pain caused by the choices of others. If I ask Him He will be with me.

9. I can trust that if I open my eyes even in the most difficult of situations, and look for signs of God love and understanding and power for me—personally--in my behalf, I will see it.

My hope and trust in the Lord is not perfect. It’s not continuous, but it is growing. I work every day at developing my belief by practicing belief. I practice by first asking the Lord to reveal Himself to me in my day, His love, His understanding, and His power. I study the scriptures and read about people who have placed their hope and trust in the Lord and people who have not, and I learn from their lives. Then I try to keeping my eyes open and watching for His hand in my life. I also take actions based on the belief that God is there, that He loves ME and He IS helping me. Finally I express gratitude for all the precious signs that show me He is aware of me and my little life in a big way.

I'm growing in my ability to take Him at His word: " For I am God, and mine arm is not shortened; and I will show miracles, signs, and wonders, unto all those who believe in my name" (D&C 35:8) As I become more conscious of the Lord, as He shows up in my life, I discover that He is always conscious of me ! I see His hand in my life every day. I’ve always known who I should trust.

By Nannette W.

Posted Tuesday, June 14, 2011

"Addiction Recovery Program Brings Individuals to Christ"

2011-06-01T20:30:00.000-07:00

This is a wonderful article on the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Addiction Recovery Program. It was posted yesterday on the Church's web site . The Lord has given us a wonderful program to help us come unto Him for the direction and power we so desperately need to change our lives and live in recovery from any type of addiction.

http://lds.org/church/news/addiction-recovery-program-brings-individuals-to-christ?lang=eng

Please feel free to share this article with anyone in your life who is suffering because of their own addiction or because of the addiction of a loved one.

I Am a Child of God

2011-05-25T22:22:00.000-07:00

My brother Bryce has produced a new musical Mormon Message based on the children’s song, “I am a Child of God”. It was recently posted on the LDS.org homepage, YouTube, the Mormon Channel and other locations. I wanted to share it with you.

Thanks so much, and please feel free to SHARE it with others.

Here are a couple of links:

https://lds.org/pages/i-am-a-child-of-god-mormon-message?lang=eng&cid=email-shared

http://www.youtube.com/user/MormonMessages#p/c/4E784EC0770935C0/0/JOrcqqpHCt8

Elder Ballard Speaks Out on Addiction and Recovery

2011-05-18T22:52:00.000-07:00

Recently Elder Ballard was interviewed about the problem of addiction and the possibility of recovery. I thought you might be interested in what he had to say.
His interview was broadcast on KUTV Channel 2 May 10, 2011 at 10:00 pm
here is the link:

http://connect2utah.com/libraries/nxd/media/index.php?data=media_player&v=259827

Sabbath Dance

2011-03-08T21:17:00.000-08:00

It’s one of those chilly gray February mornings. I wake up and look outside and wonder why I was so anxious to take the tree down and get all those cheery lights and decorations into the boxes and back into the garage. During the wee hours of Sunday morning new snow has been added to the glacier spread out across the front yard of our home. We face the North Pole and for the first several months of every new year it looks like Narnia, “Where it is always winter and never Christmas.”

I’m a streak of dismal brown as I dash into the church and slide on to one end of a long empty bench: brown skirt, brown sweater, brown boots. I throw my coat down to save a spot for my daughter and her family.

Before the downbeat of the opening song, across the bench scoots my 2 year old granddaughter, Esther. Her daddy slips off her coat. Esther has no idea it’s the bleak midwinter. At her insistence Esther is wearing a butter-cream yellow dress with a pale pink sash, embroidered flowers at the hem, a pink gathered underskirt, and capped sleeves. Her bright blue eyes meet mine (brown, of course, to match my outfit). She shakes her little crown of yellow curls and whispers loudly in my direction, “Grandma, it’s a party dress!”

The next part of the meeting proceeds in a fairly conventional way. Esther sits on daddy’s lap while mommy takes fussy baby sister to the foyer. A library book comes out of the large “Sunday go to church and meet any emergency” bag. Mommy returns. Daddy takes fussy baby sister out. You’ve got the picture. The first speaker concludes. One of the young men checks the tuning on his cello, and the choir and cello perform “I Need Thee Every Hour.”

It was truly beautiful; however the loveliest thing to me was not what was happening in the choir loft in front of me, but what was happening in the little space beside me. At the sound of the music the little “party dress” girl lifts her baby soft ivory arms into the air and with her feet on the ground, in the tiny space between our bench and the next, she dances. Without a sound she sways and she twirls, and at the final “I come unto Thee,” she lowers her ballerina arms and says, not in a polite whisper and to no one inparticular, “That was beautiful!”

That was beautiful, Esther. I don’t suppose we can help growing older and ever so practical. I pull on either my black or my brown boots every Sunday from Thanksgiving to Easter and I don’t know when I last wore my party dress to church. I know I’ve never danced in the chapel and I’m not going to recommend it either. But Esther, on Sunday you reminded me of something wonderful. It was as if you were saying, “Grandma, the Sabbath is a celebration. Think of it as your “New-Birth-Day” party. And Grandma, you may be too old and too big to dance between the benches, but because of Jesus and what he has done and what He is doing in your life and your heart, your spirit can dance and dance and dance for joy from one end of the Sabbath to the other!

By Nannette W., Posted Tuesday, March 7, 2011
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 Family Fifty – Step 12 Carrying the Message

2010-12-06T20:20:00.000-08:00

I’ll bet that “I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus” is on everyone’s list of top ten Primary songs. Lately, while observing the actions of others, several times I’ve had the Spirit poke me on the shoulder and say, “Look at that Nannette! That’s like Jesus.” Here’s just one example:

“Feed the Fire!” That’s what we call any activity that puts members of our family into the great outdoors. “Feed the Fire” activities usually involve some physical exertion. Sometimes we “Feed the Fire” solo and sometimes in groups. We’ve individually tackled mountains going up and mountains coming down (my personal favorite). We’ve relayed and triathloned and marathoned, and beyond. We’ve biked, hiked, walked, run and swum (is that a word?). We’ve gone 5k, 10k, half the day, and days and days. We’ve put our kids on our backs, drove them beside, pulled them behind, and left them behind. We have experienced the thrill of our own little victories, like crossing the finish line and the agony of defeat. Or should I say the agony of “de-feet.” We’ve beat our time and wiped out trying to stop on a dime and pretended we were “fime.” We’ve broken bones and been heard to moan…OK I’ll stop! As you can tell I’m no poet, but I think you get the idea. We’ve had a variety of together experiences and a lot of fun.

Each summer I try to participate in at least one “Feed the Fire” activity that stretches me a bit. This last spring I received a mass family e-mail from my nephew, inviting me to participate in a fifty mile bike ride. I replied immediately. “Yes! I’m in!”

I’m not what you would call a serious biker, but on my fiftieth birthday, during my surprise party lunch at Mimi’s, I glanced out the window while I was opening my gifts and my son was riding a brand new little mountain bike up and down the street in front of the restaurant hoping to get my attention. Since that day my birthday bike and I have put in some serious miles an hour at a time but never fifty all at once. I was excited!

I got as prepared as I knew how; took some nice one hour rides throughout the spring and early summer and made sure they included a few hills. I knew I’d be slow compared to the others, but I couldn’t afford a new road bike so I focused my preparation on my need to be comfortable; new sunglasses I could actually see through, biker pants with padding where most needed, and a speedometer to let me know if I was breaking the speed limit and to document every one of those fifty miles.

My nephew, the instigator or this activity is a twenty-eight year old husband, daddy of two boys and one little girl, with a baby on the way. He’s a nurse at a local hospital. He’s a great guy and quite the outdoorsman. I imagined him greasing up his “super bike” and getting it all ready for the big day. He’s also very spontaneous and usually pretty casual about things. I figured this would be a pretty loosely run event.

As the pre-activity weeks progressed I was very surprised to receive regular e-mails, “Hey everyone, I hope you’re still planning on the 50 mile ride. I’m so excited! Hope you are!” His final e-mail announced plans for transporting us and our bikes to the starting point. “At mile 30 we will be stopping for a little brunch in a park overlooking the lake. Hope you’re all getting ready. I’m excited!!!” I was beginning to get the idea that this adventure was not just being thrown together. This was an event!

Well, the morning of the “Feed the Fire Family Fifty” finally arrived. My bike was tuned up, the speedometer installed, and my camelback was ready to go. I had no idea where we were going or if I could make it all the way, but I was going. The transport arrived before dawn. There was a bit of a chill in the air. All bikes were loaded in the back of a Suburban, and we headed to the designated starting point.

After we were gathered we each received a sticky-backed logo to place on our bike in a visible place --“FTF” for “Feed the Fire!” Very Cool!!!

My nephew’s car was packed up with emergency equipment along with the brunch food. The plan was for someone to drive the car along with our group in case of any emergency, exhaustion, or need for supplies. We would take turns.

My nephew opted to take the first turn as driver of the emergency vehicle. Then he took the second turn and the third turn and the fourth turn…

“Wait a minute!” I said after a little careful observation, “You need to ride too!”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“You mean you planned this whole thing, went to all this effort and you’re not going to even get on your bike?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ve ridden this route lots of times to prepare for this. Believe me, I know every turn in the road. I just want to make sure everyone has a good experience and makes it to the finish.”

So eleven of us pedaled and chatted and enjoyed the view of the lake and the mountains, and he drove ahead and waited until we had all safely past. Then he would drive on a little more. Sometimes he’d stop us and give some instructions like, “In about a mile we have to ride on the highway for a little stint. Be sure to ride single file.” Sometimes he would just encourage us, “The next part is up hill, but it’s pretty gradual, you can make it!” At one point we had to ride through a city, maneuver through quite a bit of traffic, pretend we were all cars, and get into the left-hand lane and turn. It was tricky but before we did it he explained exactly what was coming up and what had to be done.

He served us as a group, but he also served us individually. For some reason my bike is just not as fast as everyone else’s. Whenever I’m riding with other people I pump my little legs off trying to catch up and stay up. Well, this time was no exception. It was worse! For the life of me I could not keep up with the group. My friend and brother-in-law kept me company for several miles. At one point he said, “You're working harder and making less headway than any of us. What’s the deal? Let’s trade bikes for a minute.” We traded and I zoomed out ahead. When we met up with my nephew, he checked out my bike, the one I had been riding for 40 miles. “Aunt Nan, one of your brakes has been clamped on the whole time you’ve been riding!” He quickly fixed the problem and my worn out legs were off to the finish line. What a difference the release of a little old brake can make. When we got back to our cars, my speedometer read 48.9 miles so I took a few turns around the parking lot until I had scientific evidence that I had finished the “Family Fifty.” We all finished. It was a “Feed the Fire” success!

Now here’s the point. All I had done was show up. All I had was the willingness to take a very long ride. I was really not physically trained for such a ride and I had no idea where I was going. This was a “Feed the Fire” success because someone else had been willing to feed “The Fire” inside of each one of us.

“Look Nannette. That’s like Jesus” I heard the Spirit whisper as I thought back on the day. We sing “I’m Trying To Be Like Jesus” and we are trying. Just look around at the ordinary people in your life. Every day someone in our lives does something remarkable that’s “like” Jesus in some aspect. It might be something Jesus never did while He was on the earth. The person may be wearing biking shorts or jeans or a suit. It’s like Him only dressed up in “today.” But when they do what they do, it teaches us about Him, His understanding, His power, His character, his love…always His love. There is no story in the New Testament about Jesus sacrificing to facilitate a family bike ride but somehow my experience with my nephew–just an ordinary guy– taught me about Jesus, brought me to Him. When someone is like Jesus in some little way it does something remarkable for other people.

My sincere thanks to all the blessed individuals I have the opportunity to be with in the flesh who help me come to know someone I can only be with in the Spirit. You help bridge the gap. You are not the Savior, but you show Him to me. Your actions and attitudes are much more than instruction on Christ-like behavior. They are a physical picture or reminder of the One who loves me. The One I can count on to lead me home. The one who might have said, “I’m fine. I’ve taken this ride countless times in preparation for your journey. Believe me, I know every turn in the road. I just want to make sure everyone has a good experience and makes it to the finish.”

By Nannette W., Posted Monday, December 6, 2010
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 Chocolate Chip Cookie Minus the Chips

2010-09-14T20:20:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: If the struggle that brings you to this Blog is compulsive eating, as mine is, please know that the cookie in the starring role is symbolic and is in no way meant to be a trigger. Please do not use this as an excuse to start baking. If you think this will be a problem read no further.

The Chocolate Chip Cookie Minus the Chips

There’s an old classic movie starring the late President of the USA, Ronald Reagan, called “Bedtime for Bonzo.” Bonzo is an unruly, very bright chimpanzee living with a scientist and a foster mother. Their objective is to use modern child rearing techniques in raising Bonzo and prove that nurture is more powerful than nature.

When I was in the middle of motherhood I used the title of the movie to add a little levity to that time of day when kids seem to wind up and moms want to wind down. At dusk I’d scoop my own little chimp (of the pre-school variety) into my arms and say with authority, “It’s bedtime for Bonzo!” Those were words that conveyed to the child that the awake part of their day was very close to being over and that the bedtime routine was about to begin – the toothbrush, the potty, a little Dr. Seuss, a bit of scripture, a prayer, and the final seal on the deal, a small drink of water.

I have presently worked myself out of a job and my children have worked themselves into one. Enforcing “Bedtime for Bonzo” is no longer my work, but sometimes I get a play by play report from one of my children. The following is a bedtime account with a message.

“Gracie, it’s time to come in!” calls my daughter out the back door.

Gracie walks through the French door with a smile on her face.

“Time to go upstairs and get ready for bed,” says Mommy.

“Can I have a goodnight snack?” counters Gracie hopefully.

“Sure, do you want a cookie?”

Then Gracie gets a bit particular. “I want a chocolate chip cookie,” she says with a “that’s the only thing I’ll accept,” look in her eyes.

“Well, that’s good cuz that’s what we’ve got,” responds Mommy as she reaches her hand into the Ziploc bag, picks up a cookie, and hands it to Gracie.

With the cookie in hand Gracie takes one glance and says with redheaded, three year old intensity, “I want a chocolate chip cookie!!!”

Gracie’s mommy reports, “Just as I was trying to turn the cookie over and show her that 10-15 chocolate chips had settled and were visible from the bottom, she broke the cookie in half and in dramatic frustration threw it across the room crying, “It doesn’t have any chocolate chips!

With that my daughter scooped up her little Bonzo and headed toward bed.

Gracie’s mom and I had a good laugh as she rehearsed this incident. Making chocolate chip cookies is not rocket science and neither is the message in this story. All I have to do is cast the Lord in the parent role and myself as the demanding three year old. I know there have been many times when the Lord has delivered to me just what I requested. But I have to wonder how many times I’ve seen His perfect gift as a chocolate chip cookie minus the chocolate chips and with impatience and suspicion hastily discarded it with an angry flare and the unspoken thought, “I knew He wouldn’t give me what I wanted!”

I’ll never know how many divine gifts I’ve recklessly rejected. Like Gracie, I imagine the Lord picks my belligerent self up in his arms and takes me to my room for a little time out with a “Sorry, no snack for you tonight!”

The Lord knows our tendency to doubt His goodness. He tries to reassure us with these words:

"And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? Or if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?" (Luke 11:9-13)

In recovery we come to know that we have a Savior who can be trusted. His joy is to bless us with exactly the thing we need most. Today I practice trusting that what the Lord sends my way this very hour is for the best, my best. He wants me to take a good hard look at the thing in question until I find the good part, the part that might not be visible at first glance, the part that lies beneath the surface and sometimes well beneath. I’m not perfect at living continually in this frame of mind, but I am making progress. The times when I throw the cookie across the room are getting to be fewer and farther between.

James testified that, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning”(James 1:17).

It’s a powerful, joyful, “Christmas every-day” thing to live in anticipation of the Lord’s generosity. So my friends, turn that cookie over. Pray for eyes to see. Look at it from every angle. The Lord doesn’t want you to miss out on single chocolate chip!

By Nannette W. Posted Tuesday, September 14, 2010

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.

PS This post is a bit of a landmark for me. It’s my 200th post. I want to thank you all for reading and for your kind comments. They fuel the fire that keeps me writing. Some of you I may never have the opportunity to meet. Please know that my prayers are with all of you. I know that the Lord is aware of each of you individually. I know that He loves you and will bless you in whatever challenges you face. My prayer is that the gospel principles that each of these thoughts represent will impact your lives for good.

Heart-deep Recovery Lesson 3: Plavix or Me on Plavix! (Part Four of Four)

2010-09-05T09:08:00.000-07:00

One of the biggest frustrations of my aftercare is all the medication I have to take. I now have one of those pill containers marked with the days of the week to help me keep the whole thing sorted out, the kind of thing peoples’ grandparents use. Imagine that! The prescriptions that seem to make the most visible difference are the ones for Plavix and aspirin–the blood thinners. Bruises, bruises, bruises! I hate it! I called the doctor and told him I must surely be getting too much blood thinner because I was covered with bruises. He took no pity on me whatsoever.

I was pretty angry until one day, after I’d bumped my hip on the kitchen counter, stubbed my big toe, hit my elbow on the door jam, and accidentally slammed my head in the door going out to the garage (OK, maybe that all took two days), it dawned on me that the problem, the real problem, was not the blood thinners, it was me on blood thinners. Plavix and aspirin don’t make bruises in and of themselves. I have bruises because I’m a klutz and on blood thinners every klutzy thing I do becomes visible.

I can get rid of the bruises by getting rid of the Plavix and put myself at risk or I can get rid of the bruises by being more conscious of what I am doing.

So, instead of spending my energy trying to rid myself of all the indicators God has put in place to help me see the truth (even though the truth is colored black and blue) I choose to live in gratitude for all the clues, the things He’s placed in my life like Plavix, and children, and callings, and challenges that make the truth plain. With my awareness, He can help me make the changes I need to make in life.

Conclusion
We overcome this world by degrees. A heart attack or any kind of earth life attack is an invitation to change, to be a little different, and to reach out to the Lord for direction and power over things we’ve never ever considered. Jesus is the Lord of my progress, my conversion, my change. Because of Him and with Him, in matters of the heart both physical and spiritual, I do not have to be what I have been. So Nannette, the pickax and the Plavix are not the enemy, and if you listen, you’ll know that they speak to you for Him.

By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, September 5, 2010

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.

Heart-deep Recovery Lesson 2: Who’s to Blame? (Part Three of Four)

2010-09-04T15:37:00.000-07:00

“You’d be surprised how many people have heart attacks with a snow shovel in their hands,” I heard over and over from the hospital personnel.

“That’s it!” I thought. “Let’s blame the sledge hammer and the pickax.”

It’s the most “natural man” thing in the world to search for something or someone to blame—something or someone that Is Not Us! Many people pay a therapist to “peel the onion” and see what lurks inside. King David humbly invites the Lord to take an intensive look when he says “Search me, O God, and know my heart” (Psalms 139:23). My cardiologist went in with a camera and tools for excavating. The point is to look beyond the obvious.

As we say in addiction recovery, our problem is “a symptom of other causes and conditions” (A Guide to Addiction Recovery and Healing p, 21). And so it was with the condition of my heart. It wasn’t really about the sledge hammer or the pickax, the high blood pressure or the extreme discomfort. Even the enzymes in my blood were not the enemy. They were all indicators.

All recovery, cardiac or otherwise, requires that we look for clues deep within, beyond the hammer and the ice or whatever person, place, thing, or situation we’re tempted to blame. It takes courage to locate the real blockage—the actual thing that has us stuck. Today I’m grateful for physical and spiritual clues—even painful ones—that help me take positive action on the condition of my heart.

By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, September 4, 2010

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.

Heart-deep Recovery Lesson 1: Who Me? No Way! (Part Two of Four)

2010-09-03T09:34:00.000-07:00

“But I have such a healthy life style today!” I announced to the cardiologist as I lay in bed breathing from an oxygen tube. “I exercise and eat right! I’ll have you know I’ve lost 97 lbs!”

“Past sins and heredity,” he responded with a grim smile.

Years ago I remember sitting in a hospital waiting room listening to my mom give her family history of heart disease to the physician’s assistant right before her angiogram and quadruple bypass surgery. I remember thinking. “Nannette, you really should take this personally.” I didn’t though. I didn’t get it ‘til now.

I really am a product of the strengths and weaknesses that have been passed down the family line along with all the actions, good and bad I have taken over a lifetime. I’m certainly grateful I did not weigh 97 lbs. more when I had my heart attack. Repentance is real. We can turn around. Change is real. With direction and power from God we can break cycles that are generations old, but healing the heart whether physically or spiritually, takes time and patience and willingness to cooperate. I have learned that I can’t ever take the health of my heart for granted. The way I live today both physically and spiritually has the power to reach across the years and counter what I have inherited and what I have inflicted upon myself.

My heart attack was an invitation from the Lord to do just that and though it’s been hard, I’m grateful for the wake-up call. My life’s work is to come unto Christ and overcome what all of us are challenged with, heredity and our own past sins.” So, “Yes Me!” “Why not me!”

By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, September 3, 2010

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.

Heart-deep Recovery (Part One of Four)

2010-09-02T21:39:00.000-07:00

One January 25th of 2010 it somehow got to be afternoon and I hadn’t exercised yet. After lunch I started contemplating, “Just how am I going to go about getting just enough exercise to appease my conscience today?” I got a little creative. My husband had left to run some errands. Out in the street in front of our house was a thick slab of ice. He had been working on it for days, trying to clear it out so we’d have more available parking. Our house faces north and I’ve often joked that we live in a glacier. Every year, as the grass greens up and the daffodils bloom in the yards across the street we still enjoy enough white on the lawn to build a good size snowman.

Well this January afternoon that thick slice of dirty, frozen, white winter called my name. I had never used a sledge hammer, but I knew where it was kept, and the idea of swinging and making my mark on that ice filled me with some kind of delight. I opened the garage door and grabbed the tool. This activity was going to count for gym time, so I gave it everything I had. My goal suddenly became not simply to get a little exercise but to have that ice entirely broken up before my husband returned. I knew I didn’t have long so I went at it hard! There was something very satisfying about swinging that sledge hammer--the centrifugal pull on my shoulders, the power of letting it fall on the freeze and the sound of thick ice cracking. About half-way through I glanced in the garage and noticed that right there next to where the sledge hammer was kept was a pickax. “Why not,” I said to myself. “This might be even more effective!”

As my husband rounded the corner I was done breaking up the entire sheet of ice and was finishing my afternoon workout by shoveling pieces of ice into the street for quick melting. My very surprised husband was happy to take the shovel and finish the job. Pretty satisfied that this twenty-five minute extreme workout could compensate for an hour at the gym I walked into the house.

As I entered my room a sick feeling I had never experienced before washed over my body. I knew that I was not only done exercising, I was done in! I was not in what you might call a great deal of pain, but a tremendous weariness seemed to emanate from my chest and fill my entire body.

I was removing my wet clothes when my friend Pat called. I put the phone to my ear and lay down on my bed. As she chattered away the feeling grew worse until I excused myself for a minute. I had a borrowed blood pressure monitor and it came into my mind that it was time to try it out. It registered 191 over 115. Back in October a doctor had given me a prescription of nitroglycerin after a less severe rise in my blood pressure. I went back to the phone, reported my findings and told my friend that perhaps this was the moment to put one of those small white pills under my tongue. I called my husband in, chewed up an aspirin, and asked my husband for a blessing. The pressure came down a few notches. I called my doctor who thought it was simply the result of my intense exercise. He suggested I give it a little time and all would be well.

“That’s good,” I thought and proceeded to make dinner. I continued to check my blood pressure every hour. Not much changed. Determined I was not going to spend the night in the ER, by gum, I took charge of the situation. I tried the “don’t think about it” system…the relax and make dinner system…the relax and watch a movie system. But at midnight my blood pressure was still extremely elevated, and my daughters, who are registered nurses, insisted I go to the emergency room. After several revealing tests, the attending physician insisted that I spend the night. I was admitted into the hospital. I soon realized that the only thing I was going to be in charge of was one of those nice beds with a thin mattress and a remote control.

I’d started the day feeling like a young 55 and now I lay in a hospital bed feeling old and trying to wrap my mind around what was happening. The blood work confirmed a heart attack. The next morning the angiogram revealed a blockage in my heart and the cardiologist placed a stent in one of my arteries.

I left the hospital with a 172 page Heart Care Handbook, prescriptions for eight medications to lower my blood pressure, thin my blood, and prevent cholesterol from playing havoc in my arteries, and finally, a referral to cardiac rehab. Wow!

Often the Lord is subtle and I have to really be on the lookout for what He might be trying to teach me. Other times there are events in life were His message is loud, clear, and unmistakable. This was just such an event.

By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, September 2, 2010

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.

“Is This the Finale?” - Step 3 Trust in God

2010-07-12T19:59:00.000-07:00

Sometimes we talk about our need for the Lord to be a little more direct in His communication with us. We joke about hoping to receive a phone call or an email or a visitation or something big indicating His word directly and personally. When I’m in great need I often ask the Lord to please speak loud and clear because I’m not all that perceptive. Well, this past holiday season, the one where we celebrated our independence, the Lord spoke to me with a real bang.

My husband and I had just left the theater after seeing “To Kill a Mockingbird.” The evening was growing late and I was weary, but we had one more stop to make. We drove quietly toward the end of the parade route where our children and grandchildren had spent the evening laughing, visiting, eating treats, waving at city royalty, chasing after candy thrown from passing floats, standing for the Colors, cheering for their alma mater high school band, and waiting for dark and fireworks.

As we drove along in silence to the designated meeting spot, I watched the crowd of people–families with little children—out my window, and a familiar sinking feeling came over me, a feeling I have entertained over and over in the last few years. I knew the feeling was associated somehow with my personal midlife crisis – the growing up and moving on of my five children. In the silence of my own mind I asked, “What is it Lord? What is this feeling? I need to be able to grasp it and deal with it!”

The following words came into my mind along with a feeling of great compassion, “Nannette, you are afraid that the best part of your life is over.”

The words were surprising to me and came with great force and clarity. “That’s it exactly!”

This simple new understanding was enough. The Lord didn’t have to give me any more, but He did.

We parked the car and walked several blocks. We were still looking for familiar faces when the first explosion of red, white, and blue went off and the crowd cheered. I walked along holding Marv’s arm and looking into the sky, not wanting to miss a thing. Eventually we recognized the potpourri of family camped on the side of the parade route – our kids, their kids, my sister’s kids, and their kids, and a few miscellaneous friends. We had forgotten our usual Grandma and Grandpa folding chairs so I spotted a place on the tarp just big enough for two and we joined the group.

The night was beautiful, the temperature perfect. And these were not the far away kind of fireworks. This was the kind of fireworks show that explodes in magnificent bursts right over your head and the glistening fire trickles down like fairy dust and burns out in a flicker. Uncharacteristically I leaned back and laid my Saturday weary body down on the tarp and stared directly into the sky. There were plenty of wows and ohs and ahs coming from our little group but there was one little one whose simple comments struck fire to my heart. Six-year-old Sammy stood next to her mother’s lounge chair, right above my head. Over and over, after each blast of magnificent colored fire, she asked, “Mom, is this the finale’?” “Mom, is this the finale’?” “Mom, is this the finale’?” She was afraid that the experience would end too soon and was so sure that it couldn’t get any better. But it went on and on and on, one splendiferous burst after another.

I laid there on the blue camp tarp listening to Sammy and watching the sky until I was almost dizzy, knowing God was talking to me. “Nannette, you think the best part of your life is over, that the good part ended too soon and you’re so sure it can’t possibly get better than what you’ve experienced, that the finale’ has come and gone. Come stand next to my lounge chair and let’s watch together the beautiful blaze of life from my vantage point: sunrises and sunsets, babies born and children kneeling at the altar, circles of tenderness and laughter and encouragement and empathy, spring flowers and first snowfalls, the bird nest outside your kitchen window. Now ask me just like Sammy, every time you observe something wonderful, “Is this the finale’?” “Is this the finale’?” “Is this the finale’?” and my answer will be Eternally ‘No!’ because in My world, in the world of the Gods there is no end to the best part of living. So lie back and relax and enjoy what’s right before your very eyes. Stare deeply into the blazing sky and then allow your finite mind to trust the One who is over the infinite good that lies just ahead."

By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, July 12, 2010

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 Toothache – Pain of the Problem and the Pain of the Solution

2010-06-15T19:12:00.001-07:00

Over the past several months I have been plagued with a constant toothache. I finally took myself kicking and screaming to the dentist. He discovered I had a crack in my back upper right molar. The dentist glued the tooth together by filling in the crack with some kind of cement. He said we’d have to give the tooth some time before putting on a crown to see if the root of the tooth had been damaged. The pain went away for a little while. I was very grateful. No one likes the prognosis “root canal.” This was a procedure I surely hoped to avoid! Maybe the problem could just be patched over and covered up with a crown.

I was instructed to use extreme care and completely avoid using that quadrant of my mouth, so I chewed all my food on the left side, even being careful with soft foods and liquids. Within a few weeks the pain returned. With fear and trepidation I went back to the dentist. He placed a temporary crown on the tooth, took impressions for a permanent crown and sent me home with an antibiotic and instructions to follow in case I began to experience extreme pain. “What’s this all about?” I thought.

Apparently the dentist knew more about the future than I did. Within a very few hours I was in excruciating pain. Apparently all the fuss over my tooth had awakened a sleeping giant. The only pain I can even compare it to is labor and childbirth. Still I resisted. I was in the middle of a very busy week. So much to do, and I still hung to the hope that somehow miraculously the pain might simply go away without any more expense and inconvenience. After 48 hours of agony I called the specialist. Suddenly no amount of money was too great and no procedure too uncomfortable if only this pain could be taken away.

By the time I actually found myself in the chair of the endodontist, mouth open, staring humbly into the bright overhead light, much of the pain had subsided. I braced myself as he moved toward my pitiful tooth with his icy probe checking each tooth for sensitivity.

“That’s the one,” he said. “You definitely need a root canal.”

With tears leaking out of my eyes and toward my ears I expressed my terror at the thought of further suffering.

“Actually,” he said, “The greatest part of the pain occurred before you came to me for help.” He explained that infection had settled in and destroyed the nerve of my tooth. The pain I had experienced was actually the pain of the nerve dying. According to the doctor, the root canal, the stabilizing of the tooth and getting rid of any infection was going to be far less painful than what I had already gone through. I chose to believe him. I was out of alternatives, and he was right. The procedure I had fearfully procrastinated for months was not what I had imagined and the outcome was RELIEF!

In 12 Step recovery there’s a saying that goes: “People come for help when the pain of the problem is worse than the pain of the solution.” Many of us (and I include myself in this diagnosis) are initially overcome with fear as we read the 12 Steps of Recovery. I remember thinking, “Well, I’ll take the first three steps and the last three, but I’m not taking any of those steps in the middle.” I’m sure my response is not unique. We imagine that taking the steps will be very painful. But, when the pain of living in the insanity of our problem becomes worse than the imagined pain of seeking a mighty, divinely implemented change in our lives, we find the humility to seek help and surrender to a process that is tried and true. We become as willing “as the dying can be,” it says in AA literature (AA Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 24).

That day in the dentist chair the endodontist spoke words that calmed my heart. “Actually, the greatest part of the pain occurred before you came to me for help.” Those words caused me to relax and surrender to the work that had to be done that day. Today I want to share those same words with any of you who are avoiding recovery because you’re terrified of the pain of taking each of the steps. The application of the 12 Steps, though daunting at first, is actually much less painful than we fear or than the pain we have experienced in the throes of our problem. The greatest pain is experienced before we give up and surrender to our need for help.

Through these steps, like young Alma, we can experience relief we never imagined possible. In the Book of Mormon, Alma the Younger describes what happened to him when he was finally humble enough to cry out to the Lord. “Now, as my mind caught hold upon this thought, I cried within my heart: O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me, who am in the gall of bitterness, and am encircled about by the everlasting chains of death. And now, behold, when I thought this, I could remember my pains no more; yea, I was harrowed up by the memory of my sins no more. And oh, what joy and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!” (Alma 36:18-20).

Root canal or recovery–when we surrender to the process, it brings an end to an exhausting pain-filled journey. I don’t know the etymology of the word “endodontist,” but I notice that the first syllable is the little word “end.” Part of the job description of that specialist is to bring an end to dental misery. It’s curious that the Lord calls himself “The Beginning and The End.” Do not be afraid of these 12 simple gospel principles. There is One who has paid the price to specialize in any and all hurts you have experienced in this life. Through Him we can each experience “The End” of pain brought on by the infection of our sins, the sins of others, or the trials and afflictions of earth life and “The Beginning” of a joyful new way of living.

By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, June 15, 2010

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 Good Librarian - Step 12 Service

2010-05-24T16:19:00.000-07:00

My husband served as a university librarian for forty years. Since the library contains a record of all the world’s knowledge and since the world’s librarians spend most of their waking hours surrounded by all the world’s knowledge we expect a lot of them.

Over the years my children have come to their father for help with questions of many varieties. After all, a good librarian should know everything. I’ve heard him respond many times, “A librarian doesn’t need to know everything. They just need to know how to find everything.” My husband did not spend forty years learning everything that could be learned in the library. He spent forty years helping individual students find the best resources available and showing them how they might best be used. He’s a research specialist.

When we married, my five children were ages five through seventeen and one of the best things about their new dad was realized just before any report was due at school. I remember him coming home from the university one day early in our marriage and sitting down with my youngest daughter who had been assigned to write a report for her science class on an animal. She had chosen to study and report on bears. She explained to him that one of her sources could be the “encyclopedia.” He patiently sat next to her and helped her understand that she could not simply copy word for word out of the reference. He taught her to read and then close the book, pick up her pencil, and put the concepts in her own words.

Since that day there have been countless reports due. Most often the kids came to him in crisis mode. “Oh Marv, I have to do a report. It’s going to be OK though because the report’s not due yet. I just need to turn in all my resources by tomorrow. Can you help me!!!!”

Marv was a great one for not offering to do the work for the kids, but if they would find a few hours to spend with him in the library he was more than willing to help out. I remember the time he helped my son find just what he needed for a report on a World War II fighter squadron. Several days later my son went to use the resources they had gathered and discovered he had accidentally left all the books sitting on a desk at the library after a hard day of study. The fear of losing library books is ingrained in each of us at an early age. But they weren’t lost. My son’s librarian dad soon discovered that they were still checked out to them and had simply been re-shelved. Together they looked up the call numbers in the book stacks and re-found each book.

The Lord reminded me of my children and their library experiences with their dad just the other day in an effort to teach me an important truth.

I had just gotten off of the phone from sponsoring someone struggling with addiction. I was filled with regret because I didn’t know the exact advice to give this person in regard to a particular issue.

The question crossed my mind, “So who do you think you are, offering to give support to other struggling mortals?”

I answered back, “So who do I think I am?”

So many times my discussions with those I sponsor or support involve questions about how to solve a current problem, what choice to make in a given life situation, or the truth about a some aspect of life. I receive queries every day that I am ill equipped and unqualified to address, not to mention my complete lack of authority, being wholly unauthorized by God or man to give others their marching orders. And then there’s the matter of my own imperfect behavior, sometimes in the exact thing that’s troubling the person needing assistance!

Then my husband’s words came into my mind. “Nannette, a good librarian doesn’t know everything. A good librarian knows how to find everything. He’s a research specialist.”

That’s it!!! I see!!! He’s an expert on how best to seek, and like a good librarian, a good sponsor doesn’t have to know everything either. They’re not experts on the details of how other struggling mortals should solve every problem. They are not all knowledgeable about all things, but they have come to know the One who is. They know how and where to seek. They’ve discovered that God is the greatest of all resources when it comes to solving problems, overcoming sin, and enduring trials.

One of my husband’s greatest frustrations as a university librarian is the student who sees the “Google” search as the answer to all his or her research needs. We live in a world where instant answers that require a simple search are the order of the day. He says that the easy search never results in the finest, most current scholarly findings. With no filter the simple search brings confusion because the results come by the hundreds and thousands and have to be sorted out by the hours in order to find the materials of greatest value. On the other hand Marv can work with a student for an hour and at the end of their time together they don’t have three thousand possibilities to check out for value. No, they have the twenty very best sources available.

We are surrounded by individuals who are wasting their time and their lives searching out answers to their problems, “Google style.” We have been there ourselves. Finally we ran out of money and room for one more self-help book on our library shelf. Finally someone introduced us the very best Resource available, the Authority on how to navigate life’s struggles and solve life’s most difficult problems. We turned to Him and found Him ready and willing to assist us with any search. Now our great desire is to help others.

I came across these words in the book Alcoholics Anonymous or the Big Book. These words represent the humility and understanding necessary in giving effective support. “We realize we know only a little. God will constantly disclose more to you and to us.” With this simple understanding you and I can assist anyone with his or her search for answers.

We don’t ever have to shy away from giving support because we’re not omniscient! In fact it’s critical to realize that “we know only a little.” What a relief! As demonstrated by the “good librarian,” our work is to lead those who are seeking to the One Resource that will never fail them and then to live in faith that, “God will constantly disclose more to [them] and to us.”

By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, May 24, 2010.

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.

“Help” – Step 11 and Prayer

2010-05-08T15:34:00.001-07:00

At my coxing Esther wiggled out of her mother’s arms and crawled over her daddy’s legs onto my lap. She soon recognized that her Grandma was ill prepared with the standard equipment traditionally used for entertaining toddlers during Sacrament Meeting, ie. Cheerios, Sippy Cup, board books etc.

I quickly inventoried the contents of my empty-nester church bag for anything that might possibly capture her attention. I put a squeeze of lotion onto her baby girl palm and rubbed her hands together. Next I used a few pages in my steno pad/journal and to the best of my pitiful ability drew simple familiar objects for her which she practiced recognizing: tree, flower, house, cat, ice cream, and truck. That was the extent of what my purse had to offer and the benediction was not in sight.

With resources running out and wanting to enjoy her company as long as possible I remembered I was wearing my missionary badge. This badge is attached to my Sunday clothes and held in place with set of magnet. I removed it from my blazer and succeeded in fascinating her with the magic of the two magnets. I placed the badge along with the second magnet in her little hand. For a few minutes she was quite captivated. She pulled the magnets apart and then observed the mystery of having them snap back together. Then the fun came to an end. The magnets snapped together in such a way that it was impossible for her to use her little fingers to pull them apart.

I was sure she would soon break into a toddler tantrum. Time for Grandma to help! She was sitting face forward in my lap, and before I made my move to rescue her from frustration she turned her little head so her blue eyes met mine. “Help” she simply said in the most peaceful trusting voice I have ever heard.

I have many times been taken aback by the over the top response of a child to a simple frustration. The sound of the wining that escalates into an outright inconsolable uncontrollable tantrum (theirs and mine) seems to linger and sometimes cloud the atmosphere of the home long after the problem is resolved. When my grown kids and I sit around on a Sunday night and reminisce, these loud, intense, crazy moments in our past are easily remembered.

Curiously I don’t know if I will ever forget Esther’s pure, trusting, simple request for help that day in church. It made a striking impression on my mind and on my heart. I leaned back on the bench and thought about how difficult it is to help a child who is beyond help. They become so worked up over their need and so very sure they aren’t going to receive help fast enough or maybe not at all, that they couldn’t recognize it if the National Guard showed up to solve their problem.

I’ve been that child at times in relation to my earthly parents and to my Heavenly Father, so over wrought, and so overcharged that I am emotionally, physically, intellectually, and spiritually incapable of receiving assistance.

Esther’s humble and faith-filled rendering of the word “help” still hangs in the air over my conscience. Her calm voice was evidence that she had absolutely no doubt about my willingness and ability to help her.

Now, I recognize that earth life is full of some very serious challenges. I do not fault myself or any one else for feeling the pain and the desperate need and the insecurity that comes naturally with the grave trials and struggles we are called to experience as we walk “through the valley of the shadow of death” so to speak. Crying out to the Lord for help certainly has its place.

On the other hand, I find myself facing countless frustrations, problems, and struggles every day that vary in degree of seriousness. Today I want to keep in mind that the Lord is willing and capable of helping me with anything, and I mean ANYTHING large or small. I want to remember Esther’s blue eyes looking with complete trust into mine. I want to remember how she simply and quietly spoke the word “Help” knowing I was not across the universe or even across the room. I was right there by her. I was holding her. And so it is with God. He hears me and He responds.

Sometimes a simple, trusting “Help” is many times more effective than the cry for “Help” followed by hundreds of exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!...............................

By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, May 8, 2010.

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.

“Now and Later” - Service

2010-03-20T15:11:00.001-07:00

My mother taught second grade while I was raising my children. Every year she would make very clever homemade Valentines for the children in her class and extras for her grandchildren. A home school Valentine’s Day is never quite as grand as the public school production and my kids were always surprised and grateful for Grandma’s Valentines.

This year the holiday marked by hearts and flowers and candy fell on a Sunday. Saturday night something out of the ordinary struck me and I found myself at Seven-Eleven trying to follow in my mother’s footsteps by putting together a creative idea of my own for my grandkids. I finally settled on the “Now and Later” candies.

Sunday afternoon while dinner was cooking I created a cardstock Valentine for each of the “Grands” that read, “We Love You ‘Now’ and We’ll Love You ‘Later’ and Later and Later…FOREVER!!! Happy Valentines Day Love, Grandma Nan and Grandpa Marv.” Then I put five “Now and Later” candies in ten small baggies and stapled one to the back of each card. I placed the Valentines in my red purse and after the family dinner I passed out the little love notes.

At the close of the day there were several cards left in the bag. I saved them and sent them to the four grandchildren living out of town via an aunt and uncle currier. Better late that never!

My daughter, the mother of three, called to tell me how her little guy T.J. (age four) responded to his Valentine. He had been playing in the yard with four friends. The minute he received the card and candy he ran back outside, opened the little baggie stapled to the back of the card and distributed all the “No and Laters” to his friends. Feeling very good about what he had done he ran back into the house and said, “Mom, I shared my candy with all my friends. That’s the way we get back to Heavenly Father.” Of course his mother gave him an affirming smile.

As she told me the story I thought, “Imagine feeling the joy of service and self-sacrifice at such a young age and with such an Eternal goal in mind! That’s my boy!”

Then she described a scene that occurred later that afternoon. With all his candy philanthropically dispersed T. J. walked in from the yard just in time to observe his siblings hanging out and eating their entire sweet treat with nary a thought of sharing. She described the look on his little face as quite downcast with a less than Eternal perspective in his eyes.

T. J. is good at playing make-believe when it comes to cowboys and cars, but when it comes to his feelings there is no pretending.

Don’t worry T. The “Now and Later Principle” takes a lifetime and maybe beyond to master. Believe me, all the grownups in your world are still working on it. We do something good “now” because we know it will be a blessing “later,” much “later” as in Eternally “later.” What we struggle with is the way we feel just a little “later,” when the pain of the sacrifice kicks in.

Doing what’s right, right “now”, something hard, and something with a price, something that hurts, in hopes of better things “much later” takes years of practice. It requires that we maintain a telescopic view of things. T. J. gave his candy to his friends because, “That’s the way we get back to Heavenly Father.” That’s quite the perspective for a four-year-old little guy. It’s the Heavenly view. It’s a far off view that’s hard to keep hold of. It’s a view I continually work on, because I know it’s one of the keys to continual happiness.

Our lives are full of opportunities to give “now.” Today as I give of myself I want to keep my focus on the “much later” so I can be happy “just a little later,” when all my candy has been generously dispersed and my baggie is empty. “Now and Later,” a big principle in a chewy little package!

By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, March 20, 2010.

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.

Phone Mail Treasure, More Than Please and Thank You - Prayer

2010-03-07T21:42:00.000-08:00

My mother recorded a prayer I said independent of her prompting when I was two and a half. These were my words, “We thank Thee for this nice family night and for the gospel and for the Holy Spirit with us and for the good in our hearts, the smiles in our hearts, and that I’ll get better, and for my friends. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

One of the earliest things we are introduced to is prayer. We first learn by listening to the prayers offered over the food, family prayer, and the prayers offered each week at church. We also learn about prayer by practicing as our mothers, fathers and teachers whisper prayerful words in our ear, which we repeat as best we can.

It’s important to grow in our ability to communicate with God. By the time I was a teenager I think I had actually digressed. Prayer became something I did because I was supposed to and not because I was really trying to communicate openly and honestly with my Father. My prayers became same-ish, the kind of prayer referred to as a “parrot prayer” in old Family Home Evening Lessons. I was bored and I was sure Heavenly Father was bored. In addition I had not been successful at being “perfect” so I was sure I was not only dull but I was also a disappointment to Him.

My little sister and I shared a double bed until I went to college. I remember some nights lying there in the darkness saying to her with great older sister authority, “Did you say your prayers?” “Oh no,” she would innocently admit. “I forgot.” Then she would kneel up in bed and pray while I stared face up toward the ceiling barrier between God and me, having no intention of “saying my prays”.

In order to survive adulthood of necessity I’ve had to take a good strong look at my prayer life. In the early days of recovery from compulsive addictive behavior I remember having a prayer with a sponsor or support person, a convert to the Church. At the close of my prayer she said, “Oh, you pray like all the rest, like you’re not really talking to someone.” She proceeded to teach me that in order to really connect with the Lord she had to be free to go outside the “thank you” and “please bless” box and express herself openly, honestly, and with great candor to the Lord. Today as I pray I practice believing that He loves me, that it gives Him great joy to hear from me, that He knows me, that He wants to help me, and that He has power to assist me with anything that’s disturbing me, big or small. I try to pray without perfectionism knowing that He is perfect and I am not. And it’s embarrassing to admit, but even today it’s easy for me to slip back into my same old thoughtless prayer patterns.

I’m still learning to pray, and once again the Lord has used the voice of children to instruct me. Over the past few months I’ve received many calls from my grandchildren. Sometimes I’m not at home to receive the calls so they have learned to leave me a phone message. I love these little communications so much that it’s hard for me to erase them. Recently I’ve been saving them so I can listen more than once to their little bits of communication. There are actually getting to be so many of them I’m in danger of running out of space on my answering machine and it won’t be many more day before I have to go through and push the delete button.

One day while I was listening to a new message from one of ‘the grands” I felt instructed by the Lord. “Nannette” the thought came, “Communication with me can and should be more than ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Just as you value all of the varying phone messages your grandchildren choose to leave for you I treasure the great variety of things you might want to communicate to me.”

I immediately pushed the play button on the answering machine and began to listen. This is what I heard and what I learned:

Sammy Age 5 - “Hello Grandma and Grandpa. This is me, Sammy. Were on the mountain right now, walking down it. Were looking at the sunset. It’s so beautiful! And Grandma Bye Bye.” – The Lord wants us to express the joy we find in the view as we hike up and down the mountains of life.

Gracie age 2 - “Grandma, got “poopies.” Then repeating after her mom, she says, “I went poopies on the potty. Yea Gracie! Bye Bye.”– The Lord wants us to fill Him in on our progress no matter how indelicate the subject matter.

TJ Age 4 and Madeline Age 6 - “Hi Grandma. Happy Birthday yesterday,” TJ says enthusiastically. “Ya… Happy Birthday yesterday,” Madeline concurs. “We’re going to sing you a song” The whole family then chimes in together. “Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you etc….” Then came TJ coda: “We love you love you love you. We love you love you thank you.” – The Lord always appreciates it when we celebrate Him.

Carson Age 5 - “Hi! This is Carson. I just wanted to say that I lost my first tooth, so give me a call. Bye.” The Lord wants to hear about all the firsts, all of the milestones in our lives.

Eliza Age 11 – “ Hi Grandma, I’m calling to invite you to a special Activity Day at the church where we’re all inviting our Grandmas. We’re going to have dinner and play a game. Can you come?” – The Lord loves to be invited along wherever we go.

Matthew, Jack and Esther Age 1 – These little one’s leave messages with the aid of their mothers that sound like this one:
“Say, ‘Hello, Hello.’”
“Say, ‘Hi, I love you Grandma.”
“Say, ‘Grandma.’”
“Say, ‘Hello.’”
“Say, ‘I love you.’”
“Say, ‘Miss you.’”
“Say, ‘Bye.’”
“Say, ‘Happy, sleepy, doggy, bird, tree.’”
“Say, ‘Bye Love you.’”
Following each prompt from the mom came the sweet voice of a baby learning to put sounds and meaning together for communication. I love to hear the sound of their voices. I think the Lord loves the sound of our individual voices. I believe He loves to hear from us even when all we can manage to voice is His name.

Carson Age 5 – For Carson’s Birthday I bought him two new big puzzles with themes I thought he would enjoy (Cars and Curious George). I’m not sure what he was expecting, but to his mother’s dismay his response to the gift was less that enthusiastic. Later I received this message on my machine. “Sorry Grandma that I was being such a twit and I did that puzzle and it’s really big but not bigger than me. Thank you. Bye. Give me a call.” – The Lord needs to hear that we recognize it when we’ve been less than appreciative.

Ethan Age 8 – After Church and before the Sunday family dinner I pushed the play button and heard, “Grandma, this is Ethan. We’re going to tithing settlement and choir practice at 4:00 and then my mom will come home and turn the beans on to heat so I don’t know what time we’ll be there. We might be there at 5:30 and not 5:00…just so if there’s a problem call my dad’s cell phone.” – The Lord loves to hear what we have planned.

Carson Age 5 – “Hi Grandma. This is Carson. I just wanted to read you a story and its really funny…so bye…give me a call.” – The Lord has a sense of humor. He likes to have us share things in life that bring a smile and a chuckle, the things that bring us joy.

My mother tells another story about my early prayer life. I was not quite three years old. She was kneeling next to me listening as I prayed before jumping into bed. We had just moved into a very small house my parents affectionately referred to as “the Chalet.” Apparently we were not quite settled in. Perhaps I had heard my parents discussing the “how to’s” of moving their family of four, with a third baby on the way, into such small quarters. In the middle of the prayer mother says I started sharing with Heavenly Father in great detail exactly how we were going to arrange various pieces of furniture and household items in the tiny space so that everything would fit.

As I went on and on my mother, who had her eyes closed, says that the way I was speaking to Heavenly Father was so real, so authentic, that she knew if she opened up her eyes she would see Him standing in the room, taking in with great interest all that I was sharing. She remembers that at the conclusion of the prayer I said with great expectation, “Good idea Heavenly Father?” There was apparently no doubt in my mind that He was there and that He was interested in the details of my little girl life.

Tonight when I kneel to pray I want to be as real with my Heavenly Father as I was back then. I think I’ll imagine that my communications to Him are so precious that they are filling up all the endless space in His phone mail and He just can stand the idea of pushing the delete button and never will.

By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, March 7, 2010.

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 Fruit Snack Rules – Step 3 Trust in God

2010-01-19T21:24:00.001-08:00

The other day my kids were joking around, thanking me with a little sarcastic good-humor for all the days they finished the school hours with, “that batch of chocolate chip cookies you always had baking in the oven.” They were kidding of course. My struggle with food addiction and all the bad press about sugar and children kept me from doing much baking.

Now I’m the Grandma of ten treat loving children and I do understand the fun of having something to share with them. However, the only homemade goodies at this grandma’s house are the ones their parents bring to Sunday dinner, or birthdays, or game nights. The sweets I personally keep in stock for “the Grands” are Fruit Snacks. They meet three important criteria. They don’t tempt me, they don’t make a mess, and the kids love them.

There are a few rules the children have come to understand about Grandma’s Fruit Snacks:

Lesson #1 The first rule is that the Fruit Snacks are a gift from Grandma and they are passed out spontaneously by Grandma or else given upon request by Grandma. Initially I kept the box full of the gummy treats in a place where little hands could reach, and reach they did. Now I keep them up high so the children cannot easily help themselves. I want them to know that they are a little present from me to them, not just something they can take, and take for granted, but something a little special. They all know exactly where they’re kept though, and every so often one of the little bandits drags a chair over to the cupboard, climbs up, and grabs a pack plus a few extras to pass out to the rest of the visiting siblings and cousins. That’s a no no!

Lesson #2 The second rule is that it’s not enough to simply remember the “ask first” rule. There’s the little matter of how you ask and when you ask. Fruit Snacks are not passed out to children who are grumpy, demanding, impatient, or who make an untimely request- before dinner, during dinner, or on the heels of some other family treat. Attitude and timing are definite considerations.

As you know by now I think it’s very instructive to watch and participate in earthly parenting and grand parenting and at the same time think about myself, a child of Heavenly Parents. I believe that with regard to Heavenly Father’s gifts the Fruit Snack rules also apply. Everything that’s good and good for me comes from God. Some things are given spontaneously without even asking and some are given by way of request. “Nannette” I can imagine Him saying, “There are many things in life I want to bless you with. I have placed them just out of reach. The solution is not to figuratively drag a chair to My shelf marked ‘for Nannette’ and then help yourself. Remember, ‘Ask and ye shall receive.’”

Next there’s the important matter of how to ask God. I am coming to understand that I can do the asking/seeking part and still miss the mark. Earthly parents work very hard to teach children the proper attitude for receiving assistance. When approached for help by a demanding, bossy, whiny child who wishes to be in charge of all the details, we have all been heard to say, “Now wait a minute. Maybe you need to think of a better way to ask. I think you’d better fix your attitude. Try that again.” Going to our Heavenly Father to have needs met is no different. I have to go to Him in humility, knowing that He knows best. I have to allow Him to set the terms. I have felt Him say to me at times, “Excuse me, could you think of a better way to ask?”

One of my daughters called me yesterday to tell me how things were going in her world with three children under six. “So mom, Jack is SO naughty! This morning while I was in folding laundry he went into the kitchen, pulled a chair over to the counter, and climbed up onto the counter. When I found him he was slathered in butter. The cube of butter was covered with little finger marks and the knobs of the kitchen sink faucet were all greasy. Apparently he’d tried to clean himself up by himself.” He's just 22-months-old and when she found him covered in butter all he could say is, “Ooooooh.”

My other daughter shares that 18-month-old Esters recently had her eyes on the cookies stored atop the kitchen cupboards in the little space between the top of the cabinets and the ceiling. To her mother’s horror Esther decided to see of she could get a bit closer to the treat using the oven door and cooking racks. Good Grief! Helping ourselves can be very dangerous!

It’s been a while since God found my fingerprints all over something sitting on the counter that I shouldn’t be eating, but when I think about it, hardly a day goes by that I don’t drag the kitchen chair over the counter and try to help myself (figuratively speaking) to something I want immediately and think I deserve, while imagining that God is in some far off corner of the universe doing His housekeeping. I wonder if God ever calls one of His angle friends over to see what I’ve gotten myself into? Today I want to live by the Fruit Snack rules. I want to ask and ask with humility and with respect.

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above...” above my reach, “and cometh down from the Father of lights...” (see James 1:17) from my Heavenly Father and my Savior, who see in perfect light exactly what will, in the end, bring me the greatest measure of joy.

By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, January 19, 2010

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 Only Real Gift in the Room – Steps 6 and 7

2010-01-11T20:13:00.000-08:00

A good friend of mine invited me to a party over the holidays. It was a gift exchange. Each woman invited was asked to purchase an ornament and bring it to the party wrapped. Having had no experience with this kind of an activity I asked the hostess, “What kind of an ornament?”

“Oh, you know, one you think everyone in the room will want when they see it! And of course, it’s all about the packaging.” Those were my only instructions. A few days later I found myself browsing in a Christmas shop when suddenly it dawned on me, the procrastinating Christmas elf, that this was the perfect moment to find my ornament.

I walked around the shop for a long time. There were hundreds of ornaments, every kind imaginable. I started collecting my favorites as I walked about. I soon had them hanging in all ten fingers, unable to make any kind of a choice. “I need some help,” I thought. I called my daughter and started describing the type of party I had been invited to and the ornament choices swinging from each of my fingers, with hopes that she could help me. It didn’t take me long to see that this was not going to help at all. I’m sure she thought I was crazy, calling her about such a little decision and no way for her to actually tell what I was looking at!

Finally I walked up to the check out desk. Maybe these people have some kind of experience with other indecisive women coming in on this kind of errand. Happily they knew just what I was talking about and even which ornament had been most widely chosen for such an occasion. I finally made my purchase!

The hostess, my friend, had created a beautiful, very inviting atmosphere. Her home was luscious with Christmas everywhere. Each woman placed her unmarked wrapped package under the tree. We snacked and chatted until the time for opening arrived. We each picked a number out of a hat and then the games began. Woman number one went to the tree, choose a gift, and unwrapped it. There were lots of oohs and aahs. Then woman number two had the opportunity to either take a gift from under the tree or from woman number one. Which would it be - the known and the unknown? We proceeded like that until every woman had a gift and had had the opportunity to steal a gift from a friend (or someone who use to be her friend). It was a lot of fun! Christmas was wonderful.

It’s January now. I stayed up very late Saturday night getting my after Christmas personal finances back in order and making a budget for January. “Wow, I’m glad to have made it through one more year,” I thought as I closed the books. “The gift giving frenzy of Christmas is all over, or is it?” a little jingle bell went off in my mind:

“Nannette, the world gives gifts at Christmas to symbolize the Savior’s gifts to the world, but the Savior’s gifts to the world are not limited just to Christmas. For Him, gift giving is a year round activity.”

My mind wandered back to my first Christmas party of this season, the “Ornament Exchange.” I dedicate the following thought to all of us who are so in need of the blessings of Christmas the through out the year:

“The great gift of Christmas is The Christ and the great gift of The Christ is His power to help us endure the trials of life and make progress toward Him, day after day after day, every day of the year. The Lord wants to give you the best gift in the room, the one that will be fought over, the one that you are willing to fight for. Fight for it today my friend. The Lord wants you to have it! He brought it to the party hoping you would want it more than anything else under the tree. His gift is wrapped in His flesh and in His blood. He spent everything He had for the right to extend it to you. It’s yours for the taking, if you want it. Don’t trade it for something unknown or something that seems more glamorous. Hold it tight. There is nothing worth the trade. It’s the only real gift in the room.”

Have A Merry Christmas Every Day Of The Year!

By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, January 11, 2010.

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.

Reindeer Resistance – All Steps

2010-01-07T21:42:00.000-08:00

On the Monday morning before Christmas I went to the gym for my usual first day of the week work out, water aerobics, a class I love. I was fully prepared to swim, but as I walked past the pool and glanced at my classmates who had already entered the water I had second and even third thoughts.

Now believe me, I’m fully aware that water aerobics is not now and likely never will be an Olympic sport. “Real athletes” and “gym regulars” have been known to poke fun at all those splashing about in the shallow end of the pool who seem to be suffering from the delusion that they are actually “working out.” We use things like Styrofoam weights and “noodles” to facilitate our workout, not exactly the equipment you’d love to have your picture taken with for the latest fitness magazine. For many reasons it would be nice if water aerobics were a private affair instead of an activity surrounded by window glass walls and situated in the corner of a very busy gym. Putting all self-consciousness aside, I’m a regular, and water aerobics has been a very real and effective form of exercise for me.

So what was the cause of my resistance on this particular day before Christmas 2009? As I walked toward the door I glanced in at my classmates and recognized right away that a new piece of equipment had been added. Placed atop the head of each swimmer was a bold set of reindeer felt antlers, some red, some green, and all sets complete with jingling bells. Front and center was our teacher whose noggin was covered in a red fluffy Santa hat. She was the “Little Saint Nick” and we were apparently to be her “Run, Run, Running Reindeer.”

Though I love our well-meaning teacher and knew this was her contribution to our holiday cheer, I was mortified. As I walked past the window toward the dressing room the whole silly looking class of women smiled and waved to me. There was no discrete way out of this. They had all seen my swim bag and I needed to exercise. I entered the pool area. Maybe if I completely ignore the obvious they’ll forget. But oh no! The teacher immediately exited the pool, reached into her little bag, and brought forth a set of red felt jingling Christmas dress ups for me. Apparently there were plenty to go around.

For the next hour we exercised hard and we laughed hard too! It was all very good for me I’m sure (the exercise and the “antlers”). I tend to be too self-conscious and to take myself a bit too seriously. In recovery I’m learning that as I live right there is always the possibility that I will look foolish to others.

Recently in my scripture study I ran across a phrase I have not understood and have previously passed over. This time for some reason I stayed with it until I had a better understanding. It was in 2 Nephi 9:18 which says: “But, behold, the righteous, the saints of the Holy One of Israel, they who have believed in the Holy One of Israel, they who have endured the crosses of the world, and despised the shame of it, they shall inherit the kingdom of God, which was prepared for them from the foundation of the world, and their joy shall be full forever.”

The concept I couldn’t grasp was what it meant to “despise the shame” of the world? So, I got out my dictionary. The word despise means “to regard as beneath one’s notice and unworthy of consideration or interest.” The shame of the world is the guilt or disgrace that the world tries to lay on us as we try to “choose the right.”

In short we “despise the shame of the world” when we are willing to go forward and take action based not on how we might come across to “the world” but based on our best understanding of God’s will for us. We let go of the reaction of the world and of those who are of the world, even at the risk of looking silly, foolish, naive, or even down right ridiculous.

We are called to do good and let go of the reaction of others. In the world there will be never ending opportunities to work on our ability to focus on the Lord and proceed, unashamed. So don’t you worry! Your next opportunity to practice this principle is probably just around the corner, inside the gym, the restaurant, the theater, at church, at the mall, or right in your own home.

My desire is to set aside pride wherever it exists within me. I think I should keep a set of those reindeer antlers around as a funny reminder of a very real, very serious divine challenge. Figuratively speaking what each of us has to do is practice placing those reindeer antlers on our heads and jumping in the pool in every aspect of our lives.

Happy New Year to all!

By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, January 7, 2010

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.

With One or With All - Steps 1, 2, and 3

2009-12-31T06:31:00.000-08:00

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.

“Michael’s Thanksgiving Day Prayer” - Abstinence

2009-12-07T21:31:00.000-08:00

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.

“Pray As If…” Step 3 Trust In God

2009-11-23T21:35:00.000-08:00

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.

Potato Peels Are Just The Beginning - Steps 4-10

2009-11-18T21:50:00.000-08:00

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 God in Simple Terms – Addiction Prevention

2009-10-24T21:37:00.000-07:00

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.

A Big Message from the Loss of a Little Bunny

2009-10-19T19:40:00.000-07:00

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.

“I Don’t Want Jesus to Come and Visit Me!” Step 11 - Personal Revelation

2009-10-14T21:01:00.000-07:00

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.

“Mom, Don’t You Think I’d Be Like One of Those Guys?” – Patience with the Process

2009-10-03T18:12:00.000-07:00

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.

Getting on the Bus – Step 3 - Trust in God

2009-09-23T16:44:00.000-07:00

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.

“Right Face! Right Face! Right Face!” – The Tools

2009-09-07T18:12:00.000-07:00

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.

Humility, It’s About US

2009-09-02T14:30:00.000-07:00

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.

Vision, A View Through God’s Eyes - Step 11

2009-08-20T13:41:00.000-07:00

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.

Taking My Hands Off My Ears – Step 6

2009-08-14T17:58:00.000-07:00

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.

“Surprise! Life IS Unmanageable!” Step 1

2009-07-25T19:26:00.000-07:00

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.

Gratitude In the Laundry Room

2009-07-09T18:21:00.000-07:00

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.

Enjoying An Evening of Abstinence Book of Mormon Style

2009-06-29T21:49:00.000-07:00

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.

“Good Job Grandma!” - Step 12 Service by Example

2009-06-22T22:17:00.001-07:00

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.

"Aren’t You Going To Take Your Present Grandma?” - Step 6 Change of Heart

2009-06-17T21:44:00.000-07:00

“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.

Little Fingers on the Grand Piano - "Acceptance is the Answer"

2009-06-09T21:12:00.000-07:00

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.

“What’s Next Grandma?” - Step 11

2009-06-07T21:47:00.000-07:00

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.

“I Do It Myself!” - Step 1,2,3

2009-06-04T22:41:00.001-07:00

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.

The Bird Clock - Step 12 “Having Had A Spiritual Awakening”

2009-05-31T21:01:00.000-07:00

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.

Memorial Day, Celebrating The Power to Live On!

2009-05-25T19:16:00.000-07:00

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.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel – Steps 10, 11, and 12 The Maintenance Steps

2009-05-18T21:15:00.000-07:00

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.

The Yellow Bedroom

2009-05-14T22:03:00.001-07:00

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.

"I Learned How to Love Them, Dear Mother, from You "– Perfectionism and Step 11

2009-05-09T21:55:00.000-07:00

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.

“To Be Opened and Used Immediately!”

2009-05-05T21:09:00.000-07:00

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.

The Family Photo Shoot – “Smile…PLEASE!” Step 6

2009-05-03T21:13:00.000-07:00

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.

Triathlon - Part 3 (Final Thoughts)

2009-04-29T16:43:00.000-07:00

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.

Triathlon Part 2 - Never Alone!

2009-04-25T14:46:00.000-07:00

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.

Triathlon – Part 1

2009-04-21T21:56:00.000-07:00

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.

Vacation Break

2009-04-18T20:57:00.000-07:00

I am out of town with my family having a wonderful time. I will resume my writing next week.

Easter Sunday – Step 2 Hope

2009-04-12T22:35:00.000-07:00

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.

“I A Princess!”

2009-04-11T20:39:00.000-07:00

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.