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.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
“I Don’t Want Jesus to Come and Visit Me!” Step 11 - Personal Revelation
Some time ago Ethan (then age 6) experienced some very real spiritual feelings one morning as he was reading the children’s version of the Book of Mormon. That evening Ethan lay snuggled in his bed thinking about Joseph Smith’s experience. He pondered how it was that the Prophet Joseph, while just a boy, received a visit from Heavenly Father and Jesus. Suddenly out of the darkness this little guy with some newly discovered spiritual feelings and curiosity about such things called out to his mom. It was not the standard, “Can I have a drink,” call, but “Mom, do you think that if I read the whole Bible that Jesus would come and visit me too?”
Eliza, his older sister and a real practical gal answered from the room next door in just the way you would expect from a serious minded first child. Her simple response was an emphatic, “NO!”
His little brother Carson rested quietly on the bottom bunk bed right below his very imaginative, very courageous, “excited about the scriptures and things of the Spirit” older brother. I’m sure he was trying to process just what the ramifications were of his brother’s apparent desire to have a Joseph Smith experience. Suddenly it dawned on him that he was sharing a room with this seeker of revelation. After a few minutes of silence Carson little voice rang out in the darkness, “Well, I don’t want Jesus to come and visit me!”
I think there must be something of Carson in me, and maybe in all of us, when it comes to things not commonly seen with the eye, things connected with the very real world of the Spirit. Sometimes I feel afraid like Carson, or unworthy, or lazy, or unprepared for the responsibility such interactions seem to command. Though I’m fascinated by the promised gifts of visions and personal revelation, when it comes right down to it I sometimes prefer that Divine interaction remain just outside my personal space, be it hearth or heart.
Things haven’t changed too much with Carson. Last week he lost his first tooth. After this developmental event, when all the kids were tucked into bed, I visited with my daughter on the phone. We had a good laugh when she told me, “Carson’s tooth is not under his pillow. It’s on the front porch. He says he doesn’t like the idea of the Tooth Fairy coming into his room.” We like the idea of fairies and such as long as they stay on the front porch.
Now I hope you don’t think that I’m somehow comparing communication with the Lord with a visit from the Tooth Fairy. I’m not. What I am saying is that sometimes I’m like Carson. I want the prize, but I don’t want to pay the price in closeness.
Joseph Smith taught, “God hath not revealed any thing to Joseph, but what he will make know unto the Twelve and even the least Saint may know all things as fast as he is able to bear them.”(Ehat and Cook, ed. The Words of Joseph Smith, p. 4; emphasis added).
We become “able to bear” the wondrous possibility of daily interaction with our Father and our Savior through the Spirit as we live for it and then practice it. We must become willing to open the front door of our homes and our hearts and invite them to come in. When we ask, “What would Jesus do?” it is very different than inviting Him in from the porch and saying, “Lord, what would Thou have me to do?” Wondering what it would be like to have Jesus with me all day long and trying hard to adjust my behavior to such a possibility is very different than really believing He is with me at all times.
I don’t know about anyone else, but for me keeping God at any distance for any reason will not do in these trying times. Sure I am tempted to feel embarrassed that I’m not all that He would want to be yet. But someday Carson and I have to climb up the ladder to the top bunk with Ethan and entertain the idea that God might just talk to us too. I need to know I’m loved and I need daily counsel and power, things I’ll never be able to receive from the front porch.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Eliza, his older sister and a real practical gal answered from the room next door in just the way you would expect from a serious minded first child. Her simple response was an emphatic, “NO!”
His little brother Carson rested quietly on the bottom bunk bed right below his very imaginative, very courageous, “excited about the scriptures and things of the Spirit” older brother. I’m sure he was trying to process just what the ramifications were of his brother’s apparent desire to have a Joseph Smith experience. Suddenly it dawned on him that he was sharing a room with this seeker of revelation. After a few minutes of silence Carson little voice rang out in the darkness, “Well, I don’t want Jesus to come and visit me!”
I think there must be something of Carson in me, and maybe in all of us, when it comes to things not commonly seen with the eye, things connected with the very real world of the Spirit. Sometimes I feel afraid like Carson, or unworthy, or lazy, or unprepared for the responsibility such interactions seem to command. Though I’m fascinated by the promised gifts of visions and personal revelation, when it comes right down to it I sometimes prefer that Divine interaction remain just outside my personal space, be it hearth or heart.
Things haven’t changed too much with Carson. Last week he lost his first tooth. After this developmental event, when all the kids were tucked into bed, I visited with my daughter on the phone. We had a good laugh when she told me, “Carson’s tooth is not under his pillow. It’s on the front porch. He says he doesn’t like the idea of the Tooth Fairy coming into his room.” We like the idea of fairies and such as long as they stay on the front porch.
Now I hope you don’t think that I’m somehow comparing communication with the Lord with a visit from the Tooth Fairy. I’m not. What I am saying is that sometimes I’m like Carson. I want the prize, but I don’t want to pay the price in closeness.
Joseph Smith taught, “God hath not revealed any thing to Joseph, but what he will make know unto the Twelve and even the least Saint may know all things as fast as he is able to bear them.”(Ehat and Cook, ed. The Words of Joseph Smith, p. 4; emphasis added).
We become “able to bear” the wondrous possibility of daily interaction with our Father and our Savior through the Spirit as we live for it and then practice it. We must become willing to open the front door of our homes and our hearts and invite them to come in. When we ask, “What would Jesus do?” it is very different than inviting Him in from the porch and saying, “Lord, what would Thou have me to do?” Wondering what it would be like to have Jesus with me all day long and trying hard to adjust my behavior to such a possibility is very different than really believing He is with me at all times.
I don’t know about anyone else, but for me keeping God at any distance for any reason will not do in these trying times. Sure I am tempted to feel embarrassed that I’m not all that He would want to be yet. But someday Carson and I have to climb up the ladder to the top bunk with Ethan and entertain the idea that God might just talk to us too. I need to know I’m loved and I need daily counsel and power, things I’ll never be able to receive from the front porch.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
“Mom, Don’t You Think I’d Be Like One of Those Guys?” – Patience with the Process
Before we get too far into October I have a thought that was inspired by ten words spoken this year, by a little boy, on September 11th. My four young grandchildren woke up and got going on the day, like it was the same as any other. They busied around taking care of the standard daily kind of things – bed making, jimmies back in the drawer, a little cold cereal, the trash emptied, and a little time improving skills at the piano. As they proceeded on this fall morning, with the regular things of life, my daughter – their mother, realized that although September 11th was significant to her and will be forever imprinted on her mind, her four young children knew little or nothing about its importance. She determined to sit down with them and see what she could do to pass on the meaning of a day she had actually experienced, a day that has simply become a piece of history for the nations children.
I imagine that for my Grandchildren it was like the day I came home and told my mother that we were learning about World War II in school and she proceeded to describe what is was like to sit around the radio as a twelve year old girl and hear President Roosevelt announce that our country was under attack, or the day I shared with my children what it was like to wake up, as a young girl to the news that someone had shot the President of the United States - and then his brother, or where I was on the Junior High grounds the day we lost Martin Luther King, that man who had a magnificent dream for our country.
Before they got too far into the day my daughter gathered her little crew around her and unfolded for them the details of her life on September 11th 2001. She described where she had been when she received the news that our country was under attack, how it felt to turn on the TV and watch with horror and disbelief as the Twin Towers fell over and over again, replay after replay. She got out old newspaper clippings and tried the best she could to help them understand the great sadness that came over the world because of the tremendous loss of life. She told them stories of sacrifice and tried to convey the tenderness towards humanity and the love of country that awoke in her that autumn day. “Ethan,” she said, “All this happened when you were a brand new baby. You know how your baby blanket is red, white and blue? Why do you think I made it out of those colors?” Suddenly, an under-appreciated piece of Ethan’s life took on new meaning. “Oh!” he said with newfound understanding. “I never knew!”
She finished her history lesson by telling them about the sacrifice of the men and women on Flight 93, how they had determined to do whatever it took to fight back and put a stop to the death and destruction of that day even though it meant giving everything they had to give. “Because of their sacrifice they kept their airplane from crashing into the White House or the Capitol and killing countless others.” Ethan’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. For this little 8-year-old Jedi, with a closet full of light sabers, this real life tale of people willing to oppose the dark side with there lives if necessary, hit home. It struck him in a way all parents hope the lessons of history will strike their children. Speaking of the willingness to fight back to the point of the ultimate sacrifice he said, “Mom, don’t you think I’d be like one of those guys? Don’t you think I’d fight the bad guys like they did?”
I had just gotten home from an evening Addiction Recovery Meeting when my daughter called to say good night and to share this experience. Ethan’s simple innocent question struck a tender chord inside of me. I had just spent an hour and a half with a group of individuals who at one time in their lives had probably been as hopeful of making future courageous choices as my grandson. Somewhere along the way though, we encountered the unpredictability of life and the reality of the forces of evil, combined with our own weaknesses. In one way or another we had each become a disappointment to ourselves.
Thinking of Ethan and his 8-year-old innocent optimism I silently asked,” Dear Heavenly Father, How do we ever cross that great gulf that lies between today’s disheartening reality and yesterday, when we anticipated only the best in ourselves?”
Immediately I pictured myself sitting with Heavenly Father in my pre-earth life, gazing down as history unfolded, watching all the great and brave souls that walked the earth before it was my turn to come down. Inspired and full of pre-mortal optimism, yet completely inexperienced with the rigors of the test just ahead, I looked on and asked, “Father, don’t you think I’d be like them? Don’t you think I’d do what they did? Don’t you think I’d be that kind of girl?”
In my imagination I could see Him smiling at my innocence and then tears welling up in His loving eyes. “Yes, you have every potential of becoming that kind of a girl, but remember, you will not become such over night and you can only become such with Our help. There is a sure bridge that crosses that great gulf that lies between today’s reality and yesterday’s divine potential. It’s made of patience with the process of becoming, humble reliance on your Heavenly Father and your Savior, Jesus Christ, and remembering again and again and again that you are headed for earth life precisely because you are ‘that kind of girl’ or ‘that kind of boy’ in the making.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, October 3, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
I imagine that for my Grandchildren it was like the day I came home and told my mother that we were learning about World War II in school and she proceeded to describe what is was like to sit around the radio as a twelve year old girl and hear President Roosevelt announce that our country was under attack, or the day I shared with my children what it was like to wake up, as a young girl to the news that someone had shot the President of the United States - and then his brother, or where I was on the Junior High grounds the day we lost Martin Luther King, that man who had a magnificent dream for our country.
Before they got too far into the day my daughter gathered her little crew around her and unfolded for them the details of her life on September 11th 2001. She described where she had been when she received the news that our country was under attack, how it felt to turn on the TV and watch with horror and disbelief as the Twin Towers fell over and over again, replay after replay. She got out old newspaper clippings and tried the best she could to help them understand the great sadness that came over the world because of the tremendous loss of life. She told them stories of sacrifice and tried to convey the tenderness towards humanity and the love of country that awoke in her that autumn day. “Ethan,” she said, “All this happened when you were a brand new baby. You know how your baby blanket is red, white and blue? Why do you think I made it out of those colors?” Suddenly, an under-appreciated piece of Ethan’s life took on new meaning. “Oh!” he said with newfound understanding. “I never knew!”
She finished her history lesson by telling them about the sacrifice of the men and women on Flight 93, how they had determined to do whatever it took to fight back and put a stop to the death and destruction of that day even though it meant giving everything they had to give. “Because of their sacrifice they kept their airplane from crashing into the White House or the Capitol and killing countless others.” Ethan’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. For this little 8-year-old Jedi, with a closet full of light sabers, this real life tale of people willing to oppose the dark side with there lives if necessary, hit home. It struck him in a way all parents hope the lessons of history will strike their children. Speaking of the willingness to fight back to the point of the ultimate sacrifice he said, “Mom, don’t you think I’d be like one of those guys? Don’t you think I’d fight the bad guys like they did?”
I had just gotten home from an evening Addiction Recovery Meeting when my daughter called to say good night and to share this experience. Ethan’s simple innocent question struck a tender chord inside of me. I had just spent an hour and a half with a group of individuals who at one time in their lives had probably been as hopeful of making future courageous choices as my grandson. Somewhere along the way though, we encountered the unpredictability of life and the reality of the forces of evil, combined with our own weaknesses. In one way or another we had each become a disappointment to ourselves.
Thinking of Ethan and his 8-year-old innocent optimism I silently asked,” Dear Heavenly Father, How do we ever cross that great gulf that lies between today’s disheartening reality and yesterday, when we anticipated only the best in ourselves?”
Immediately I pictured myself sitting with Heavenly Father in my pre-earth life, gazing down as history unfolded, watching all the great and brave souls that walked the earth before it was my turn to come down. Inspired and full of pre-mortal optimism, yet completely inexperienced with the rigors of the test just ahead, I looked on and asked, “Father, don’t you think I’d be like them? Don’t you think I’d do what they did? Don’t you think I’d be that kind of girl?”
In my imagination I could see Him smiling at my innocence and then tears welling up in His loving eyes. “Yes, you have every potential of becoming that kind of a girl, but remember, you will not become such over night and you can only become such with Our help. There is a sure bridge that crosses that great gulf that lies between today’s reality and yesterday’s divine potential. It’s made of patience with the process of becoming, humble reliance on your Heavenly Father and your Savior, Jesus Christ, and remembering again and again and again that you are headed for earth life precisely because you are ‘that kind of girl’ or ‘that kind of boy’ in the making.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, October 3, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Getting on the Bus – Step 3 - Trust in God
On the day my husband turns the kitchen calendar page from August to September something awakes inside of me. The air feels different to me on September 1st than on August 31st. The feel of the air, the colors on the mountain – even the sunshine isn’t the same, and it seems to me that EVERYONE is going back to school. No matter what’s going on in my life I suddenly want to buy supplies; a little plastic ruler, a pink pearl eraser, new #2 pencils, a new box of 64 Crayons, and one of those little zippered pencil keepers that snap into a new three ring binder. I want to go to the Utah Idaho School Supply and decorate a classroom or put up a bulletin board in my kitchen and another one in the living room. I want a new lunch box with a thermos with glass on the inside. I want my mom to take me to JC Pennys or Sears and buy me five new little dresses, one for each day of the week and a pair of buster brown shoes. I want to wake up on crispy fall mornings, when it’s still a little bit dark and get all ready for the day. Will my teacher be nice? Who will be in my class? Where will I sit? Who can forget the smell of a brand new math book and the fear of saying your name and a “little bit about yourself” in front of everyone. Such preparation and such anticipation!
I have a friend whose five-year-old little boy couldn’t wait to start kindergarten. For him it seemed like the first day of school would never come. When it finally did he waited anxiously for the early morning to pass and for the moment to arrive when he could board the bus. “Is it time?” “Is it time?” “Is it time?” When the moment finally did arrive she placed his Spiderman backpack lovingly over his little shoulders and kissed her baby boy on the cheek. She opened the door just as the bus pulled up. Standing firmly in the doorway, a portal that this day marked the end of something so hard to let go of, holding back the tears, she nudged him on to the front step. Suddenly all anticipation and excitement turned to something else. No amount of August preparation had readied him for this September reality. His little body froze, his chin began to quiver, “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?”
As she described this little scene I wondered how it was when I left my Heavenly Parents for Earth School. I’m definitely the frightened type – scared of the dark, scared of being alone. When Heavenly Father presented His beautiful plan I think my “shout for joy” had everything to do with the fact that Jesus promised to get on the bus with me. I bet that’s the part of the plan I liked best. We call the 12 Steps the Steps of Recovery. One of the most important things I have “recovered” is my understanding that I am not alone here. Today I like to imagine that when I asked Heavenly Father “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?” He said “No, but your Big Brother is already waiting on the bus and He’s saving a seat for you right next to Him!” I was not alone on the bus and I’m never alone at school. Now that is Good News!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
I have a friend whose five-year-old little boy couldn’t wait to start kindergarten. For him it seemed like the first day of school would never come. When it finally did he waited anxiously for the early morning to pass and for the moment to arrive when he could board the bus. “Is it time?” “Is it time?” “Is it time?” When the moment finally did arrive she placed his Spiderman backpack lovingly over his little shoulders and kissed her baby boy on the cheek. She opened the door just as the bus pulled up. Standing firmly in the doorway, a portal that this day marked the end of something so hard to let go of, holding back the tears, she nudged him on to the front step. Suddenly all anticipation and excitement turned to something else. No amount of August preparation had readied him for this September reality. His little body froze, his chin began to quiver, “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?”
As she described this little scene I wondered how it was when I left my Heavenly Parents for Earth School. I’m definitely the frightened type – scared of the dark, scared of being alone. When Heavenly Father presented His beautiful plan I think my “shout for joy” had everything to do with the fact that Jesus promised to get on the bus with me. I bet that’s the part of the plan I liked best. We call the 12 Steps the Steps of Recovery. One of the most important things I have “recovered” is my understanding that I am not alone here. Today I like to imagine that when I asked Heavenly Father “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?” He said “No, but your Big Brother is already waiting on the bus and He’s saving a seat for you right next to Him!” I was not alone on the bus and I’m never alone at school. Now that is Good News!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, September 7, 2009
“Right Face! Right Face! Right Face!” – The Tools
In a high school biology class we all learned a little bit about genetics. I’m sure you remember the day you were asked to go home and check the ear lobes of everyone in your family to see whose were attached and whose were not. I remember spending the late afternoon of a school day collecting and recording family genetic data. We all waited anxiously for my dad to come home from work so the family genetic picture could be complete, at least as far as eye color, ear lobes, and rolled tongues were concerned. My first lessons in genetics occurred the summer before my sophomore year, but my understanding of what I’d inherited from my parents did not end with Biology class.
Football season was upon us and I decided to try out for the drill team. I can’t even begin to describe the amount of courage it required for this young girl, with absolutely no confidence in her physical abilities, to show up and learn the audition routine. “Anchors Away My Boys” - I’ll never forget that music. I practiced night and day and wonder of wonders I made the team. This was the kind of team that did a lot of marching and a little dancing. This was just the right kind of team for me. Surely I could march!
That brings me to a genetic trait I had never considered. The first day of practice we marched around the football field for hours after school. It didn’t take very much time to recognize that I was in a lot of trouble. Who could have guessed the grief that four little words could impose on the life of a teenage girl. The words were, “Left Face” and “Right Face.” For some strange reason when the team captain shouted, “left” or “right” it did not come automatically to me to turn, along with all the other girls, according to instructions. After one disastrous day of marching I went home and told my parents that dancing was going to be the least of my worries. The amount of time it took my brain to relay to my marching feet to turn right or left on demand was unacceptable for a precision drill team.
To my great astonishment my dad understood exactly what I was talking about. He told me of his experience marching in the army. “Same Thing!” he admitted. “Genetics!” So that was my problem! The great thing was that my dad had hit upon something that helped him during his army days. “When you are marching just cross your fingers on your right hand. It’s a great little reminder.” Well, it worked like a charm. Now I could do “Left Face” “Right Face” on demand. I don’t know if it was because the distance between my head and my fingers was shorter than the distance between head and my feet or what, but with my fingers crossed on my right hand I never again missed a turn on the football field or the basketball court. All it took was a simple reminder between my brain and my feet.
These memories came back to me the other day as I was thinking about another set of reminders I try to use every day. The struggle to choose between right and left is pretty insignificant when compared with the struggle to choose between right and wrong. I haven’t tried crossing the fingers on my right hand to remind me to choose the right, but I have learned that what helps me most is dedicated prayer, dedicated scripture study, dedicated attendance at meetings, and dedicated service etc., with emphasis on the word “dedicated.” I dedicate my private religious activities to my need for Heavenly Help. These things are no longer things I do so I can check them off or so God will like me. They are invitations to the Lord to help me - to remind me - to allow His Spirit to intervene between His command and my inconsistent ability to follow directions.
With dedicated prayer and study, and a prayerfully made plan for attending meetings and serving others, I’m figuratively crossing my fingers on my right hand. Now my march through this day is more likely to be in line with my Captains call. “Right Face, Right Face, Right Face!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, September 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Football season was upon us and I decided to try out for the drill team. I can’t even begin to describe the amount of courage it required for this young girl, with absolutely no confidence in her physical abilities, to show up and learn the audition routine. “Anchors Away My Boys” - I’ll never forget that music. I practiced night and day and wonder of wonders I made the team. This was the kind of team that did a lot of marching and a little dancing. This was just the right kind of team for me. Surely I could march!
That brings me to a genetic trait I had never considered. The first day of practice we marched around the football field for hours after school. It didn’t take very much time to recognize that I was in a lot of trouble. Who could have guessed the grief that four little words could impose on the life of a teenage girl. The words were, “Left Face” and “Right Face.” For some strange reason when the team captain shouted, “left” or “right” it did not come automatically to me to turn, along with all the other girls, according to instructions. After one disastrous day of marching I went home and told my parents that dancing was going to be the least of my worries. The amount of time it took my brain to relay to my marching feet to turn right or left on demand was unacceptable for a precision drill team.
To my great astonishment my dad understood exactly what I was talking about. He told me of his experience marching in the army. “Same Thing!” he admitted. “Genetics!” So that was my problem! The great thing was that my dad had hit upon something that helped him during his army days. “When you are marching just cross your fingers on your right hand. It’s a great little reminder.” Well, it worked like a charm. Now I could do “Left Face” “Right Face” on demand. I don’t know if it was because the distance between my head and my fingers was shorter than the distance between head and my feet or what, but with my fingers crossed on my right hand I never again missed a turn on the football field or the basketball court. All it took was a simple reminder between my brain and my feet.
These memories came back to me the other day as I was thinking about another set of reminders I try to use every day. The struggle to choose between right and left is pretty insignificant when compared with the struggle to choose between right and wrong. I haven’t tried crossing the fingers on my right hand to remind me to choose the right, but I have learned that what helps me most is dedicated prayer, dedicated scripture study, dedicated attendance at meetings, and dedicated service etc., with emphasis on the word “dedicated.” I dedicate my private religious activities to my need for Heavenly Help. These things are no longer things I do so I can check them off or so God will like me. They are invitations to the Lord to help me - to remind me - to allow His Spirit to intervene between His command and my inconsistent ability to follow directions.
With dedicated prayer and study, and a prayerfully made plan for attending meetings and serving others, I’m figuratively crossing my fingers on my right hand. Now my march through this day is more likely to be in line with my Captains call. “Right Face, Right Face, Right Face!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, September 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Humility, It’s About US
We often talk about the need to “be” humble. Today I want to speak of humility as something we can “do” something about. I’m not sure I was ever very acquainted with real humility until receiving understanding through recovery from addiction. Humility was always something pretty nebulous. I was taught that it was something we should possess, something we should seek, but if we thought we had it, we could be assured we didn’t. A pretty complicated concept for a child or an adult!
I was the oldest child of seven, the classic first child – the very responsible second mother type. My parents use to introduce me as their child who, “never gives them any trouble.” That was a hard description to live up to. I certainly was not perfect. I was a victim of the Fall just like the rest of mortality. In my mind the gulf between me and perfection was much greater than anyone knew. I was pretty sure I was humble because I didn’t like myself very much.
Today I understand that the feeling of self-disapproval does not constitute real humility. Humility is a keen awareness of God’s qualities and my need for Him. I must come to believe that, in spite of my weaknesses, God knows me, and loves me, and can be trusted with me and with the other people in my life!
Sometimes we use the adjective “humble” to describe someone who is shy or fearful, someone who lacks confidence, someone full of negative feelings about themselves, but a life of true humility is a life driven by the Gospel principles embodied by the 12 Steps. This is the description of humility as a way of life. It’s the description of a relationship:
1. Be honest about my need for help
2. Develop the hope of receiving divine help because of Jesus Christ
3. Trust Him with my problems and the problems of others
4. Be willing to look at the truth about me
5. Confess the truth about me
6. Become willing to be changed
7. Ask Him to change me
8. Become willing to look at how my imperfections have effected others
9. Make amends
10. Be accountable for my behavior every day
11. Seek His direction and power
12. Be willing to help others find this path and then allow this humble stance with the Lord to begin to order more and more areas of my life
When we use the word “humble” in regard to another person we are describing the kind of relationship they seem to have with God. To grow in humility is to live in greater and greater awareness of His magnificence and my tremendous need and to receive all the love and direction and power He extends my way. The word “humble” describes my part of a right relationship with God. Humility is never about me. It’s always about Us. Humility is not about loathing myself. It’s about loving my God!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
I was the oldest child of seven, the classic first child – the very responsible second mother type. My parents use to introduce me as their child who, “never gives them any trouble.” That was a hard description to live up to. I certainly was not perfect. I was a victim of the Fall just like the rest of mortality. In my mind the gulf between me and perfection was much greater than anyone knew. I was pretty sure I was humble because I didn’t like myself very much.
Today I understand that the feeling of self-disapproval does not constitute real humility. Humility is a keen awareness of God’s qualities and my need for Him. I must come to believe that, in spite of my weaknesses, God knows me, and loves me, and can be trusted with me and with the other people in my life!
Sometimes we use the adjective “humble” to describe someone who is shy or fearful, someone who lacks confidence, someone full of negative feelings about themselves, but a life of true humility is a life driven by the Gospel principles embodied by the 12 Steps. This is the description of humility as a way of life. It’s the description of a relationship:
1. Be honest about my need for help
2. Develop the hope of receiving divine help because of Jesus Christ
3. Trust Him with my problems and the problems of others
4. Be willing to look at the truth about me
5. Confess the truth about me
6. Become willing to be changed
7. Ask Him to change me
8. Become willing to look at how my imperfections have effected others
9. Make amends
10. Be accountable for my behavior every day
11. Seek His direction and power
12. Be willing to help others find this path and then allow this humble stance with the Lord to begin to order more and more areas of my life
When we use the word “humble” in regard to another person we are describing the kind of relationship they seem to have with God. To grow in humility is to live in greater and greater awareness of His magnificence and my tremendous need and to receive all the love and direction and power He extends my way. The word “humble” describes my part of a right relationship with God. Humility is never about me. It’s always about Us. Humility is not about loathing myself. It’s about loving my God!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Vision, A View Through God’s Eyes - Step 11
So weary, growing older, widowed in young motherhood, blind for many years, and recovering from knee surgery, my sweet friend told Heavenly Father one evening she needed something to help her keep going. That night the Lord sent her a beautiful dream. My friend can see when she’s dreaming. She sees sharp, focused, detailed images, in living color. This particular night, hour after hour she traveled in the land of dreams, on a dirt trail, through landscapes of rolling hills, green valleys, breathtaking vistas, tall multi-colored autumn trees, and majestic pines, with magnificent mountains rising up in the distance.
That night the Lord answered my friend’s prayer by showing her something spiritually she’s incapable of seeing with her physical eyes. That is the definition of a vision. It’s a view that would be impossible if left to our mortal ability, our earthly reality. It’s God’s view.
If someone asked me if I’d ever had a vision, I would have to think a minute. After all, when it comes to visions I think of Lehi, and Joseph Smith, and Ezekiel. But, when I remember that a vision from the God is the gift of seeing things with His eyes, through His glasses, from His far reaching observatory, I’d have to say “yes.” I have had the experience of being shown what I never could have seen, left to my own myopic view, things beyond my human capability, and so have you!
God’s view is a highly motivating thing to experience, and it’s something we can seek. To see things His way, through His glasses always moves us forward with renewed willingness to do the work required in the present moment, even though it may involve personal discomfort or outright pain.
Visions come in many shapes and sizes. There is one example of a motivating view that stands above all the rest. It’s the most striking illustration in heaven and on earth of a vision that motivated an individual to do His work. It was work so difficult it defies description. It was Jesus’ divine view of His Father’s plan, and His vision of you and me, and of our worth and possibilities that motivated Him to complete His excruciating, saving work in our behalf.
In contrast, in a recent a recovery meeting, a woman who has struggled for many years with a difficult reality in her life shared that even though her problem has not been resolved, she has miraculously been filled with a new view. She went on to describe not a panoramic vision but simply a distinct impression that everything is going to be OK, and that at some future point in time the Lord will give her understanding she does not presently possess.
Now this God given, hopeful view might not seem significant when stacked against Lehi’s vision of the Tree of Life or Joseph F. Smith’s vision of the Redemption of the Dead, but it is the most common type of vision we can experience. It’s the gift of a new and divine view of an old seemingly hopeless situation.
One of President Hinckley’s hallmarks was his steady, dynamic, unfailing, optimistic view of everything. It’s true that his vision included things like 100 temples dotting the land. However, the vision or divine view that seemed to move him from day to day (from one conference to the next, from flight to flight, on to the next meeting with the press, and from one problem to another) was a perspective or view straight from heaven and not founded on the ten o’clock news.
In the face of this crazy world that seems to be headed downhill at a fast pace these simple words express President Hinckley’s vision of the future: “It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us.” (Jordan Utah South regional conference, priesthood session, 1 Mar. 1997).
The view beyond ourselves is individual, it’s personal and it’s miraculous. When we are blessed to receive a new outlook we know inside that it’s not the result of our exercise of a human positive mental attitude or an optimistic personality. It’s a gift, a spiritual gift.
If there were glasses to enable my blind friend to see the beauty of this earth, believe me she would have found them by now. Nothing short of divine intervention can give her a glimpse beyond her present physical reality. Though I am not physically blind I have an equal need to see beyond myself.
The blessing of vision in our lives may come as a dream, in living color that transports us through majestic forests, past deep blue lakes, and through fields of wild flowers. On the other hand, it may be that we simply can’t see how our finances will ever work out, or our marriage, or our health, or our child’s battle with the dark side, and as we seek we are given a hopeful feeling, or impression, or understanding, or just the vision of the next right thing to do. It’s all a vision. It’s God’s view, and it is His invitation to us to keep going and do the work required between here and there.
If you or I are impaired by blindness, of any type, we can pray for vision, a quick look through God’s glasses, His microscope, His telescope, His binoculars, and receive the same priceless gift of knowing, like other visionaries, that “It will all work out!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, August 20, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
That night the Lord answered my friend’s prayer by showing her something spiritually she’s incapable of seeing with her physical eyes. That is the definition of a vision. It’s a view that would be impossible if left to our mortal ability, our earthly reality. It’s God’s view.
If someone asked me if I’d ever had a vision, I would have to think a minute. After all, when it comes to visions I think of Lehi, and Joseph Smith, and Ezekiel. But, when I remember that a vision from the God is the gift of seeing things with His eyes, through His glasses, from His far reaching observatory, I’d have to say “yes.” I have had the experience of being shown what I never could have seen, left to my own myopic view, things beyond my human capability, and so have you!
God’s view is a highly motivating thing to experience, and it’s something we can seek. To see things His way, through His glasses always moves us forward with renewed willingness to do the work required in the present moment, even though it may involve personal discomfort or outright pain.
Visions come in many shapes and sizes. There is one example of a motivating view that stands above all the rest. It’s the most striking illustration in heaven and on earth of a vision that motivated an individual to do His work. It was work so difficult it defies description. It was Jesus’ divine view of His Father’s plan, and His vision of you and me, and of our worth and possibilities that motivated Him to complete His excruciating, saving work in our behalf.
In contrast, in a recent a recovery meeting, a woman who has struggled for many years with a difficult reality in her life shared that even though her problem has not been resolved, she has miraculously been filled with a new view. She went on to describe not a panoramic vision but simply a distinct impression that everything is going to be OK, and that at some future point in time the Lord will give her understanding she does not presently possess.
Now this God given, hopeful view might not seem significant when stacked against Lehi’s vision of the Tree of Life or Joseph F. Smith’s vision of the Redemption of the Dead, but it is the most common type of vision we can experience. It’s the gift of a new and divine view of an old seemingly hopeless situation.
One of President Hinckley’s hallmarks was his steady, dynamic, unfailing, optimistic view of everything. It’s true that his vision included things like 100 temples dotting the land. However, the vision or divine view that seemed to move him from day to day (from one conference to the next, from flight to flight, on to the next meeting with the press, and from one problem to another) was a perspective or view straight from heaven and not founded on the ten o’clock news.
In the face of this crazy world that seems to be headed downhill at a fast pace these simple words express President Hinckley’s vision of the future: “It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us.” (Jordan Utah South regional conference, priesthood session, 1 Mar. 1997).
The view beyond ourselves is individual, it’s personal and it’s miraculous. When we are blessed to receive a new outlook we know inside that it’s not the result of our exercise of a human positive mental attitude or an optimistic personality. It’s a gift, a spiritual gift.
If there were glasses to enable my blind friend to see the beauty of this earth, believe me she would have found them by now. Nothing short of divine intervention can give her a glimpse beyond her present physical reality. Though I am not physically blind I have an equal need to see beyond myself.
The blessing of vision in our lives may come as a dream, in living color that transports us through majestic forests, past deep blue lakes, and through fields of wild flowers. On the other hand, it may be that we simply can’t see how our finances will ever work out, or our marriage, or our health, or our child’s battle with the dark side, and as we seek we are given a hopeful feeling, or impression, or understanding, or just the vision of the next right thing to do. It’s all a vision. It’s God’s view, and it is His invitation to us to keep going and do the work required between here and there.
If you or I are impaired by blindness, of any type, we can pray for vision, a quick look through God’s glasses, His microscope, His telescope, His binoculars, and receive the same priceless gift of knowing, like other visionaries, that “It will all work out!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, August 20, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Taking My Hands Off My Ears – Step 6
When we turn two-years old, most of us experience what I like to call an attitude explosion. Gracie has taken her attitude to a new level lately. Her new practice is comical and typical for her age and stage. Whenever she perceives she’s in trouble or that someone desires to give her any type of correction or a little council and advise she puts her hands over her ears. Without saying a word she announces, “I’m not going to listen! I can’t hear you! You can’t make me!”
I’ve discovered that if I watch how children behaved toward me I can learn something about the way I sometimes behave toward the Lord. Their very innocent behavior is a mirror that allows me to see my own childish ways.
I did a little word search in the scriptures on the word “ears” (I didn’t get to the words “hear” “listen” “hearken”) and discovered that our propensity to behave like Gracie and cover our ears when it comes to receiving any type of correction or even a little council and advise from our Heavenly Father is a frequently addressed problem. I found repeated invitations from the Lord to His two-year-olds (spiritually speaking) to take our hands off our ears and listen.
Where my daughter might say, “Gracie, take you hands off your ears. Mommy is trying to tell you something!” the Lord says, “If any man have ears to hear, let him hear” (Mark 7: 16) “give ear" (Ps. 49: 1) “incline your ears to the words of my mouth” (Ps. 78:1) “bow thine ear to my understanding” (Prov. 5:1) “Apply…thine ears to the words of knowledge” (Prov. 23:12) “hear my voice, give ear unto my speech” (Isa.32: 9)
As you can see, the counsel is worded several different ways, depending on which prophet was speaking in behalf of the Lord, but the message is clear. The Lord wants us to take our hands off of our ears and hear what He has to say.
The view of myself standing before God with my hands over my ears, in Gracie fashion, helps me understand the recovery step I am presently trying to take. Step 6 says, “Become entirely really to have God remove all your character weaknesses.” Part of becoming ready to have my weaknesses removed is discovering exactly what my weaknesses are. This requires me to take my hands off my ears in ALL things, in all circumstances (entirely ready) and willingly hear what the Lord has to say to me, about me. I t requires me to be a full time listener.
Before I put the scriptures away that talk about my ears I learned several more things:
The Lord will help me - “he wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned” (2 Nephi 7: 4)
I’m in charge of my own ears - “And they shall turn away their ears from the truth” (2 Tim. 4: 4) “Wo unto the deaf who will not hear [who choose not to hear]” (2 Nephi 9:31)
I pay a high price when I cover my ears – “But they hearkened not, nor inclined their ear, but walked in the counsels and in the imagination of their evil heart, and went backward, and not forward.” (Jeremiah 7: 24)
When I put my hands over my ears I am “trifling” with the word of God (see Mosiah 2:9) A trifle is a thing of little consequence, of little value or importance.
The more I listen, the more God speaks – “Unto you that hear shall more be given” (Mark 4:24)
Hearing is about having a relationship - “My sheep hear my voice and I know them” (John 10:27)
Hearing is about understanding - “He that heareth reproof getteth understanding” (Proverbs 15:32) “Hearken unto me, and open your ears that ye may understand” (Mosiah 2:9)
Hearing is about healing - “For the heart of this people is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes have they closed; lest they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.” (Acts 28:27)
Today I will be tempted, at some point, to shut down my ability to hear the word of the Lord to me. At that moment I pray I may have the humility to take my “two-year-old-ish” hands off my ears. The last verse of scripture I found expresses in just six little words the willingness to listen that has to exist in order for me to make progress today. “Speak Lord for thy servant heareth” (1 Samuel 3:9)
By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, August 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
I’ve discovered that if I watch how children behaved toward me I can learn something about the way I sometimes behave toward the Lord. Their very innocent behavior is a mirror that allows me to see my own childish ways.
I did a little word search in the scriptures on the word “ears” (I didn’t get to the words “hear” “listen” “hearken”) and discovered that our propensity to behave like Gracie and cover our ears when it comes to receiving any type of correction or even a little council and advise from our Heavenly Father is a frequently addressed problem. I found repeated invitations from the Lord to His two-year-olds (spiritually speaking) to take our hands off our ears and listen.
Where my daughter might say, “Gracie, take you hands off your ears. Mommy is trying to tell you something!” the Lord says, “If any man have ears to hear, let him hear” (Mark 7: 16) “give ear" (Ps. 49: 1) “incline your ears to the words of my mouth” (Ps. 78:1) “bow thine ear to my understanding” (Prov. 5:1) “Apply…thine ears to the words of knowledge” (Prov. 23:12) “hear my voice, give ear unto my speech” (Isa.32: 9)
As you can see, the counsel is worded several different ways, depending on which prophet was speaking in behalf of the Lord, but the message is clear. The Lord wants us to take our hands off of our ears and hear what He has to say.
The view of myself standing before God with my hands over my ears, in Gracie fashion, helps me understand the recovery step I am presently trying to take. Step 6 says, “Become entirely really to have God remove all your character weaknesses.” Part of becoming ready to have my weaknesses removed is discovering exactly what my weaknesses are. This requires me to take my hands off my ears in ALL things, in all circumstances (entirely ready) and willingly hear what the Lord has to say to me, about me. I t requires me to be a full time listener.
Before I put the scriptures away that talk about my ears I learned several more things:
The Lord will help me - “he wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned” (2 Nephi 7: 4)
I’m in charge of my own ears - “And they shall turn away their ears from the truth” (2 Tim. 4: 4) “Wo unto the deaf who will not hear [who choose not to hear]” (2 Nephi 9:31)
I pay a high price when I cover my ears – “But they hearkened not, nor inclined their ear, but walked in the counsels and in the imagination of their evil heart, and went backward, and not forward.” (Jeremiah 7: 24)
When I put my hands over my ears I am “trifling” with the word of God (see Mosiah 2:9) A trifle is a thing of little consequence, of little value or importance.
The more I listen, the more God speaks – “Unto you that hear shall more be given” (Mark 4:24)
Hearing is about having a relationship - “My sheep hear my voice and I know them” (John 10:27)
Hearing is about understanding - “He that heareth reproof getteth understanding” (Proverbs 15:32) “Hearken unto me, and open your ears that ye may understand” (Mosiah 2:9)
Hearing is about healing - “For the heart of this people is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes have they closed; lest they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.” (Acts 28:27)
Today I will be tempted, at some point, to shut down my ability to hear the word of the Lord to me. At that moment I pray I may have the humility to take my “two-year-old-ish” hands off my ears. The last verse of scripture I found expresses in just six little words the willingness to listen that has to exist in order for me to make progress today. “Speak Lord for thy servant heareth” (1 Samuel 3:9)
By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, August 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
“Surprise! Life IS Unmanageable!” Step 1
Step 1 challenges me to see that my life “has become unmanageable.” I actually find it helpful to acknowledge that my life IS and has always been unmanageable. No matter how hard I try to keep all my ducks in a row, sometime during the day they all go waddling off in strange unpredictable directions. The fascinating thing is that I’m always so shocked. “Things are not going as I have outlined! What’s going on here?” I ask myself in dismay. Then I make a firmer resolve and I get up the next morning and try keeping it all together again. There is nothing more plain, that I resist with more gusto, than the fact that life IS basically unmanageable.
This truth is right before our eyes from the get go. Last week I took a look around at the Grand-kids. Gracie had a big bruise on her forehead from running into something she hadn’t counted on. Ethan had road rash on his arm from a unpredictable scooter crash, and one-year-old Matthew decided to give Esther a surprise bonk on the head to commemorate her first birthday.
There are surprises around every corner. Things are not going to go as planned. One key to a happy day is to resist the temptation to take all the surprises personally. No one is out to get me. It’s the nature of life. Today I make a prayerful plan with a pencil, and that pencil has an eraser on it for good reason. God’s not just watching for my commitment and dedication. He’s helping me learn to roll with the punches. He does that by allowing for plenty of surprises. Surprises make life rich. They keep it fresh and interesting.
Yesterday Matthew was playing with a large wooden maraca he’d gotten out of my box of musical instruments from the toy closet. I picked him up to give him a little love and before I knew it he’d wound up and whacked me on the head. It wasn’t personal. It was just a “Surprise Grandma!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, July 25, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
This truth is right before our eyes from the get go. Last week I took a look around at the Grand-kids. Gracie had a big bruise on her forehead from running into something she hadn’t counted on. Ethan had road rash on his arm from a unpredictable scooter crash, and one-year-old Matthew decided to give Esther a surprise bonk on the head to commemorate her first birthday.
There are surprises around every corner. Things are not going to go as planned. One key to a happy day is to resist the temptation to take all the surprises personally. No one is out to get me. It’s the nature of life. Today I make a prayerful plan with a pencil, and that pencil has an eraser on it for good reason. God’s not just watching for my commitment and dedication. He’s helping me learn to roll with the punches. He does that by allowing for plenty of surprises. Surprises make life rich. They keep it fresh and interesting.
Yesterday Matthew was playing with a large wooden maraca he’d gotten out of my box of musical instruments from the toy closet. I picked him up to give him a little love and before I knew it he’d wound up and whacked me on the head. It wasn’t personal. It was just a “Surprise Grandma!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, July 25, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Gratitude In the Laundry Room
In February our son Andrew returned home from a mission to Uruguay. The afternoon and evening of his first day home were filled with family and food and old friends. Not much attention was paid to his luggage or its contents until the next morning. “Mom, I need you to help me with some wash,” he said, standing in the living room with an arm full of what might have once been called a batch of “whites.”
Down the stairs we headed, into the laundry room. After receiving an email from him every week for two years I suddenly had new appreciation for his experience as he let me in a little fact I had not known. “Ya, I’ve been washing my clothes by hand for two years.” I lifted up the lid and he put in a large batch of “grays.” I reintroduced him to the mechanics of this machine that I take for granted at least twice a day. In his best Spanish drenched English, his next words spoke volumes on the dedication and humility of a full time representative of Jesus Christ. With a little wonder in his voice he simply said, “Hey, these cleaning machines are really nice!”
I’ve been doing laundry in the same room for 34 years now. “Inspired” is not the word I would use to describe my daily experience with the family wash. However, that morning as I closed the door and climbed the stairs, hearing Andrew’s dingy whites sloshing in the background, I felt a keen desire to be more willing to make sacrifices in order to do the Lord’s work and to never take “cleaning machines” and such for granted.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, July 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Down the stairs we headed, into the laundry room. After receiving an email from him every week for two years I suddenly had new appreciation for his experience as he let me in a little fact I had not known. “Ya, I’ve been washing my clothes by hand for two years.” I lifted up the lid and he put in a large batch of “grays.” I reintroduced him to the mechanics of this machine that I take for granted at least twice a day. In his best Spanish drenched English, his next words spoke volumes on the dedication and humility of a full time representative of Jesus Christ. With a little wonder in his voice he simply said, “Hey, these cleaning machines are really nice!”
I’ve been doing laundry in the same room for 34 years now. “Inspired” is not the word I would use to describe my daily experience with the family wash. However, that morning as I closed the door and climbed the stairs, hearing Andrew’s dingy whites sloshing in the background, I felt a keen desire to be more willing to make sacrifices in order to do the Lord’s work and to never take “cleaning machines” and such for granted.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, July 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
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