I clearly remember the day I sent my first child off to public school. She wasn’t the traditional child of five. She was a teenager entering junior high school after being taught at home for six years. She was the first of five to leave my little educational nest. I prepared her that day with all the things you’d expect: a sack lunch, pocket folders, new pencils and pens, a spiral notebook, a map of the school, and a lot of “You’ll be OK! You’re going to do just fine!”
I waved good-bye as she headed out into the fall air to catch the school bus. As I turned to go into the house and face the new day with my home school class, smaller by one, something very painful tightened in my throat and tears started to spill from my eyes. “I’ll be back in a minute!” I called through the opening in the door to the little group of four, who were giggling and eating Cheerios and bananas around the kitchen table.
I didn’t venture too far off, but that morning I walked around the block a good many times before going back in the house to be the mother and teacher. I cried and I talked to God. “Lord, if I can’t teach all of them, I’m not sure I can or want to teach any of them. It feels sad. It feels incomplete.”
That was the morning the Spirit told me I had to become forever willing to be fully present with the members of my family at hand. “Work with the ones you are with Nannette. The family is not an all or nothing proposition, not the Lord’s vast family or your little family.” He reminded me that my all or nothing mother mentality extended into subjects other that education. It threatened the way I felt about spiritual family activities, recreational family activities, celebrations and holidays. This was the morning the Lord invited me to accept the truth that as my family grew I would not always have everyone at family prayer, family night, family scripture study, family dinner, on the family vacation, at the wedding, sitting around the table at Thanksgiving dinner, or at the yearly Christmas Sing Along.
I remember finally pulling myself together that morning and gathering my group for opening prayer, the Pledge of Allegiance, a brand new scripture and a poem to memorize, new books, and a new schedule. Without missing too many beats we were off and running. Since that day I’ve had many “family” experiences with three out of five, two out of five, and even one out of five. I have felt the Lord smile at my willingness to participate with Him in family activities with all those willing and able to be present.
For many of us the joy of the holidays is threatened by the sadness we feel over the ones who are missing for whatever reason. Today, when I’m tempted to allow the joy I might experience, with the ones I’m with, to be overshadowed by the emptiness of a less than perfect attendance, I get honest with the Lord. I say to Him, “Lord, I just want everyone present and accounted for.” “Me too!” I seem to hear my Heavenly Father whisper. “Me too. But just like you, though my heart longs for the presence of all my children, I can’t hold myself back from the ones who are present. I give myself fully to being, teaching, loving, and celebrating with one or with all.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, December 31, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
“Michael’s Thanksgiving Day Prayer” - Abstinence
It was finally pie time. So many pies! So many flavors! So many decisions! Pie with whip cream? Pie with ice cream? “Maybe just a little of both,” I heard someone say. The turkey and rolls started to make their way back out onto on counter, something to balance out all that pie I suppose. “Hey, who brought the eggnog and seven-up?” questioned one of the uncles with great excitement!
The Thanksgiving Day sun was setting. The cousins were starting to get a little wound up. My grown children, the parents, were starting to say things like, “Stop! Remember we don’t run in Grandma’s house!” and “No you may not have a fourth piece of pie!” In our family, generally speaking, the later it gets the more energy the children have. With 17 children and 21 adults we were almost outnumbered and it was time to either mesmerize them by playing The Santa Clause 1, 2, 3, and 4 videos, or for the adults to gather up all the energizer turkeys and head toward home for a long post pie nap.
I stood at the kitchen sink visiting with my brother. “Before we leave,” he said, “I’ve got a story to tell you: This morning before driving down to your house for dinner I gathered every one for family prayer. I called on Michael (age 14)to pray for the family and this is what he prayed, ‘Heavenly Father,Please bless us that we will be able to eat as much as possible without getting sick.’”
We had a good laugh. I’ve prayed that prayer myself a thousand times. I’ve been so certain Heavenly Father would hear my prayer and grant me my wish that I’ve gone ahead and put him to the test. Time and time again I have hoped for a negligible outcome as I’ve taken in more food and more calories than my body has the capacity to deal with in a healthy way only to be shocked at the after pains. Without exception I felt sick not only physically, but also emotionally and spiritually.
I don’t think you have to be a compulsive eater to relate to Michael’s prayer. In many Addiction Recovery Meetings I’ve heard participants say, “Hi, I’m _____ and I’m addicted to MORE.” It doesn’t seem to matter if our destructive practices center around the computer, the bar, the refrigerator, the Mall, or the neighborhood pharmacy, our prayer has been much like Michaels Thanksgiving Day request. “Dear Heavenly Father, Please, just this time, grant me the miracle of indulging without consequence.”
This year I am happy to be a compulsive eater who is a grateful Thanksgiving Dinner survivor, ninety-seven pounds down from my top weight, but I certainly have not finished my course work on the subject of cause and effect. I had to smile at the Lord’s sense of humor the other night. I started developing this little piece of writing late in the evening. Before climbing into the covers and without thought of what I had just finished writing, I knelt at the foot of my bed and said, “Dear Heavenly Father, Once again I’ve stayed up much too late. I know I should have been in bed a long time ago, but please bless me with the ability to wake up early, feeling great, and with energy to accomplish good thing in the morning.” As I whispered these words Heavenward I could almost see the corners of the Lord’s mouth turn up just a bit, and with a twinkle in his eye, and His brows slightly raised He seemed to whisper back, “Oh, I see Nannette, might you be asking for the miracle of indulging without consequence? It reminds me a of the Thanksgiving prayer of a little by I know, ‘Please bless us that we will be able to eat as much as possible without getting sick?’”
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, December 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
The Thanksgiving Day sun was setting. The cousins were starting to get a little wound up. My grown children, the parents, were starting to say things like, “Stop! Remember we don’t run in Grandma’s house!” and “No you may not have a fourth piece of pie!” In our family, generally speaking, the later it gets the more energy the children have. With 17 children and 21 adults we were almost outnumbered and it was time to either mesmerize them by playing The Santa Clause 1, 2, 3, and 4 videos, or for the adults to gather up all the energizer turkeys and head toward home for a long post pie nap.
I stood at the kitchen sink visiting with my brother. “Before we leave,” he said, “I’ve got a story to tell you: This morning before driving down to your house for dinner I gathered every one for family prayer. I called on Michael (age 14)to pray for the family and this is what he prayed, ‘Heavenly Father,Please bless us that we will be able to eat as much as possible without getting sick.’”
We had a good laugh. I’ve prayed that prayer myself a thousand times. I’ve been so certain Heavenly Father would hear my prayer and grant me my wish that I’ve gone ahead and put him to the test. Time and time again I have hoped for a negligible outcome as I’ve taken in more food and more calories than my body has the capacity to deal with in a healthy way only to be shocked at the after pains. Without exception I felt sick not only physically, but also emotionally and spiritually.
I don’t think you have to be a compulsive eater to relate to Michael’s prayer. In many Addiction Recovery Meetings I’ve heard participants say, “Hi, I’m _____ and I’m addicted to MORE.” It doesn’t seem to matter if our destructive practices center around the computer, the bar, the refrigerator, the Mall, or the neighborhood pharmacy, our prayer has been much like Michaels Thanksgiving Day request. “Dear Heavenly Father, Please, just this time, grant me the miracle of indulging without consequence.”
This year I am happy to be a compulsive eater who is a grateful Thanksgiving Dinner survivor, ninety-seven pounds down from my top weight, but I certainly have not finished my course work on the subject of cause and effect. I had to smile at the Lord’s sense of humor the other night. I started developing this little piece of writing late in the evening. Before climbing into the covers and without thought of what I had just finished writing, I knelt at the foot of my bed and said, “Dear Heavenly Father, Once again I’ve stayed up much too late. I know I should have been in bed a long time ago, but please bless me with the ability to wake up early, feeling great, and with energy to accomplish good thing in the morning.” As I whispered these words Heavenward I could almost see the corners of the Lord’s mouth turn up just a bit, and with a twinkle in his eye, and His brows slightly raised He seemed to whisper back, “Oh, I see Nannette, might you be asking for the miracle of indulging without consequence? It reminds me a of the Thanksgiving prayer of a little by I know, ‘Please bless us that we will be able to eat as much as possible without getting sick?’”
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, December 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, November 23, 2009
“Pray As If…” Step 3 Trust In God
There’s old saying goes something like this: “Pray as if everything depends on God and then get up and go to work as if everything depends on you.” The point of this adage is to remind us that we shouldn’t pray and then simply sit around and wait until God takes action. I get the point, and I don’t want to offend anyone who has used this thought in a motivational talk, but I have a problem with this advise.
My problem is that any notion that I am alone in my work either paralyzes me into inaction or terrifies me into a workaholic frenzy. I absolutely cannot do the work of the Lord, in the Lord’s way, if I entertain the idea that it all depends on me. I have to go to work knowing I can absolutely, thoroughly, completely, without doubt, with out question depend on God to help me!
King Benjamin shares the secret of his power “to do” when he says he has served the people with “all the might, mind, and strength which the Lord hath granted unto” him. (Mosiah 2:11). Those words are among the most hopeful in all scripture. Sometimes a good old saying brings good old-fashioned wisdom, but sometimes a good old saying brings the “same old, same old” behavior that keeps me going in non-productive circles.
I believe I work harder knowing He is with me then I do trembling in perceived loneliness. Today I pray as if everything depends on God and then I get up and go to work as if the Lord is completely dependable.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, November 23, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
My problem is that any notion that I am alone in my work either paralyzes me into inaction or terrifies me into a workaholic frenzy. I absolutely cannot do the work of the Lord, in the Lord’s way, if I entertain the idea that it all depends on me. I have to go to work knowing I can absolutely, thoroughly, completely, without doubt, with out question depend on God to help me!
King Benjamin shares the secret of his power “to do” when he says he has served the people with “all the might, mind, and strength which the Lord hath granted unto” him. (Mosiah 2:11). Those words are among the most hopeful in all scripture. Sometimes a good old saying brings good old-fashioned wisdom, but sometimes a good old saying brings the “same old, same old” behavior that keeps me going in non-productive circles.
I believe I work harder knowing He is with me then I do trembling in perceived loneliness. Today I pray as if everything depends on God and then I get up and go to work as if the Lord is completely dependable.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, November 23, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Potato Peels Are Just The Beginning - Steps 4-10
Who knew a few potato trimmings could cause such trauma in the kitchen! The day of rest turned into the day of the big mess with just a flick of the disposal switch. With chicken gravy on the stove and the taters my daughter had cleaned and seasoned baking in the oven, Sunday dinner looked like it was going to be a great success. I glanced into the sink as I passed by and noticed a few potato trimmings way down in the disposal. “Oh, it doesn’t look like there’s much there. I bet it will go down the drain just fine,” I said to myself as I flipped the disposal switch. I had an immediate second thought about my decision, but it was too late. Within seconds I knew I had created a giant problem. “Why oh why hadn’t I just reached down and pulled those scraps out and put them into the trash?”
My husband walked through the kitchen just as water with hundreds of little tiny potato peelings began welling up on one side of the double sink. The memory of the Sunday I put brown rice down the drain came to my mind. My husband just shook his head. He was silent, but “here we go again” was written all over his face. “Don’t you worry!” I assured him and invited him to leave the kitchen. I grabbed the plunger, ran the water and the disposal and plunged for all I was worth. Nothing! “Maybe if I just let it sit for a while something will break through,” I thought as I worked toward dinner. I could see that I was getting nowhere.
Eventually my husband and my son-in-law got into it. We did all the things people do. We ran more and more water. We ran the disposal again and again and of course, we plunged and plunged. We stopped up the disposal side of the sink to create some resistance and plunged and plunged some more. Nothing!
We used a pail and got all the water out of the sink, disinfected the area around the sink and sat down to Sunday dinner. We took a short break and for thirty minutes and we all pretended there was no problem. I sat and visited and ate and hoped that something miraculous was going on down in those pipes.
I won’t bore you or disgust you with all the details of the next two days. Suffice it to say that today our sink works. No small thing. One husband, one son-in-law, one neighbor, two plumbers and a lot of money later, the water flows freely.
I’ve learned a thing or two about our plumbing. A little disposal worth of potato peals can a very large mess make if those peals are trying to get down a small already mucked up pipe. The plumber says that once a month we should fill the sink with water, turn on the disposal and run water through the line to keep the pipes cleaned out!
This little experience with a plugged up pipe in the house made me think of the brilliance of Steps 4-10. I am like that pipe! Many of us come to apply the 12 Steps because in some aspect of our lives we are stuck. We can’t move forward and it isn’t for lack of trying. We are aware of many of our imperfections. Most of us have done some confessing. We’ve told God we wish we were making greater progress. We’ve said we were sorry and asked for forgiveness on several occasions, and we try not to go to bed angry. But we are still stuck.
When I first read through the 12 Steps I thought to myself, “Well, I kind of like the first three and the last three, but I’m not doing the ones in the middle. The following are the Gospel principles represented by the middle Steps:
Step 4 “Truth”
Step 5 “Confession”
Step 6 “Change of heart”
Step 7 “Humility”
Step 8 “Seeking forgiveness”
Step 9 “Restitution and Reconciliation”
Step 10 “Daily Accountability”
Today I see that not being willing to take those steps thoroughly and dabbling about with repentance is like using a plunger on a plugged up drain that is ultimately going to require a fifty-foot plumbing snake and daily maintenance.
The fellow that unplugged the sink was finally able to get to the root of the problem. Tuesday morning I woke up to a sink where the water could run freely, something I won’t take for granted again.
That’s the purpose of Steps 4-10 too. As I do the work required I discover a kind of water that runs more freely in me too. It’s the “Living Water”, the life changing water the Lord promised to that ancient “Woman at the Well” in John 4:10.
Now I truly don’t mean to offend by comparing our emotional and spiritual inner workings to the plumbing in my house. I know it’s not a very pretty picture, but it’s a picture the Spirit used to get my attention.
As it turns out, the potato peels were not the real culprit. The real problem was a pipe with years and years of build up that had to be cleaned out. It’s the same with our personal cleansing. Eventually, if we want to get unstuck we have to surrender to the process that promises to clean out the years and years of accumulation and free us to move forward.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
My husband walked through the kitchen just as water with hundreds of little tiny potato peelings began welling up on one side of the double sink. The memory of the Sunday I put brown rice down the drain came to my mind. My husband just shook his head. He was silent, but “here we go again” was written all over his face. “Don’t you worry!” I assured him and invited him to leave the kitchen. I grabbed the plunger, ran the water and the disposal and plunged for all I was worth. Nothing! “Maybe if I just let it sit for a while something will break through,” I thought as I worked toward dinner. I could see that I was getting nowhere.
Eventually my husband and my son-in-law got into it. We did all the things people do. We ran more and more water. We ran the disposal again and again and of course, we plunged and plunged. We stopped up the disposal side of the sink to create some resistance and plunged and plunged some more. Nothing!
We used a pail and got all the water out of the sink, disinfected the area around the sink and sat down to Sunday dinner. We took a short break and for thirty minutes and we all pretended there was no problem. I sat and visited and ate and hoped that something miraculous was going on down in those pipes.
I won’t bore you or disgust you with all the details of the next two days. Suffice it to say that today our sink works. No small thing. One husband, one son-in-law, one neighbor, two plumbers and a lot of money later, the water flows freely.
I’ve learned a thing or two about our plumbing. A little disposal worth of potato peals can a very large mess make if those peals are trying to get down a small already mucked up pipe. The plumber says that once a month we should fill the sink with water, turn on the disposal and run water through the line to keep the pipes cleaned out!
This little experience with a plugged up pipe in the house made me think of the brilliance of Steps 4-10. I am like that pipe! Many of us come to apply the 12 Steps because in some aspect of our lives we are stuck. We can’t move forward and it isn’t for lack of trying. We are aware of many of our imperfections. Most of us have done some confessing. We’ve told God we wish we were making greater progress. We’ve said we were sorry and asked for forgiveness on several occasions, and we try not to go to bed angry. But we are still stuck.
When I first read through the 12 Steps I thought to myself, “Well, I kind of like the first three and the last three, but I’m not doing the ones in the middle. The following are the Gospel principles represented by the middle Steps:
Step 4 “Truth”
Step 5 “Confession”
Step 6 “Change of heart”
Step 7 “Humility”
Step 8 “Seeking forgiveness”
Step 9 “Restitution and Reconciliation”
Step 10 “Daily Accountability”
Today I see that not being willing to take those steps thoroughly and dabbling about with repentance is like using a plunger on a plugged up drain that is ultimately going to require a fifty-foot plumbing snake and daily maintenance.
The fellow that unplugged the sink was finally able to get to the root of the problem. Tuesday morning I woke up to a sink where the water could run freely, something I won’t take for granted again.
That’s the purpose of Steps 4-10 too. As I do the work required I discover a kind of water that runs more freely in me too. It’s the “Living Water”, the life changing water the Lord promised to that ancient “Woman at the Well” in John 4:10.
Now I truly don’t mean to offend by comparing our emotional and spiritual inner workings to the plumbing in my house. I know it’s not a very pretty picture, but it’s a picture the Spirit used to get my attention.
As it turns out, the potato peels were not the real culprit. The real problem was a pipe with years and years of build up that had to be cleaned out. It’s the same with our personal cleansing. Eventually, if we want to get unstuck we have to surrender to the process that promises to clean out the years and years of accumulation and free us to move forward.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
My God in Simple Terms – Addiction Prevention
Several months ago my nephew received the Priesthood. As a special surprise for him my sister-in-law asked each member of our extended family to write him a note. In this note we were supposed to share something of ourselves. She gave us several ideas. The option I chose was to put into words some of the most important things I have ever learned. I’ve decided to share my letter with you:
Dear ______,
As you know your Uncle and I are serving a mission. Our work is to help members of the Church who have become addicted to substances and behaviors that are destroying their lives. We have seen many miracles in our own lives and in the lives of others. I want to share some of the most important things I have learned about the Gospel during my mission.
1. Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit love me and you more than we can even imagine. Even though we have not been perfect, even though we make mistakes they still love us.
2. They are “omniscient.” That means they know everything in the universe. That includes everything about you and me. They know exactly what we need in order to continue to learn and grow.
3. They are “omnipotent.” That means that they have all the power. Any power you and I have comes from them. Any power we need must come from them.
4. So, when I do anything good (accomplish a goal, repent of a sin, serve another person) I am being directed and given power by God.
5. They will help me with anything I need help with - Nothing is too small and nothing is too big. I use to think that maybe some things were too insignificant, too small to bother my Heavenly Father about. I use to think that some things in my life were too hard, that even God couldn’t help me with some things. Today I know that if I am filled with worry and care over anything, Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit care too.
6. I use to think that they would only help me with “good kid problems” like if I lost my keys or I needed to find a job or had the flue. I’ve learned that they want to help me especially with things that cause me to feel bad about myself, things in my life I need to repent of, ways I need to change. In fact, I have learned that I can’t change without their help.
7. I have learned that I can go to them and be honest about any of my weaknesses and admit that I can’t change, or solve a particular problem, or endure a trial, or accomplish a goal by myself. I can ask them to change my heart and help me know what to do and to give me the power to do the right thing. They will always respond.
8. I have learned that when I live the commandments to the best of my ability it’s a way of telling them I love them and that I need their help. When I pray, or read the scriptures, or go the church it’s like sending them a little invitation giving them permission to help me.
9. Finally I have come to appreciate the life and work of Jesus Christ and His Atonement. It is because of the Atonement that I can receive help from Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. The help we receive because of the Atonement is called Grace. Grace is the “enabling power” that can help us do something we would not be able to do by ourselves. I need this power every day in small things and in big things. You will too.
10. One of my favorite songs is “Choose the Right.” Choosing the right is more than just knowing right from wrong. There are many people in the world who know what they should do. Today I know that the Jesus will not only help me know what is right but that He can give me the strength to actually do what is right.
I love you. You are going to be a great man. I hope the things I have shared with you will help you on your way.
With much love,
Aunt Nan
The things I shared with my nephew are foundational to Addiction Recovery, so why would I share them with a 12-year-old young man who is about to receive the Priesthood? I shared them because I believe they are not only foundational to recovery; they are the foundation of addiction prevention. Addiction is what I turn to habitually, that’s destructive, instead of turning to God. I wanted to share with my nephew and now with each of you the things I know about God today that help me feel comfortable and willing to turn to Him instead of anything else. They can be taught in very simple terms. They can be taught to children of every age, and they can be demonstrated in the way we solve our own problems in front of children.
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, October 24, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Dear ______,
As you know your Uncle and I are serving a mission. Our work is to help members of the Church who have become addicted to substances and behaviors that are destroying their lives. We have seen many miracles in our own lives and in the lives of others. I want to share some of the most important things I have learned about the Gospel during my mission.
1. Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit love me and you more than we can even imagine. Even though we have not been perfect, even though we make mistakes they still love us.
2. They are “omniscient.” That means they know everything in the universe. That includes everything about you and me. They know exactly what we need in order to continue to learn and grow.
3. They are “omnipotent.” That means that they have all the power. Any power you and I have comes from them. Any power we need must come from them.
4. So, when I do anything good (accomplish a goal, repent of a sin, serve another person) I am being directed and given power by God.
5. They will help me with anything I need help with - Nothing is too small and nothing is too big. I use to think that maybe some things were too insignificant, too small to bother my Heavenly Father about. I use to think that some things in my life were too hard, that even God couldn’t help me with some things. Today I know that if I am filled with worry and care over anything, Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit care too.
6. I use to think that they would only help me with “good kid problems” like if I lost my keys or I needed to find a job or had the flue. I’ve learned that they want to help me especially with things that cause me to feel bad about myself, things in my life I need to repent of, ways I need to change. In fact, I have learned that I can’t change without their help.
7. I have learned that I can go to them and be honest about any of my weaknesses and admit that I can’t change, or solve a particular problem, or endure a trial, or accomplish a goal by myself. I can ask them to change my heart and help me know what to do and to give me the power to do the right thing. They will always respond.
8. I have learned that when I live the commandments to the best of my ability it’s a way of telling them I love them and that I need their help. When I pray, or read the scriptures, or go the church it’s like sending them a little invitation giving them permission to help me.
9. Finally I have come to appreciate the life and work of Jesus Christ and His Atonement. It is because of the Atonement that I can receive help from Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. The help we receive because of the Atonement is called Grace. Grace is the “enabling power” that can help us do something we would not be able to do by ourselves. I need this power every day in small things and in big things. You will too.
10. One of my favorite songs is “Choose the Right.” Choosing the right is more than just knowing right from wrong. There are many people in the world who know what they should do. Today I know that the Jesus will not only help me know what is right but that He can give me the strength to actually do what is right.
I love you. You are going to be a great man. I hope the things I have shared with you will help you on your way.
With much love,
Aunt Nan
The things I shared with my nephew are foundational to Addiction Recovery, so why would I share them with a 12-year-old young man who is about to receive the Priesthood? I shared them because I believe they are not only foundational to recovery; they are the foundation of addiction prevention. Addiction is what I turn to habitually, that’s destructive, instead of turning to God. I wanted to share with my nephew and now with each of you the things I know about God today that help me feel comfortable and willing to turn to Him instead of anything else. They can be taught in very simple terms. They can be taught to children of every age, and they can be demonstrated in the way we solve our own problems in front of children.
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, October 24, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, October 19, 2009
A Big Message from the Loss of a Little Bunny
When I was eleven-years-old we had a Primary activity at my house. Each girl brought her mother. I don’t remember anything about it except the grand finale. Each young girl was supposed to stand and express their love to their mother and share some things they appreciated about her. I was part of a large class of young ladies. Girl after girl stood up and shared and cried and cried. Then it was my turn. I stood up, smiled, told the audience that I loved my mother very much. Then I shared some of the things I loved about her and sat down. No Tears! I was sure that for that reason alone my mother and everyone else doubted my sincerity.
Then it was on the Church’s Young Women’s camp. Traditionally, the last night of camp is devoted to sitting around the campfire and sharing testimonies. Summer after summer I shared an upbeat, sincere, optimistic but tearless testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon, my love for Heavenly Father and Jesus, and my gratitude for my family and my friends. As the other girls shared and cried and cried, mostly over their sorrow and remorse in connection to the damage they had done to each other during this week away from home, I waited for my turn. Sometimes I would try to think of something sad like, “What if I had a dog and it died?” It seemed that for absolutely everyone else this was a very wet event. I always went to sleep after this experience knowing that any testimony minus tears was suspect.
Last week my brother and his family had a sad experience. Their little pet, a lop-eared bunny rabbit named Ruby died. My brother and sister-in-law have four sons, age twelve and ten and twins age five. They held a little funeral for their pet and talked to the boys about the Spirit world where their little bunny was no doubt now nibbling on heavenly grass. My oldest nephew held back the tears until his just younger brother fell apart and gave him a hug. Then he lost it. Taking particular notice of one of the twins and wanting to assist him with this sad family event my sister-in-law said, “Landon, it’s OK if you don’t cry, but are you sad? Do you understand about Ruby? Are you doin’ OK? You know it’s alright to cry.” Landon replied, putting his hand on his heart, “Well, I feel it here.” Then pointing to his eyes he said, “But not here.” Landon’s heart hurt, but his eyes were OK.
“Out of the mouths of babes!” Something healed in me when I heard that story. Landon’s response awakened in me a new tenderness toward myself and all other people whose tear ducts are not constantly connected to their hearts. Someone well versed in psychology might want to delve deeper and discuss the grief cycle or repression of feelings. I choose to keep it simple. Sometimes my heart is full of pain, but my eyes are OK. Sometimes my heart is full to the brim with joy, but my eyes are OK, and that’s OK.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, October 19, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Then it was on the Church’s Young Women’s camp. Traditionally, the last night of camp is devoted to sitting around the campfire and sharing testimonies. Summer after summer I shared an upbeat, sincere, optimistic but tearless testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon, my love for Heavenly Father and Jesus, and my gratitude for my family and my friends. As the other girls shared and cried and cried, mostly over their sorrow and remorse in connection to the damage they had done to each other during this week away from home, I waited for my turn. Sometimes I would try to think of something sad like, “What if I had a dog and it died?” It seemed that for absolutely everyone else this was a very wet event. I always went to sleep after this experience knowing that any testimony minus tears was suspect.
Last week my brother and his family had a sad experience. Their little pet, a lop-eared bunny rabbit named Ruby died. My brother and sister-in-law have four sons, age twelve and ten and twins age five. They held a little funeral for their pet and talked to the boys about the Spirit world where their little bunny was no doubt now nibbling on heavenly grass. My oldest nephew held back the tears until his just younger brother fell apart and gave him a hug. Then he lost it. Taking particular notice of one of the twins and wanting to assist him with this sad family event my sister-in-law said, “Landon, it’s OK if you don’t cry, but are you sad? Do you understand about Ruby? Are you doin’ OK? You know it’s alright to cry.” Landon replied, putting his hand on his heart, “Well, I feel it here.” Then pointing to his eyes he said, “But not here.” Landon’s heart hurt, but his eyes were OK.
“Out of the mouths of babes!” Something healed in me when I heard that story. Landon’s response awakened in me a new tenderness toward myself and all other people whose tear ducts are not constantly connected to their hearts. Someone well versed in psychology might want to delve deeper and discuss the grief cycle or repression of feelings. I choose to keep it simple. Sometimes my heart is full of pain, but my eyes are OK. Sometimes my heart is full to the brim with joy, but my eyes are OK, and that’s OK.
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, October 19, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
“I Don’t Want Jesus to Come and Visit Me!” Step 11 - Personal Revelation
Some time ago Ethan (then age 6) experienced some very real spiritual feelings one morning as he was reading the children’s version of the Book of Mormon. That evening Ethan lay snuggled in his bed thinking about Joseph Smith’s experience. He pondered how it was that the Prophet Joseph, while just a boy, received a visit from Heavenly Father and Jesus. Suddenly out of the darkness this little guy with some newly discovered spiritual feelings and curiosity about such things called out to his mom. It was not the standard, “Can I have a drink,” call, but “Mom, do you think that if I read the whole Bible that Jesus would come and visit me too?”
Eliza, his older sister and a real practical gal answered from the room next door in just the way you would expect from a serious minded first child. Her simple response was an emphatic, “NO!”
His little brother Carson rested quietly on the bottom bunk bed right below his very imaginative, very courageous, “excited about the scriptures and things of the Spirit” older brother. I’m sure he was trying to process just what the ramifications were of his brother’s apparent desire to have a Joseph Smith experience. Suddenly it dawned on him that he was sharing a room with this seeker of revelation. After a few minutes of silence Carson little voice rang out in the darkness, “Well, I don’t want Jesus to come and visit me!”
I think there must be something of Carson in me, and maybe in all of us, when it comes to things not commonly seen with the eye, things connected with the very real world of the Spirit. Sometimes I feel afraid like Carson, or unworthy, or lazy, or unprepared for the responsibility such interactions seem to command. Though I’m fascinated by the promised gifts of visions and personal revelation, when it comes right down to it I sometimes prefer that Divine interaction remain just outside my personal space, be it hearth or heart.
Things haven’t changed too much with Carson. Last week he lost his first tooth. After this developmental event, when all the kids were tucked into bed, I visited with my daughter on the phone. We had a good laugh when she told me, “Carson’s tooth is not under his pillow. It’s on the front porch. He says he doesn’t like the idea of the Tooth Fairy coming into his room.” We like the idea of fairies and such as long as they stay on the front porch.
Now I hope you don’t think that I’m somehow comparing communication with the Lord with a visit from the Tooth Fairy. I’m not. What I am saying is that sometimes I’m like Carson. I want the prize, but I don’t want to pay the price in closeness.
Joseph Smith taught, “God hath not revealed any thing to Joseph, but what he will make know unto the Twelve and even the least Saint may know all things as fast as he is able to bear them.”(Ehat and Cook, ed. The Words of Joseph Smith, p. 4; emphasis added).
We become “able to bear” the wondrous possibility of daily interaction with our Father and our Savior through the Spirit as we live for it and then practice it. We must become willing to open the front door of our homes and our hearts and invite them to come in. When we ask, “What would Jesus do?” it is very different than inviting Him in from the porch and saying, “Lord, what would Thou have me to do?” Wondering what it would be like to have Jesus with me all day long and trying hard to adjust my behavior to such a possibility is very different than really believing He is with me at all times.
I don’t know about anyone else, but for me keeping God at any distance for any reason will not do in these trying times. Sure I am tempted to feel embarrassed that I’m not all that He would want to be yet. But someday Carson and I have to climb up the ladder to the top bunk with Ethan and entertain the idea that God might just talk to us too. I need to know I’m loved and I need daily counsel and power, things I’ll never be able to receive from the front porch.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Eliza, his older sister and a real practical gal answered from the room next door in just the way you would expect from a serious minded first child. Her simple response was an emphatic, “NO!”
His little brother Carson rested quietly on the bottom bunk bed right below his very imaginative, very courageous, “excited about the scriptures and things of the Spirit” older brother. I’m sure he was trying to process just what the ramifications were of his brother’s apparent desire to have a Joseph Smith experience. Suddenly it dawned on him that he was sharing a room with this seeker of revelation. After a few minutes of silence Carson little voice rang out in the darkness, “Well, I don’t want Jesus to come and visit me!”
I think there must be something of Carson in me, and maybe in all of us, when it comes to things not commonly seen with the eye, things connected with the very real world of the Spirit. Sometimes I feel afraid like Carson, or unworthy, or lazy, or unprepared for the responsibility such interactions seem to command. Though I’m fascinated by the promised gifts of visions and personal revelation, when it comes right down to it I sometimes prefer that Divine interaction remain just outside my personal space, be it hearth or heart.
Things haven’t changed too much with Carson. Last week he lost his first tooth. After this developmental event, when all the kids were tucked into bed, I visited with my daughter on the phone. We had a good laugh when she told me, “Carson’s tooth is not under his pillow. It’s on the front porch. He says he doesn’t like the idea of the Tooth Fairy coming into his room.” We like the idea of fairies and such as long as they stay on the front porch.
Now I hope you don’t think that I’m somehow comparing communication with the Lord with a visit from the Tooth Fairy. I’m not. What I am saying is that sometimes I’m like Carson. I want the prize, but I don’t want to pay the price in closeness.
Joseph Smith taught, “God hath not revealed any thing to Joseph, but what he will make know unto the Twelve and even the least Saint may know all things as fast as he is able to bear them.”(Ehat and Cook, ed. The Words of Joseph Smith, p. 4; emphasis added).
We become “able to bear” the wondrous possibility of daily interaction with our Father and our Savior through the Spirit as we live for it and then practice it. We must become willing to open the front door of our homes and our hearts and invite them to come in. When we ask, “What would Jesus do?” it is very different than inviting Him in from the porch and saying, “Lord, what would Thou have me to do?” Wondering what it would be like to have Jesus with me all day long and trying hard to adjust my behavior to such a possibility is very different than really believing He is with me at all times.
I don’t know about anyone else, but for me keeping God at any distance for any reason will not do in these trying times. Sure I am tempted to feel embarrassed that I’m not all that He would want to be yet. But someday Carson and I have to climb up the ladder to the top bunk with Ethan and entertain the idea that God might just talk to us too. I need to know I’m loved and I need daily counsel and power, things I’ll never be able to receive from the front porch.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
“Mom, Don’t You Think I’d Be Like One of Those Guys?” – Patience with the Process
Before we get too far into October I have a thought that was inspired by ten words spoken this year, by a little boy, on September 11th. My four young grandchildren woke up and got going on the day, like it was the same as any other. They busied around taking care of the standard daily kind of things – bed making, jimmies back in the drawer, a little cold cereal, the trash emptied, and a little time improving skills at the piano. As they proceeded on this fall morning, with the regular things of life, my daughter – their mother, realized that although September 11th was significant to her and will be forever imprinted on her mind, her four young children knew little or nothing about its importance. She determined to sit down with them and see what she could do to pass on the meaning of a day she had actually experienced, a day that has simply become a piece of history for the nations children.
I imagine that for my Grandchildren it was like the day I came home and told my mother that we were learning about World War II in school and she proceeded to describe what is was like to sit around the radio as a twelve year old girl and hear President Roosevelt announce that our country was under attack, or the day I shared with my children what it was like to wake up, as a young girl to the news that someone had shot the President of the United States - and then his brother, or where I was on the Junior High grounds the day we lost Martin Luther King, that man who had a magnificent dream for our country.
Before they got too far into the day my daughter gathered her little crew around her and unfolded for them the details of her life on September 11th 2001. She described where she had been when she received the news that our country was under attack, how it felt to turn on the TV and watch with horror and disbelief as the Twin Towers fell over and over again, replay after replay. She got out old newspaper clippings and tried the best she could to help them understand the great sadness that came over the world because of the tremendous loss of life. She told them stories of sacrifice and tried to convey the tenderness towards humanity and the love of country that awoke in her that autumn day. “Ethan,” she said, “All this happened when you were a brand new baby. You know how your baby blanket is red, white and blue? Why do you think I made it out of those colors?” Suddenly, an under-appreciated piece of Ethan’s life took on new meaning. “Oh!” he said with newfound understanding. “I never knew!”
She finished her history lesson by telling them about the sacrifice of the men and women on Flight 93, how they had determined to do whatever it took to fight back and put a stop to the death and destruction of that day even though it meant giving everything they had to give. “Because of their sacrifice they kept their airplane from crashing into the White House or the Capitol and killing countless others.” Ethan’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. For this little 8-year-old Jedi, with a closet full of light sabers, this real life tale of people willing to oppose the dark side with there lives if necessary, hit home. It struck him in a way all parents hope the lessons of history will strike their children. Speaking of the willingness to fight back to the point of the ultimate sacrifice he said, “Mom, don’t you think I’d be like one of those guys? Don’t you think I’d fight the bad guys like they did?”
I had just gotten home from an evening Addiction Recovery Meeting when my daughter called to say good night and to share this experience. Ethan’s simple innocent question struck a tender chord inside of me. I had just spent an hour and a half with a group of individuals who at one time in their lives had probably been as hopeful of making future courageous choices as my grandson. Somewhere along the way though, we encountered the unpredictability of life and the reality of the forces of evil, combined with our own weaknesses. In one way or another we had each become a disappointment to ourselves.
Thinking of Ethan and his 8-year-old innocent optimism I silently asked,” Dear Heavenly Father, How do we ever cross that great gulf that lies between today’s disheartening reality and yesterday, when we anticipated only the best in ourselves?”
Immediately I pictured myself sitting with Heavenly Father in my pre-earth life, gazing down as history unfolded, watching all the great and brave souls that walked the earth before it was my turn to come down. Inspired and full of pre-mortal optimism, yet completely inexperienced with the rigors of the test just ahead, I looked on and asked, “Father, don’t you think I’d be like them? Don’t you think I’d do what they did? Don’t you think I’d be that kind of girl?”
In my imagination I could see Him smiling at my innocence and then tears welling up in His loving eyes. “Yes, you have every potential of becoming that kind of a girl, but remember, you will not become such over night and you can only become such with Our help. There is a sure bridge that crosses that great gulf that lies between today’s reality and yesterday’s divine potential. It’s made of patience with the process of becoming, humble reliance on your Heavenly Father and your Savior, Jesus Christ, and remembering again and again and again that you are headed for earth life precisely because you are ‘that kind of girl’ or ‘that kind of boy’ in the making.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, October 3, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
I imagine that for my Grandchildren it was like the day I came home and told my mother that we were learning about World War II in school and she proceeded to describe what is was like to sit around the radio as a twelve year old girl and hear President Roosevelt announce that our country was under attack, or the day I shared with my children what it was like to wake up, as a young girl to the news that someone had shot the President of the United States - and then his brother, or where I was on the Junior High grounds the day we lost Martin Luther King, that man who had a magnificent dream for our country.
Before they got too far into the day my daughter gathered her little crew around her and unfolded for them the details of her life on September 11th 2001. She described where she had been when she received the news that our country was under attack, how it felt to turn on the TV and watch with horror and disbelief as the Twin Towers fell over and over again, replay after replay. She got out old newspaper clippings and tried the best she could to help them understand the great sadness that came over the world because of the tremendous loss of life. She told them stories of sacrifice and tried to convey the tenderness towards humanity and the love of country that awoke in her that autumn day. “Ethan,” she said, “All this happened when you were a brand new baby. You know how your baby blanket is red, white and blue? Why do you think I made it out of those colors?” Suddenly, an under-appreciated piece of Ethan’s life took on new meaning. “Oh!” he said with newfound understanding. “I never knew!”
She finished her history lesson by telling them about the sacrifice of the men and women on Flight 93, how they had determined to do whatever it took to fight back and put a stop to the death and destruction of that day even though it meant giving everything they had to give. “Because of their sacrifice they kept their airplane from crashing into the White House or the Capitol and killing countless others.” Ethan’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. For this little 8-year-old Jedi, with a closet full of light sabers, this real life tale of people willing to oppose the dark side with there lives if necessary, hit home. It struck him in a way all parents hope the lessons of history will strike their children. Speaking of the willingness to fight back to the point of the ultimate sacrifice he said, “Mom, don’t you think I’d be like one of those guys? Don’t you think I’d fight the bad guys like they did?”
I had just gotten home from an evening Addiction Recovery Meeting when my daughter called to say good night and to share this experience. Ethan’s simple innocent question struck a tender chord inside of me. I had just spent an hour and a half with a group of individuals who at one time in their lives had probably been as hopeful of making future courageous choices as my grandson. Somewhere along the way though, we encountered the unpredictability of life and the reality of the forces of evil, combined with our own weaknesses. In one way or another we had each become a disappointment to ourselves.
Thinking of Ethan and his 8-year-old innocent optimism I silently asked,” Dear Heavenly Father, How do we ever cross that great gulf that lies between today’s disheartening reality and yesterday, when we anticipated only the best in ourselves?”
Immediately I pictured myself sitting with Heavenly Father in my pre-earth life, gazing down as history unfolded, watching all the great and brave souls that walked the earth before it was my turn to come down. Inspired and full of pre-mortal optimism, yet completely inexperienced with the rigors of the test just ahead, I looked on and asked, “Father, don’t you think I’d be like them? Don’t you think I’d do what they did? Don’t you think I’d be that kind of girl?”
In my imagination I could see Him smiling at my innocence and then tears welling up in His loving eyes. “Yes, you have every potential of becoming that kind of a girl, but remember, you will not become such over night and you can only become such with Our help. There is a sure bridge that crosses that great gulf that lies between today’s reality and yesterday’s divine potential. It’s made of patience with the process of becoming, humble reliance on your Heavenly Father and your Savior, Jesus Christ, and remembering again and again and again that you are headed for earth life precisely because you are ‘that kind of girl’ or ‘that kind of boy’ in the making.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, October 3, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Getting on the Bus – Step 3 - Trust in God
On the day my husband turns the kitchen calendar page from August to September something awakes inside of me. The air feels different to me on September 1st than on August 31st. The feel of the air, the colors on the mountain – even the sunshine isn’t the same, and it seems to me that EVERYONE is going back to school. No matter what’s going on in my life I suddenly want to buy supplies; a little plastic ruler, a pink pearl eraser, new #2 pencils, a new box of 64 Crayons, and one of those little zippered pencil keepers that snap into a new three ring binder. I want to go to the Utah Idaho School Supply and decorate a classroom or put up a bulletin board in my kitchen and another one in the living room. I want a new lunch box with a thermos with glass on the inside. I want my mom to take me to JC Pennys or Sears and buy me five new little dresses, one for each day of the week and a pair of buster brown shoes. I want to wake up on crispy fall mornings, when it’s still a little bit dark and get all ready for the day. Will my teacher be nice? Who will be in my class? Where will I sit? Who can forget the smell of a brand new math book and the fear of saying your name and a “little bit about yourself” in front of everyone. Such preparation and such anticipation!
I have a friend whose five-year-old little boy couldn’t wait to start kindergarten. For him it seemed like the first day of school would never come. When it finally did he waited anxiously for the early morning to pass and for the moment to arrive when he could board the bus. “Is it time?” “Is it time?” “Is it time?” When the moment finally did arrive she placed his Spiderman backpack lovingly over his little shoulders and kissed her baby boy on the cheek. She opened the door just as the bus pulled up. Standing firmly in the doorway, a portal that this day marked the end of something so hard to let go of, holding back the tears, she nudged him on to the front step. Suddenly all anticipation and excitement turned to something else. No amount of August preparation had readied him for this September reality. His little body froze, his chin began to quiver, “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?”
As she described this little scene I wondered how it was when I left my Heavenly Parents for Earth School. I’m definitely the frightened type – scared of the dark, scared of being alone. When Heavenly Father presented His beautiful plan I think my “shout for joy” had everything to do with the fact that Jesus promised to get on the bus with me. I bet that’s the part of the plan I liked best. We call the 12 Steps the Steps of Recovery. One of the most important things I have “recovered” is my understanding that I am not alone here. Today I like to imagine that when I asked Heavenly Father “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?” He said “No, but your Big Brother is already waiting on the bus and He’s saving a seat for you right next to Him!” I was not alone on the bus and I’m never alone at school. Now that is Good News!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
I have a friend whose five-year-old little boy couldn’t wait to start kindergarten. For him it seemed like the first day of school would never come. When it finally did he waited anxiously for the early morning to pass and for the moment to arrive when he could board the bus. “Is it time?” “Is it time?” “Is it time?” When the moment finally did arrive she placed his Spiderman backpack lovingly over his little shoulders and kissed her baby boy on the cheek. She opened the door just as the bus pulled up. Standing firmly in the doorway, a portal that this day marked the end of something so hard to let go of, holding back the tears, she nudged him on to the front step. Suddenly all anticipation and excitement turned to something else. No amount of August preparation had readied him for this September reality. His little body froze, his chin began to quiver, “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?”
As she described this little scene I wondered how it was when I left my Heavenly Parents for Earth School. I’m definitely the frightened type – scared of the dark, scared of being alone. When Heavenly Father presented His beautiful plan I think my “shout for joy” had everything to do with the fact that Jesus promised to get on the bus with me. I bet that’s the part of the plan I liked best. We call the 12 Steps the Steps of Recovery. One of the most important things I have “recovered” is my understanding that I am not alone here. Today I like to imagine that when I asked Heavenly Father “Aren’t you going to ride the bus with me?” He said “No, but your Big Brother is already waiting on the bus and He’s saving a seat for you right next to Him!” I was not alone on the bus and I’m never alone at school. Now that is Good News!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, September 7, 2009
“Right Face! Right Face! Right Face!” – The Tools
In a high school biology class we all learned a little bit about genetics. I’m sure you remember the day you were asked to go home and check the ear lobes of everyone in your family to see whose were attached and whose were not. I remember spending the late afternoon of a school day collecting and recording family genetic data. We all waited anxiously for my dad to come home from work so the family genetic picture could be complete, at least as far as eye color, ear lobes, and rolled tongues were concerned. My first lessons in genetics occurred the summer before my sophomore year, but my understanding of what I’d inherited from my parents did not end with Biology class.
Football season was upon us and I decided to try out for the drill team. I can’t even begin to describe the amount of courage it required for this young girl, with absolutely no confidence in her physical abilities, to show up and learn the audition routine. “Anchors Away My Boys” - I’ll never forget that music. I practiced night and day and wonder of wonders I made the team. This was the kind of team that did a lot of marching and a little dancing. This was just the right kind of team for me. Surely I could march!
That brings me to a genetic trait I had never considered. The first day of practice we marched around the football field for hours after school. It didn’t take very much time to recognize that I was in a lot of trouble. Who could have guessed the grief that four little words could impose on the life of a teenage girl. The words were, “Left Face” and “Right Face.” For some strange reason when the team captain shouted, “left” or “right” it did not come automatically to me to turn, along with all the other girls, according to instructions. After one disastrous day of marching I went home and told my parents that dancing was going to be the least of my worries. The amount of time it took my brain to relay to my marching feet to turn right or left on demand was unacceptable for a precision drill team.
To my great astonishment my dad understood exactly what I was talking about. He told me of his experience marching in the army. “Same Thing!” he admitted. “Genetics!” So that was my problem! The great thing was that my dad had hit upon something that helped him during his army days. “When you are marching just cross your fingers on your right hand. It’s a great little reminder.” Well, it worked like a charm. Now I could do “Left Face” “Right Face” on demand. I don’t know if it was because the distance between my head and my fingers was shorter than the distance between head and my feet or what, but with my fingers crossed on my right hand I never again missed a turn on the football field or the basketball court. All it took was a simple reminder between my brain and my feet.
These memories came back to me the other day as I was thinking about another set of reminders I try to use every day. The struggle to choose between right and left is pretty insignificant when compared with the struggle to choose between right and wrong. I haven’t tried crossing the fingers on my right hand to remind me to choose the right, but I have learned that what helps me most is dedicated prayer, dedicated scripture study, dedicated attendance at meetings, and dedicated service etc., with emphasis on the word “dedicated.” I dedicate my private religious activities to my need for Heavenly Help. These things are no longer things I do so I can check them off or so God will like me. They are invitations to the Lord to help me - to remind me - to allow His Spirit to intervene between His command and my inconsistent ability to follow directions.
With dedicated prayer and study, and a prayerfully made plan for attending meetings and serving others, I’m figuratively crossing my fingers on my right hand. Now my march through this day is more likely to be in line with my Captains call. “Right Face, Right Face, Right Face!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, September 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Football season was upon us and I decided to try out for the drill team. I can’t even begin to describe the amount of courage it required for this young girl, with absolutely no confidence in her physical abilities, to show up and learn the audition routine. “Anchors Away My Boys” - I’ll never forget that music. I practiced night and day and wonder of wonders I made the team. This was the kind of team that did a lot of marching and a little dancing. This was just the right kind of team for me. Surely I could march!
That brings me to a genetic trait I had never considered. The first day of practice we marched around the football field for hours after school. It didn’t take very much time to recognize that I was in a lot of trouble. Who could have guessed the grief that four little words could impose on the life of a teenage girl. The words were, “Left Face” and “Right Face.” For some strange reason when the team captain shouted, “left” or “right” it did not come automatically to me to turn, along with all the other girls, according to instructions. After one disastrous day of marching I went home and told my parents that dancing was going to be the least of my worries. The amount of time it took my brain to relay to my marching feet to turn right or left on demand was unacceptable for a precision drill team.
To my great astonishment my dad understood exactly what I was talking about. He told me of his experience marching in the army. “Same Thing!” he admitted. “Genetics!” So that was my problem! The great thing was that my dad had hit upon something that helped him during his army days. “When you are marching just cross your fingers on your right hand. It’s a great little reminder.” Well, it worked like a charm. Now I could do “Left Face” “Right Face” on demand. I don’t know if it was because the distance between my head and my fingers was shorter than the distance between head and my feet or what, but with my fingers crossed on my right hand I never again missed a turn on the football field or the basketball court. All it took was a simple reminder between my brain and my feet.
These memories came back to me the other day as I was thinking about another set of reminders I try to use every day. The struggle to choose between right and left is pretty insignificant when compared with the struggle to choose between right and wrong. I haven’t tried crossing the fingers on my right hand to remind me to choose the right, but I have learned that what helps me most is dedicated prayer, dedicated scripture study, dedicated attendance at meetings, and dedicated service etc., with emphasis on the word “dedicated.” I dedicate my private religious activities to my need for Heavenly Help. These things are no longer things I do so I can check them off or so God will like me. They are invitations to the Lord to help me - to remind me - to allow His Spirit to intervene between His command and my inconsistent ability to follow directions.
With dedicated prayer and study, and a prayerfully made plan for attending meetings and serving others, I’m figuratively crossing my fingers on my right hand. Now my march through this day is more likely to be in line with my Captains call. “Right Face, Right Face, Right Face!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, September 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
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