“It sounds like you’re in the car. What are you up to tonight?” I ask my daughter who lives four hours away.
“Oh the kids are restless after sitting in church, so we thought we would take a little drive before dinner.”
After wishing her well I hung up the phone, gathered my Sunday dinner contributions, and walked across the street to my mothers house. My hands were full. I knocked on the door with my foot. Without any wait at all, the door was thrown open, and I was greeted by three young guests I hadn’t expected. Apparently the kids had been so restless that my daughter and her husband had taken them on what certainly would be considered more that just a Sunday drive.
Then there were the kinds of things said that you would expect. “No Way, I can’t believe you’re here!” “How long can you stay?” “When did you decide to come?” - And lots of hugs and kisses!
Finally we settled down and ate Sunday dinner and then sat around the living room chatting. While we were visited a little finger poked me on the arm to get my attention. It was Madeline. “Grandma, I brought you a present. Do you want to see it?”
Maddie placed in my lap a small gift bag. It was obvious that in preparing this gift Maddie had been given full reign of the family ribbon collection. On the front was an aqua blue store-bought bow, the kind you peal the back off and stick on a package. On the handles of the gift bag she had tied a crayon blue ribbon with shredded ends for decoration and a green cloth “Dillard’s” kind of ribbon. Out of the top of the bag flowed tissue paper. Not the kind that is customary today but the kind that comes off the roll in the bathroom.
I placed my hands inside the bag and drew out a 4-inch wooden birdhouse. Maddie had painted it pink and decorated it with a butterfly sticker on the front and on the back a lavender hand-painted heart. On the top was a hanger. Knowing I love birds and bird “things” and that I decorate my Christmas tree with birds she said, “You can hang it on your tree Grandma!” I thanked her profusely, showed it to everyone in the room, placed the gift back in the bag, and set it on the floor beside my chair.
The next morning my scripture study took me to the vision of the Tree of Life in the Book of Mormon. Nephi says the tree is “precious above all,” and the angel of the Lord says that this precious tree is a symbol of God’s love for us. I also read the description of the exquisitely delicious fruit this tree produces. For me the tree has come to represent Jesus’ great expression love for you and for me - the Atonement. And the fruit – well once when I was studying this section of scripture with my dictionary near by. I decided to look up the word “fruit.” I was reminded that although “fruit” is apples, oranges, and bananas, it’s also a synonym for the word “results.” This thought came to me: “Nannette, those who partake of the fruit of the Tree of Life are the partakers of the fruits or the results of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, and the greatest result or gift that comes out of His sacrifice is your personal conversion or change through His love and direction and power.”
As I was doing the dishes later that day I was thinking about the word “precious” and just what makes a gift “precious.” I determined that gifts are precious to me based on my love for the giver, the personal cost at which the gift is given, the motivation behind the giving, and my personal need or enjoyment of the gift. All of these factors make the fruits or results of the Atonement the most valuable gifts we can ever receive.
At that moment my thoughts drifted to my little pink birdhouse and my final interaction with Maddie the night she gave it to me. “Nannette, Maddie’s gift qualifies as precious too. You accepted it. You thanked her for it. You showed it around. You placed it back into the bag and set it beside your chair. You finished the evening, went to the door, said good-bye to everyone. You were ready to leave when Maddie came running up to you holding the little decorated gift bag. “Aren’t you going to take your present Grandma?” “Oh yes, thank you Maddie!” Then you set it down again. She had to bring it to you twice.”
Then right there in my kitchen tears sprang to my eyes with this final thought. “Nannette, Jesus is like Madeline. He will bring you His precious gifts as many times as it takes for you to actually walk out the door holding them in your hands.”
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Little Fingers on the Grand Piano - "Acceptance is the Answer"
Sometimes I attend an event and I just know that I am going to learn a lesson in living. I never know for sure how or when, but if I watch with my eyes on the lookout for true principles I usually don’t have to wait long. Such was the case at the piano recital I attended recently. It involved beginning students including two of my grandchildren and my niece. The concert had not even gotten off the ground when my eyes and ears perked up.
Several people arrived just before the recital was about to begin - a grandparent couple with an elderly great grandma and a young couple with a little girl and a baby. The young adult gentleman asked if perhaps people could open up a few seats on the isle, I assume so they would not have to climb over everyone. As people scooted about to provide seating I heard one man say just loud enough to be heard, “Great, you’re late and we all have to move,” and a woman within my earshot concurred. “Arrogant,” she said smugly.
That was Scene One. There was no compassion for someone’s grandma and grandpa who had traveled an hour after work, picked up a feeble great grandma, and come with her to the concert. There was no understanding for someone’s aunt and uncle who made the sacrifice, after a long days work, to drag their tired kids across town to support a hand full of budding pianist cousins.
Scene Two involved a room full of adults, who for the next hour watched silently as one little child after another took their turn at the shiny black grand piano - little pieces of music and little novice fingers on an instrument fit for Thaikovsky or Rockmanonoff. We were the picture of complete acceptance, ready patience, and perfect appreciation for each attempt at musical perfection. Unequivocal support filled the air. Smiles! Clap Clap Claps! Hugs! Flowers! Pats on the back! Good Job! “A” for effort!
Scene One and Scene Two, side by side, prove to be pretty instructive. We’re all pretty selective when is comes to cutting each other some slack. The truth is that all of us who come to earth are in over our heads. This “earth life” experience is a bit like each of us taking our turn at the shiny black grand piano. We are all beginners. Not one of us is proficient. None of us has it down. There was only one Child Prodigy and none of us are He.
I came away from the little sixty-minute event wanting to work on my attitude toward the little people and big people who make up humanity, not just at the piano recital, but also in the grocery line, on the freeway, at the parade, in the middle of sacrament meeting, at all family events etc. I left the recital that night with this thought, “Every new minute, every new interaction is a kind of recital in that it’s a demonstration of what we’ve practiced and learned to this point.” Today I want to treat people with my best recital etiquette!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, June 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Several people arrived just before the recital was about to begin - a grandparent couple with an elderly great grandma and a young couple with a little girl and a baby. The young adult gentleman asked if perhaps people could open up a few seats on the isle, I assume so they would not have to climb over everyone. As people scooted about to provide seating I heard one man say just loud enough to be heard, “Great, you’re late and we all have to move,” and a woman within my earshot concurred. “Arrogant,” she said smugly.
That was Scene One. There was no compassion for someone’s grandma and grandpa who had traveled an hour after work, picked up a feeble great grandma, and come with her to the concert. There was no understanding for someone’s aunt and uncle who made the sacrifice, after a long days work, to drag their tired kids across town to support a hand full of budding pianist cousins.
Scene Two involved a room full of adults, who for the next hour watched silently as one little child after another took their turn at the shiny black grand piano - little pieces of music and little novice fingers on an instrument fit for Thaikovsky or Rockmanonoff. We were the picture of complete acceptance, ready patience, and perfect appreciation for each attempt at musical perfection. Unequivocal support filled the air. Smiles! Clap Clap Claps! Hugs! Flowers! Pats on the back! Good Job! “A” for effort!
Scene One and Scene Two, side by side, prove to be pretty instructive. We’re all pretty selective when is comes to cutting each other some slack. The truth is that all of us who come to earth are in over our heads. This “earth life” experience is a bit like each of us taking our turn at the shiny black grand piano. We are all beginners. Not one of us is proficient. None of us has it down. There was only one Child Prodigy and none of us are He.
I came away from the little sixty-minute event wanting to work on my attitude toward the little people and big people who make up humanity, not just at the piano recital, but also in the grocery line, on the freeway, at the parade, in the middle of sacrament meeting, at all family events etc. I left the recital that night with this thought, “Every new minute, every new interaction is a kind of recital in that it’s a demonstration of what we’ve practiced and learned to this point.” Today I want to treat people with my best recital etiquette!
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, June 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
“What’s Next Grandma?” - Step 11
President Benson taught that, “The most constant and most recurring question in our minds touching every thought and deed of our lives, should be, ‘Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?” (Ezra T. Benson, Ensign, Dec 1988, p. 2)
One of five-year-old Sammy’s most frequent expressions is, “What’s next?” The TV show ends and Sammy says, “What’s next Grandma?” I sing her one lullaby, thinking she’ll dose off and it will be the last, but she pipes up, “What’s next Grandma?” I have grown to love this little question. I think I’ll use it when I talk to God. It’s the innocent child like essence of President Benson's, “Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?” Sometimes I just might just say it Sammy’s way. There is something completely trusting and unpretentious about it. It seems to communicate that I am ready and willing to get going on what ever the Lord thinks is best. “What’s next Lord?”
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, June 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
One of five-year-old Sammy’s most frequent expressions is, “What’s next?” The TV show ends and Sammy says, “What’s next Grandma?” I sing her one lullaby, thinking she’ll dose off and it will be the last, but she pipes up, “What’s next Grandma?” I have grown to love this little question. I think I’ll use it when I talk to God. It’s the innocent child like essence of President Benson's, “Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?” Sometimes I just might just say it Sammy’s way. There is something completely trusting and unpretentious about it. It seems to communicate that I am ready and willing to get going on what ever the Lord thinks is best. “What’s next Lord?”
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, June 7, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
“I Do It Myself!” - Step 1,2,3
Two-year-old Gracie is declaring her independence lately. Among other things, she has decided that she’s old enough to extricate herself from the high chair without help. Recently after finishing her breakfast her mother approached her as usual to help her out of the chair by taking off the tray and lifting her into a standing position. This time Gracie reacted to her mother’s willingness to help in a new a spirited way.
After the tray was removed and she was raised to her feet, she pitched a royal fit and said, “I do it myself!” Then the little lady, in complete rejection of the assistance she had just received, plopped herself right back down in the seat of the chair. Her desire for independence was so strong she was willing to start completely over. When we are dealing with a two-year-old we often smile and shake our heads and view this kind of behavior as a phase that will pass with time. We’ve even given it a name. We say, “She going through the Terrible Two’s!”
I wonder if God ever looks down at me and says to the angels, “Nannette’s going through the Terrible Two’s.” I think it’s possible to get stuck in the Terrible Two’s in some aspects of our lives? It’s a situation demonstrated by a stubborn desire to do “it” our selves. I reject God’s help when I say to Him in my heart or with my actions, “I do it myself” and then figuratively plop myself willfully back down where I started. When I place independence above divinely assisted progress, it’s not a passing phase, it doesn’t have a funny little name any more, and it's not so cute. It’s called pride.
On some level, no matter how grown up we get to be, we never out grow the need for the kind of help Gracie’s mother was willing to give her. Not a day goes by that I don’t find myself confined by some barrier I can’t seem to remove by myself or in need of a gentle lift to my feet. That’s the kind of thing the Lord is willing to do for me. In fact, He has told us it brings Him joy.
Sometimes the first three steps are summarized like this: “I can’t” “God can.” “I think I’ll let Him.” Today I won’t let any Terrible Two-Year-Old stubborn pride stand between my great need and His great willingness to remove the things obstructing my way and raise me up when I am down.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, June 4, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
After the tray was removed and she was raised to her feet, she pitched a royal fit and said, “I do it myself!” Then the little lady, in complete rejection of the assistance she had just received, plopped herself right back down in the seat of the chair. Her desire for independence was so strong she was willing to start completely over. When we are dealing with a two-year-old we often smile and shake our heads and view this kind of behavior as a phase that will pass with time. We’ve even given it a name. We say, “She going through the Terrible Two’s!”
I wonder if God ever looks down at me and says to the angels, “Nannette’s going through the Terrible Two’s.” I think it’s possible to get stuck in the Terrible Two’s in some aspects of our lives? It’s a situation demonstrated by a stubborn desire to do “it” our selves. I reject God’s help when I say to Him in my heart or with my actions, “I do it myself” and then figuratively plop myself willfully back down where I started. When I place independence above divinely assisted progress, it’s not a passing phase, it doesn’t have a funny little name any more, and it's not so cute. It’s called pride.
On some level, no matter how grown up we get to be, we never out grow the need for the kind of help Gracie’s mother was willing to give her. Not a day goes by that I don’t find myself confined by some barrier I can’t seem to remove by myself or in need of a gentle lift to my feet. That’s the kind of thing the Lord is willing to do for me. In fact, He has told us it brings Him joy.
Sometimes the first three steps are summarized like this: “I can’t” “God can.” “I think I’ll let Him.” Today I won’t let any Terrible Two-Year-Old stubborn pride stand between my great need and His great willingness to remove the things obstructing my way and raise me up when I am down.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, June 4, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The Bird Clock - Step 12 “Having Had A Spiritual Awakening”
There is a transformation that takes place when a woman moves from being a “forty-something” year old mother of teenagers to being a grandmother. One of the early signs of this change is the acquisition of little eccentric things around the house. It’s quite unexplainable, but grandmothers purchase things to hang on walls and sit on shelves they wouldn’t have considered bringing home in the past. Quite often these are fragile things that little children find fascinating but are not allowed play with: figurines, music boxes, lava lamps, doorbells that play Christmas carols etc. Clocks are high on the “top-ten-list” of grandmotherly acquisitions. My Grandma on my Dad’s side owned a cuckoo clock. It just wasn’t grandma’s house unless that cuckoo squawked out every new hour, on the hour, all night long, followed by a little German folk song. My Grandma on my Mother’s side had a cat clock on the kitchen wall. As the seconds ticked away the tail of the cat which hung below the clock wagged back and forth, and the big round eyes on the face of the cat clock looked left and then right in concert. Strange but quite captivating.
A novelty clock was my first peculiar purchase when I became a grandma. I’m sure I have made others, but I think one becomes so accustomed to being a grandma that we stop noticing. The transformation is almost imperceptible. And our home decorating is not the only sign. One day we simply decided our own mother was perfectly sensible in wearing an apron when she cooked Sunday dinner, and we get one of the many we have inherited but never worn out of a drawer, and we tie it about our waste. More and more often we hear ourselves saying to young people, “Well, when I was a little girl…” Hot cereal is a treat, and finding a pair of sensible shoes is a thing to celebrate. Who knows how it is accomplished. Only God can make a Grandma.
This week I had an experience that involved my bird clock. I share this experience at some personal risk, the risk of revealing that my mind is also showing my age. The other evening I was eating dinner on the back patio. While I was eating I heard my clock announce the hour of the day. Each hour is sounded off by a different birdcall. Several other times in the last ten years I’ve heard this particular call while I’ve been outside close to my house. My mother has a similar clock and lives just across the street. “Perhaps there are others in our maturing neighborhood who own the same clock,” I always wonder. This particular call is so mechanical I can hardly believe there’s a real bird that makes such a noise. I was in a hurry to finish eating and get to an evening appointment. I glanced down at my watch. It read 6:20. “What, my clock must be broken. That bird call is not sounding on the hour.” Then came the great awakening. “Wait a minute! Could that be a real bird! Could it possibly be that every time I’ve been outside and heard that call it’s been a real bird?” My mother phoned while I was taking this in. “Oh, you mean the Morning Dove,” she laughed as I told her about “my moment.”
The next day as I was riding my bike I heard the call of the morning dove again. This time I didn’t wonder which grandma in the neighborhood had just bought a bird clock. No! I looked around and sure enough, up on the telephone wire was the real thing. I was suddenly mindful or awake to something that had always been a reality.
Step 12 speaks of having “a spiritual awakening as a result of Atonement of Jesus Christ.” As we apply Steps 1 through 11 the cumulative effect is a growing spiritual awareness. The before and after distinction is so great that sometimes we say we have come from a place where we were spiritually asleep or dead. This spiritual awakening is directly connected to Jesus. Over time and with hard work we become awake to the Lord. We become acutely aware that the Savior we have read about, and sung about, and been taught about all our lives is more alive and interested in us as individuals than we ever dared imagine.
As a result of applying these Gospel principles to my everyday life I am waking up. I’m beginning to see and feel and hear His persistent witness, to me personally, that He is alive. Through the Holy Spirit I’m learning to recognize His voice. I’m learning to feel His presence. I have experienced His desire to give me direction and power in any aspect of life where I struggle.
My experience with the Morning Dove reminds me of my experience with the Lord, who the Apostle John called “Morning Star.” With the little dove I became suddenly and keenly aware that the call I was hearing was the voice of a living thing. Now that I’m conscious I hear that little bird call many times each day. My awakening to the Lord has been a gradual process but just a real. As I sit hear writing with my office window open I can hear the call of a nearby dove. I think the Lord must intend the little bird and his call to forever remind me that my living Savior is very much alive and always near!
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, May 31, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
A novelty clock was my first peculiar purchase when I became a grandma. I’m sure I have made others, but I think one becomes so accustomed to being a grandma that we stop noticing. The transformation is almost imperceptible. And our home decorating is not the only sign. One day we simply decided our own mother was perfectly sensible in wearing an apron when she cooked Sunday dinner, and we get one of the many we have inherited but never worn out of a drawer, and we tie it about our waste. More and more often we hear ourselves saying to young people, “Well, when I was a little girl…” Hot cereal is a treat, and finding a pair of sensible shoes is a thing to celebrate. Who knows how it is accomplished. Only God can make a Grandma.
This week I had an experience that involved my bird clock. I share this experience at some personal risk, the risk of revealing that my mind is also showing my age. The other evening I was eating dinner on the back patio. While I was eating I heard my clock announce the hour of the day. Each hour is sounded off by a different birdcall. Several other times in the last ten years I’ve heard this particular call while I’ve been outside close to my house. My mother has a similar clock and lives just across the street. “Perhaps there are others in our maturing neighborhood who own the same clock,” I always wonder. This particular call is so mechanical I can hardly believe there’s a real bird that makes such a noise. I was in a hurry to finish eating and get to an evening appointment. I glanced down at my watch. It read 6:20. “What, my clock must be broken. That bird call is not sounding on the hour.” Then came the great awakening. “Wait a minute! Could that be a real bird! Could it possibly be that every time I’ve been outside and heard that call it’s been a real bird?” My mother phoned while I was taking this in. “Oh, you mean the Morning Dove,” she laughed as I told her about “my moment.”
The next day as I was riding my bike I heard the call of the morning dove again. This time I didn’t wonder which grandma in the neighborhood had just bought a bird clock. No! I looked around and sure enough, up on the telephone wire was the real thing. I was suddenly mindful or awake to something that had always been a reality.
Step 12 speaks of having “a spiritual awakening as a result of Atonement of Jesus Christ.” As we apply Steps 1 through 11 the cumulative effect is a growing spiritual awareness. The before and after distinction is so great that sometimes we say we have come from a place where we were spiritually asleep or dead. This spiritual awakening is directly connected to Jesus. Over time and with hard work we become awake to the Lord. We become acutely aware that the Savior we have read about, and sung about, and been taught about all our lives is more alive and interested in us as individuals than we ever dared imagine.
As a result of applying these Gospel principles to my everyday life I am waking up. I’m beginning to see and feel and hear His persistent witness, to me personally, that He is alive. Through the Holy Spirit I’m learning to recognize His voice. I’m learning to feel His presence. I have experienced His desire to give me direction and power in any aspect of life where I struggle.
My experience with the Morning Dove reminds me of my experience with the Lord, who the Apostle John called “Morning Star.” With the little dove I became suddenly and keenly aware that the call I was hearing was the voice of a living thing. Now that I’m conscious I hear that little bird call many times each day. My awakening to the Lord has been a gradual process but just a real. As I sit hear writing with my office window open I can hear the call of a nearby dove. I think the Lord must intend the little bird and his call to forever remind me that my living Savior is very much alive and always near!
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, May 31, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Memorial Day, Celebrating The Power to Live On!
This morning I attended a recovery meeting using the technology of the phone bridge. Present at the meeting were more than thirty participants from all spiritual walks of life. The reading for this meeting came from an AA piece of literature called “Came to Believe.” I listened as one participant after another took part in reading a story about a man whose wife had been diagnosed with cancer. Instead of resorting to his former means of coping, God guided him to seek fellowship in AA. His AA friends encouraged him to pray for the power to accept the will of God in regard to the life or death of his wife. The story concludes in great happiness. The man’s wife was blessed with the gift of health and life and they went on to enjoy many happy sober days together.
As I listened my thoughts were driven to my own experience with my father who, in the spring of 1970 was diagnosed with cancer. Today is Memorial Day. It’s the day we all travel to the grave where my mother and my Grandpa and Grandma and a batch of seven little children ages 3 to 16 placed his body in the summer of 1971.
As I listened to the reading I thought, “Nannette, you need to share your experience with the many people listening in at this meeting. Your story did not end like the one being read, but tell all the people listening in at 5:00 am on a Memorial Day morning that your experience with the blessing of God was no less miraculous.”
I gathered my courage. “I’d like to share,” I ventured in. For the next three minutes I told the friends I only know by voice and not by face of my father’s illness. I spoke of the positive mental attitude – the “I know that he will live” - kind of faith I tried to hang on to through the year he was so very sick. I told them how finally, as a family, in prayer, we became willing to completely turn our will and his life over to the care of God and that God took him home.
Then I testified, not of the Lord’s power to heal and restore life, although I know He surely can, but that He can and does and did in the case of our family, bless us in the face of great tragedy. We were given power from above just a surely as if we had been given life itself. The miracle God had in store for us was the heart, might, mind, and strength to go on living. He did not preserve the life of my Father, but He filled us, the living, with that peace “that passeth understanding.” He surrounded us with human sustenance in the form of family and friends whose love and support has been endless, and He illuminated the way before us. The Lord witnessed to us that because of His great redeeming sacrifice our Dad would Live On and that He could and would help us to Go On. The Lord’s power to heal is very real, but the most common miracle, the one that we may each experience in this life is the renewal of our own lives in the face of great loss and the power the live on!
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, May 25, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
As I listened my thoughts were driven to my own experience with my father who, in the spring of 1970 was diagnosed with cancer. Today is Memorial Day. It’s the day we all travel to the grave where my mother and my Grandpa and Grandma and a batch of seven little children ages 3 to 16 placed his body in the summer of 1971.
As I listened to the reading I thought, “Nannette, you need to share your experience with the many people listening in at this meeting. Your story did not end like the one being read, but tell all the people listening in at 5:00 am on a Memorial Day morning that your experience with the blessing of God was no less miraculous.”
I gathered my courage. “I’d like to share,” I ventured in. For the next three minutes I told the friends I only know by voice and not by face of my father’s illness. I spoke of the positive mental attitude – the “I know that he will live” - kind of faith I tried to hang on to through the year he was so very sick. I told them how finally, as a family, in prayer, we became willing to completely turn our will and his life over to the care of God and that God took him home.
Then I testified, not of the Lord’s power to heal and restore life, although I know He surely can, but that He can and does and did in the case of our family, bless us in the face of great tragedy. We were given power from above just a surely as if we had been given life itself. The miracle God had in store for us was the heart, might, mind, and strength to go on living. He did not preserve the life of my Father, but He filled us, the living, with that peace “that passeth understanding.” He surrounded us with human sustenance in the form of family and friends whose love and support has been endless, and He illuminated the way before us. The Lord witnessed to us that because of His great redeeming sacrifice our Dad would Live On and that He could and would help us to Go On. The Lord’s power to heal is very real, but the most common miracle, the one that we may each experience in this life is the renewal of our own lives in the face of great loss and the power the live on!
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, May 25, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Monday, May 18, 2009
The Light at the End of the Tunnel – Steps 10, 11, and 12 The Maintenance Steps
Sunday I attended church with my children and their children. The service closed and before Carson could run off (I mean walk reverently) to Primary I grabbed him and gave him a big hug and asked him how he had enjoyed the Saturday excursion with his family to the zoo.
He reported that it had been fine and fun, “except for the part where I was walking through the prairie dog tunnel and I saw the light and thought I was out of the tunnel and stood up and hit my head on the top of the tunnel!”
Carson ran off to Primary. I thought about how many times in my journey through life I’ve seen the light at the end of the tunnel and thought I’d arrived. And what do I get for my anxious desire to be completely out of the dark? I get a bump on the head and a big reminder that the light I can see up ahead in this tunnel called “mortality” is God’s encouraging invitation for me to press forward in the dark, not a sign that I’ve arrived!
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, May 18, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
He reported that it had been fine and fun, “except for the part where I was walking through the prairie dog tunnel and I saw the light and thought I was out of the tunnel and stood up and hit my head on the top of the tunnel!”
Carson ran off to Primary. I thought about how many times in my journey through life I’ve seen the light at the end of the tunnel and thought I’d arrived. And what do I get for my anxious desire to be completely out of the dark? I get a bump on the head and a big reminder that the light I can see up ahead in this tunnel called “mortality” is God’s encouraging invitation for me to press forward in the dark, not a sign that I’ve arrived!
By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, May 18, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
The Yellow Bedroom
In my home there is a room that in hindsight seems to have had a dedicated purpose. This room is affectionately known as the Yellow Bedroom. When I moved into this home in 1975 I had just had my first child, a little girl, and this small room with pale yellow walls became the nursery. Over the next thirteen years four more babies were introduced to our home and given a place in the Yellow Bedroom.
As the children grew older they began to occupy others rooms of the house and the mission of the little yellow room expanded. Over the next many years it became a place of safety and nurture for step children, my Grandma who had broken her hip, my mother as she recovered from quadruple bypass surgery on her heart, friends of my children who were here to attend school, and a place of recovery from addiction for two foster daughters and one Great Dane who came a puppy and evolved into a small live-in pony. No matter who occupied the Yellow Bedroom they become fully a part of our family.
There is something very sacred to me about inviting someone to be a part of my home and family. This experience has come to me through the blessing of childbirth and also as God has simply delivered others to my home for a time, and time after time it has seemed just right to invite them to be a part of us.
One day while I was reading the scriptures I ran across an ancient term for this experience. In the Book of Mormon we are told of a man named Zoram who leaves Jerusalem and travels to the Land of Promise with the family of Lehi. Zoram is given the great opportunity to move out of a city that is going to soon be destroyed and “have place” with Lehi’s family. The stipulations are that he must remain with the family and be true to his oath - keep his promises. (see 1 Nephi 4:34)
As I read about Zoram I was struck with the truth that the Lord’s offer to each of us is very similar. He has extended the opportunity to you and me individually to “have place” with Him. He says, “In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also” (John 14:2-3) To have place with someone is “to occupy the same space or location, to occupy the same position, class, capacity, character, situation, state, station, and to have the same job or work.”
Over the years I have come to terms with the fact that I cannot “give place” in the Yellow Bedroom to everyone my heart goes out to. Today the sweet little room is my place for prayer and study and writing. It comforts me to know that our Lord has “many mansions,” and that there is no shortage of room, no lack of “place.” As with Zoram, the only stipulation is that we remain committed to The Family and continue to grow in our ability to keep our promises.
The result of doing the will of the Lord, of keeping His commandments, of living true to my covenants is to be “have place” with Him. That’s no small reward. It is to occupy the location, be gifted with the capacity, and share in the work of God.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, May 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
As the children grew older they began to occupy others rooms of the house and the mission of the little yellow room expanded. Over the next many years it became a place of safety and nurture for step children, my Grandma who had broken her hip, my mother as she recovered from quadruple bypass surgery on her heart, friends of my children who were here to attend school, and a place of recovery from addiction for two foster daughters and one Great Dane who came a puppy and evolved into a small live-in pony. No matter who occupied the Yellow Bedroom they become fully a part of our family.
There is something very sacred to me about inviting someone to be a part of my home and family. This experience has come to me through the blessing of childbirth and also as God has simply delivered others to my home for a time, and time after time it has seemed just right to invite them to be a part of us.
One day while I was reading the scriptures I ran across an ancient term for this experience. In the Book of Mormon we are told of a man named Zoram who leaves Jerusalem and travels to the Land of Promise with the family of Lehi. Zoram is given the great opportunity to move out of a city that is going to soon be destroyed and “have place” with Lehi’s family. The stipulations are that he must remain with the family and be true to his oath - keep his promises. (see 1 Nephi 4:34)
As I read about Zoram I was struck with the truth that the Lord’s offer to each of us is very similar. He has extended the opportunity to you and me individually to “have place” with Him. He says, “In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also” (John 14:2-3) To have place with someone is “to occupy the same space or location, to occupy the same position, class, capacity, character, situation, state, station, and to have the same job or work.”
Over the years I have come to terms with the fact that I cannot “give place” in the Yellow Bedroom to everyone my heart goes out to. Today the sweet little room is my place for prayer and study and writing. It comforts me to know that our Lord has “many mansions,” and that there is no shortage of room, no lack of “place.” As with Zoram, the only stipulation is that we remain committed to The Family and continue to grow in our ability to keep our promises.
The result of doing the will of the Lord, of keeping His commandments, of living true to my covenants is to be “have place” with Him. That’s no small reward. It is to occupy the location, be gifted with the capacity, and share in the work of God.
By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, May 14, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
"I Learned How to Love Them, Dear Mother, from You "– Perfectionism and Step 11
As I live my days, I often find myself overwhelmed at the seemingly infinite number of good things to do. I feel confined by time and space and body. I wish with all my heart that I could do it all. With goals and planners, I try to make sure I don’t miss anything. Even so, it seems I can never hug enough, visit enough, help enough, get everything clean enough, study enough, teach enough, be awake long enough, sleep in enough, sing enough, or save enough pictures or scraps of memory.
It is said that we must ‘seize the day,’ but I swear I cannot take in the whole of it. I try and try, but I am always left with the feeling that dozens of good things are falling out of my arms. The Eternal in me cries out to be free to live and love it all. While all of nature seems to be filling the measure of its creation, I seem to be incapable of filling the measure of my own.
Despite all these feelings, however, I often find myself inadvertently humming a little melody. One day, as I was busy with the many activities of my life, I caught myself humming again. This time I took note of just which song it was and filled in the words:
"I often go walking in the meadows of clover
And I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue.
I gather the blossoms the whole meadow over.
Dear Mother, all flowers remind me of you."
This song always has and always will remind me of my own sweet mother, but this day, out of the blue, into my mind came a new view and a new understanding. In my imagination the blossoms were transformed into all the good things there are to choose from on this Earth. The vast meadow became all of creation, and my Mother in Heaven became the Mother I am reminded of by every sweet and beautiful thing. With this realization came a definite knowing that once, long ago as Her child, I learned to gather armfuls of flowers all over creation. There was no lack of time or strength or resources. There was only joy and delight in gathering what I saw Her gather. And so it came to my mind that perhaps my love for harvesting every good thing on earth has its roots in Heaven.
As I allowed this image to dwell in my mind I imagined the words she might speak to me and to each of Her daughters:
Dear Daughter,
All good is of God. May you be blessed to discern the will of the Jesus Christ. His word to you, through the Holy Spirit, will tell you the good He would have you do. Remember, that you are in a meadow of darkness. As you search in the darkness, using only His Light to lead you from flower to flower, from good to good, each flower you bring to me is most precious. Because of your willingness and desire to glean beauty even in darkness, every flower you gather is wonderful to me! The value of each Christ directed task you do more than makes up for all the flowers we have gathered in the brightness of Heaven. Peacefully surrender and bring me only those flowers He directs and empowers you to bring. It is enough!
And then, there was only the last verse of the song left to sing. This is my reply:
“Dear Mother, I bring you my love with each flower.
To send forth sweet fragrance a whole lifetime through.
For if I love flowers and meadows and walking
I learned how to love them dear Mother, from you.”
P.S. This is my Earthly Mother’s favorite Mothers Day song too. She's the one who taught me about His Light and pointed out to me that the finest flowers from Heaven on Earth are the Gospel of Jesus Christ and my family. I thank her with all my heart.
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, May 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
It is said that we must ‘seize the day,’ but I swear I cannot take in the whole of it. I try and try, but I am always left with the feeling that dozens of good things are falling out of my arms. The Eternal in me cries out to be free to live and love it all. While all of nature seems to be filling the measure of its creation, I seem to be incapable of filling the measure of my own.
Despite all these feelings, however, I often find myself inadvertently humming a little melody. One day, as I was busy with the many activities of my life, I caught myself humming again. This time I took note of just which song it was and filled in the words:
"I often go walking in the meadows of clover
And I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue.
I gather the blossoms the whole meadow over.
Dear Mother, all flowers remind me of you."
This song always has and always will remind me of my own sweet mother, but this day, out of the blue, into my mind came a new view and a new understanding. In my imagination the blossoms were transformed into all the good things there are to choose from on this Earth. The vast meadow became all of creation, and my Mother in Heaven became the Mother I am reminded of by every sweet and beautiful thing. With this realization came a definite knowing that once, long ago as Her child, I learned to gather armfuls of flowers all over creation. There was no lack of time or strength or resources. There was only joy and delight in gathering what I saw Her gather. And so it came to my mind that perhaps my love for harvesting every good thing on earth has its roots in Heaven.
As I allowed this image to dwell in my mind I imagined the words she might speak to me and to each of Her daughters:
Dear Daughter,
All good is of God. May you be blessed to discern the will of the Jesus Christ. His word to you, through the Holy Spirit, will tell you the good He would have you do. Remember, that you are in a meadow of darkness. As you search in the darkness, using only His Light to lead you from flower to flower, from good to good, each flower you bring to me is most precious. Because of your willingness and desire to glean beauty even in darkness, every flower you gather is wonderful to me! The value of each Christ directed task you do more than makes up for all the flowers we have gathered in the brightness of Heaven. Peacefully surrender and bring me only those flowers He directs and empowers you to bring. It is enough!
And then, there was only the last verse of the song left to sing. This is my reply:
“Dear Mother, I bring you my love with each flower.
To send forth sweet fragrance a whole lifetime through.
For if I love flowers and meadows and walking
I learned how to love them dear Mother, from you.”
P.S. This is my Earthly Mother’s favorite Mothers Day song too. She's the one who taught me about His Light and pointed out to me that the finest flowers from Heaven on Earth are the Gospel of Jesus Christ and my family. I thank her with all my heart.
By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, May 9, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
“To Be Opened and Used Immediately!”
My mother-in-law was very generous with other people but frugal to a fault with herself. She was a serious minded young adult during the Great Depression. Thus she brought into her future, the modern age of materialism and waste, and into family view, a curious attitude toward gifts. Finding the right gift for her at Christmas, Mothers Day, and on her Birthday, was forever troublesome to me. I would worry worry worry over the perfect gift, find great delight in finally purchasing it, and then watch as she opened it, for any sign of joy and excitement.
Her reaction to my gifts was as predictable as the sunset. No matter what I’d purchased for her it was either the wrong kind of something, or something she didn’t feel she really needed, or, and this was the hardest of all, it was something too nice to use now. Most gifts were either returned or put on a shelf or under plastic, to be saved for a special occasion. One year for Christmas I searched and searched until I found a robe I thought she would enjoy. On a hanger, under plastic, and into the back of the closet it went. She said she would save it for a future hospital stay. And bless her heart, when she died it was still in the back of the closet.
In recent years I’ve become aware that I am not so different from my mother in law when it comes to accepting and using certain gifts. As crazy as it might seem, the gifts I seem to be most resistant to and suspicious of are the gifts sent from God. Instead of continually receiving them and putting them to good use today, I’m tempted with the thought that they’re just not quite right, not what I wanted or need at this time, or that they are so special perhaps I should store them away for another day.
I found a scripture that in the Doctrine and Covenants that helped me to see that one of the things Jesus was perfect at was receiving gifts (grace) from His Father. Being a perfect gift (grace) receiver was a very important part of fulfilling His mission.
Jesus did not return or reject even one of the gifts (grace) sent from Above. In Doctrine and Covenants 93:12-14 it says that Jesus accepted every gift sent by His Heavenly Father. “And I, John saw that He received not of the fullness at first, but received grace for grace.”
Next John tells us that the way he progressed toward all His Father would have Him receive (a fullness) was to act upon or use the gifts of God to fulfill His mission. “And He received not of the fullness at first but continued from grace to grace, until he received a fullness.” To “continue” is to “endure, to last, to persist.” Jesus was able to endured as He received and put to use gift after gift from His Father.
Jesus himself was the greatest example of receiving grace from His Father. We become more and more like Jesus Christ as we more consistently receive (accept) grace for grace and then continue from grace to grace (endure by acting upon the gifts received).
Recovery, healing, and progress are made possible in proportion to my willingness to receive and use the gifts the Lord chooses to send me today. The Lord doesn’t send “white elephants” and the Lord doesn’t send gifts that are so fragile or seasonal or special that they must sit in storage. He sends me the perfect gift. He sends me what is expedient, what I really need, when I need it. And written on all His packages, all His gracious gifts, are the words, “To Be Opened and Used Immediately!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Her reaction to my gifts was as predictable as the sunset. No matter what I’d purchased for her it was either the wrong kind of something, or something she didn’t feel she really needed, or, and this was the hardest of all, it was something too nice to use now. Most gifts were either returned or put on a shelf or under plastic, to be saved for a special occasion. One year for Christmas I searched and searched until I found a robe I thought she would enjoy. On a hanger, under plastic, and into the back of the closet it went. She said she would save it for a future hospital stay. And bless her heart, when she died it was still in the back of the closet.
In recent years I’ve become aware that I am not so different from my mother in law when it comes to accepting and using certain gifts. As crazy as it might seem, the gifts I seem to be most resistant to and suspicious of are the gifts sent from God. Instead of continually receiving them and putting them to good use today, I’m tempted with the thought that they’re just not quite right, not what I wanted or need at this time, or that they are so special perhaps I should store them away for another day.
I found a scripture that in the Doctrine and Covenants that helped me to see that one of the things Jesus was perfect at was receiving gifts (grace) from His Father. Being a perfect gift (grace) receiver was a very important part of fulfilling His mission.
Jesus did not return or reject even one of the gifts (grace) sent from Above. In Doctrine and Covenants 93:12-14 it says that Jesus accepted every gift sent by His Heavenly Father. “And I, John saw that He received not of the fullness at first, but received grace for grace.”
Next John tells us that the way he progressed toward all His Father would have Him receive (a fullness) was to act upon or use the gifts of God to fulfill His mission. “And He received not of the fullness at first but continued from grace to grace, until he received a fullness.” To “continue” is to “endure, to last, to persist.” Jesus was able to endured as He received and put to use gift after gift from His Father.
Jesus himself was the greatest example of receiving grace from His Father. We become more and more like Jesus Christ as we more consistently receive (accept) grace for grace and then continue from grace to grace (endure by acting upon the gifts received).
Recovery, healing, and progress are made possible in proportion to my willingness to receive and use the gifts the Lord chooses to send me today. The Lord doesn’t send “white elephants” and the Lord doesn’t send gifts that are so fragile or seasonal or special that they must sit in storage. He sends me the perfect gift. He sends me what is expedient, what I really need, when I need it. And written on all His packages, all His gracious gifts, are the words, “To Be Opened and Used Immediately!”
By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
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