Keep It Simple, Change Your Mind – Step 11

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Nannette W.

Posted Friday, June 24, 2011

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

I Know the Answer to Who! Will Someone Please Tell Me What? Hope and Trust in God Steps 2 and 3

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

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

The following thoughts came to me:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Nannette W.

Posted Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

"Addiction Recovery Program Brings Individuals to Christ"

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

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

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

I Am a Child of God

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

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

Here are a couple of links:

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

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

Elder Ballard Speaks Out on Addiction and Recovery

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


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

Sabbath Dance

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Nannette W., Posted Tuesday, March 7, 2011
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

The Family Fifty – Step 12 Carrying the Message

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’ll be fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Nannette W., Posted Monday, December 6, 2010
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

The Chocolate Chip Cookie Minus the Chips

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

The Chocolate Chip Cookie Minus the Chips

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, do you want a cookie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Nannette W. Posted Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

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