I am "the one".

Written Sunday, May 25, 2014:

In this moment, I just realized I have an opportunity to better understand what partaking of the sacrament can (and should) mean to me--as I sit in this Children's Hospital and watch my daughter struggle to breathe.  

For many terrifying, never-ending minutes this morning, Charlotte's eyes closed and she became completely unresponsive.  Thankfully, although her breathing was labored she was still breathing.  Yet, she would not respond to voices or people rubbing her body in an effort for her to stir.  Not even when nurses sat her up did she open her eyes.  Not any inkling of acknowledgment that she was being pestered, poked, prodded.  Her body was limp and she would not wake up.  Before I knew what was happening, three doctors and several nurses including a respiratory therapist were in the room all working together to help Charlotte.  They crowded around her bed and I worried that my desire to be close to my daughter was actually getting in the way.  Panic begin to invade my heart as I knew Charlotte was in trouble and needed help. I also felt completely useless as there was obviously nothing I could do, aside from calling to her with a trembling voice.  "Charli, wake up.  Charli, open your eyes and look at Mama."  Doctors and nurses rattled stats back and forth, and even though I could tell they were concerned almost as much as I was, they seemed to somehow have order in the chaos of the moment.  The respiratory therapist finally stated loudly that they should not delay any further the suction treatment as her respiratory rate was becoming more labored despite her limp composure.  Each medical professional gave their concurrent permission and the respiratory therapist began to suction Charlotte's lungs.  

I think under normal circumstances I'd have fought back feelings of Mama Tiger as the catheter was threaded down my child's throat, and the sounds of sickening mucus filled the room.  However, in this case I was incredibly thankful as this unpleasant intrusion seemed to snap her from her lethargic state.  Her eyes opened wide in panicked surprise and she began to cry.  What relief filled all our hearts!  Obviously, she was frightened to suddenly see so many people over her.  Standing at the foot of her bed, I began  to talk to her and told her: "Mommy's right here.  I'm right here.  Mama stays with Charli.  It's going to be okay."  Knowing if she looked at me I needed to appear strong and unafraid, I fought everything within me that wanted to crumple to the floor in a sobbing mess.  I knew seeing me like that would only alarm her more, so I took deep breath and held it in.  

Later, once she was stable and out of immediate danger, the exhaustion from three sleepless nights and the stress of the situation hit me.  Brett came through the door twenty minutes later and of course, seeing my rock, my best friend -- all I could do was let him hold me as it all came out.  While he held me and also cried over his beautiful girl, I noticed out in the hallway two priesthood brethren bringing the Sacrament to hospital patients.  Earlier in the day, I'd wanted to attend the hospital LDS services at 10:30.  But as the hour drew closer, Charlotte was struggling more and more, and naturally I felt I could not leave her.  I had been disappointed not to attend, since I recognized that at this particular time I was more than ever in need of the strength receivable from renewing heavenly covenants.  Seeing these men, I asked Brett to wave them in.  

I expressed my desire to partake of the sacrament and they kindly began to prepare, asking the nurse if she had a plate available for them to use.  She did not, and so they settled for a white napkin.  Somehow that seemed more appropriate -- as though viewing the offering on clean, white "linen" more naturally resembled what our Savior would have offered, had He been there in person.  Foolishly thinking I had my tears under control, my eyes betrayed me and I wept through the prayers that were made solely on my behalf that Sunday afternoon.  I was not alone--even the nurse cried with me as she held onto my baby's little fingers.  

Something stirred within me to see a single piece of bread resting on a white napkin in the palm of the brother's hand, the sacrament cup held by the other brother.  To hear the sacrament prayers being said over one solitary serving at this symbolic partaking emphasized to me the importance of "The One".  The significance that we have to our Father in Heaven.  We ARE "the one" that He leaves the ninety-and-nine for.  WE each are "the one" that young Priesthood holders pray for each Sunday.  

Partaking of that ONE piece of bread, and internalizing that ONE cup of water confirmed in my heart that the Sacrament Ordinance is truly of God.  It is FROM Him, FOR Us.  It is for all of His children, but more importantly it is for us individually.  A witness of His love, His sacrifice, and His companionship came into my heart.  I drew strength from hearing those sacred prayers, knowing I could repent of the mistakes I make and in return always have His spirit to be with me, which I needed so much more that day than usual.   It was a beautiful experience born from a morning filled with anxious, heartfelt pleading that my baby would be watched over.  She was, and so, I discovered, was I.

what lay behind the mask?

"Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.  And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy."


poet Kahlil Gibran


I saw this on my neighbor, Jen's blog and just had to steal it so that I could always remember these beautiful words. It reminded me of a beloved scripture in Psalms which reads:

"Weeping may endure for a night, but JOY cometh in the morning"

Our trials and challenging experiences are as great a blessing in our lives as are times of peace and prosperity. Our joy is truly our sorrow unmasked - a thought I hope to hold onto when I find myself in a moment of sorrow or heartache...joy is promised to surely follow.

maybe we should try the lottery?

This month Brett entered his business card into 

two separate drawings at business lunches.

Both times his card was selected.

Both times he won an iPad!

Sounds like he's on a lucky streak...

Hey, Baby, let's go to Vegas!

when a door closes...

This month I was released from a calling I had in church to work with the young women in the ward (girls 12-18 years old). It happened a couple weeks ago but I have been slow to record my feelings about it since there are so many emotions and it's not easy to sift through them all. I am a list-maker, so I thought I'd just take the practical route and explain to myself what I'm feeling and why.

Initial emotions after being told I was needed elsewhere: frustration and some regret. I was frustrated with God for not feeling the same way I did - that I needed more time, that I wasn't ready to let go, that there were still things I hoped to accomplish with the girls. Nervously I wondered, had I been everything the Lord had needed me to be for the young women?

Second emotion: intense sorrow. You don't work this closely with people (other sisters who served in callings as leaders, the young women themselves) without getting attached. And while I knew I would still see them, I was realistic enough to know it would not be the same. I would not have as many opportunities to visit, to hear of their trials and triumphs, to hug them, to express my love and testimony to them. I shouldn't compare it to this because admittedly it is overdramatic, but for a brief moment it was like a mother being ripped apart from her children. I have loved these girls nearly as dearly as though they were my own. I have poured my heart out in prayer over these girls, sobbed for these girls, pleaded to the Father in their behalf, and strived to know how to best bring them to Christ and help them recognize the Spirit. I have as much desire for their happiness as I do my own children's. The adult women I worked with had taught me humility, compassion, resolve, balance, acceptance, rationality, and love. I was going to miss them dreadfully, too. Without regard to anyone else in the room, I could not control my tears and simply sobbed in the bishop's office.

Next emotion: shock. It was surreal - it felt like I was somewhere else looking down on the situation. The bishop, who is a dear friend, went on to explain the next calling he hoped I would accept but I hardly heard a word of it. My mind was in a fog and I could not believe this day had come and my time with the girls had come to an end. I confess I accepted my new calling as Ward Music Chairperson a bit numbly and a bit robotically.

The next few days I was in a haze and terribly ornery. I felt something I loved doing and being had been taken away. Looking back now I think I also felt unsure about my identity. For so long this had been a huge part of how I spent my time and energy - what now? I took it out on my poor family and it wasn't until nearly a week later that I got on my knees and asked Heavenly Father to help confirm it in my heart that this was indeed the path my life needed to take. It wasn't long before the familiar warmth and comfort of the spirit enveloped me. Peace came to my soul, and although I still felt sad to leave my station, I knew deep within that it was indeed time. It was time for me, for my family, but especially for the girls. Something whispered to my soul, "You've known for a while now that you'd hit a rut. That their progress had plateau'd and you'd been wondering what to do differently to shake things up a bit. You've known and prayed and this is how the Lord is ensuring His daughters have what they need to continue their progression in the gospel."

And then, it was okay.

Relief: I had been told who would be taking my place and I smiled knowing she would take the girls far. She is fun, she is happy, she is faithful, and she has a desire to serve. I know she will put their needs before her own. I know she is what they need. And I'm so very grateful for that.

This was the turning point - this was where any disappointment, regret, insecurity, or even sadness, although not fully removed, now took a back seat and I was able to focus on the positive. I was blessed with the ability to move forward and anticipate the good things that was to come for everyone involved. I actually felt excited! An energy of looking-forward filled me and I just can't wait to see what wonderful blessings are going to come into the lives of these girls that I hold so dear!

Thankfully since then I have embraced my new opportunity and calling. I've felt energized at the prospect of doing something different and contributing to the ward in a new way. I look forward to the blessings that I know will come into my life as I have opportunity to express my testimony of the gospel and my love for the Savior by coordinating music that will invite the Spirit into our meetings and witness of Him.

So now I'm left with one overwhelming emotion and that is GRATITUDE!

It's interesting to look back on times in our lives when we didn't have the full understanding we'd hoped for. Over three years ago, I bitterly and begrudgingly accepted the calling to be the Young Women President. I recall thinking I would have nothing in common with these girls. I recall their resistance to the change as well and what a struggle it was knowing I was not what they wanted. But the Lord knows - he KNOWS - and it was only a few months before I felt more confident in my new position and also had begun developing personal relationships with each young woman. I began to have the desire not just to go through the motions and provide activities for them, but to provide opportunities for growth, for learning, for testimony, for friendship. And in the process, I gained all those blessings as well. It is true that as we bear one another's burdens and serve others with full purpose of heart, we are blessed beyond measure. I will forever be grateful to have had this opportunity. I could have lived my entire life without it and how unchanged I may have been - how far behind in my spiritual progress may I have been! It has taught me to trust in the Lord, because what frequently seems unpleasant or too-challenging or confusing at first always seems to work for our good in the end. This has changed me for the better and Heavenly Father knew from the very beginning that it would.

And oh, how I LOVE Him for that!

BLESSED. (turn off my music on the right)

I want to order this gentleman's DVD and show it to my young women.

And my kids. And my husband.

And pretty much anyone else who will watch it with me.

'stones of help'

My favorite hymn, which ironically is not in the current LDS hymnbook (WHY????), is "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing". I can rarely hear it without my emotions surfacing or spilling over. This Thanksgiving Eve, my thoughts have been on the second verse, which sings,

"Here I raise my Ebenezer;

hither by Thy help I'm come"

Do you know what an "ebenezer" is? According to the King James Version Bible Dictionary, it is referred to as a "Stone of Help". More background describes a stone set up by Samuel as a token of gratitude for deliverance from the Philistines (1 Sam. 7:10-12). In an article by Dr. Gregory S. Neal, we are enlightened that we have in our lives our own "Stones of Help", our own EBENEZERS, our own reminders of God's presence and hand in our lives.

On this day of gratitude, I'm thankful to recognize the ebenezers in my life, some of which are:

• my trials, which have strengthened me and given me experiences which were undoubtedly for my own good and growth
• my support structure, which is built by loyal, forgiving family members and selfless friends
• the scriptures, which offer wisdom and personal revelation
• prayer - having the opportunity to have a two-way conversation with my Heavenly Father is quite possibly the greatest tool we have been blessed with for our mortal experience
• my temple covenants - the comfort that comes from knowing Heavenly Father and I have made promises with each other, and if I can just be faithful on my end, Heavenly Father is bound by those covenants to follow through with those promised blessings. Why should I ever need more motivation than that?

I am terribly imperfect and flawed. I am "prone to wander", as the song humbly admits. But as I "raise my ebenezer", as I utilize the help God has granted me in my life, it is my hope "that Christ may seal [me] His" (Mosiah 5:15), and that is truly cause for giving thanks.

What are YOUR ebenezers?