Angels Singing Tenor

I love the stories about miracles that surface this time of year.  I just came across the following post on one of my favorite blogs.  I share my own similar miracle at the end.

Angels Singing Tenor

Just for the record, I’m still on vacation until January 2^nd. But, I have had a couple memories surface over the last few Christmas days that I wanted to share with you before the season ends.
I have never participated in a performance of Handel’s Messiah when miracles did not happen.
I mentioned in a previous post that I have sung in or conducted Handel’s Messiah for nineteen years. During that time I have come to believe that Jesus Christ actually loves that music, especially when the singers are worshiping him and praising the Father. I have seen so many miracles that the idea that they will occur is actually stronger than faith – bordering knowledge fueled by long experience.
About five years ago we did not have a strong soprano soloist. There were quite a few talented voices willing to do these parts, but I always like to have one or two superb soloists. We always pray and ask for guidance in every part of the long preparations for each year’s performance. We published the audition schedule and had a thought to take one of the posters into Anchorage to hang in a specific music store. We had never done that before, because we have always had more fine soloists try out than could possibly perform.
On the night of the auditions a young woman walked into the room.  She introduced herself as Catherine, and said she had been a lead soloist with the New York Metropolitan Opera. Her voice was absolutely flawless. I walked up close to her so that only she and I could hear my comments. I suggested that she sing the message of Christ rather than using the music to showcase her voice. She nodded, and what came out of her mouth still gives me chills as I write this. She obviously loved her Savior, and it came through gloriously. She turned off the broad vibrato and operatic style, and just sang for her love of Christ, and it was beyond compare.
This was a small miracle, and might seem more random than miraculous without understanding two things, first is that we were in Wasilla Alaska, which is real close to the end of civilization, and the last place one might expect to find glorious musical talent and superb performances of Handel’s Messiah. Even having lived there for over 30 years, I wouldn’t have expected it, but it happened year after year.
One year prior to this we had a nice Tenor section showing up to practices, but a few days before the performance, all of them called and said they might not be able to perform due to some complication. We met to warm up on the night of the performance – and there were NO tenors. I tried to feel panicked, but the Spirit kept calming me. Others in the chorus asked me what we were going to do about no tenors, because Handel’s Messiah really can’t be performed without tenors. There would be long blank spaces where nobody was singing. It would sound silly.
We took our places on the stage and as the orchestra was warming up, a man walked up to me. He said he had just returned from a mission, and he was familiar with the Messiah, could he sing with us. I asked if he was a tenor. He nodded. I found out later that he is a fantastic tenor, honestly nearly as good as Josh Grobin. As he was walking to the stage, he turned back and asked me if his brother could sing tenor also. His brother was also a very strong tenor. Seconds later, a man with a beard approached. He introduced himself. I knew the name well because I had asked him to sing with us several times, but had never met him. I knew he was fantastic. I welcomed him to the stage with a sense of gratitude and relief. Several minutes from the start of the program a complete stranger walked up to me. He introduced himself as a tenor from Anchorage. He said he had come and listened to our performance several years, and had decided to sing with us because we understood the meaning of the music, and sang with love and Spirit. He was a minister or elder in his congregation in Anchorage and a fine tenor.
In a matter of ten minutes I had six tenors, which is enough, especially when they are that strong.
I have never participated in a performance of Handel’s Messiah when miracles did not happen.
A few years ago we had the opportunity to sing selections from The Messiah at a community nativity display. I asked the group weeks in advance, and most of the chorus and orchestra volunteered to do the additional performance. We reminded them often of the commitment.
On the night of the nativity performance, we met to warm up, and had almost all of the orchestra and chorus, but again – no tenors. I don’t know why tenors are so problematic for me, but I’m always chasing tenors begging like a hungry child.
We warmed up without tenors, and everyone asked what we would do. I said, “I’m not sure. I guess the angels will have to sing tenor.” Everyone laughed kind of nervously, but they had actually experienced angels singing with us. We had a prayer and walked into the hall. As we were walking one of the trumpet players said he could sing tenor. Which did I need most, trumpet or a tenor. I told him to leave his horn in the warm up room. A sister walked beside me and said she loved the tenor part. I told her to give it a try. Still, that only made two sort-of tenors.
Something happened that night I have never done before. This was a performance for members of the community. I felt the Spirit, and after the overture I turned around and faced the audience. I introduced the next selection and told them its significance in Christ’s life. I saw people’s faces light up as they understood the message of Handel’s Messiah for the first time. Because I was acting under inspiration, the audience felt it too, as did the choir and orchestra. When I turned around to face the performers I could almost see the heavens opening behind them as angels joined us.
We began the performance with “For Unto Us a Child is Born”. And when the tenor part came due, I heard a strong, beautiful tenor section. I looked up, and there were only two people singing tenor. Yet, there was this huge tenor sound. I saw other people looking around for the source of so much music. There were only two people singing tenor every time, a trumpeter and an alto. Through every song that evening we heard the angels singing tenor. It was splendid.
This and dozens of other happenings are why I say, I have never participated in a performance of Handle’s Messiah when there were not miracles.
Brother John
Source: unblogmysoul.wordpress.com

I had my own Messiah miracle a number of years ago.  Each Christmas our stake would put together a choir and perform the Messiah.  For some reason I got the idea in my head that I wanted to sing the solo aria "He Was Despised."  While I enjoy singing, I don't have the greatest voice, and I'm definitely an alto.  That piece doesn't go terribly high, though, and since it was a professional performance, I thought maybe I could do it.  It wasn't so much that I wanted to sing a solo, because I very much enjoy singing  harmony, but something in my really wanted to sing THAT solo.  After several years, the opportunity presented itself and I set about to practice it.  For some reason, my voice went very hoarse from the time I was given the part right up until the night of the performance.  Not one single time was I able to practice it and have enough of a voice come out to even be able to get through it.  The choir director, who was in our ward, and a friend of mine, just kept encouraging me along, telling me to pray and ask for help, which, of course, I was already doing.  The night arrived, and my voice had not improved.  I went into the performance praying and fasting.  Just before it came time for my number, my heart started pounding so hard that I could hardly hear anything else.  I was sure others must be able to hear it, or at least see the movement though my clothing.  I got up to sing and the pounding continued.  Then I started to sing, and my voice worked!  My heart pounded through the entire song, so I couldn't even hear myself all that well; I just knew that something was coming out as I sang.  Judging from the comments of people afterward, the number had sounded really good.  The only explanation, of course, is that the Lord sent me the help I needed exactly when I needed it.  I had all but forgotten about that until I read the above post.  How I grateful I am for this, as well as so many other, tender mercies that continually grace my life. 

More Gifts. . .

I continue to read my Kindle version (PC Version, don't yet have the real thing) of One Thousand Gifts, and it continues to inspire to look for gratitude moments.  It is truly one of the most amazing books I have ever read.

24. A 16-year-old son's head on my shoulder as we look at YouTube videos together.
25. A kitchen drawer with the front replaced several years after it fell off.
26.  The husband who, when I said if he'd like to do something for me, he could fix that drawer, had it fixed and back in place in 24 hours (and it only took so long because we were waiting for the glue to dry)
27. Being blessed to be able to play the organ for church without making too many mistakes.
28. A spirit-filled sacrament meeting in which three of my friends spoke and bore humble testimony of Christ.
29. Children's laughter.
30. A working dishwasher.
31. Being able to play the piano well enough to sing songs I like.
32. Being able to play the guitar enough to enjoy it.
33. A mother who taught me to can peaches.  I didn't want to learn, really, but one day, when I was about 16, she walked out the door and told me there was a basket of peaches in the kitchen and that she wanted me to have them canned up when she got home.  I just looked at her like she was crazy, since I'd never done it by myself before.  I told her I didn't know how, figuring that ought to get me off the hook, but she pointed me toward the cookbooks and left.  So I looked it up, and between that, and remembering some from having helped her in times past, I set to work.  By the time she got back I had 7 bottles of peaches canned, and all of them sealed.  From then on, I've always known that if I could find the instructions, I could probably find out pretty much anything I would need to know, and that knowledge has served me well these many years.
34. Carpeted floors.
35. Uncarpeted kitchen and bathroooms.
36. Refrigerators.
37. Freezers.
38. Central heating.
39. Air conditioning.
40. MP3 players.
41. Animals, especially dolphins.
42. I'm grateful to have been able to visit Hawaii.  Not being much of a world traveler, I never really expected to be able to go there, but since being married I've had the chance a couple of times, and I'm happy to have been able to have that peaceful experience.  It's a nice place to get away to for a little while.
43. I am thankful to have been blessed with 8 healthy children, and also for two more who are waiting for us on the other side.
44. Clean drinking water.
45. Running water right in my kitchen.
46. Linoleum.  Oh, wait I already said that one.  With my memory, it's going to be hard not to repeat things here.  Instead of linoleum again (although I really am thankful for it), for #46, I'll say electric light bulbs. That, seriously, has got to be one of the best inventions ever, except when it makes it possible for me to stay up all hours of the night when I should be asleep.  Like now.
47. A stove in my kitchen, so I don't have to build a fire every time I want to heat some food.
48. Trees.
49. Tulips.
50. The scriptures.

The Hot Water Bottle Miracle

I love this story!


THE HOT WATER BOTTLE - A True Story By Helen Roseveare, Missionary to Africa

One night, in Central Africa, I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all that we could do, she died leaving us with a tiny, premature baby and a crying, two-year-old daughter.

We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive. We had no incubator. We had no electricity to run an incubator, and no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts.

A student-midwife went for the box we had for such babies and for the cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly, in distress, to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. "...and it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no good crying over spilled milk; so, in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over a burst water bottle. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways. All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can; sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm."

The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with many of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chilled. I also told them about the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died. During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt consciousness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, the baby'll be dead; so, please send it this afternoon." While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of corollary, " ...And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?" As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, "Amen?" I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything: The Bible says so, but there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!

Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time that I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the veranda, was a large twenty-two pound parcel! I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone; so, I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then, there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children began to look a little bored. Next, came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas - - that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. As I put my hand in again, I felt the...could it really be? I grasped it, and pulled it out. Yes, "A brand-new rubber, hot water bottle!" I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!" Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone: She had never doubted! Looking up at me, she asked, "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"

That parcel had been on the way for five whole months, packed up by my former Sunday School class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. One of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child -- five months earlier in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "That afternoon!" "And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear." Isaiah 65:24

Helen Roseveare a doctor missionary from England to Zaire, Africa, told this as it had happened to her in Africa. 

The True Story of Rudolph

 **True Story of Rudolph**

A man named Bob May, depressed and brokenhearted, stared out his drafty apartment window into
the chilling December night.


His 4-year-old daughter, Barbara, sat on his lap quietly sobbing.

Bob's wife, Evelyn, was very
sick and he knew she would die.


Little Barbara couldn't understand why her mommy could never come home.

Barbara looked up into her dad's eyes and asked,

"Why isn't Mommy just like everybody else's Mommy?"

Bob's jaw tightened and his eyes welled with tears.  

Her question brought waves of grief, but also of anger.


It had been the story of Bob's life.

Life always had to be different for Bob.  

Small in stature when he was a kid, Bob was often bullied by other boys.  

He was too little at the time to compete in sports.

He was often  called names he'd rather not remember.  

From childhood, Bob was different and never seemed to fit in.


Bob did complete college, married his loving wife and was grateful to get his job as a
copywriter at MONTGOMERY WARD during the  terrible Great Depression.

Then he was blessed with his little  girl.

But it was all short-lived.

Evelyn's bout with cancer stripped  them of all their savings

and now Bob and his daughter were forced to live in a two-room apartment in the
Chicago slums. Evelyn died  just days before Christmas in 1938.


Bob struggled to give hope to his child,

for whom he couldn't even afford to buy a Christmas gift.

But if he couldn't buy a gift, he was determined a make one

- and so he made a storybook!  

Bob had created an animal character in his own mind and told the animal's story to
little Barbara to give her comfort and hope.


Again and again Bob told the story, embellishing it more with each telling.

Who was the character? What was the story all about?


The story Bob May created was his own autobiography in fable form.

The character he created was a misfit outcast like he was.

The name of the character?

A little reindeer named Rudolph, who had a big shiny nose.  

Bob finished the book just in time to give it to his little girl on
Christmas Day. But the story doesn't end there........


The general manager of Montgomery Ward heard about the little storybook and he offered Bob May a nominal fee to purchase the rights to print the book.

Wards went on to print, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer"

and distribute it to the children visiting Santa Claus in their stores.

By 1946 Wards had printed and distributed more than six million copies of Rudolph. That same year, a major publisher asked to purchase the rights from Wards,  

to print an updated version of the book.


In an unprecedented gesture of  kindness, the CEO of Wards returned all rights of ownership back to Bob May. The book became a best seller.

Many toy and marketing deals followed and Bob May, now remarried with a growing family, became wealthy from the story he created to comfort
his grieving daughter. But the story doesn't end there either.


Bob's brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, made a song adaptation to Rudolph.

Though the song was turned down by such popular vocalists as

Bing Crosby and Dinah Shore, it was recorded by the
singing cowboy, Gene Autry.

"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" was released in 1949 and became a
phenomenal success, selling more records than any other Christmas song, with the exception of "White Christmas."


The gift of love that Bob May created for his daughter so long ago kept on returning back to bless him again and again.


Bob May learned the lesson, just like his dear friend Rudolph,

that being different isn't so bad..........

In fact, being different can really be a blessing.




The HERO of this story is BOB MAY.
The PATRIOT of this story is MONTGOMERY WARDS !!

The MORAL of this story is THE GIFT OF LOVE .........

The Cab Ride

The Cab Ride

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print
dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All of the
furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a
cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist
the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way
I would want my mother to be treated."

"Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked,
"Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I don't have any family left," she continued in a

soft voice. "The doctor says I don't have very long." I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

"What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once
worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds.
She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone

dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the

darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home,

with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her

every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" She asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound 

of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day I
could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?

What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us

unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS

REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

What I'm REALLY thankful for!

I probably should have started with these, since if I were listing my blessings in order of importance, as I see them, these would be at the top.  But that isn't the way it turned out.  These next few are the things that are always uppermost in my mind when I think of gratitude, though, so I wanted to get them on list before I go any farther. 

18.  My Savior Jesus Christ.  His atonement and resurrection, and providing the way for me to return to live with my Heavenly Father again.
19.  My membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  I love knowing that the Lord restored His church on this earth to bless his children, and to provide all the ordinances necessary to return to Him.
20.  Temples that let us participate in those ordinances.
21.  A loving and supporting family.  Especially my parents that have remained active in the church and provided me with the opportunities to attend.
22.  My own family with my husband and children, who bless my life every day, and help me learn the lessons I need to learn in this life.
23.  Wonderfully supportive friends, who are always there when I need them.  What would life be like without family and friends? 

Okay, those are my favorite things, but the list will continue. 

Merry Christmas! 

Gratitude, The Secret to a Happy Life

I am reading the most amazing book.  It's called One Thousand Gifts.  I downloaded the PC Kindle application to my computer so that I could read the Kindle version, since the hard copy won't be available for a few weeks yet. It's all about one woman's lessons learned while accepting a challenge to write down one thousand things she is thankful for.  She has an awe-inspiring way with words that reach to the depths of my soul every time I read them.  Because of this book, I've decided that I, too, want to write down one thousand things I'm thankful for, and if I keep the list going on the blog, there's less chance of losing it in my too-full-of-stuff house.  Did that sound like a complaint?  Well, I'm grateful to have this house, so I'll start with that one.

NUMBER ONE:  a house with enough room for 10 people.

I actually decided to start this list while I was in the shower the other day.  Here are a few other things I came up with:

2. HOT running water!  Woohoo!  I remembered back 20+ years to my mission to Argentina, and having to take cold showers, or scalding hot ones, since we never could get those gas flames heaters to work right.  I can stand  in my shower every day and enjoy it at whatever temperature I want (as long as I time it right, and don't do it on Saturday night after the children have had their turns).

3.  Indoor toilets!  Another memory from my mission in Argentina, and one day visiting a family we were working with, and feeling an insuppressible urge.  I ask to use the bathroom.  They all looked at each other a bit uncomfortably, but they pointed me toward a little building toward the back of their yard area.  I went in and found myself staring at nothing more than a hole in the ground, and me standing there in my dress.  Well, I'll spare you any further details, but suffice it to say, I am happy for indoor toilets high enough off the ground to be able to sit comfortably.

4. Soap--just love that feeling of being clean!
5. Shampoo--my hair loves it, too.
6. Fluffy, clean towels to dry off with. 
7. An enclosed shower.  Much nicer than having to shower in the same area with the toilet, and then squeegee the floor afterward. 
8. Mirrors that let me show mercy to the world by trying to look better than I otherwise might before heading out into it.
9.  Combs, brushes, curling irons.  (If I get to 997 and can't think of anything else, I'll split this one up.  I'm not worried that I'll have to, though.)
10.  Linoleum to step out of the shower onto. 
11.  Better yet--a rug or towel on top of it. 
12.  Toilet paper.  That could almost be first on the list.
13. Today, with a foot of snow having fallen in the past 24 hours, I'm grateful that the Lord is seeing fit to bless us with moisture.  And it's so beautiful!  (I can say that now, after having to shovel so much of it to get the van out.)
Yesterday I ended up scraping the car off from the first 1/2 of that eventual foot of snow, and I could feel myself feeling a little whiny about it.  I remembered what I have been reading about gratitude, so I decided that rather than let my thoughts go into complain mode, I'd try gratitude mode instead. I said I was grateful for the moisture, as I just mentioned, but I also listed:
14.  Warm gloves that are keeping my hands warm.
15.  A warm coat and boots, for the same reason.
16.  I was grateful that it had stayed above freezing so that the snow came off easily without having to be chipped away.  It also made the job not be so cold, also.

I am beginning to think that when the scriptures tell us to keep a prayer in our hearts, they might mean to spend our days thanking and praising the Lord for our many blessings.  Sometimes there are things that we feel the need to ask for, either for ourselves or for others, and when those times arise, certainly those prayers are appropriate.  I find that the more I focus on gratitude, the less I find to complain about. 

So there's the start to my list of 1000 gifts.  It's kind of like having Heavenly Father tell me Merry Christmas!

Christmas Eve 1881

The following heart-warming Christmas story was written by Rian B. Anderson.*
It was Christmas Eve 1881.  I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn’t been enough money to buy me the rifle that I’d wanted for Christmas.  We did the chores early that night for some reason.  I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible.  I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn’t in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn’t get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn’t figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn’t worry about it long though. I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.  Soon Pa came back in.  It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard.
“Come on, Matt,” he said. “Bundle up good, it’s cold out tonight.” I was really upset then. Not only wasn’t I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see.  We’d already done all the chores, and I couldn’t think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this.  But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one’s feet when he’d told  them to do something, so I got up and put my boots  back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens.  Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house.  Something was up, but I didn’t know what..
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled.  Whatever it was we were going to do wasn’t going to be a short, quick, little job.   I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load.  Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand.  I reluctantly climbed up beside him.
The cold was already biting at me.  I wasn’t happy.  When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed.  He got off and I followed. “I think we’ll put on the high sideboards,” he said.  “Here, help me.”  The high sideboards!  It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever  it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood – the wood I’d spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing?  Finally I said something.  “Pa,” I asked, “what are you doing?”  You been by the Widow Jensen’s lately?” he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road.  Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight.  Sure, I’d been by, but so what?
Yeah,” I said, “Why?”
“I rode by just today,” Pa said. “Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They’re out of wood, Matt.”  That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him.  We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it.  Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait.  When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.
“What’s in the little sack?” I asked.  Shoes, they’re out of shoes.  Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning.  I got the children a little candy too.  It just wouldn’t be Christmas without a little candy.”
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen’s pretty much in silence.  I tried to think through what Pa was doing.  We didn’t have much by worldly standards.  Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it.  We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn’t have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy?  Really, why was he doing any of this?  Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn’t have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door.  We knocked.  The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, “Who is it?”  “Lucas Miles, Ma’am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?”
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in.  She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.  The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all.  Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
“We brought you a few things, Ma’am,” Pa said and set down the sack of flour.  I put the meat on the table.  Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it.  She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time.  There was a pair for her and one for each of the children – sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last.  I watched her carefully.  She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks.  She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn’t come out.
“We brought a load of wood too, Ma’am,” Pa said.  He turned to me and said, “Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile.  Let’s get that fire up to size and heat this place up.”  I wasn’t the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too.  In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn’t speak.
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I’d never known before filled my soul.  I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference.  I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone’s spirits soared.  The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn’t crossed her face for a long time.  She finally turned to us. “God bless you,” she said. “I know the Lord has sent you.  The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us.”
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again.  I’d never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true.  I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth.  I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others.  The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left.  I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get.  Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that  the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen’s face again when we stood up to leave.  Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug.  They clung to him and didn’t want us to go.  I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, “The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow.  The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals.  We’ll be by to get you about eleven.  It’ll be nice to have some little ones around again.  Matt, here, hasn’t been little for quite a spell.”  I was the youngest.  My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, “Thank you, Brother Miles.  I don’t have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will.”
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn’t even notice the cold.  When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, “Matt, I want you to know something.  Your ma and me have  been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn’t have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square.  Your ma and me were real excited,  thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do.  Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand.”
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again.  I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it.  Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities.  Pa had given me a lot more.  He had given me the look on Widow Jensen’s face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
The author of this story is uncertain. Some list “unknown” as the author, one lists Rian B. Anderson.

Letter from Jesus

I just googled "Christmas" to find a picture to go with my last blog post, and I had to scroll half way down, through several hundred pictures before I came to one with Jesus in it. Hello? Well, I won't go writing a letter to anyone, as I think my efforts could be better spent. Someone else apparently thought so, too, and they wrote it up as a letter from Jesus, which I really like. See what you think:

Letter from Jesus about Christmas

It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks
are taking My name out of the season.

How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most
easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children
of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to
celebrate My birth, just GET ALONG AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER.

Now, having said that let Me go on. If it bothers you that the town
in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting My birth, then just
get rid of a couple of Santas and snowmen and put in a small Nativity
scene on your own front lawn. If all My followers did that there
wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because
there would be many of them all around town.

Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a
holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was I who made all trees.
You can remember Me anytime you see any tree. Decorate a grape
vine if you wish: I actually spoke of that one in a teaching, explaining
who I am in relation to you and what each of our tasks were. If
you have forgotten that one, look up John 15: 1 - 8.

If you want to give Me a present in remembrance of My birth
here is my wish list. Choose something from it:

1. Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way My
birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to
soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely
this time of year. I know, they tell Me all the time.

2. Visit someone in a nursing home. You don't have to know
them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

3. Instead of writing the President complaining about the wording
on the cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and
tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year.
Then follow up. It will be nice hearing from you again.

4. Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford
and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of
My birth, and why I came to live with you down here. Hold them
in your arms and remind them that I love them.

5 Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.

6. Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their
own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless?
Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you
meet a warm smile; it could make the difference.

7. Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls
the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them
a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish
you a "Merry Christmas" that doesn't keep you from wishing them
one. Then stop shopping there on Sunday. If the store didn't make
so much money on that day they'd close and let their employees
spend the day at home with their families

8. If you really want to make a difference, support a
missionary -- especially one who takes My love and Good News to
those who have never heard My name.

9. Here's a good one. There are individuals and whole families in
your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, but neither
will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know
them, buy some food and a few gifts and give them to the Salvation
Army or some other charity which believes in Me and they will make
the delivery for you.

10. Finally, if you want to make a statement about your belief in
and loyalty to Me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things
in secret that you wouldn't do in My presence. Let people know
by your actions that you are one of mine.

Don't forget; I am God and can take care of Myself. Just
love Me and do what I have told you to do. I'll take care of
all the rest. Check out the list above and get to work; time is
short. I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court. And do
have a most blessed Christmas with all those whom you love and remember:

I Love You,
Jesus

Getting Ready for Christmas

     

I'm trying some new things for Christmas this year.  I started back in October reading Christmas stories to get myself in the mood.  For the past several years, I've gone into this holiday feeling like a bit of a Grinch or a Scrooge, because the closer we got to the holiday season, the more stressed I got, realizing that in a few months we were going to have to spend a lot of money on a lot more stuff to bring into our already over-stuffed house.  It almost gives me the shakes to think about it.  I decided that this year was going to be different, though, and I set about looking for ways to make it enjoyable for both my family and myself, and to help us enjoy the true spirit of the season.
I've never been one to be over-stressed with parties and decorating so I didn't have much to change in that area.  This year, though, I came up with a decorating theme that I can't wait to start on.  The idea came from a new book out by Emily Freeman, entitled "A Christ-Centered Christmas."  It's a variation on the advent books that many of us have used over the years, with a little devotional for each day of December until Christmas.  This idea uses the main characters of the Nativity: Mary, Joseph, the angel, shepherds, wise men, a lamb, and the baby Jesus as the focus of 7 devotionals.  She has a chapter on each character, and at the end of each chapter, there is a short devotional idea that can be used to present this piece to the nativity set, as well as an assignment (if they choose to do it) for them to do, or something for them to think about before the next devotional.  So you talk about the person, people, or animal, and then put it into the nativity scene.  I bought a Precious Moments Nativity on ebay for 1/2 price that will be the one we'll use for this.  I am clearing all the flat spaces in my living room, and I'm going to cover them with some burgundy velvety fabric, and then put nativity scenes around the room.  The top of the piano will be for the special one, which will be added during the month as we do the devotionals.
      We've also decided that we will not be spending a lot of money on gifts this year, but will save the money and take a trip next summer when our two missionaries come home.  We want to start building memories rather than add to the piles of clutter.
      Which brings up another thing I've already started on, and that is to work my way through the clutter in our house, with the goal of having it cleared out by the end of the year, or maybe even by Christmas, so we can start to enjoy living in the amount of space we have.  The family's help will be enlisted and it will be a gift we give to ourselves this year.
We will be talking about things we can do to celebrate Christ's birth in a way that might please Him.  It is, after all, His birthday, not ours.  The children in the family have a gift exchange and we'll be encouraging them to take the time to think about the person whose name they have and really try to come up with a gift from the heart that they would appreciate.  Maybe a book of service ideas that the giver could do for them.  Or really see what they like to do and find a gift that compliments their likes.  If the gift is to be purchased (which I am not encouraging) then the idea is to already know ahead of time what they want to give, rather than just go through the store browsing the shelves, just to pick something.  I really want to encourage us to make the gifts mean something.  I'll also be encouraging us to look for service opportunities in the neighborhood that no one has to know about  but us.  Maybe going around and picking up the trash, or shoveling snow, or whatever we can find that could be of help to someone.
      It's a lofty idea, but I've been talking about it little by little with my husband and the children, and they do seem open to it, even though it will mean that they don't get to make up Christmas lists and think about themselves all month.  This time of year should be a time of giving, not of taking, and that's what I'd like to encourage in my home.  Wish me luck! :)

A life that makes music. . . . .

Well, I'm a failure as a blogger. I'm too busy living my life to write it all down for the world to read, though I do keep a very detailed journal that gets updated every few days. Just no time to put stuff here, until today. I've discovered a new favorite author, and her first book isn't even going to be available for purchase until some time in January. The waiting might kill me, but I'm trying to be patient. Her name is Ann Voscamp, and I've subscribed to her blog to get my weekly transfusion until the book arrives. Her blog is here: http://www.aholyexperience.com/2010/11/hearing-the-symphony/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+HolyExperience+%28Holy+Experience%29 This link will take you to today's amazing post. Here are a couple of my favorite quotes from it, but do yourself a favor and read the whole thing.

"I want a life that makes music — not just practices the piano.

I want the moments enough to let go of the mirages. I want the now, the space that doesn’t hurry, and joy’s the only next thing. I want here with it’s doing because that means living; I don’t need to get there, with it’s getting it all done — because that’s only when it’s all over and you die."

I WANT A LIFE THE MAKES MUSIC -- NOT JUST PRACTICES THE PIANO! Isn't that awesome? When I remember back on my years of half-hearted piano practicing and the drudgery and how much I hated it, but then think on how much joy that skill brings me now, when I can just sit and play beautiful music (to my untrained ear, and only on the songs I've practiced), that quote rings true to the very depths of my soul. That's what I've found Ann's writings do to me every day. Don't you love it when those who say it well, do say it so the rest of us can enjoy it? I do.

LET'S MAKE SOME MUSIC!

Have a wonderful day!

Give 'Em Two Hams!

Here is a story that President Grant told about dealing with the devil.
A man was asked to donate a choice ham that the ward could eat at their banquet.  The man walked out to his smokehouse and chose a choice ham.
Then he said to himself, “I don’t have to give my best ham.  I could give them any old ham and it would look all right.  No one would know the difference.”
Then he began to realize where those feelings were coming from and said, “Shut up, Mr. Devil, or I’ll give them two hams.”
President Grant’s triumphant line was, “He was troubled no more.”

–Truman G. Madsen, Presidents of the  Church, page 284

This little ad was taken from what in two short readings has become one of my favorite blogs: www.themisfitcygnet.com

The Noah/Moses Principle

This post from another blog teaches some great principles.  I just wanted to share it. :)

noah-moses and empathy

We just moved so we are meeting many new people. Think of the last time you met someone new. How did that conversation go? I have noticed that frequently within two minutes of an introductory conversation it starts: the comparisons and judgments, the defensiveness and rationalizations. I’ll type a few facts about myself that come up in conversation and see how if any of those kinds of thoughts come to your head: Hi my name is Britt. I have nine children, I homeschool, and I haven’t eaten sugar in almost seven years. Has it started yet? Are you questioning your family size, or mine? Are you defending your diet or the education of your children? Please don’t. PLEASE don’t. I’m not looking for an advisory, or a competitor. I need a friend.

When I tell people these basic facts about my life I hope they understand what I call the Noah-Moses principle. Moses should not have built Noah’s ark and neither should you. Join me in a thought exercise. Imagine Noah and Moses talking together. This is the first time they have met, and they are likely discussing the miracles they are most famous for. Can you for one minute imagine them fighting over bragging rights for the best way to traverse impassible bodies of water? Can you imagine Moses leaving the conversation thinking about how he has never understood those boat-building types and wishing he had found someone more like him to talk with? It sounds cartoonish doesn’t it? Ridiculous and humorous, yet we do it all the time. We don’t wish we knew how to build a boat or part the seas…but we do wish for and question the missions and circumstances of others.

I first learned this concept a few years ago. At the time my twins were one. They were my sixth and seventh children. It had been a challenging year for our family. While our extended family was dealing with cancer, parkinsons, paralysis, open heart surgery and other major issues, we were dealing with sleep deprivation. Frequent and random interruptions of sleep are used to torture prisoners of war. They bring on weakness, helplessness, disillusionment and depression. Sleep deprivation is standard fair for parents of infants. About the time my twins turned one, I went to a meeting with a group of women. A lovely lady was sharing her recent experiences with us. She had found her mission in life and in amazing ways she was changing the world. She and her daughter had gone to Africa on a three week adventure to help refugee children there. Her slides were stunning and inspiring. The need of the children was obvious. Her experiences led her to ask us in humility to help meet the specific needs of the children; we could go with her, or gather supplies or donate money. As she was speaking with all the passion and heart she could muster I felt a still small voice whisper…have another child. The voice did not tell me to go to Africa, though I would have loved it and there is much to do there. I was not told to fulfill her mission anymore than Moses was told to build an ark. The spirit saw through the beautiful details of the presentation to the principle: God loves you; God has a mission for you. You will be needed to do something amazing and impossible to bless his children.

Just like Moses and Noah, God may ask us to do something impossible. Fear can effect our ability to rely on the Lord to accomplish what He wants us to do. Fear may lead us to scurry about relying on the wisdom of women (even great ones). There is a definite logic that would lead us to NOT do what is so very obviously impossible. Lack of self worth may lead us to forget that God knows us and has a specific plan for us. It may not look dramatic or exciting. It may not be more or "better" or measurable at all. It may not be what we want to do at all. It will be God's plan for us. If Noah had built the Jaredite barges he would have been in trouble...the principle there wasn't even boat building. It was and always has been that the Lord prepares a way for us to accomplish all that he commands us. He does not help us accomplish what He has commanded other people to do.

Now what if the Jaredite barge builders, the Nephite boat builders, Noah and Moses all got together? Would Moses feel left out? We all like to be with people who have similar missions, similar circumstances and similar beliefs. It’s both motivating and comforting. Yet it doesn’t take specific circumstances or experiences to empathize..it takes a heart and listening ears. Or in other words, what I call the empathy principle… You don’t need to give birth in an elevator on Christmas eve to have empathy for others.

Two years ago I gave birth to a baby in an elevator. Dramatic, exciting, crazy! At first I hated to tell people about the birth because their reactions tended towards the extreme. I was the side show circus act fit for reality television. My feelings about the birth were far from those that would enjoy that voyeurism. I felt my body had betrayed me and endangered my baby. I felt such overwhelming fear and heartache surrounding the situation. I was in shock that I had gone through the experience. I had reoccurring nightmares as my mind tried to make sense of the birth. I felt very angry and very alone. I had many symptoms of post traumatic stress syndrome..from what some people saw as a dramatic, crazy and exciting experience-oh and SO easy to have such a short labor..how lucky.

I found a lot of understanding and healing from two fairly unlikely sources. Around that same time a friend had a homebirth. Unlike the peace and simplicity she had experienced surrounding some of her other births…this was an extremely long, difficult and painful birth. I don’t remember all of the circumstances but I do know that what struck me was that we were feeling very similar feelings. She too felt betrayed by her body, a lot of anger and shock. She also felt misunderstood as she tried to explain her feelings to others. Our situations were fairly different, but I felt she understood me.

I also felt that Jesus understood me. I have always felt that Jesus understands women even in our most female circumstances. He offers to the world life eternal and they refuse. He has been misunderstood and abused. Some people see him as weak and a sort of door mat. More appropriate to my current situation was the Atonement. I wondered at Jesus’ prayers in the Garden of Gethsemene and how his Apostles couldn’t wait with him one hour. I wonder if he worried that his body wouldn’t be able to do what he needed it to do. I know he asked to “let this cup pass from him.” I felt that Jesus understood me. In my dreams I slowly began to see angels surrounding my husband and me in that elevator. I can still feel that comfort.

The understanding and empathy I sought did not come from people who had experienced a Christmas Eve elevator birth…yes, Christmas Eve. Isn’t that dramatic, exciting and crazy? Maybe reading this you have felt some empathy for me. You can share in my emotions even without sharing my experiences. Think of the most salient experiences in your life. They may involve pain, love, sorrow, loneliness, fear or helplessness. Those words probably don’t even begin to describe the depth of what you experienced. Those experiences can either separate us or unite us. We can choose to honestly say that no one else has ever really experienced exactly what we experienced, or we can open our hearts and recognize the emotions we feel in the hearts of others despite their wildly different circumstances.

The next time you meet someone, I hope you remember the Noah-Moses Principle and the Empathy Principle. I hope it helps you develop a friendship where you might not have. I hope it helps you pursue your mission and encourage the efforts of others to do so. I hope if you meet me you will not focus on the differences that could separate us and instead take the time to make a friend.

Source: http://inspiringmotherhood.blogspot.com/

Airline Humor

Remember it takes a college degree to fly a plane but only a high school diploma to fix one. After every flight, Qantas pilots fill out a form, called a "gripe sheet," which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems, document their repairs on the form, and then pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight. Never let it be said that ground crews lack a sense of humor. Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by Qantas' pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers. By the way, Qantas is the only major airline that has never had an accident. P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement. S: Almost replaced left inside main tire. P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough. S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft. P: Something loose in cockpit. S: Something tightened in cockpit. P: Dead bugs on windshield. S: Live bugs on back-order. P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent. S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground. P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear. S: Evidence removed. P: DME volume unbelievably loud. S: DME volume set to more believable level. P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick. S: That's what they're for. P: IFF inoperative. S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode. P: Suspected crack in windshield. S: Suspect you're right. P: Number 3 engine missing. S: Engine found on right wing after brief search. P: Aircraft handles funny. S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious. P: Target radar hums. S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics. P: Mouse in cockpit. S: Cat installed. And the best one for last.................. P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with hammer. S: Took hammer away from midget

And yet HE is mindful of me.

What happens when scientists point the Hubble telescope at "nothing"? Watch this amazing video, then go back and read my subject line.

(click on the image to open it larger.)

A Painting to Ponder

"This painting was unique from its very beginning. It would be great if I could take credit for the composition and message it conveys but in my mind, that would be like Moses taking credit for bringing water from the stone in the desert.

"Usually when I have an idea for a painting it starts as a simple seed and it grows as I play with the image in my mind, moving the characters around, imagining the lights and shadows, the values and the colors, eventually deciding on its composition after what might be weeks or even months of pondering and sketches, but this painting was different. There was no seed, no moving of characters, it was totally different.

"I was sitting in church on a Sunday afternoon as the Sacrament was being passed and bang, there it was, the image was instantaneously placed before my mind's eye just as you see it here. This experience has happened to me only three times and it has been very special each time." --Doc Christensen

Judgment

From "The Holy Temple," by Boyd K. Packer, page 42

"A number of years ago I served on the stake high council in
Brigham City. On one occasion the stake presidency and
high counsel and their wives attended an evening
temple session in the Logan Temple. One of the workers
was participating in the instruction for the first
time and did very poorly. He had difficulty in
remembering his part and was obviously nervous and
flustered. He mixed up his presentation in a way that
in other places would have been considered humorous.
He struggled through however and was gently coached
and corrected by those who were with them. As much
dignity and reverence was maintained as would be
possible considering the difficulty.
After the session was over, the brethren fron the
stake presidency and high council were standing on the
walkway from the Temple, waiting for our wives to meet
us. One of the brethren commented in some amusement
that he surely wouldn't have wanted to be that man,
that night. "He really went through an ordeal," he
said. "It was like he was like being put on trial
before all those people. "
President Vernal Willey, characteristically a quiet
man, said with some firmness, "Hold on brethren,
let's get one thing straight here. It wasn't that man
that was on trial here tonight. We were. ""

Virtues and Mistakes

"We all tend to underestimate the significance of our virtues, and overestimate the importance of our mistakes."       --  Denver Snuffer

Daddy, What's a Metric Tensor?

I found out about a blog that I've been devouring for the past couple of days.  One of the posts talked about how the Lord has a sense of humor and that some of the followers of Christ could loosen up a bit.  I believe this to be true on both counts.  While we should never treat sacred things lightly or irreverently, much of what happens to us can be looked at with an eye of humor.  I find that humor is the best way for me to keep my perspective about my daily happenings, and especially the ones that are more frustrating.  I believe that Heavenly Father and Jesus are very patient with us as we make mistakes, and learn and grow from them.  Sometimes I think I can even feel the humor coming from the other side of the veil as the watch me trying to figure things out, much like I get a kick out of watching my children do the same.  The following story was shared in the comments section of the blog I was reading, and I had to pass it along.  In trying to give credit or get permission to post it, it became obvious that the person who posted it was not the person to whom it happened, and I was unable to find the original source.  Enjoy!

"When I was in college many years ago, I was working on a degree in Math and Physics. My wife was also working on a math degree too and we have conversations about what we were learning. I'd share with here all the great things I was learning about the cosmos and the structure of the universe as our 2 year old son Joshua would listen with curiosity. One night I remember talking to my wife about metric tensors and the mathematics of general relativity.

Late one night, after a great deal of study and what I thought was "brain sweat" I went out onto our porch and began praying to Heavenly Father (while standing gazing into the starry night) to reveal the mysteries and the structure of the universe. I pleaded with him that I had "studied it out in my mind" and was now ready to know the truth.

I was surprised as I prayed and prayed and only found silence. I began pleading the the Lord "why the silence?" I could handle it.... I was ready to understand....so I thought... at some point late into my prayers my little two year old son started tugging at my pant leg saying "Daddy daddy, what's a metric tensor?" I turned to him and looking down said "Not now Joshua, I'm praying".... then again I heard him say "Daddy daddy, what's a metric tensor?"

At this point I looked down at him.... and remember my total silence as I looked at him wondering how in the world I was going to explain what a metric tensor was to a two year old... I stood for several moments in total silence looking and smiling at my curious little son....when the light finally went on in my mind, I chuckled a little.... heavenly Father must be looking at me with the same silence (and maybe even an little smile) wondering how He could explain the structure of the universe to this man child praying to Him..... I remember finishing my prayer with "oh......thank you Heavenly Father for being patient and helping me better understand."

I still think about those questions after many years of study and prayer....I hope to be ready for those answers (Heaven willing) in 30,000 years-If I'm lucky... :)

By the way, my son Joshua is now 38... I don't he really cares what a metric tensor is these days. :) "

Unhappiness vs. Dissatisfaction

When I saw the title "Unhappiness vs. Dissatisfaction" on the list of podcasts for one of my favorite online radio programs, The Dennis Prager Show, I thought for a second that it was redundant, and could have been shortened to one or the other of those words.  After listening to the program, I am now convinced that the two words do not mean the same thing, and that it would do everyone well to learn the difference. 

Mr. Prager points out that a person can be dissatisfied with certain aspects of their life, but still be happy.  Of course they can!  I might look in the mirror and feel like it's time to get a haircut, but I can still have a good day.  He says that's all right to be dissatisfied with things, but that it's when we turn into complainers and try to dump our problems on other people and bring them down that we need to take a look at ourselves.  No one likes to be around chronic complainers.  I don't know very many, because I choose to hang around with basically happy people, but my guess is that most of them don't have too many friends, and that those who do might just be part of a group that complains, too.  I doubt that people like hang around in groups, though, because my perception is that they usually just want to talk about themselves, and it would be weird to be part of group where everyone was focused on themself.  That lends itself more to solitude.

I enjoy  my friends, and I want to know what is going on in their lives, but I've noticed with most of them that I have to dig a little to get them to tell me about the stuff happening behind the happy face, and I think that's the way it should be.  A saying I heard many years ago says, "A friend is someone who asks how you're doing, and then stays around to hear the answer."  Most people do not need to know about our problems, but true friends are there to mourn with us when we mourn, to comfort us when we stand in need of comfort, and to rejoice with us when we are rejoicing.  I think there's a scripture out there somewhere that says those are the marks of a good Christian.  In order to be able to share another's burdens, we have to know what those are, but there is a difference between reporting on what is happening in one's life, and whining about how terrible and unfair life is.  I think my favorite statement from this program was:  Happy people are happy, regardless of circumstances, and unhappy are unhappy regardless of circumstances.

Another author/lecturer that I enjoy very much is James Cox.  He teaches that temporal experiences are given to us for spiritual growth.  All of the hard things in our lives can be used to remind us to turn our hearts to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, to enlist their aid in carrying our burdens.  When we remember them in the midst of our hardships, and we show gratitude in all things, the blessings come, and miracles happen that help us to get through those times.

Happiness is a choice!  Be Happy!