Brenda Anderson's Scripture Squiggles

Scripture Squiggle: Isaiah 55:8-9

2012-02-03T08:24:00.000-08:00

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord
For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."

A few years ago, when my car broke down, again, I borrowed my brother's Grand Am, which happened to be the car I learned to drive on. When I climbed in, even though I hadn't driven the car in a long time, everything felt familiar. I had no trouble readjusting to driving a stick shift. So I was very confused when, after stopping to check the mail, I couldn't get the car to start.

I tried every trick I knew before I finally gave in and called my brother. He ran through the list of things I had already attempted.

"I've done all that."

"Then I don't know what to tell you."

I sighed. "Great."

"Okay, stupid question: Are you using the right key?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I'm using the right key." Although he couldn't see me, I raised my hand to prove to him that my car and mailbox keys were in my hand and the Grand Am key was in the ignition. But the keys in my hand were not mine. "Oh."

I swapped the keys and the car started immediately on my next attempt.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in trying to figure out the solution to things, that I make things more complicated than they really are. Or I think I know enough about something that I don't need any outside help.

Most of the time, I'm wrong.

And when I finally yield myself up to sincere prayer, I often find that the answer was so simple, I had merely overlooked it. But, had I remembered that the Lord's ways are not mine and taken a step back to view my troubles from His perspective, the solution would have been plain before me.

Just as it was with the keys. I was so certain that the problem had something to do with the car, rather than the driver, that I didn't see my simple mistake. The world's way is to look outward, to blame our troubles on things beyond our control, but the Lord's way is to look inward.

Scripture Squiggle: Isaiah 54:13

2012-01-29T13:44:00.000-08:00

"And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children."

Although no one would believe it now, when I was in Junior Primary, all those years ago, I was not the most well behaved child in my class. In school, I was a perfect little angel--always did my homework, helped other students, never got my name on the board--pretty much a teacher's pet. But during primary, especially class time, I was someone else.

I have vague memories of sitting on the floor in the corner of the classroom, surrounded by empty chairs and refusing to say anything other than, "Meow."

My agile little hands turned coloring pages and other handouts from the teacher into paper airplanes that I threw at the boys.

Perhaps my behavior had something to do with being a member of such a large family. I never felt forgotten or left out, but maybe I was seeking extra attention anyway.

I kept waiting for the teacher to threaten me the way she threatened the other kids: "If you don't behave I'm going to get you father." But she never did. Maybe she didn't realize that, although the threat of their fathers didn't seem to faze the other children, it scared me to death; whatever her reasons, she never brought my father into the classroom.

Most of my primary teachers' names and faces, as well as those early years in primary, have long since faded from my memory. After all, these days I struggle to remember my own children's names! But I remember that teacher. She was blond with curly hair and a round friendly face. Her name was Sister Clawson.

And I will never forgot the Sunday that she taught me, through her actions, that I was loved, despite my bad behavior and general obnoxiousness. That day was my birthday. I cannot recall how old I was, but I remember walking into primary, feeling the usual childlike excitement of a birthday, when I saw the small cake sitting on the table.

So we're having cake to celebrate my birthday! My excitement tripled, and I found it even harder than usual to pay attention to the lesson, with that round, white-frosted cake constantly invading my thoughts. Finally the lesson ended, and I waited for Sister Clawson to have the class sing to me, cut the cake and share it with the class.

She didn't.

We had our closing prayer and with little reluctant looks back toward the cake, my classmates began filing out to find their parents.

"Brenda. This is for you," Sister Clawson said as I turned to leave. And she handed me the entire cake. The whole cake was for me! I decided I must be pretty important to get the cake all to myself.

As I walked through the halls, holding my cake, everyone I saw looked on it with envy.

"Where'd you get that?"

"It's my birthday." I smiled.

Without a single lecture, without reporting my terrible behavior to my parents, Sister Clawson completely changed me. She taught me the most important lesson I needed to know--that I was loved. Knowing that, I was prepared to learn of the Lord.

Scripture Squiggle: Luke 6:37

2012-01-20T09:57:00.000-08:00

"Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven."

A few days ago, while driving down a residential street to my parents' house, a driver turned left out of one of the side streets right in front of me. My immediate reaction was to verbally question the driver's intelligence. Mine was obviously the only car on the road; they could have turned after I passed. And the driver had hesitated, waiting to turn until I was almost to them. As I hit my brakes and watched the car complete the turn, I recognized the person driving. I knew her. But I didn't just know her, I liked her.

Suddenly, instead of finding fault with the woman, I began to think up excuses for her, reasons she may have had for doing what she did. Maybe she just misjudged my speed or was in an extra hurry that morning and didn't take time to think about her actions. Whatever the cause of her untimely turn, I found that once I knew who she was, I wasn't irritated about what happened anymore.

And I wondered why. The reason couldn't merely be that I knew the driver. If I'd known her and disliked her, my dislike would have been strengthened by her action, not lessened. So the answer was that the woman was someone I liked and respected--the beginnings of charity.

Jesus has commanded us to love everyone, and I can honestly claim that I don't really hate anyone, but lack of hate doesn't qualify as love. If somehow I could really remember that every single person is a child of God, even the driver tailgating me as I go the speed limit, maybe I could do better at loving everyone, having charity.

What if I knew that that driver who seemed determined to attach their bumper to the back of my car had a child lying sick in the hospital and was desperate to get back to him? Maybe the person who practically stops to make a right hand turn has a car with untrustworthy brakes.

The next time a driver irks me, I will try to think of them as a child of God, with thoughts, feelings, worries and imperfections, just like me. Maybe then I can avoid judging. I'll take it one car at a time...

Scripture Squiggle: Luke 12:6

2012-01-13T10:00:00.000-08:00

"Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before the God?"

The Lord knows and cares about all of His creations. Including the three small land hermit crabs we bought for our oldest daughter's birthday when she was seven or eight years old. All three crabs could fit in the the palm of my hand together, as long as they weren't moving around, which they usually were. Our daughter named them Hermie, Kermit and Toby.

I was surprised by how much care the tiny little critters needed; I had expected them to be more like fish--feed everyday and clean the tank when you can no longer see them swimming (or in the crabs' case, crawling) around. We had to wash their water dish daily, make sure their little sponge stayed moist, clean their rocks, and bath them.

Bathing a hermit crab is nothing like bathing a toddler. A squirming, screaming toddler is easier. First we had to catch the little guys, and they could move fast when they chose to. They'd nip us with their little claws in protest when we picked them up, we'd submerge them briefly in the clean water, and they'd nip us again when we pulled them out.

The crabs had to be completely dry before we could put them back in their tank, so we found a box to spread an old towel in so they could crawl around for a few hours and dry off without constant supervision.

One night in December, in our rush to get to our ward Christmas party, we forgot to put the crabs back into their tank before we left. The six of us burst back into the house, the kids nearly bouncing from the walls on a candy cane-Christmas high, and found the tank empty. Their drying box was still sitting on the counter. Panicked, we checked the box and found only Toby curled up in his shell amidst the folds of the towel. I snatched him up and placed him in the tank.

The search for the other two crabs commenced. We checked the counter and the floor below it, wondering if our little crabs could have survived a fall from that high. No hermit crabs. The next closest place was our Christmas tree, surrounded by gifts. While the kids crept around on their hands and knees searching the house, my husband and I began pulling gifts from beneath the tree and placing them carefully behind us. When we finished, no one had seen any signs of the crabs.

We gave our daughter the talk. The sometimes-these-things-happen talk.

She countered us with, "Heavenly Father made them. He loves them, and He knows where they are."

So with a quick warning that our prayers are not always answered they way we want them to be, and that we could find the crabs dead somewhere, we proceeded to pray that the Lord would lead us to the crabs. After the prayer, we felt compelled to check under the couch and the end table. We pulled the table out a little so we could get to the couch. Nothing. Then we lifted up the end table, and found Hermie happily crawling around on the carpet.

Our daughter scooped him up in both hands, telling him how sorrow she was for forgetting to put him back in his tank as she carried him to the kitchen. She placed him in the tank with Toby, and turned to me with a triumphant smile. "Now for Kermit."

We looked for another half hour. The younger children were getting cranky, so to our daughter's dismay, we called off the search and rescue and sent the kids to get ready for bed.

"I'm sorry," I told my dejected little girl. "But at least two of them are safe." She merely nodded and sniffed as she walked toward her bedroom.

Another half hour passed as the kids changed, brushed their teeth and continued to show the effects of too much sugar. Except our oldest daughter who kept searching for her crab. We had scripture and prayer--remembering to pray for missing Kermit--and herded everyone into the hallway to their rooms.

Not a minute later we heard our daughter's excited squeal. "Kermit!" She came running from the hallway with the missing crab cupped in her hand. "He was just creeping out of my room!"

Like the sparrows mentioned in Luke, Heavenly Father knew and loved those little crabs. But more importantly, He knows and loves my daughter--enough to help her find three tiny critters alive and well.

"But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows."

Scripture Squiggle: Doctrine and Covenants 63:9-10

2012-01-06T10:14:00.000-08:00

"But, behold, faith cometh not by signs, but signs follow those that believe.
Yea, signs come by faith, not by the will of men, nor as they please, but by the will of God."

Signs follow those who believe. This is, of course, the reason that Laman and Lemuel were not converted when the angel appeared to them. They were shown a sign, but they didn't have any faith. But what about Alma the younger and the sons of Mosiah? They, too, were given a sign without first having faith, but they believed and repented of their sins.

In completing our Sunday school reading for this week, my husband and I read the account of the angel appearing to Laman and Lemuel and their subsequent continued murmurings. Then, the very next morning, my personal reading happened to be the account of Alma and his brethren. A very stark contrast indeed.

Naturally, I wanted to know what the difference was. Why did the appearance of an angel convert some but not others? Before I could learn that, I had to see the similarities:

Laman and Lemuel, as well as Alma were sinners. Alma was described as being "a wicked and idolatrous man" while Laman and Lemuel were compared to the Jews in Jerusalem who sought Lehi's life. Those people were so wicked that the city of Jerusalem was fast approaching destruction.
Both angelic appearances were in response to persecution. Laman and Lemuel were persecuting their younger brothers for wanting to keep the Lord's commandments, and Alma and his brethren were persecuting those who belonged to the church of God, attempting to draw them away.
Both angelic appearances were in response to some one's faith. In Laman and Lemuel's case, the faith that brought the angel was that of Nephi as he tried to do his best to obey the commandments the Lord had given him through his father. For Alma and the sons of Mosiah, it was the faith of Alma's father and the members of the church that brought about the angel's visit.
Both parties were given specific instruction. Laman and Lemuel were told to return to Jerusalem and Laban would be delivered into their hands. Alma and his brethren were told to stop persecuting the church of God.
The angels came to teach them something. The angel reaffirmed to Laman and Lemuel that their brother was chosen to rule over them, because of their iniquities. To Alma and the sons of Mosiah, the angel came to convince them of the power and authority of God.
Everyone involved was well instructed in the gospel. Laman and Lemuel were frequently counseled by their prophet-father. Alma was also the son of a prophet, as were Mosiah's sons. None of them lacked for knowledge about the Lord.

Although there were differences in the messages delivered by the angels, the main difference in the occurrences is how the people who saw the angels reacted.

According to Nephi's account, Laman and Lemuel didn't react with any shock or surprise when they saw the angel. The angel's visit didn't ease their anger toward their brothers, although they did stop hitting them with the rod. In fact, their reaction was a very worldly, natural man response. They questioned the Lord's power. How could God possibly deliver Laban to them? He was so powerful he could slay fifty people. They had no faith.

Laman and Lemuel's reaction was also one of hard heartedness. They had been taught on numerous occasions, yet they rejected what they were given, refusing to look inward and recognize their wrong doings. This angelic visit was no different. They didn't want to return to Jerusalem. They continued to murmur as they followed Nephi back, perhaps they hoped that since Laban could slay fifty, that maybe he would slay their brother for them.

Alma and the sons of Mosiah, however, had a different reaction. First, they were shocked to see and hear the angel, so shocked that they fell to the earth. And they listened. They actually heard the words of the angel and let it change them, let it remind them of the teachings they had received from their fathers. The change wasn't easy, as Alma records. He suffered pains so great that he actually wished that he did not exist. But he allowed his experiences to soften his heart, rather than harden it as Laman and Lemuel did.

I hope I can follow Alma's example, and react to chastisements from the Lord with a soft heart and recognize the need to change.

Scripture Squiggle: 1 Corinthians 12:31

2011-12-30T10:17:00.000-08:00

"Covet earnestly the best gifts; and yet shew I unto you a more excellent way."

Almost from the moment our Christmas tree was up this year, my children were begging me for wrapping paper and tape so they could start putting presents under its welcoming branches. My young children. Who have no money for gifts and lack the creativity and ability of my older children to make worthwhile gifts. Needless to say, I put them off, hoping they would forget and stop bothering me about it.

But they didn't. Their pleas became more persistent as the days before Christmas disappeared. So, finally, I granted their requests, pairing the youngest two with an older sibling to help wrap the "presents." Before I knew it, an array of odd-shaped, hastily wrapped gifts appeared under the tree.

On Christmas morning, I was relieved that my husband and I had the same idea that I did: get the gifts from the younger kids out of the way first. We began digging under the tree to make sure we had gathered them all and started passing them out, not really giving them the same attention we gave to the store bought gifts.

Unlike most Christmases where I was the one to hand the gift to the next recipient, this year my husband took on the responsibility, giving me a little extra time to catch expressions on my children's faces. As my youngest son tore the paper from his first gift, I happened to glance at my six-year old, the giver of the gift, and saw his face aglow with excitement. When my toddler finally pulled the well-loved stuffed animal from the paper, his older brother leaned close and asked, "Do you like it?" with the same excited light shining in his eyes.

We continued opening presents, and I watched, more amazed each minute. More of my six-year old's stuffed animals emerged from their wrappings, and with each one, he beamed with joy, sometimes sharing why he'd selected that particular animal for that person.

Hiding in the gifts from my five-year old were some of his treasured cars, chosen based on his siblings favorite colors. He grinned his shy little smile as each one was opened.

Then came the presents from my ten-year old. Old enough to know that her brothers didn't want any of her princessy, girly things, she created gifts out of sheets of college ruled paper. My husband received a maze, my oldest son a bull-fighting game with various drawings and characters. For me, she wrapped a piece of paper around a stick that made an interesting vibrating sound when I tapped it on things. And on her face, I saw the same smile, the pure joy that comes from giving, as everyone opened their gifts.

The gifts my children gave were not elaborate, and they were definitely not expensive. But they were true gifts from the heart. Thoughtful and selfless.

When I close my eyes and think about how wonderful our Christmas was this year, I see my young children's smiling faces as the presents they gave were opened. And I almost cry to think I tried to prevent them from experiencing the joy of giving.

I'm pretty sure I don't have so many kids because I have so much to teach them, but because they have so much to teach me.

Scripture Squiggle: 2 Nephi 26:22

2011-12-16T12:53:00.000-08:00

"...and he [the devil] is the founder of all these things; yea, the founder of murder, and works of darkness; yea, and he leadeth them by the neck with a flaxen cord, until he bindeth them with his strong cords forever."

Reflections on Flaxen Cords and Iron Rods

In thinking about Satan's methods in contrast to the Lord's ways, I began comparing the devil's flaxen cord to Christ's iron rod. Flax is a fibrous plant used to make linen. By itself, one strand of flax isn't very strong, and can easily be broken. But when multiple strands are placed together, the resultant cord is sturdy.

Iron is a metal. Obviously, much stronger than flax. But the difference really lies in how they are used. While the Lord invites us to reach out and grab the rod, thereby following him and his teachings, always affording us a choice, Satan offers us no such kindness. He doesn't dangle his cord of sin and error in front of us like kittens, hoping we might bat at it and take hold; he wraps it around our necks at the first opportunity we give him.

Flax does not stretch and is resistant to damage. In the devil's power, we have no room to grow, and alone, we have no hope for escape. Only through the atonement can we find a way out of the powerful cords of sin.

Iron has the most stable nucleus of any element. Just as the Gospel provides stability for us in an unstable world. God and his ways are unchanging, dependable. And iron is magnetic. It quietly, yet powerfully draws other metals toward it, much like the way the spirit speaks to our souls, drawing us ever closer to the Savior.

While the soft, flexible fibers of the flaxen cord may seem more inviting than the rigidity of a rod of iron, that very nature is what allows the cord to bind us, to take away our ability to choose. Whereas the stiff, unyielding iron rod, will never encircle us against our will, but only serve to every guide us on our way, keeping us free.

I'll take iron, thank you.

Scripture Squiggle: Proverbs 18:24

2011-12-09T08:01:00.000-08:00

"A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly; and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."

Moving during the middle of the school year in high school is never easy. And we had promised our oldest son that if we did move once he started high school, we would move into a house that allowed him to continue attending the same school. We lied.

Just over halfway into his sophomore year, we found a house that better accommodated our family of nine about thirty miles further away. My husband and I were fairly certain the elementary school aged children would adjust and make friends quickly, but we worried about our two teenagers. They would be moving from a small high school in a rural setting to a large suburban school. We were especially concerned about our son, whose best friend who had moved away a few years earlier had just recently moved back. When they met, at age 11, they acted less like strangers and more like long lost friends that had rediscovered each other. That kind of relationship was irreplaceable.

Our daughter, a freshman, found a group of friends she fit in with on the very first day of Seminary. But as the days and weeks passed, our son seemed to spend more and more time communicating with his friends in our old town. Our new ward and stake did not lack for young men his age that shared his interests, but as his sister hung out with her friends and talked non stop about them at home, he began to spend more time with his books and ipod.

My husband and I hoped that after a summer off, our son would be ready to make new friends at the beginning of the new school year. Instead, things got worse. He began to feel that no one liked him. No one wanted to be his friend.

The three of us sat outside one evening. Our son sat between us, crying as he poured out his feelings of loneliness to us. I didn't know what to do. I ached for my sweet son, who possessed a greater receptiveness to the spirit than I had at his age, a firm faith in the Lord. How could I help him? My mind was blank. But then my husband asked my son if he'd read his patriarchal blessing lately. Through his tears, my son told him he had not. They agreed to read it together the next day.

In reading the blessing, my son discovered a very specific commandment from the Lord to seek out friends. He had been waiting for friends to come to him; after all, that's how his sister had made her friends. Once he realized what the Lord expected of him, my son put forth greater effort.

Over the next few weeks, he talked about people he sat with at lunch or talked to before school. He seemed happier, and he even got invited to a birthday party. Although he has not found a "best friend" here, he has learned the importance of "shewing himself friendly" and even though they no longer see each other everyday, my son's friend from childhood is his friend still. We suspect he's the kind that "sticketh closer than a brother."

Scripture Squiggle: Isaiah 55:6

2011-12-02T08:26:00.000-08:00

"Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near."

I was seven or eight when I received the letter. My first real mail other than birthday cards from relatives. I read it over and over, and I couldn't wait to respond to it. So I took the letter to my mother and showed her the instructions I had received and how if I sent one dollar to the person on the top of the list and letters like mine to everyone else listed, I could possibly receive $25 dollars in return.

"It's a chain letter," my mom explained. "And they don't usually work."

"Oh," I replied, completely deflated. "Can I try it anyway?"

"That's up to you; it's your dollar," Mom said, but I could tell she didn't really want me to do it.

I returned to my room, confused and depressed. I wanted to answer the letter; I wanted to see the 'magic' promised, and I really wanted some of that money. My parents and my primary teachers had taught me that I could pray about anything. Well, if I can pray about anything, perhaps the Lord will tell me what to do about this chain letter.

So I prayed. And nothing happened. I still wanted to do the chain letter. The next morning, I decided to go ahead and mail the letter, but since the mail didn't go out until lunchtime, I decided to write the copies later and attend to more important things, like breakfast.

I poured myself a bowl of dry cereal and ate it with my fingers as I read my favorite part of the newspaper--the comics and Dear Abby. I cannot recall any of the comic strips from that day, but I have never forgotten the question posed to Abby. Someone had asked about chain letters. And in Abby's response, I found the answer to my prayer.

I hurried to my room where I grabbed the chain letter and tossed it into the trash.

When I look back on my childhood, this experience stands out as an important step in the formation of my testimony--the day I learned that if I sought the Lord, I would find Him.

National Novel Writing Month

2011-11-25T14:20:00.000-08:00

I came, I wrote, I conquered! 50,011 words! I emerge from NaNoWriMo victorious, so Scripture Squiggles will return Friday, December 2.

Scripture Squiggle: Isaiah 30:8

2011-10-28T13:54:00.000-07:00

"Now go, write it before them in a table, and note it in a book, that it may be for the time to come for ever and ever"

Wow! Not only are the people at NaNoWriMo telling me to stop slacking and start writing, but so are the scriptures!

Okay, maybe it's a bit of a stretch. But that's what this November is going to be for me as I attempt to meet the NaNoWriMo challenge of 50,000 words. Which means, no Scripture Squiggles until the first Friday in December.

If I survive, that is...

Scripture Squiggle: Proverbs 15:1

2011-10-14T12:36:00.000-07:00

"A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger."

When I was little, nothing infuriated me when I was already upset like my older brother. Whenever he saw me frowning, crying, or pouting, he would grin at me and say, "Don't smile!"

I always tried, but no matter what I did, my traitorous lips would turn upward and for a brief second a smile crept onto my face--always followed by me yelling at my brother to leave me alone.

But he had already succeeded. My foul mood was broken by his simple statement. My anger at my brother never lasted long; really it was born from a desire to hold onto whatever had been bothering me, rather than let it go, as I should.

After my brother's smile trick, though, I had to let it go. Because his trick was more than a brother teasing a sister. His trick was a brother's love for his sister, because he didn't like to see me sad or upset.

Now that I'm older, I sometimes still hear him when things get tough. I see his smiling face as he taunts, "Don't smile."

But I do.

Scripture Squiggle: Jonah 3:10-4:1

2011-10-07T13:07:00.000-07:00

And God saw their works, that they turned from their evil way; and God repented of the evil, that he had said that he would do unto them; and he did it not.

But it displeased Jonah exceedingly, and he was very angry.

As a young wife and mother living in a small town of strangers, I spent a lot of my time at my in-law's house. My mother-in-law let me use her washing machine, and then I would take the wet clothes home to decorate my apartment while they dried. Laundry day back then usually amounted to about three loads, so we had plenty of time to talk. Pat, my mother-in-law's next door neighbor, was often one of our topics.

Pat's husband Tony worked with my father-in-law. A sweet, quiet man, Tony made friends quickly and everyone liked him. Pat was a loud-mouthed drunk, and I got the feeling nobody liked her, least of all my mother-in-law. We talked about Pat's yelling rampages that woke my in-laws up each night, the broken bottles that invariably fell out of the garbage, and how Pat had taken to coming over to my mother-in-law's house to chat.

I would commiserate with her, return home with my wet clothes (while silently thanking the Lord for giving me neighbors that kept to themselves), and share all of the stories with my husband.

We'd laugh and groan, and feel sorry for Tony. He deserved so much more in a wife. So I should have been overjoyed when I learned that Pat was going to be baptized. Somehow her chats with my mother-in-law had turned to the Church, and she had expressed interest. After a few discussions, Pat was transformed. She gave up drinking, the late night yelling stopped, and Pat became as likable as Tony.

Then why did I feel like Jonah felt when the people of Nineveh repented? Maybe it was because I had used Pat to feel better about myself. As long as she was doing bad things that I wasn't doing, I knew that I wasn't the lowest on the Lord's list.

Perhaps I was eager, as Jonah was, to see others face the consequences of disobedience. And I felt his disappointment when this known sinner turned around and repented. Instead of embracing charity and rejoicing over the rescued soul, I harbored jealousy and self-righteousness.

I, dependent on the Savior's mercy, ignored his example. He associated with sinners, rejoiced when they repented, and loved everyone.

Fortunately, I did get to know Pat. Her infectious smile and animated personality pulled me in, despite my misgivings.

Now, when I feel myself struggling with some one's repentance, I remember Pat, my Ninevehite, and I find I can more easily reach out and embrace.

Scripture Squiggle: Doctrine & Covenants 101:16

2011-09-30T09:21:00.000-07:00

"Therefore, let your hearts be comforted concerning Zion; for all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know that I am God."

I can't watch the news. Too many stories break my heart and fill me with dread and worry for my family. Sometimes, especially if one or more of my children are away from home, I am so overcome with fear for them, that I almost can't function. This promise from the Lord, that He is in charge of all things, is what I rely on to ease my fears.

The Parable of the Geckos

We do our best to protect our home from the bark scorpions that lurk outside, hoping to come in and find food and shelter. But we know they are out there, so we've taught our children to be careful when they play outside, picking things up with caution in case a scorpion is hiding underneath. And we use extra caution at night, when the scorpions are roaming around, searching for bugs.

Sometimes the knowledge of this danger threatens to overwhelm us. We know the scorpions are outside, we know they are dangerous, but, although we can take steps to prevent them from coming inside, we cannot eradicate them completely.

But we also know we are not left to fight the scorpions alone. At night, the geckos appear on our outer walls. Whether they actually eat scorpions, or just the food the scorpions seek, the geckos help us keep the scorpions away. We point them out to the kids and tell them that the geckos are on our side of the fight.

Just seeing them brings us comfort. They are our reminder that the Lord's hand is in all things.

Scripture Squiggle: Hebrews 2:1

2011-09-23T11:07:00.000-07:00

"Therefore we ought to give the more earnest heed to the things which we have heard, lest at any time we should let them slip."

This scripture was part of our Sunday School reading for this week. It immediately made me think of General Conference, just over a week away. Very appropriate! We should give more earnest heed to the prophets' words--we are privileged to hear them speak twice a year! My goal the past few weeks has been to better prepare myself for conference, and I've challenged my family to do the same.

The following is an excerpt from President Dieter F. Uchtdorf's message in September's Ensign

A fine member of the Church was talking with a neighbor who was not of our faith. When the topic of discussion turned to general conference, the neighbor asked, “You say you have prophets and apostles? And twice a year in a worldwide conference they reveal the word of God?”

“Absolutely,” the member replied with confidence.

The neighbor thought about that for a moment. He seemed genuinely interested and then asked, “What did they say in the last general conference?”

At this point the good member of the Church went from feeling excited about sharing the gospel to feeling embarrassed. Try as he might, he couldn't think of the details of a single talk.

His friend found this troubling and said, “You mean to tell me that God speaks to man in our day and you can’t remember what He said?”

The brother felt humbled by this exchange. He vowed that he would do better to remember the words spoken by the Lord’s servants in general conference.

We all know how hard it is to remember every message of general conference, and I’m confident that we need not be embarrassed if we don’t remember everything. Nevertheless, there are messages in each general conference given as a gift and a blessing from heaven specifically for our personal life situations.

The Lord does have messages for each of us, and during those sessions of conference I've approached with specific prayers and questions I have heard those messages the Lord has sent for me. Read and follow President Uchdorf's counsel and you'll find General Conference can have personal, as well as global, meaning.

Scripture Squiggle: Ether 14:1

2011-09-09T15:28:00.000-07:00

"And now there began to be a great curse upon all the land because of the iniquity of the people, in which if a man should lay his tool or his sword upon his shelf, or upon the place whither he would keep it, behold, upon the morrow, he could not find it, so great was the curse upon the land."

Sometimes I think my house in Buckeye sat on some of Jaredites' cursed land. Things disappeared pretty regularly there--and never resurfaced. The first item was the knead bar to my bread machine. The last time anyone ever saw it was in the dish drainer on the counter. Gone. My son's pacifiers were next. By the time we took his pacifier away at age three and a half, we had gone through fifteen pacifiers. They simply vanished, and no amount of searching ever uncovered them. Many other items fell victim to the curse over the eleven years we lived in that house: my daughter's stuffed pony, a swimsuit, puzzle pieces (not the small 1000 piece puzzle size, but the large, 5 piece ones designed for toddlers), jeans, t-shirts, and of course, socks. When we moved out last February, we fully expected to find the missing things. We didn't really believe the house was cursed, or that imps were running off with our possessions.

But we didn't. Not one missing item turned up when we emptied the house. Yes, we even slit the cover on the bottom of our couches to see if anything had somehow ended up inside where we couldn't see or reach. Still nothing.

The Jaredites were a numerous people. The land upon which they lived had to be vast, because my new house seems to suffer from the same curse. A few months after we moved in, my toddler's sippy cup vanished. As did my free movie tickets. And now, my oldest son's i-pod.

This house seems to have more expensive tastes.

Scripture Squiggle: Mosiah 23:21

2011-09-02T09:23:00.000-07:00

"Nevertheless the Lord seeth fit to chasten his people; yea, he trieth their patience and their faith."

Few things try my patience the way potty training can. Especially with my youngest son. I had decided, after six kids worth of potty training experience, that the best time to start working with a child was around the time they turned three. So, I was quite content knowing I had until next May before I even had to think about potty training. Until Levi decided he was ready for potty training, shortly after he turned two.

At first I humored him, taking his diaper off every time he indicated he needed to go and plopping him on the toilet. This went on for a week. Then one day, I pulled off his diaper, sat him on the toilet with a sigh and was surprised by a tinkling sound as he actually went potty. He was rarely dry when he said he needed to go, but he began consistently going every time he told me he needed too, usually no more than a small trickle, but going nonetheless.

So when summer started, with the older kids out of school to help, we tried putting him in underwear. He of course wet every pair we put on him. After two days we ran out of clean underwear and put him back in a diaper. The only times he wanted to go potty were during Sacrament meeting, at Wal-Mart, at Grandma's house, and after we put him to bed each night.

But he was still going. I began to worry that if I didn't try to harness his desire to go potty in the toilet and actually waited until he turned three, he would be harder to train. Alas, I determined to start things again after everyone settled back into the school routine.

I bought him new Thomas the Tank Engine underwear and we began. The first day he peed regularly--in his underwear--anytime he laughed, cried, screamed or sneezed. I prayed almost constantly for patience as I cleaned up after him each time. In the morning, I dreaded the moment he would wake up and the battle would renew.

When he did wake up, though, he was dry. He gave me his usual trickle in the toilet and then stayed dry for nearly an hour. Progress. Or not. He continued to wet, continued to refuse to go when I knew he needed to, and I continued praying for more and more patience.

We tried candies. I gave him a jelly bean every time he was dry. I checked his pants each half hour, celebrated with him when he was dry, gave him the candy, and invariably changed him a few minutes later. He hardly stayed on the toilet long enough to accomplish anything, so we tried Smarties. One Smartie if he went a little, another if he would get back on and go some more. For a while, it worked, but when he tired of the Smarties, we went right back to him jumping of the toilet before he'd even started.

Patience. A week and two days after we started full fledged training, I felt inspired to place board books in all of the bathrooms in the house. The next time he went potty, I pulled out one of his favorites and was rewarded with a boy who sat long enough to finish going.

Yesterday, he actually went nearly the entire day without an accident. He still has a way to go, but we are definitely making progress.

And the Lord continues to teach me patience--now the boy demands multiple readings of multiple books before he will got off the toilet!

Hmmm. Maybe I should be careful what I pray for...

Scripture Squiggle: Ephesians 5:25

2011-08-19T11:55:00.000-07:00

"Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it."

My father is a dragon slayer. I've seen him in action as he defends his castle, and my mother, from the fearsome beasts. Fire breathing? No. Taller than a skyscraper? No. Massive jaws and killer claws? Again, no. Hairy, six-legged and creepy? Yes! My mother's dragons are ugly, brown, two-inch cockroaches. And my father is her hero.

My brother is also a dragon slayer. As is my husband. The dragons that terrify my sister-in-law differ from those my father slays and from the ones that attack my home. Hers are spiders; mine are scorpions. While the species of dragons differ, the love and affection the slaying of those dragons show for my mother, my sister-in-law, and for me is incredibly strong--the damsel-in-distress-knight-in-shining-armor connection.

Sure, I'm a strong, capable woman. More than once a dragon has reared its ugly head when my dragon slayer hasn't been home, and I've had to kill the monster myself. But when he is home, I'm a willing damsel in distress, and in doing so, I feed his need to protect and defend me.

All husbands should be dragon slayers--protecting the women they love from the things they fear most, whether the dragon is tangible or not. And all wives should often be the damsel, giving her husband a chance to rescue her. Stories are full of the rescued falling in love with the rescuers.

I know my heart swells with greater love every time my dragon slayer defeats another beast, scoops it up in a plastic cup and disposes of it in the garbage can.

Scripture Squiggle: Proverbs 22:6

2011-08-12T13:10:00.000-07:00

"Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

My mom had a unique way of slipping bits of the Gospel into the lives of her children. She liked to place uplifting quotes, pictures and Mormon-ads throughout the house in places where we could not ignore them. Like the bathroom.

Even though I have been out of the house for over seventeen years, I can still remember many of the Mormon-ads on the wall of the bathroom: "Reflect on Eternity," "Rise above the Blues," "Cutting Remarks are really Hurting." I see the picture of the girl looking into a mirror and seeing, not her reflection, but her future self with a young man standing outside the temple; the one yellow balloon climbing above the group of blue ones; a young man with knives coming out of his mouth as he speaks.

On the wall beside the bathroom door, my mom placed a handwritten copy of the final stanza of the poem by Ella Wheeler Cox entitled "Gethsemane." I never saw that poem anywhere else, never studied it in church or school, but I can still quote those closing lines.

When my mom picked me up from church activities or school games, she always had uplifting music playing. Although I would unfailingly pop her cassette out of the player and turn the volume up on my own music, lines from the songs she played would linger in my mind, often steering the course of my attitude later on.

Mom never forced spirituality on us. She never argued when we changed the music, and we always had the option of using the bathroom with our eyes closed, but she surrounded herself with goodness. And because she did, when we were with her, near her, that goodness encircled us. And her children have been blessed by it.

Scripture Squiggle Doctrine and Covenants 46:32

2011-08-05T13:05:00.000-07:00

"And ye must give thanks unto God in the Spirit for whatsoever blessing ye are blessed with."

During an address during general conference in October of 2008, President Monson reminded us, "Our realization of what is most important in life goes hand in hand with gratitude for our blessings."

(Finding Joy in the Journey)

The Spiral Notebook

We didn't feel very thankful as November of 2009 approached. My husband and I and our seven children were living in a three bedroom trailer without hope of improved circumstances anytime soon. It seemed the complaints multiplied with each day that passed, and I was beginning to feel crushed beneath the weight of our unhappiness. "Mom, when will I have my own room?" "She never helps me clean up." "I HATE this house!" And, although I didn't voice it, I felt the same way. How can I ever keep the house clean with so little space? A dishwasher sure would be nice. Another scratch in the linoleum?

Something had to be done. Something to remind us of all the blessings Heavenly Father had given us. So I found a lightly used spiral notebook buried in a junk drawer, tore out the used pages, and decorated the cover with a few stickers and a marker: Our Book of Daily Blessings. I showed the notebook to the family and told them my idea. Each day, everyone in the family needed to write down a blessing that they were thankful for. Those who could not write, could draw a picture or have an older sibling write it for them.

I placed the book in an accessible location and stocked the area with pens, pencils and crayons. At the end of the first day, I discovered that my family was grateful for food, clothes and other basic necessities. But by the time Thanksgiving arrived, our blessings became deeper; we were far more aware of God's hand in our lives. My son, who struggled with sharing a room with three loud, energetic siblings, wrote, "God showed me how loving my family is and how to be thankful for my trials." A daughter observed, "God gave me the ability to help a student I didn't know with work and she became my friend." And my husband, perhaps the loudest of all the complainers, penned, "Heavenly Father helped me to recognize that our current lifestyle is not as bad as some people."

We enjoyed the Book of Blessings so much that we continued writing in it long after Thanksgiving passed. We became a family full of gratitude, a family that saw God and His magnificent blessings in everything around us-- thanks to a slightly tattered, wide-ruled spiral notebook.

Scripture Squiggle: Doctrine & Covenants 18:23-24

2011-07-29T13:46:00.000-07:00

"Behold, Jesus Christ is the name which is given of the Father, and there is none other name given whereby man can be saved;

Wherefore, all men must take upon them the name which is given of the Father, for in that name shall they be called at the last day"

When I discovered that some unknown someone was using my name and social security number, I felt like screaming and crying. My entire body trembled, my stomach cramped and I thought I would be sick. I felt a total lack of control. What could I do? I didn't know who was using my information; I didn't know when it had started or where they had gotten it. I just knew that someone had my name, and I wasn't sure I liked how they were using it.

In many ways, the Savior is a victim of identity theft. He warned us of Antichrists and false prophets. We've read about Sherem and Korihor in the Book of Mormon. More recently we've heard claims of imminent judgement and the end of the world, despite the declaration in the scriptures that only Heavenly Father knows when the Second Coming will occur.

What about those of us who have chosen, not to denounce the Savior or deceive those who would follow him, but to take upon us his name? Are we living in a way that is consistent with his life? Or do our actions cause him anguish. Are we damaging our Savior's love and trust in us with how we are using the name that he has given us just as the person who has stolen my name is hurting my credibility?

In an article in the April 1982 New Era entitled, "Taking Upon Us His Name", Ardeth Kapp relates, "It is in reaching out to others that we qualify ourselves and become more worthy of his name. It is our ordinary work, our seemingly routine duties, and our familiar relationships that can become sacramental in nature."

We should consider our actions daily to be sure we are not falsely using Jesus' name. Then we can partake of the promise given in Mosiah 5:9

"And it shall come to pass that whosoever doeth this shall be found at the right hand of God, for he shall know the name by which he is called; for he shall be called by the name of Christ."

Scripture Squiggle: 3 Nephi 12:6

2011-07-22T09:06:00.000-07:00

"And blessed are all they who do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled with the Holy Ghost."

Until last night, I didn't give these words much thought. To me, this verse meant to seek after righteousness, and if we do so, we are worthy of the companionship of the Holy Ghost. But to hunger and thirst after something means that we really want, need, that thing, and when we attain that which we seek, we are satisfied.

I'm no stranger to feeling physically full--especially on pizza night. However, I never really considered what it meant to feel spiritually full.

Last night, at a relief society activity, I learned what that feeling is. It's knowing that I helped turn a stranger's anger into a smile by sending my daughter over to move the shopping cart out of the parking space. It's the warmth of fellowship that comes from attending Sunday meetings and chatting in the hall. It's the peace that settles my mind when I read a verse of scripture that must have been written for me, for just that moment in my life. It's a tear cried for someone else, a tear wiped away. It's a hug or a smile, or countless things, little and big, that I can do each day--for my stubborn little boys or someone I've never met.

It's a feeling I need to know so well, that I crave it as much as I crave a steaming cup of hot chocolate on a frigid day.

Am I spiritually fed each day or am I unknowingly starving, when nourishment is within my grasp? Am I teaching my children to recognize their own hunger for spiritual things? I think I'll look a little closer at my family's spiritual diet. It's never to late to start being healthy!

Scripture Squiggle: Helaman 12:2

2011-07-15T13:31:00.000-07:00

"Yea, and we may see at the very time when he doth prosper his people, yea, in the increase of their fields, their flocks and their herds, and in gold, and in silver, and in all manner of precious things of every kind and art; sparing their lives, and delivering them out of the hands of their enemies; softening the hearts of their enemies that they should not declare wars against them; yea, and in fine, doing all things for the welfare and happiness of his people; yea, then is the time that they do harden their hearts, and do forget the Lord their God, and do trample under their feet the Holy One--yea, and this because of their ease, and their exceedingly great prosperity."

The phrase was becoming one of my most frequently asked questions. As my husband and I toiled to convince the water pump to actually pump the water the grass so desperately needed. Why can't it ever be easy for us?

Again, when we tried to build a shelter for the tomato plants, wilting and baking in the sun. Why can't it be easy?

I asked the question every time a task turned out to be more difficult than I felt it should have--which was quite often. My husband's standard reply was, "Because we're Anderson's." To which I would grumble something about only being an Anderson by marriage and therefore should be immune to any curse.

But even the simple job of replacing windshield wipers became a frustrating, lengthy chore that left us both cross.

I was beginning to believe my husband's joking reply one night as we struggled to install a simple three-piece mount for our flat screen TV. Surely it should not take an hour to determine where to place the screws, drill the pilot holes and tighten everything into place. Alas, more than an hour had passed as we searched for the stud locator, searched for the drill bits, broke one of the thick screws, and misplaced the ratcheting screwdriver.

In the midst of the angering chaos, while trying to coax the last two screws into the back of the television I wondered aloud yet again why things couldn't go smoothly for us. From behind me, my husband gave me a soft chuckle.

"Hold on," he said and than he began to read Helaman 12:2. When he finished he set his scriptures aside. "That's why it isn't easy for us."

I tightened the last screw into place. "Things have to be difficult to remind us that we need the Lord?"

"Pretty much. I'd rather have things hard and remember that I rely on the Lord to accomplish things, even the little things instead of relying on my own strength out of pride and finding myself on the wrong side of things when Savior returns."

He moved over beside me and we lifted the TV together, attaching it to the mount on the wall. It was a little off balance, and we grinned at each other. "It can't be easy can it?" I laughed.

Scripture Squiggle: Doctrine and Covenants 133:14

2011-06-17T09:06:00.000-07:00

"Go ye out from among the nations, even from Babylon, from the midst of wickedness, which is spiritual Babylon."

I saw the first scorpion one night as I walked back to the house after feeding the chickens. It was making its way toward the back door like a solitary soldier. I studied it for a moment, my heart racing as I realized that it was indeed a scorpion. Then I rushed to the door and called to my husband to bring the bug spray, quick!

I sprayed the scorpion with half the can, and my husband and I watched until we were certain it was dead. Not knowing if dead scorpions, like dead bees, could still sting, my husband scooped it into a plastic cup, placed another cup inside that one and tossed it deep into the recesses of a trash bag.

I was shaken--the safety of my home had been violated by this threat to my family. But it didn't take long before I rationalized that the scorpion had been outside, a natural place to find scorpions, and I stopped worrying about it so much.

We disturbed the second scorpion when we decided to clean out the garage. My husband was away helping his father, so all of the children came out to help. Or get in the way. I was working in the back corner, near one of the blind-covered windows when my two year old began pulling and shaking the blinds. Dust and decomposing insect bodies flew from underneath. I told him to stop, but he continued flapping the blinds against the window. One of his older brothers joined him, intrigued by the dead bugs.

Setting the broom down, I marched over to where they were just in time to see a scorpion appear on the window sill, right next to my toddler's hand. I snatched him away, shoving my other son back at the same time. I ordered my teenager to keep everyone out of the corner and sent one of my daughters in for the spray.

Not as brave as my husband, I left the body in the corner where I killed it, waiting for him to come home and dispose of the still twitching bug.

Deeply troubled, I did some searching on the Internet, and determined from the pictures I found that the scorpions I had seen were bark scorpions--the only Arizona scorpion that posed any danger. Yet again, I rationalized that the bug-infested, dirty garage was an invitation to scorpions. Now that it was cleaned, maybe we wouldn't see anymore.

Nearly a month went by without anymore scorpion sightings. Until one day my eleven-year old son came screaming up the stairs. He'd discovered a scorpion, trapped in a bag hanging from his bed. My husband and I, armed with the bug spray, hurried down to dispose of it. It was smaller than the other ones we had seen, but it was still a scorpion.

Again, I was panicked. This one had been inside the house. In my son's room. We sat as a family, talking about the scorpion and how they like to hide in dark places and that a dirty room is a perfect place for them to live. We also talked about how small of a space they needed to get into the house. By the time we finished we had determined that the scorpion had come in through my son's window and made sure he didn't open it anymore. Problem solved.

Last night, two weeks after we found the scorpion in the bedroom, my family gathered as we do every night in our living room to read scriptures and pray together. We discussed a few verses in Matthew about service then we all retired to our knees for prayer. As we were passing out hugs and kisses and preparing to send our children to bed, my nine year old daughter shouted, "Scorpion!" and I saw the critter crawling across the floor toward my husband and toddler.

I pulled my son out of the way, shouting to my husband and pointing at the invader as he moved swiftly forward. My sixteen year old jumped the back of the couch like it was nothing and cowered behind it. Someone grabbed the bug killer, and my husband sprayed it, then smashed it.

We could not rationalize away the presence of the scorpion in our living room--an area of high traffic and activity. Now we jump at every movement, imagined or real, expecting to see another scorpion. The exterminator will be here soon, but it will be a long time before we feel completely safe in our own home again.

And I wonder, if we had acting on the first sighting, would our other unpleasant, closer encounters have been avoided?

So it is with the wickedness that the Lord warns us to avoid. If we tolerate it, rationalize that it is part of the natural world and as long as it doesn't invade our sanctuary, it cannot harm us, then the evil will move closer and closer, until it is dangerously close to our families and our safety. Best to protect ourselves and our families before it becomes a threat.

Scripture Squiggle: 3 Nephi 11:3-6

2011-06-10T09:13:00.000-07:00

"And it came to pass that again they heard the voice, and they understood it not.

"And again the third time they did hear the voice, and did open their ears to hear it; and their eyes were towards the sound thereof; and they did look steadfastly towards heaven, from whence the sound came.

"And behold, the third time they did understand the voice which they heard..."

As I read these verses, the Nephites' struggle to understand the Lord as He spoke to them reminded me of learning to recognize the whisperings of the Holy Ghost. The first time the voice spoke to them, the Nephites were distracted. They were conversing with each other, talking about the signs they had just seen. They heard the voice when it spoke to them, but they were unable to comprehend what the voice said.

Mormon describes the voice that spoke to them in such a way that brings to mind the Holy Ghost: the voice was small, but it pierced them to the center; it caused their hearts to burn

Often, when promptings come, we are distracted and fail to really understand that the Spirit is speaking to us. I remember a night many years ago, when my husband and I were getting ready for bed. We were tired and it was late. Suddenly I wondered if he had locked his bike up when he came home that night. His bike was his only source of transportation to work, since I had the car during the day. Being tired, and quite certain that my husband knew how to take care of his bike, I pushed the thought aside, failing to recognize the source of the thought. In the morning, the bike was gone.

The second time the Nephites heard the voice, they again failed to understand what it said. They had yet to put any effort into hearing the voice. I supposed maybe they figured if they heard it again, they'd catch the words. But it didn't work that way for them, and it doesn't work that way when it comes to the Holy Ghost, either.

Sure, no doubt I promised myself to listen better the next time the spirit whispered to me, but unless I was willing to do something to ensure I could hear better, the next time wasn't likely to turn out any different.

The third time the voice spoke, the Nephites were prepared. They were listening, they were focused on the voice by looking toward where it came from, and they were steadfast in their focus. And that time they understood.

When the Holy Ghost speaks to us, we must remember to listen, to set aside those things that would distract us, or convince us that what we're hearing is simply our own mind, not divine guidance. We must be diligent in our listening.

Contrast the story of the stolen bike with another incident. This time, me, my husband, and our two young children were in our living room. The TV was off. I was sitting on the floor preparing for Sunday's lesson, while my husband read to the kids in the overstuffed chair. A strong gust of wind rattled against the windows.

I looked up, noting that the regular windows were closed, but the storm windows were not. Outside, the day was flooded with sunlight; only a small cloud or two floated harmlessly through the sky. But I felt strongly impressed to close the storm windows. The room was quiet and filled with love and the spirit. I recognized the Holy Ghost whispering to me.

Without hesitation, I moved to the windows, closed the storm windows and locked them. I had barely returned to my lesson when a loud thump, followed by the tinkling of shattered glass, filled our quiet room. We turned to the windows that I had just closed and saw that a golf ball had slammed into one of the outside panes, reducing it to tiny pieces. But the storm pane had stopped the ball's trajectory. A path that would have taken it straight to the chair where my husband and children sat. I didn't spend much time reflecting on the damage that ball could have done to one of our small children had it struck either of them. Instead, I thanked the Lord that he had sent us a prompting--and that I had been listening.

Scripture Squiggle: Alma 34:19

2011-06-03T09:36:00.000-07:00

"Yea, humble yourselves, and continue in prayer unto him."

Being humble in prayer can easily be forgotten, even when we are faithful in holding daily personal or family prayer. As a mother, I've found many excuses for not getting on my knees: the baby is on my lap, I don't want to disturb him; my back hurts from toting kids all day, my knees hurt from scrubbing floors all day; I'm just too tired. For a long time, my husband and I justified not getting on our knees even while we made the kids do it.

Then one evening, at a Young Women's activity, I received a powerful reminder. As we finished up the activity, a young woman was asked to say the closing prayer; she responded that she would, but then asked if she needed to stand. One of the leaders told her that the person praying stands so that the rest of the people can remain seated, otherwise, everyone should kneel.

Another young woman shared with us that she had been spending time with her grandmother recently, a woman in her nineties, and that every night, despite the elderly woman's pains and infirmities, she knelt for prayer. The young woman bore her testimony to us of the lesson she had learned from her grandmother's example of the importance of being humble, both spiritually and physically, when we pray.

After hearing this story, the young woman who was asked to say the prayer walked to the front of the room and knelt down. Everyone else got down on their knees. A greater feeling of reverence and peace filled that room during that prayer.

Now, no matter how tired, sore or lazy we are feeling, my husband and I make sure we are on our knees for family prayer. And that same feeling of reverence and peace has been infused into our home.

Scripture Squiggle: Ephesians 3:19

2011-05-20T09:25:00.000-07:00

"And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fullness of God."

Driving back from family temple day last week, we approached a vehicle that seemed unable to remain in its own lane. My husband told me to use caution as I passed the car, since we couldn't be sure where it would swerve next. We glanced out the window as we moved alongside, expecting to see the driver texting or talking on his phone. What we saw instead was an older man, tears streaming down his cheeks, flowers piled on the seat beside him.

In that instant, I felt my heart drawn out to this man, and found myself praying to the Lord to help him in his obvious time of need. As I did so, it occurred to me, that while I didn't know this man's name, or what event had caused the tears to spill from his eyes, the Lord knew. Immediately after I finished my quick prayer, a song came on the radio. I was familiar with the song, Rascal Flatt's "I Won't Let Go"--about standing by someone during their time of need.

Not only did the Lord let me know that he knew the man, his name and his troubles, but He let me know that He knows me. Being who I am, I would have continued feeling bad for this man, worrying about the cause of his tears, the fact that he was alone. But through the song, the Lord put my fears to rest.

He will stand by us in our darkest hours. And He won't let go.

Doctrine and Covenants 122:7

2011-05-13T12:08:00.000-07:00

I've heard often that different scriptures have different meanings depending on your circumstances and frame of mind when you read them. Eight months ago, this passage brought me comfort. Today it forces me to examine my life. The Lord promises Joseph that the trials he experiences will help him grow and allow him to become more worthy of exaltation.

Having gone through trials, just like everybody else, I understand their role in our spiritual and emotional growth. So what's the problem? I find myself afraid of growth because of my fears of what trial the Lord might send me next. I don't want to see the jaws of hell gaping at me.

Thinking about it, I believe it comes down to really believing that the Lord has our best interests in mind. Eliminating my fears means trusting the Lord. In order to continue my climb toward eternal life, I must stop looking down, fearing the fall, stop looking forward, fearing the unknown, and take the proffered hand of help the Savior reaches out to me. I must cling to that hand and keep going.

Scripture Squiggle: Helaman 6:4-5

2011-05-06T08:52:00.000-07:00

"And it came to pass that many of the Lamanites did come down into the land of Zarahemla, and did declare unto the people of the Nephites the manner of their conversion, and did exhort them to faith and repentance.

"Yea, and many did preach with exceedingly great power and authority, unto the bringing down many of them into the depths of humility, to be the humble followers of God and the Lamb."

New converts to the Church always seem to have an inner fire when it comes to sharing the Gospel with others. I've seen that same drive in primary children and youth. So what happens to those of us born into the Church? Where is our urge to share our precious knowledge with others? Did we have it as children, and then lose it as we grew up? What is it that changes within us?

I think the answer is charity. As children, we hadn't yet learned that people can be cruel. We trusted everyone, played with anyone. But as we grew, we learned that some people weren't worthy of our trust. We began to approach everyone with distrust. So we lost our desire to be in the celestial kingdom with everyone, and really only wanted to be there with the ones we love and care about.

However, when we begin to feel Christ-like love for those around us, we overcome those feelings of distrust, and feel again a desire to share the gospel. We can pray for missionary experiences and opportunities all we want, but until we truly care about the people we meet or associate with, we give the Lord very little to work with.

The converted Lamanites mentioned in Helaman loved their brethren the Nephites with the love of Christ. It brought them from the land of Nephi to the land of Zarahemla, a long journey, to share their conversion stories and preach the gospel. They could have said, "The'll never change. They've become too wicked." But they didn't judge; they only loved. And in doing so, brought many Nephites back to the fold.

Scripture Squiggle: Matthew 26:14-15

2011-04-19T09:03:00.000-07:00

"Then one of the twelve, called Judas Iscariot, went unto the chief priests,

"And said unto them, What will ye give me, and I will deliver him unto you? And they covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver."

Judas wasn't just some man that decided to turn the Lord over to those seeking his death. He was one of the twelve chosen apostles. One of those men closest to Jesus, who spent time with him daily, serving and being taught. I find it hard to imagine that someone so close to the Savior could betray him.

But if we look, we can see signs that Judas' wasn't entirely focused on the things Jesus taught. An incident in John relates that a woman brought some costly ointment that she used to anoint Jesus' feet. Judas was upset, saying the ointment should have been sold and the money given to the poor. At first this seems like a charitable idea, until John points out that Judas' concern was more for the money and not for the poor. He calls his fellow apostle a "thief."

Yet, he had still seen the miracles. He knew that Jesus was innocent, even claimed to love him. So why would he betray him? Perhaps he didn't fully understand Jesus' mission. Maybe he really did believe that Jesus was the Son of God. And maybe he believed that he could make some money off the Jews, and, because Jesus was the Messiah, he could easily protect himself from his enemies and no harm would come of it.

Judas didn't start to get scared until after Jesus was condemned. Once he saw that Jesus wasn't going to free himself, Judas returned the money to the Jewish leaders. Then, knowing what he had done, knowing he was powerless to change it, and unable to live with that knowledge, Judas hung himself.

Judging and condemning Judas is easy--he betrayed the Son of God! But how often are we like Judas? Are there times we say, "I really want this item. I can't afford it, but if I pay my tithing I think things will be okay." or "The Lord will forgive me if I go to this concert. I know it's on Sunday, but it's my all-time favorite band."?

Do we betray him in little ways?

Scripture Squiggle: Doctrine & Covenants 63:23

2011-04-12T10:07:00.000-07:00

"But unto him that keepeth my commandments I will give the mysteries of my kingdom, and the same shall be in him a well of living water, springing up unto everlasting life."

Maybe I have water and life on the brain with all the spring rain and the green sprouting everywhere. But I came across this picture, taken in Utah a few years ago. I love how pure and crisp the water looks as it bursts forth, in stark contrast to the water it enters, water that merely sits and collects dirt, rocks, dead plants etc.

The Lord's promise to us in D&C 63:23 is that by keeping the commandments he has given us, we can keep our spiritual growth moving, progressing toward him. Obedience to the commandments gives us access to more spiritual truth and light and keeps us from getting stagnated in the world, where we would collect the dirt and grime of worldliness that prevent us from returning to our Heavenly Father.

Scripture Squiggle: Doctrine & Covenants 6:16

2011-04-01T09:34:00.000-07:00

"Yea, I tell thee, that thou mayest know that there is none else save God that knowest thy thoughts and the intents of thy heart."

I find it comforting to now that only God has access to our thoughts. Sometimes it seems that Satan knows exactly what I'm thinking when he throws his temptations at me. At those times I remember this scripture and remind myself that Satan is only guessing. He knows me, because of my relationship to him in the preexistence, so he has an idea of what I might be feeling or thinking, and that's why so many times he hits the mark with his guesses.

We probably don't really notice the times when he guesses wrong because the thought or impression simply slides away unnoticed since it doesn't relate to what we are thinking. We only notice his efforts when he guesses right--that's why it seems that he knows our thoughts.

The Lord does know our thoughts, and this allows Him to truly know us. It helps me to remember this when Satan attacks me, giving me the strength to turn to the Lord and seek his guidance and protection.

Scripture Squiggle: Matthew 14:24-31

2011-03-22T10:28:00.001-07:00

"But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves: for the wind was contrary.

"And in the fourth watch of the night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea.

"And when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out for fear.

"But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.

"And Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.

"And he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus.

"But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me.

"And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?"

Apparently, I still have faith on my mind. Peter didn't suffer from "blind faith;" he knew that Jesus could and would let him walk on the water. And he was doing fine until he let himself be distracted. So, even strong faith can waver if we take our eyes off the Savior and start worrying about what's going on around us.

In his October 2010 conference talk, Elder Richard G. Scott offered some ways that we can keep focused on the Lord when we are exercising our faith:

Trust in God and in His willingness to provide help when needed, no matter how challenging the circumstance.
Obedience to His commandments and a life that demonstrates that He can trust you.
Sensitivity to the quiet promptings of the Holy Spirit.
Courageous implementation of that prompting.
Patience and understanding when God lets you struggle to grow and when answers come a piece at a time over an extended period.

To help calm our fears when we see "the wind boisterous" in the world around us, Elder Scott promises:

"Satan's increasing influence in the world is allowed to provide an atmosphere in which to prove ourselves. While he causes havoc today, Satan's final destiny was fixed by Jesus Christ through His Atonement and the Resurrection. The devil will not triumph. Even now he must operate within the bounds set by the Lord. He cannot take away any blessing that has been earned. He cannot alter character that has been woven from righteous decisions. He has no power to destroy the eternal bonds forged in the holy temple between a husband, wife, and children. He cannot quench true faith. He cannot take away your testimony. Yes, these things can be lost by succumbing to his temptations. But he has no power in and of himself to destroy them."

I find this promise to be a tremendous boost to my faith. Sometimes it does seem like Satan is winning, in control. What a peaceful feeling to be reminded that he cannot win. Jesus has already taken care of that. I think knowing this makes it easier to ignore the distractions around us that try to tell us we can't, or it's impossible, and allows us to keep our focus on the Savior.

Scripture Squiggle: Mark 9:24

2011-03-11T09:05:00.000-08:00

"And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief."

I've always struggled with the meaning of this scripture. Does he believe or doesn't he? We're always told that doubt and faith cannot coexist, so he must either have the belief or the unbelief, not both.

He had to have some faith, because Jesus healed the man's son. So that brings us back to the question: what does this scripture mean?

In a religion class at BYU I learned some interesting things about obedience--especially the difference between blind obedience and intellectual obedience. Blind obedience is obedience because the prophet or someone we trust told us to do it. Intellectual obedience is obedience based on our own knowledge that we should do something, not just because the prophet said it.

This knowledge only occurs after prayer and study.

Maybe the same idea can be applied to the question of belief. Recently I struggled with something that I wanted very much. I prayed hard and long that this thing might be granted to me. I believed, like the afflicted child's father, that the Lord had the power to give me my desire. But, oh help my unbelief! I doubted that the Lord wanted to give it to me.

My thoughts are that blind faith would be faith in the Lord's ability to work miracles, but lacking an understanding of His will. Intellectual faith would be faith based on the Lord's matchless power as well as His will, which is revealed through the Holy Ghost. We must, therefore, study and pray, learning to feel and be guided by the spirit, so that our belief is directed at what the Lord has in store for us.

I think a beautiful example of both blind faith and intellectual faith can be found in the experiences of Alma and Amulek in the city of Ammonihah. The two men watch in horror as the people of Ammonihah put to death the families of the believers. In agony, Amulek turns to Alma and asks, "How can we witness this awful scene? Therefore let us stretch forth our hands, and exercise the power of God which is in us, and save them from the flames."

Amulek knew the Lord had the power to save the innocent from their suffering. What he had not yet learned, was to recognize the spirit, which could help him to know the will of the Lord. Alma, on the other hand, had plenty of experience with the spirit and recognized its guiding influence.

He told Amulek, "The Spirit constraineth me that I must not stretch forth mine hand; for behold the Lord recieveth them up unto himself, in glory; and he doth suffer that they may do this thing, or that the people may do this thing unto them, according to the hardness of their hearts, that the judgments which he shall exercise upon them in his wrath may be just..."

Alma knew the Lord could free the people, but his faith was intellectual, based on what was in agreement with the Lord's will as revealed to him by the spirit.

I believe. But I need to increase my receptiveness to the spirit so that I may know when my desires are in harmony with what the Lord has in mind, so that I can exercise my faith to its fullest.

Scripture Squiggle: Alma 23:17

2011-03-04T09:16:00.000-08:00

"And it came to pass that they called their names Anti-Nephi-Lehies; and they were called by this name and were no more called Lamanites."

As I've read about the Anti-Nephi-Lehies the past few weeks in my personal scripture study, I was puzzled anew about their choice in a name. Obviously they didn't want to be known as Lamanites any more, rejecting any association with their wicked brethren. But the name always came across as negative toward the Nephites as well. I remembered learning something in Seminary way back when that had helped clarify things, but alas, I could not recall the information.

Amazing what moving can do! I found my old Seminary folder in a box and yes! the paper was in it. The following is from Jeffrey Chadwick, a professor of Ancient Scripture at BYU.

A Proposal for the Meaning of the Name "Anti-Nephi-Lehi"

"In Alma 23 we find that the people converted by the sons of Mosiah no longer wanted to be called Lamanites. They desired a name that distinguished them from their non-believing Lamanite brethren. Verse 17 tells us "that they called their names Anti-Nephi-Lehies; and they were called by this name and were no longer called Lamanites." An intriguing question over the years has been what is really meant by the name Anti-Nephi-Lehi.

"Sidney B. Sperry believed that the name Anti-Nephi-Lehi meant that the converted Lamanites were now opposed ("anti") to their brethren who lived in the land of "Lehi-Nephi." Hugh Nibley went one better by suggesting that the meaning of "anti" was really "ante," which connotes "being before" or "facing," suggesting that the converted Lamanites were now imitating the Nephites. For various reasons I had never felt comfortable with either of these theories.

"Having done quite a bit of work with Hebrew and Egyptian lately, I decided to apply some principles of those languages to difficult Book of Mormon terms (such as Anti-Nephi-Lehi, Rameumptom, and others) and see what could be learned. The attempt to write "Anti-Nephi-Lehies" in hieroglyphics was most instructive, and suggested a new and simple meaning for the term.

The key was the prefix "anti," which in Egyptian can only be rendered as...a pair of arms with open palms in question mode. The consonant value of [this symbol] is n. This term can be translated a variety of ways, such as anti, opposed, non-existing, never, etc., but the most basic meaning is non or not. The Oxford Universal Dictionary reveals that the English word "anti" not only connotes being opposed to something, but can also act as a simple negator, such as the words non or not.

"Now it seems clear from the text of the Book of Mormon that the "Nephi-Lehi" portion of the new name directly refers to the converted Lamanites, not to the Lamanite land or the Nephite people. For example, in Alma 23:17 the converts (plural) were referred to as Anti-Nephi-Lehies (plural), but in Alma 24:3 a single convert was called Anti-Nephi-Lehi (singular). With all of this in mind, may I suggest that the term Anti-Nephi-Lehi means Non-Nephite-Lehite, and the plural term Anti-Nephi-Lehies means Non-Nephite-Lehites, or in other words Lehites who are not Nephites.

"Remember that the motive for the name change was that the converts no longer wanted to be called Lamanites, a label which was associated with the tradition of a wicked and unbelieving ancestor. But what could the new converts call themselves? Nephites? No, they were not his descendants. The could, however, go one step beyond Laman to their common father Lehi. But to call themselves Lehites might still give the impression they were Nephites, since Lehi and Nephi were always on the same side (opposite Laman) on so many issues. To avoid any confusion the new name Non-Nephite-Lehites (or Anti-Nephi-Lehies) was perfect. It probably sounded a lot better in their language than it does in ours, and less clumsy too. Most of all, it was accurate. They were now, after all, faithful Lehites who were not Nephites."

*Note: I could not figure out how to show the symbol for "anti" so I had to remove it from the writing.

Scripture Squiggle: Isaiah 41:10

2011-02-22T11:12:00.000-08:00

"Fear thou not; for I am with thee; be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness."

This scripture reminds me of the poem "Footprints." Often we don't realize that the Lord is supporting us until we look back on the events we were struggling through. But oh how much easier those times would be if we could remember this verse, remember that the Lord is waiting for us to cast our burdens on him. Regardless of what is happening in our lives, the Lord can give us strength to make it through. He understands our feelings, our experiences, and our struggles.

Robert Keen took Isaiah's words and turned them into the third verse of my favorite hymn: How Firm a Foundation. That third verse, and the powerful seventh, have lifted my spirit in many dark hours:

Fear not, I am with thee; oh be not dismayed,

For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.

I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,

Upheld by my righteous omnipotent hand

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose

I will not, I cannot, desert to his foes;

That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,

I'll never, no never, no never forsake!

Back to Blogging Soon

2011-01-31T07:57:00.000-08:00

With the holidays, getting sick, and a very sudden move, I haven't gotten around to keeping up with the blog. Things should be back to normal by the second week of February.

Scripture Squiggle: Mosiah 3:19

2010-12-07T11:44:00.000-08:00

"For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father."

Children find joy in the simplest tasks. My young toddler finds great pleasure in carrying the tied plastic bag containing his soiled diaper out to the trash. In fact, he screams if I try to do it without him. Taking out a dirty diaper isn't something anyone would normally see as exciting, but he tosses the bag into the garbage can and claps his hands, a grin lighting his face.

My days would be far less tedious if I could view all my unpleasant chores with my toddler's joy. What can I clap about when I'm faced with the sink full of dishes? Or the mound of laundry, which only gets bigger in the wintertime? What about sweeping, mopping and vacuuming the endless messes my children track around the house? How can I find joy in cleaning the toilet shared, among others, four boys with terrible aim?

As I go throughout this week, I think I'll try a little harder to see the joys in my daily life. Like gratitude for the food that fills those dirty dishes and the happiness I get from spending the dinner hour with my family. Gladness for the clothes that keep us warm when the weather turns cold. Remembering how much I love those children that bring the dirt and sticky messes with them. And overwhelming joy that those boys are no longer in diapers.

Scripture Squiggle: Ether 12:41

2010-11-30T09:45:00.000-08:00

"And now, I would commend you to seek this Jesus of whom the prophets and apostles have written, that the grace of God the Father, and also the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost, which beareth record of them, may be and abide in you forever. Amen."

I love Ether 12 in its entirety. To me, it is the greatest discourse on faith that we have in the scriptures. But I love this final verse the most. It's almost as if Moroni is saying to us: Okay, I've shown you what faith can do, but until you know the Saviour as I do, it means nothing.

During this Christmas season, this scripture also reminds me of the phrase, "Wise men still seek him." President Monson offered inspired words on this subject in the December 1990 Ensign entitled, "The Search for Jesus."

Before the craziness of the holidays over take us, we should heed Moroni's plea and seek for the Saviour. As the primary song promises, "He will be found."

Scripture Squiggle: Jacob 6:12

2010-11-23T11:33:00.000-08:00

"O be wise; what can I say more?"

The American Heritage College Dictionary defines wise as: Having the ability to discern or judge what is true, right, or lasting; sagacious.

In proverbs, wisdom is described as being "better than rubies." And the person who obtains wisdom "loveth his own soul." The Lord tells his modern-day people to "seek not for riches but for wisdom."

So, reasonably, if we have wisdom, we are wise, and if we are wise, we have the ability to recognize truth and right.

Notice that Jacob does not tell us to have wisdom; he tells us to be wise, implying an action on our part. Obtaining wisdom is important, but it does us no good unless we use the wisdom we have gained to make correct choices and draw closer to our Heavenly Father.

I love that the gospel of Jesus Christ can be so simple: get the ability to judge those things that are true and right, and then use it. Jacob is right; what can he say more?

Scripture Sguiggle: 3 Nephi 14:7

2010-11-09T10:39:00.000-08:00

"Ask, and it shall be given unto you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you."

Sounds easy enough, doesn't it? All you have to do is ask, seek or knock and you get whatever it is that you need. All of the scriptures on prayer make it seem so easy. You have faith, you pray, you get an answer. Simple.

Not so simple. My husband and I have been praying for months for an answer to something we feel is very important, but an answer is not forthcoming. Sometimes we think we get an answer--then we start to question it. Is this coming from me because it's what I want? How do we know the answer comes from the Lord and not ourselves? How do we know Satan isn't planting ideas in our minds--he can be tricky like that?

I suppose that's why the Lord tells us that it is important to be like little children. Not like my toddler and preschooler who tear through the house like cyclones, but like my nine year old who was afraid she'd have to drop craft club because of her grades, so she fasted and prayed last fast Sunday that she could improve her grade. Guess what? She's still in the club.

As we get older, we learn a lot more about how the world works; we learn Santa doesn't really exist, magic is all about illusion, and unicorns are only a myth. These worldly truths make believing in the miracles of the Lord difficult sometimes. But the Lord has given us a more wondrous gift than we could ever have hoped to get from Santa Claus. The gift of his Son should mean far more to us than any earthly gift we've ever received. What could be more magical than the power of the priesthood in our lives? The priesthood can do so much more than pull a rabbit out of a hat--what about curing illnesses and healing hearts? And unicorns--maybe someday I'll be privileged to create a world where horned and winged horses play.

So, as my husband and I seek for an answer, maybe our solution is to become more childlike, and in doing so we will find the answer we need.

Scripture Squiggle: Matthew 5:44

2010-11-02T10:59:00.000-07:00

"But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you."

My son, TG, started high school last year. Being born into my family, the boy can hardly escape being a nerd. We're all nerds. We like geeky stuff like Star Trek, backwards stuff like classic country music, and many of us are avid readers. My son is one of the worst, having mastered the art of walking and reading at the same time--with minimal crashing.

Although he has plenty of friends, he shared very few classes with them; he quickly became the victim of bullying in several of his classes. But TG is the type to keep his feelings to himself and we did not learn of his torment until halfway through the semester. The kids in his PE class frequently broke into his locker and stole his belongings. Each time, the teacher issued TG a new lock, but never pursued the problem. The kids called TG names and laughed at him when he answered questions in class.

When TG finally broke down and told us what was going on, we encouraged him to speak with the students, then with the teachers, and if that didn't work, to go to his guidance counsellor. He talked to his fellow students, but of course this did nothing. His teachers insisted that they could do nothing about something that they did not witness. So TG visited with his guidance counsellor, who then spoke to his teachers. For a short time, things improved.

After Christmas, TG's classes changed. Many of the bullies still shared some classes with him. But now, he merely endured. And as he did so, the worst of the bullies were kicked out of school one by one. The other kids that had gone along with the tormenting began to leave TG alone, some even got to know him and became his friends.

I knew that TG had taken the Savior's counsel to heart when, as a sophomore, he began tutoring some of the kids that had made his freshman year miserable.

I wish I could be more like TG. Usually I find myself wishing unpleasant things upon the people that make my life difficult. Help them? Pray for them? I have a long way to go.

Scripture Squiggle: James 5:11

2010-10-22T12:48:00.001-07:00

"Behold, we count them happy which endure..."

I've been thinking about my freshman daughter, Sami, who tried out for the volleyball team at the beginning of the year. On the Friday they were to find out who made the team, Sami and a two other girls were asked to come back on Monday for a final decision. Sami was pretty excited.
She'd started attending open gym over the summer, since she had never played volleyball before. She couldn't serve or bump, but being the diligent girl that she is, she kept practicing and was thrilled that she actually had a shot at the team.

When she came home from school that Monday, she struggled to hold back her tears as she explained that the number of positions available had been cut, so the coach asked her to be a manager. Sami had accepted the position. She hoped that she could still practice with the team and maybe improve enough to be a player as a sophomore. We all were hoping that if any players quit or were removed from the team throughout the season, that maybe she would get moved up to player.

Of course, as parents, my husband and I were thrilled to have our daughter exhibiting such strong character, and although we grumbled a bit about the times for practices and games, we gave her our full support.

A week or so went by and Sami seemed to be enjoying her job as manager. She talked nonstop when she came home about everything that happened in volleyball and school. Then the games started.

And I'm not talking about volleyball games. As players began to get kicked off the team for bad attitudes and failing grades, Sami's hopes for playing would climb, only to be dashed by her coach as she brought freshman players down from the JV and Varsity teams to play in games. During practices, the coach would sometimes throw Sami into a scrimmage and then compliment her on how well she played. Then the next game, she refused to listen to Sami's pleas for a chance to play.

We knew things were bad when Sami started talking about how much she wished she'd joined cross country instead. As good parents, we encouraged her to "endure to the end" and that when it was over she'd feel good about herself. She resolved not to let her coach get to her, despite being taking out of a scrimmage game for running off the court to kick a loose ball out of the way of another girl who was moving back to make a play and was about to trip over it.

Sami was doing okay until the uniform incident. She dealt stoically with her coaches hints about letting her play, and then refusal to do so. Every day she showed up to practice or games with a renewed determination to just do her best, even if only on the sidelines.

Then one day, a few days after Sami found out that the JV manager had been promoted to player, just before the first game started, the coach tossed Sami a uniform and walked away. If Sami's anything like me, her heart had to have been slamming around in excitement. She jumped from the bench and ran after her coach.

"What's this for?" she asked hopefully.

"I want you to hold it."

Hold it? The coach wanted her to hold a uniform? That was definitely the low point of freshman volleyball for Sam. She realized that her coach was just toying with her, and more than ever she wanted to emerge stronger for it. Sami kept going to practices, hoping everyday that her coach would at least let her play in the scrimmages and praying for the day she could play in a game.

The school's last game is on Sami's birthday. Yesterday, with just two practices to go, she mentioned to her coach that her birthday was the day of the last game.

"We should do something special for you on your birthday," her coach told her.

"You could let me play!" Sami supplied.

Her coach laughed and walked away.

Sami told us that story last night with a shrug of her shoulders and a smile. Today I saw her carrying her knee pads out the door when she and her brother left for Early Morning Seminary.

Right now, Sami is my inspiration for enduing...and we count her happy.

Scripture Squiggle: Doctrine and Covenants 121:38

2010-10-19T08:49:00.000-07:00

"Behold, ere he is aware, he is left unto himself, to kick against the pricks, to persecute the saints, and to fight against God."

I remember a Sunday School lesson a few years ago when I first learned about "pricks" (before that I always thought they were thorns). A prick is a sharp spear that people used to get animals moving. The stubborn animal would often kick back against it, and the tool would hurt them even more. I'd like to think I'm smarter than that, and that one poke would be enough for me, but maybe I'm wrong.

When I'm being particularly stubborn about something, refusing to admit I did something stupid or made a mistake, my husband always asks me "Is this about pulling out the bed?"

Okay, not my finest moment. I don't even know why I told him the story in the first place. I spent my first two semesters at BYU living in Deseret Towers. My roommate's sister lived nearby, so she often spent nights at her house, leaving me alone in our room. Such was the case on my first night in Provo. I went through my usual evening routine, and then eyed the narrow bed that looked more like a couch. I shrugged my shoulders and figured I could fit, so I climbed in and went to sleep.

Sometime during the night, my roommate returned. She was still sleeping when I got up, but her bed seemed bigger than mine. I left the room to take a shower, and when I came back, my roommate was up making her bed. I watched as she gave the bed a slight lift and pushed it back into its couch position. Ohhh so that's how it worked.

I think things would have been okay if she hadn't then turned to me and asked, "I saw you sleeping last night, didn't you know the beds pull out?"

But instead of saying, "No, I didn't" my stubborn streak kicked in and I said, "Of course. I just like it better not pulled out." And, as the scripture implies, this stubbornness only hurt me more than admitting my ignorance would have.

I spent the rest of my time in DT Towers sleeping on a bed that was NOT pulled out.

Scripture Squiggle: 2 Nephi 10:23

2010-10-08T15:39:00.000-07:00

"Therefore, cheer up your hearts, and remember that ye are free to act for yourselves--to choose the way of everlasting death or the way of eternal life."

This scripture struck me this morning. We've had a lot of negative things happening in our lives lately, and I was starting to feel like we're trapped in a hole with now way out. But when I read this scripture, I was comforted. I felt like the Lord was speaking directly to me: Brenda, cheer up your heart! You have good things in your life, too!

I thought about all of the things we are facing, and I realized that it isn't so much what happens to us in life, but how we respond to events. No matter what, we have the ability to choose between good and evil. This is a gift that God has given us, and NO ONE can take it away, although Satan tries to convince us that they can.

We can let the need to buy a new A/C unit frustrate us and make us angry, or we can accept it, find a way to make it work, and move on to new and more exciting trials. The choice is ours, and personally, I'd rather have a cheerful heart than an angry one.

1 Nephi 16:1-2

2010-10-05T08:56:00.000-07:00

"And now it came to pass that after I, Nephi, had made an end of speaking to my brethren, behold they said unto me: Thou hast declared unto us hard things, more than we are able to bear.
And it came to pass that I said unto them that I knew that I had spoken hard things against the wicked, according to the truth; and the righteous have I justified, and testified that they should be lifted up at the last day; wherefore, the guilty taketh the truth to be hard, for it cutteth them to the very center."

This verse came to mind yesterday as I was reading some negatvie comments regarding President Packer's talk given during conference. How right Nephi was--the wicked do take the truth hard, and are unwilling to accept it as God's word; instead they try to justify themselves and find fault with a prophet of God.

I suppose such negative remarks shouldn't bother me so much, but President Packer has always been my favorite speaker out of all of the general authorities, and I really enjoyed his directness and openness as he spoke about purity. My husband told me not to worry about it--the unwillingness of others to accept God's truths doesn't prevent me from accepting it, but I keep hoping that somehow the rest of the world will get it! But the people of God have always stood against the world, and it will ever be so.

I am glad we are led by men who are not afraid to speak the truth, despite the opposition of the world. I thought of President Packer and the other prophets who spoke to us during conference weekend when I read 2 Nephi 8:7 this morning:

"Hearken unto me, ye that know righteousness, the people in whose heart I have written my law, fear ye not the reproach of men, neither be ye afraid of their revilings."

Those inspired men who lead the church are these righteous people that the Lord is referring to. I'd like to be one of them, too.

Amos 3:7

2010-10-01T12:26:00.000-07:00

"Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets"

I thought this scripture was appropriate, since Conference starts tomorrow. In the October general conference in 2005, Paul V. Johnson spoke on The Blessings of General Conference.
The following are quotes from his talk:

"In order for the messages of general conference to change our lives, we need to be willing to follow the counsel we hear."

"Every time we are obedient to the words of the prophets and apostles we reap blessings. We receive more blessings than we can understand at the time, and we continue to receive blessings long after our initial decision to be obedient."

"Decide now to make general conference a priority in your life. Decide to listen carefully and follow the teachings that are given. Listen to or read the talks more than once to better understand and follow the counsel. By doing these things, the gates of hell will not prevail against you, the powers of darkness will be dispersed from before you, and the heavens will shake for your good."

Doctrine and Covenants 122:7

2010-09-28T09:28:00.000-07:00

"And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good."

This scripture has been on my mind the last week, since my husband totaled his car in a one-car accident. We are told to liken the scriptures to ourselves, and this scripture is one that has often brought me comfort. But it also raises questions. The one I find myself asking the most is "what am I supposed to learn from this?" and second to that is "haven't I learned it yet so that this trial can end?"

I can honestly say that the accident has given us experience--I now know the difference between collision and comprehensive coverage as well as "actual cash value." I know how close we came to having a "gap" between how much we still owed on the car and how much the insurance company was willing to pay. And I know how resilient the cement wall dividing the freeway can be.

But as far as this occurence being for our good...I just don't know. Maybe the car was about to demand some major repairs that we couldn't afford (not that we could really afford to run out and buy my husband a new car, but we managed to make it work). Perhaps things are as simple as my husband said, and we just needed a jolt to make sure he's completely awake before he leaves for work. We may never know the reason the accident happened.

I do know that I feel at peace with what happened when I remember that the Lord is in charge. He knows everything, and he knows what is best for me and my family. I am so relieved that He doesn't ask me to find my way through life with my limited knowledge as a guide, but that He is willing to show me the way. I would make a mess of things on my own!

1 Nephi 3:7

2010-09-21T12:42:00.000-07:00

"And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them."

I've never really struggled with keeping the Sabbath day holy; for me that particular commandment has been easy. As soon as the prophets counseled us not to shop and do other activities on Sunday that would cause others to work, I made a conscious effort to see that my gas tank was filled on Saturday and that I had all of the items for meals and snacks for the coming Sabbath.

But this past Sunday, after already keeping the kids up late to celebrate my daughter's birthday, we discovered that our 16 month old was missing his pacifier. At first, we weren't too concerned--the little booger looses it all the time. So we checked the usual places: the garbage, the cabinets, the bathtub, etc, without any luck. Forty minutes ticked by and the pacifier refused to come out of its hiding place. By this time, our little toddler was getting cranky; he'd taken an abbreviated nap at church--maybe a third of his usual naptime.

My husband suggested that we try putting him down without it; now was a good time to break him of the habit. I started to agree when my optimistic teenager, who shares a room with her little brother, said, "I hope he doesn't wake up at all tonight."

So much for that idea. We kept looking, and I could tell my husband was starting to get frustrated. I had already seen my teenage son on his knees, praying for help finding the missing pacifier, so I decided to follow his example. I had 1 Nephi 3:7 in my head, and I thought that if the Lord could help Nephi obey his commandment to get the plates, then he could definitely help me keep the Sabbath holy (and not rush to the store to buy a new paci).

After my prayer and a little more searching, my husband announced, "I think the ox is in the mire." I didn't answer him. I knew he wanted to stop the search and go buy a new pacifier, but I didn't want to. We had to find the pacifier. Our other children sensed my urgency, and I noticed that some of them also said some prayers. I kept praying silently, telling the Lord how desperately I wanted to honor his day.

About this time, my husband's attitude changed. Instead of complaining about how long the search was taking and urging me to give in and go to the store, he started asking the kids where they had last seen the paci and where our son had played that day. "It's got to be in the girls' room," he concluded.

We'd looked there, multiple times. But we decided to search again. In a matter of minutes, my teenage daughter shouted, "I found it!" She picked up her little brother and poked it into his mouth; he clutched his blankie and leaned against her shoulder. I silently thanked the Lord for helping me to keep his commandment.

Matthew 6:8

2010-09-17T13:43:00.000-07:00

"Be not ye therefore like unto them; for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him."

Sometimes the Lord knows what we need even before we know of the need. I read a story about this in the September Friend. But it remained a distant concept to me until I experienced it first hand. Last week as I was dropping off the last of the kids from my carpool, their mother came outside carrying a 10-pound bag of potatoes. She asked if I could use a bag, and I thought about the half bag of potatoes that I had at home that was sprouting leaves and the full bag that I planned to use to make the next day's dinner. "Sure, I could use a bag."

When I arrived home, I told my teenage son that I'd traded three of his siblings for a bag of potatoes and placed the bag on the counter. That was the last thought I gave those potatoes until the next day when I was busy throwing ingredients into the crockpot for dinner. Once a week I have to prepare dinner ahead of time in order for the meal to be ready for our family to eat together in the thirty minute period between finishing the carpool and leaving for scouts and activity days. A crockpot meal on this day is vital.

So I had the meat cooking on the stove, and I was ready to start chopping up the potatoes and toss them into the pot. First I grabbed the bag of growing potatoes and discarded them, and then I reached for the bag I had purchased when I bought groceries the week before. Because they were hidden in their grocery bag still, I hadn't noticed that the entire bag of potatoes had begun to rot, but I smelled them as soon as I picked up the bag. In disbelief, I searched the bag, certain that some of the potatoes were still salvageable. But I was wrong. Every potato was moldy.
At that moment I remembered that new 10-pound bag that sat happily on the counter. I said a prayer of thanks as I washed each firm, fresh potato and cut them into chunks. The Lord had known my need and had filled it, before I was even aware of it.

Book Review: An Ancient American Setting for the Book of Mormon

2010-08-10T12:57:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this isn't a new book, but it is a great resource that I discovered while doing research for a story idea. The author, John Sorenson, has some insightful ideas about where the Book of Mormon lands may have been located, and he provides compelling evidence. He offers the reader more than just a landscape by describing other aspects of life, such as animals, building materials, and food items and how they may have related to the Book of Mormon peoples. My personal study of the Book of Mormon has taken on a new dimension since I read Sorenson's book. I definitely recommend it.

Changes

2010-08-05T15:37:00.000-07:00

With school starting back up, I'm going to have to give my blog an overhaul. You'd think that with over half of the kids in school this year, I'd have more time to write and work on the things I want to do--not so! With the two youngest (and most demanding) still at home, I'll be playing referee continually until nap time (which, with any luck, will continue to be twice a day). So in between keeping my two boys from maiming each other and running the afternoon carpool, and getting some work in on my WIP, I will have limited time for blogging.

Translation: Stories are suspended for the school year. I will try to post book reviews on Tuesdays (when I find time to read--maybe while sitting in the carpool line), specific scripture references and how they relate to real life experiences on Friday, and spiritual boosts on Sunday.

In the meantime, if I am inspired by a story that manages to just flow from my mind like magic, I will include it. Or if anyone has a story that fits a scripture they would like to share, let me know.

All changes will take place starting Sunday (going camping tomorrow). We'll see how this goes.

Fictional Story: Doctrine and Covenants 19:35 concluded

2010-08-01T15:33:00.000-07:00

On Sunday morning, Jaleen and I gathered the children together in our small living room. She led them through a primary song and then our oldest son offered a prayer. When Jaleen turned the time over to me, I felt my stomach flutter with nervousness. I was quite sure this was one of the hardest I would ever have to do.

I cleared my throat and studied each of my nine kids before I began. My greatest desire when Jaleen and I were married was to give my kids a better life than we'd had growing up. Jaleen had often spoken of life in a large family where money was scarce, and I was determined that my children would never feel poor. Yet, this was what the Lord had asked of me, to share our situation with the entire family, to allow every member the chance to help our budget be successful.

Some of the younger kids began to fidget as I introduced the topic and started explaining what a budget was and what it meant to our family.

Six year old Cameron raised his hand. "Daddy, how can I help you and mom save money and pay for stuff when I don't have any money."

"That's a good question. Although most of you do not have your own money, there are still ways that you can help out. Cam, what are some of the things that you need that cost money?"

He laughed and wiggled his toes, two of which were peeking out of holes in his socks. "That's easy; shoes and socks!"

"Okay, so what could you do about shoes and socks?"

Cameron thought hard for a few minutes. "Mom always says to untie our shoes before we take them off and to not drag our feet. She says that makes shoes last longer."

I nodded and smiled. "That's right. Very good."

As we continued talking, our thirteen year old offered to start collecting aluminum cans to help pay for scout camp, and our teenage daughter promised to start saving her babysitting money for Girls' Camp and to help pay for her own clothes. Once the kids knew what we needed from them, they were eager to help us stick to our budget. All of them came up with ways they could help us.

We closed our family meeting with a song and prayer. Jaleen and I watched the children scatter in all directions as they finished getting ready for church. I finally felt at peace. Even though the process would still be hard and long, I knew that our family was united, and together we could accomplish our goals.

Fictional Story: Doctrine and Covenants 19:35 continued

2010-07-27T08:08:00.000-07:00

We started by setting up a budget. At first, it was easy; Jaleen filled the categories in based on what we had spent the previous few months and added in my paychecks. However, when everything was entered, the amount at the bottom of the page was a large, negative number.

"It's okay." Jaleen said. "Now's the part when we start eliminating the things that we don't really need. Once we've done that, we will hopefully have something left to start paying off some of the debt a little faster."

I said goodbye to my lunches out and new movies on DVD. Jaleen promised to consolidate her trips and carpool to activities when she could to conserve gas. By the time we finished the budget, we had cut back on numerous non essentials and had a plan for paying off the credit card.

"Okay, this is good." I told Jaleen.

She smiled. "Yeah, it's good. But remember, Brendan, a budget is no good if you don't follow it."

For the next four months we were amazing. We followed our budget, reviewing our spending each week to make sure we were on track. Slowly, the credit card balance began to come down. But in August all of the kids needed new clothes and supplies for school. My car had a blow out on the freeway, so I had to buy a new tire. We slipped back into our old habits. Feeling bad about the money we had spent, and knowing we had exceeded our budget, we avoided looking at it.

Before we knew it, December loomed before us. We had no money, and our credit card hovered dangerously close to the limit, again. Every time the kids started to talk about Christmas, Jaleen's eyes would mist over. I handled things in a more mature manner--yelling at the kids not to sing Christmas songs in November.

"We've got to do something." Jaleen whispered to me one night.

"I know. But what?"

"I don't know. Maybe we could fast and pray during the week and share what we've felt on Sunday."

"Okay," I agreed reluctantly. I had the feeling that I wasn't going to like what the Lord had to tell me.

(to be continued...)

Fictional Story: Doctrine and Covenants 19:35 continued

2010-07-23T13:47:00.000-07:00

A column on the left hand side of the screen listed our assets and debts. Two accounts were listed as assets: our bank account, labeled with our names and another account called "Future Family Fun." The first account was accompanied by a pitifully small balance, while the Future Family Fun account had a balance of zero.

I looked further down the column at our list of debts. The mortgage and the two car payments were listed first. Shouldn't their balances have gone down further than that already? Studying the numbers, I tried to remember what their balances had started out as. Finally, I shook my head and moved on to the next item--the credit card. We still hovered pretty close to the maximum on that one. Jaleen's been after me to help find a way for us to pay more than the minimum amount due. I figured it wasn't that important, as long as we were paying something.

Rubbing my eyes, I tackled the last category: Education Loans. I knew about the $6000; that loan was for my highly sought after degree in radio broadcasting--something that years later could barely even be called one of my hobbies. But three other loans were listed amounting to nearly $11,000. Several times I had gotten the notion in my head that I wanted to be a teacher, yet that couldn't explain these loans, could it? No, there's no way those few semesters did this.

I rose from the chair and opened the file cabinet near the computer table. For once I was grateful for Jaleen's uncontrollable need to organize everything; I quickly found the file for the student loans and pulled it out. The evidence against me was undeniable.

After I replaced the file and shut down the computer, I crawled back into bed. Tears trickled down my cheeks as I thought about what I had done. This tiny house, our inability to pay down the mortgage far enough to be able to sell it and move, was my fault. When my guilt had nearly overwhelmed me, I woke Jaleen and told her what I had discovered.

Her eyes were still droopy with sleep, but she touched my face with the back of her hand and smiled. "Brendan, we made all of those decisions together. Granted, they weren't the best choices we could have made, but they're over. We can't go back and change them; we'll just have to deal with them." Jaleen held my gaze with her own. "Stop worrying about fault--that doesn't matter."

"Okay." I said. "Tomorrow we start climbing out of this mess."

(to be continued...)

Fictional Story: Doctrine and Covenants 19:35 continued

2010-07-20T13:42:00.000-07:00

The realization of what we had gotten into kept me up at night. Long after Jaleen drifted to sleep, I would lay, staring at the dark ceiling, and condemn myself for the choices I had made that now created a chain that bound our family in debt. It started with that $6000 and just continued from there. Another $300 for the dentist, put on the credit card. The kids needed new clothes for school--add $1000 more to the card. Christmas one year arrived on the heels of cut backs at work. We were desperate for presents for the kids. That December we nearly exceeded our credit limit.

A few times Jaleen sat me down and tried to discuss our finances. In fact, she was the one who arranged to refinance our mortgage, which cut our payments by nearly $100, as well as calling the mortgage company and getting a deferral on our payments the year I got sick and was out of work for nearly two months. But when she tried to tell me we needed to take a closer look at how we were spending our money, I didn't want to listen. I resisted her suggestion that I bring a lunch from home instead of grabbing something from a nearby restaurant, and when she hinted that I not buy every movie when it came out, I tuned her out.

My parents had never had much money, yet they still managed to always have a $20 bill to hand me when I wanted to take my girlfriend to the movies or needed to fill my gas tank. I remember hearing my father say to my mother once that if a check hadn't cleared the bank, then that money was still there for the using. He got really good at the balancing act--writing checks based on money that was destined for somewhere else, and managing to replace the funds before the checks cleared.

I tried my hand at my father's game early in my marriage. When Jaleen found that first overdraft notice in the mail, we had a good long argument. In the end, she kept the checkbook. More overdraft notices followed, not because I was trying to ruin our finances, but because along with being unable to finish what I start, I also have a terrible memory. I simply forgot to pay the bills, or deposit the check, or tell Jaleen that I spent $50 at Costco.

When we finally emerged from the dark ages and subscribed to high-speed Internet, Jaleen pretty much took over the money. She tracked everything using a computerized finance program and began to pay the bills online.

After she straightened everything out, checking our bank account daily for any of my "oops I forgot to tell you...." incidents, our situation didn't look so bad. As long as I knew we had some money in the bank, I figured we were fine and could afford whatever we wanted.

One night, as I stared into the darkness, wondering how I could get us out of our small house and into the home my family deserved, I decided to take a look at Jaleen's finance program. I crept out of bed and out to the living room where we kept the computer. The old machine took a few minutes to boot up, and then it slowly brought up the program I wanted.

What I saw made my stomach drop to my knees. I covered my open mouth in disbelief.

(to be continued...)

Fictional Story: Doctrine and Covenants 19:35

2010-07-16T13:21:00.000-07:00

I'm not much of a finisher. Okay, to be honest, most things I start, whether it's learning to play the trumpet, designing a new piece of furniture, or writing a short story, usually end up collecting dust. I've actually really only finished one thing--and that thing turned out to be useless--nearly useless. It did manage to create $6000, of debt. And that was only the start.

When we moved into our house nearly twelve years ago, it was a mansion to us. Brand new with plush carpet, three spacious bedrooms, a separate living room and kitchen, and a storage area in the back. Our family of four actually struggled to fill up the entire house. But seven years later after Karissa, Janae and the twins joined the family, the mansion felt more like a sardine can.

We put the house on the market and began dreaming of our new, larger mansion. My wife, Jaleen, loved to wander through model homes, imagining our family inside, filling up the empty rooms. She was especially captivated by the closets in the master bedrooms.

"Do you see the size of this?" She asked me during one of our walk-throughs. "We could turn this closet into a nursery for the new baby."

"Yeah." I agreed. "And since we don't have a third car, that part of the garage would make a perfect work room."

So we dreamed. But the impossibility of it all didn't set in until one particular cheerful man calling about our home for sale shouted in my ear.

"Good luck selling it for that price!"

As I shared the less than motivating conversation with Jaleen, I realized we we're trapped.

(to be continued)

Scripture Squiggle: Doctrine and Covenants 19:35

2010-07-13T13:56:00.000-07:00

"Pay the debt thou hast contracted with the printer. Release thyself from bondage."

I spoke to someone last week who lives by the philosophy that he'd rather die broke than leave millions without having any fun. That doesn't sound too bad, but he also said that he and his wife take vacations that they can't afford because a good vacation is important to their relationship. This couple is getting into debt for experiences that last, at most, a week and then fade into memories. And long after most of those memories are forgotten, they continue to pay for them.

Debt can truly wrap chains around a person, limiting their future choices and opportunities. I know the truth of this first hand. Several times in my life, what I've wanted, even needed, has been out of reach because of debt, but I've also felt the sweet relief that comes from eliminating debt and regaining my freedom.

More Scripture Maps

2010-07-02T08:21:00.000-07:00

I'm posting three more examples of scripture maps. Have fun!

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Scripture Study Tip: Scripture Mapping

2010-06-29T12:20:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, in a Sunday School class, I learned a fun method that helps me to get more out of my scripture reading: scripture mapping. The concept is really very simple. First, find the main idea of the chapter(s) or verse(s) you've read; put this in the center of a blank piece of paper. From the main point, branch off with secondary information. Add pictures or symbols if this make things easier for you. This map can serve as a reminder later on of what the chapter or verse was about and help you better retain the information that you've read. The map I've included is one my husband did on Genesis Chapter 3 (he's far more creative than I am, so I thought I'd share his work, rather than mine!).

***As a side note, I will not be posting a new scripture squiggle until 7/13.***

Fictional Story 1 Nephi 2:15 Conclusion

2010-06-25T14:32:00.000-07:00

Janessa didn't feel like going to church. Even though she had made her choice, and she knew that the true gospel was worth the sacrifice she had made, she didn't want to see the other young women whispering and giggling with each other while she sat alone. I'll just stay for Sacrament, and then I'll slip out. No one will miss me, and I can enjoy the weather out in the grass near the back parking lot until everything is over and still get a ride with Sister Kirk.

Her favorite part of the meeting was always during the passing of the sacrament, when the sacrament hymn continued to hum away in her mind, and she could feel the spirit wrap its arms around her. By the time the closing song ended and the closing prayer was said, Janessa's desire to continue to feel close to the Lord was almost enough to override her previous decision. But when Cara and Michelle walked past her, leaning together and talking in hushed voices, completely unaware that Janessa was even there, she chose to stick with her plan.

Janessa sat on the grass with her legs underneath her and pulled out her Book of Mormon. She flipped it open and began reading on the page it landed on. When her tears started to wet the pages, though, she closed the book and stared down at the grass. She didn't see Cara step out of the building, stop when she saw Janessa sitting in the grass, and then turn around and go back inside.

Wiping the tears from the cover of the book, Janessa sighed. Why did I have to accept this book from the Sisters when they came by that day? If I hadn't learned the truth, I wouldn't be here, friendless and lonely. Janessa reopened the book and again started to read. But I wouldn't know of my Savior's love for me, either.

She read for nearly an hour, completely engrossed in the story of Alma and Amulek. After reading about Alma healing Zeezrom, Janessa paused to stretch her back. As she was again picking up her book, Cara walked over and sat down about a foot away. She plucked at the grass and glanced at Janessa.

"I should've come over earlier, but you looked so sad, and I didn't know what to say." Cara said, studying the blades of grass she'd pulled from the ground. "Was it something one of us said?"

"No." Janessa replied. "Not intentionally, I guess. Well," she sighed, "my best friend decided not to be my friend anymore because I joined the Church, so I've been feeling a little lost around all of you who are already friends and don't seem to need me."

"Oh." Cara thought of Michelle, her own best friend, and felt grateful that she shared her beliefs. "Well, we do all know each other, but that's because we've been around each other so much--every Sunday, at Wednesday night activities, and at Girls' Camp and firesides." Cara paused. "We can't get to know you if you don't come to Young Womens."

Janessa didn't respond. She looked down at her hands, thinking of Iris and all of the fun they'd had over the years. She felt tears threatening again and squeezed her eyes shut. She nearly jumped when Cara gripped her hand.

"We want to get to know you, Janessa." Cara stood up and pulled Janessa to her feet, too. "Come on, Sister Canfield always finds a way to make food part of the lesson." She smiled.

Janessa shrugged. "Okay. I am feeling a little hungry."

Cara laughed.

I suppose life can go on without Iris. The spirit wrapped a warm blanket around Janessa as she hurried into the church building.

Fictional Story: 1 Nephi 2:15 continued

2010-06-22T10:02:00.000-07:00

A slight breeze lifted Janessa's braids from her neck as she stood on Iris's front porch. The weather was perfect for their usual back-together activities. Janessa licked her lips and swallowed her fear as she raised her hand to knock. Instead of the usual bubble of excitement she felt on the morning of Iris's return, Janessa felt her stomach twisting in nervous knots.

"Hello, Janessa!" Iris's mother greeted her with a smile. "Iris wasn't sure you'd be here today. She'll need a few minutes to get dressed; would you like to come in?"

Janessa shook her head. "It's a beautiful morning; I'll just wait out here."

Iris's mother disappeared back into the house, and Janessa sat down on the top of the porch steps. With each second that passed, she was certain that Iris was going to refuse to see her. She brushed at her denim capris and rested her elbows on her knees. After what seemed to be an eternity, the door behind Janessa creaked open, and Iris joined her on the stairs.

"Hey Nessa," she said quietly.

"Hey yourself."

Iris didn't look at Janessa; instead she stared off into the distance. "I told you not to come."

"I know." Janessa rubbed at her fingernails. "I just couldn't let years of friendship end with an email. I had to see you, to know that that's how you really felt."

Iris pursed her lips. "You've changed a lot, you know."

Janessa shook her head, her braids dancing around her ears. "You keep saying that, but I don't see it. I'm the same girl I've always been. I still love basketball, still want to go to NAU with you. Our plans are still the same."

"No, they're not the same! You don't get it. This new religion has changed you. And because of it, we can't be friends anymore--and that changes everything."

Grabbing Iris's face and forcing her to look at her, Janessa demanded, "Stop dodging the truth, Iris. I deserve to know what's really behind this. Give me the truth and I'll leave you alone."

Iris pushed Janessa's hands away and clenched her teeth. She stared hard at Janessa for a while before she finally answered. "People have seen you hanging out with girls that aren't good for our image. Like that girl that walks funny."

Janessa sighed. "Her name is Jeana, and she only walks like that because she was in an car accident when she was a toddler. She's really a very nice person; we have a lot in common. You'd probably get along really well with her."

"See what I mean?" Iris jumped up. "People like her are going to drag you down, and I won't let you take me with you."

"How does me talking to Jeana drag you down?"

"Shayla has noticed you hanging out with her, and with other losers, too."

Janessa leaned her head back and drew in a deep breath. "Since when do you care what Shayla thinks?"

Iris narrowed her eyes. "Marcus noticed, too."

Marcus. Janessa bit her lip. She and Iris had been dreaming about Marcus Long since they'd discovered boys in the fourth grade. "Well," she said slowly, "we're all children of God, and deserve to be treated with respect. If you and Marcus can't understand that, then I guess you're right. Maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore."

Iris took a step back, looking as if she'd been slapped. She recovered quickly, though. "Of course I'm right," she snapped.

Janessa slowly stood up. "I'm sorry it had to come to this." She started down the steps. Behind her, she heard Iris re-enter the house, slamming the door behind her. It's over.

to be continued...

Fictional Story: 1 Nephi 2:15 continued

2010-06-18T10:37:00.000-07:00

Her hands trembled as she opened the email. But as she started to read, Janessa gasped and brought one hand to her lips.

Janessa,
I want you to stop emailing me. Don't bother calling when I get back from my grandma's. I have no interest in your new religion. It's changing you into a person that I can't be friends with. I suppose I can't stop you from playing ball, but I promise you that I will not speak to you or even acknowledge you as long as you continue to go to your church and follow all of those silly new rules you have been given. If you do continue to bother me and attempt to be friends, I will make your life miserable.

Janessa sank back in the computer chair with tears streaming down her cheeks. Maybe she's just testing me. Or maybe Shayla somehow hacked into Iris's email. She wouldn't just write me off like this, would she?

As she wiped at her tears, Janessa heard her mother walk in behind her. "Is everything okay Nessa? Have you been crying?"

Janessa quickly exited her email. "Yeah, silly me. Iris sent me an email and told me about the kitten she found at her grandma's. I guess some neighbor dog got a hold of it and she thinks its going to die now."

"That's sad. Poor Iris. But a least you finally heard from her. That's a good sign, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it is." Janessa stood up. "Well, I guess I'll go to bed now."

"Okay. Give me hugs." Janessa embraced her mom and allowed her to plant a kiss on her forehead.

As her mom started to leave the room, Janessa stopped her. "Mom, do you think I've changed since I started listening to the missionaries?"

Paula turned around. "Changed how?"

"I don't know." Janessa shrugged. "Changed so that I'm no longer fun or interesting."

Giving her daughter another hug, Paula replied. "No, Nessa. If anything about you has changed, it's the way you view yourself and the rest of the world. It's the consideration and love you've been showing to others, not that you weren't loving before, but now you have extended that love to everyone you come in contact with." Paula tapped Janessa's nose. "Get some rest. Doesn't Iris come home tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"The two of you usually spend the entire day together. I probably won't see you until dark! Good night, Love."

After her mom left, Janessa dropped onto her bed and buried her face in her hands. What am I going to do?

to be continued...

Fictional Story: 1 Nephi 2:15 continued

2010-06-15T10:07:00.000-07:00

Things at the basketball court were better with Iris away visiting her grandmother. Shayla merely ignored Janessa, and the other girls were as friendly as they usually were. Although Janessa missed Iris, she was relieved that she didn't have to worry about making any choices between church and her best friend right away.

Her Sunday School lesson the previous week had encouraged her. Sister Kyle taught about Abraham and Isaac. Janessa was thrilled with the story; she loved how devoted Abraham was to the Lord in his willing obedience to all of His commandments. But the best part of the story was when the Lord told Abraham he didn't need to kill his son, and then He provided a ram for the sacrifice instead.

If I show Heavenly Father that I am willing to choose Him over Iris, maybe He won't make me actually make the choice.

Janessa dribbled the ball and rushed toward the basket as she thought about Abraham. She made her shot and felt the familiar thrill in her stomach as it swished through. Everything will be okay. It will be just like old times when Iris gets back. Cheered by her thoughts, Janessa settled into her game, enjoying the freedom of running back and forth on the court and the solid feel of the basketball in her hands.

When she returned home later, drenched in sweat, Janessa paused at the computer before jumping in the shower. She logged on to her e-mail and held her breath--still no messages from Iris. Janessa's shoulders slumped forward as the adrenaline from her workout seeped out of her. She climbed into the shower, wishing she could wash away her pain and disappointment along with the sweat and dirt.

A few hours later, Janessa sat in her living room with Brother and Sister Canfield. Sister Canfield was one of the advisers from church; she and her husband were there to teach Janessa the follow-up lessons. Janessa found it hard to concentrate as they tried to teach her about laws and ordinances of the gospel. She realized that her visitors were staring at her expectantly as if they had asked her a question and were awaiting her reply.

"I'm sorry; my mind seems to have wandered."

"Brother Canfield asked if you have any friends that you might want to share the gospel with." Sister Canfield said.

"Oh." Janessa swallowed. "I...I don't think so.

"What about the girl you were telling us about on Sunday? The one you invited to your baptism; what was her name? Irene?"

"Iris." She shook her head. "No."

Sister Canfield clasped her hands in her lap and studied Janessa for a few moments. "Janessa, I was about your age, sixteen or so, when I joined the church. A friend of mine, who later admitted she never thought I'd be interested, asked me to attend an activity with her. I agreed and had so much fun, I continued to attend. Eventually I started going to church, and then took the missionary lessons and was baptized." She paused. "I'm so grateful she took a chance on me."

Janessa again shook her head. "That's not Iris." She plucked at non-existent lint on her shirt. "Iris won't talk to me anymore." Her voice shook, but she resisted the tears that threatened. "Does the Lord really ask people to choose between His church and their friends?"

Moving to sit beside Janessa, Sister Canfield replied, "I'm afraid He sometimes does. But if it does happen, I know you'll find other friends. There are lots of wonderful girls in our ward."

"But Iris has known me forever. She knows all of my secrets and my weaknesses. We've been like sisters all these years. No one can ever know me the way she does."

"That's not true." Sister Canfield said quietly. "Heavenly Father knows you better than Iris knows you, better than you know yourself. Trust Him to know what's best for you as well."

After the Canfields left, Janessa decided to check the computer one last time before getting ready for bed. She gasped in excitement when she saw that Iris had sent her a message.

to be continued...

Fictional Story: 1 Nephi 2:15 continued

2010-06-11T10:52:00.000-07:00

Paula Jenkins, Janessa's mother, sat at their small kitchen table with her feet propped up on the chair next to her, her high-heel shoes discarded on the floor. She smiled tiredly at her daughter when she entered the house.

"Hey Nessa! How did everything go? I wish I could have been there for you."

Janessa plopped down on the chair across from her mom and rested her head and arms on the table. "The baptism was beautiful. I felt clean and wonderful, and warm." She sighed. "Afterwards wasn't so great." Janessa told her mother about Iris's absence and her reaction at the court.

Paula rubbed her hand across her eyes. "Don't judge Iris too harshly. This religion stuff is new to her; I doubt she really understands any of it--I know I don't get a lot of it."

"But shouldn't she support me in my choices? She supposed to be my best friend."

"She should," Paula nodded, "but Iris has to make her own choices." Paula looked at her daughter for a moment. "If it comes down to choosing between Iris and this new religion of yours, what will you do?"

Janessa studied the scratches on the tabletop. "I hope it doesn't come to that."

Paula patted Janessa's hand as she rose from her chair. "Me too, Nessa, but you need to think about what's really important to you. You and Iris have been friends for a long time." She bent down and retrieved her shoes. "I'm headed to bed. You have another big day tomorrow."

On Sunday, Janessa sat beside her mother on one of the short pews along the wall of the chapel. Even though her mother wore a skirt of some kind nearly everyday to work, she appeared uncomfortable and out of place. "Relax, Mom," Janessa whispered in her ear.

"Are you sure no bolts of lightening are going to come out of the ceiling?" Paula asked with a slight smile.

"Well, not entirely."

"How encouraging. So what happens now?"

Janessa explained how the meeting would go, when the elders would confirm her a member of the church, and what would follow.

"No preacher shouting fire and brimstone?"

"No, Mom."

As the meeting progressed, Janessa glanced frequently at her mother, hoping she was feeling some of the spirit that Janessa was. When she sat back down beside her after her confirmation, Janessa thought she saw wetness at the corners of her mother's eyes, but she couldn't be sure.

Paula was quiet as Janessa walked with her to the car after the meeting ended. "That was a nice meeting," she finally said as she climbed in and started the engine.

"It was. I wish you could stay for the rest of church."

"Sorry. You know I have to get to work. I'll see you tonight."

Janessa watched her mother drive away and again felt some of her joy melt. Iris was supposed to come with me today. I really wanted to take her to Young Women's and introduce her to some of the girls. Her mind drifted back to her mother's words the night before. Please don't make me choose between You and Iris.

to be continued...

Ficitonal Story: 1 Nephi 2:15 continued

2010-06-08T11:43:00.001-07:00

Janessa swallowed hard, uncertain how to respond to Iris's open hostility. The other girls on the court watched to see what would happen. "I thought you were coming." Janessa said quietly.

"Obviously not," Iris replied with a shrug.

"You promised."

"I promised so you'd leave me alone about it. I'm not into that religious junk, and I don't need some preacher or whatever telling me how to live."

The two girls stared at each other for a moment. Finally, Iris looked away.

"So are you playing or are you too clean now to play ball with us?"

Janessa smiled and shook her head. "I'm playing!"

"Good. The other team could use some help."

Ignoring the shocked stares of the other girls, Janessa jogged onto the court, stretching her arms as she did. We always play on the same team. What is up with her? Janessa did a few quick lunges, watching Iris out of the corner of her eye. She saw Shayla walk over to her and whisper something in her ear. They both laughed. Shayla's quick to move in on my best friend.

When daylight finally yielded to the pressing shadows, Janessa slowly walked home. She was grateful for the sweat that dripped onto her face and masked her tears. Shayla and Iris's laughter drifted back to her from somewhere further down the road.

I don't understand. Janessa wiped at her tears and tried to figure out what she had done wrong. All through basketball, Iris and Shayla had bullied and teased her, pushing her down when they could find an excuse to do so. We've stood by each other through just about everything--chicken pox, second grade and that awful Mr. Greysen, Iris's widespread psoriasis, even mom's surgery. Why is she doing this now?

As she approached her house, Janessa saw the porch light on and her mother's small car in the driveway. She cheered up the slightest bit. Mom can make things better.

to be continued...

Fictional Story: 1 Nephi 2:15

2010-06-04T09:16:00.000-07:00

Janessa sat stiffly on the metal chair, mentally reminding herself to sit like a lady. The white cotton dress she wore was beautiful but extremely uncomfortable. Give me a t-shirt and basketball shorts any day. But, despite her discomfort, Janessa felt her heart flutter with excitement as she listened to Sister Morton talk about the importance of her upcoming baptism.

As the sister missionary finished speaking and motioned for Janessa to come forward, Janessa gave the back of the room one last quick glance. Where is she? She promised she'd be here. Then Sister Morton escorted her to the entry of the baptismal font and Janessa found herself entering the warm, clear water. She moved hesitantly down the steps to stand beside Elder Innman who helped her position her hands for the ordinance.

The elder's voice was as comforting as the water. Janessa listened to him utter the baptismal prayer and then held her breath as he gently pushed her below the surface and pulled her back up. She smiled as she brushed the water from her face; her entire body tingled with goosebumps, but she wasn't cold. Sister Morton beckoned to her from the stairs, holding a fluffy white towel.

"Come along Janessa. Sister Pedersen will keep everyone occupied while you dry off and get dressed."

Janessa pressed the towel to her face. "I've never felt so good in my life. I want this feeling to last forever." She hurried to the dressing room where she changed into a pleated pale green skirt and a white blouse. Only a small improvement from the dress. She squeezed her head-full of small braids as dry as she could get them and then returned to her seat. Although she was greeted with smiles, disappointment tugged at her heart when she glanced at the back of the room. Iris, where are you? You've never gone back on a promise before.

The program ended by singing Janessa's favorite hymn, "How Great Thou Art" and Elder Carver offered the benediction. Janessa's new Young Women's leader greeted her with a hug and handed her a bag of goodies.

"Be sure to bring the bag to class tomorrow. We always give a prize when the girls remember their bags."

Everyone in the room congratulated her and she was pulled into more embraces than she could count. As soon as she arrived home, Janessa yanked off her clothes and dressed in something more comfortable. She didn't bother calling Iris; she knew where to find her. Grabbing her basketball, Janessa jogged down to the park where she found Iris and their other friends already on the court, their clothes wet with exertion.

"Iris! Iris!" Janessa called.

Iris snapped a pass to another girl, and watched as the other girl dribbled up to the net and took her shot. Only after the ball soared through the net did she turn to face Janessa.

"What?"

to be continued...

Scripture Squiggle: 1 Nephi 2:15

2010-06-01T09:38:00.000-07:00

"And my father dwelt in a tent."

Okay, I have to admit that I really chose this scripture because I spent last week at Girls' Camp. The scripture has been on my mind, though, and I have been pondering the different things we can learn from it. The verse becomes more powerful when we read it in context with verse 4:

"And it came to pass that he departed into the wilderness. And he left his house, and the land of his inheritance, and his gold, and his silver, and his precious things, and took nothing with him, save it were his family, and provisions, and tents, and departed into the wilderness."

So it doesn't sound like Lehi, or his family, was used to roughing it. They had a house as well as riches and precious things--likely luxury items--that they left behind. Yet in Nephi's simple observation, we see that Lehi was willing to give all of that up to fulfill the commandments of the Lord. Which leads me to ask: what am I willing to give up for the Lord? Could I leave behind my house and the comforts it yields? What about money--I don't have much, but would I be willing to part with what I have? Or my precious things--computers, cars, cell phones, ovens, electricity? Or maybe the Lord has things of a different nature in mind. Maybe my time--time I spend with my family or relaxing by myself?

The only way to find out what sacrifice the Lord requires of us is to ask Him. And when we receive the answer, we need to remember that the Lord will not ask us to give him more than we are able to give.

Scripture Squiggle: Jarom 1:11-12

2010-05-18T09:15:00.000-07:00

"Wherefore, the prophets, and the priests, and the teachers, did labor diligently, exhorting with all long-suffering the people to diligence; teaching the law of Moses, and the intent for which it was given; persuading them to look forward unto the Messiah, and believe in him to come as though he already was. And after this manner did they teach them.
And it came to pass that by so doing they kept them from being destroyed upon the face of the land; for they did prick their hearts with the word, continually stirring them up unto repentance."

As I read these verses, I thought about our recent Stake Conference. During the Saturday night adult session, I listened as our leaders and fellow members of the stake taught us principles of the Gospel that were definitely not new. Not a conference goes by that we do not hear from some member of our mission presidency about missionary work and our part in it. Obviously what has been said about General Conference applies at the stake level--"It seems that the Lord recognizes the necessity of repetition in impressing upon the minds of the people any message he has to give. Our Savior, in his teaching, would repeat, time and time again, in different language the same idea, apparently to fasten it irrevocably upon the minds and hearts of his hearers." (Teachings of Heber J. Grant)

We have to be receptive to the spirit in order for our hearts to be pricked in the manner Jarom spoke about. Again, at our Saturday session, I felt the spirit as those assigned speakers shared their messages with us. But on Sunday, amid countless trips to the bathroom with my 1, 3, and 5 year olds, I found it difficult to feel even a part of the messages that were given. My mind was occupied with other matters and my heart was unable to be pricked to remembrance.

I hope to try harder to be receptive to the spirit so that I can be reminded of what is important, that I may be "continually stirr[ed] up unto repentance."

Fictional Story: Alma 61:13

2010-05-14T15:09:00.000-07:00

Continued from Fictional Story: Doctrine and Covenants 98: 9-10

Ethem absently placed a piece of stale flatbread into his mouth as he watched the old man's shaky hands tap an image out of the stone. The shape of a jaguar's head emerged when the man carefully blew the chiseled dust away. He studied his work for a moment and then raised his obsidian tool and hammer and resumed his tapping.

"Andibmer, your work is the finest in the kingdom." Ethem said, moving closer to the old man and offering him the last few bites of his bread.

"You've known no life but imprisonment since the day of your birth, Ethem. You have nothing to compare my work to." Andibmer accepted the bread and sat down against the wall of the prison workroom.

"No," Ethem pressed on, "but King Riplakish himself seeks you out to carve and chisel the precious ornaments for his towers and buildings. Isn't that proof enough?"

Andibmer snorted. "All that proves is that I'm the most talented prisoner he can compel to do his work for him. Riplakish wouldn't recognize anything of true value if it dropped from the sky and landed in his gluttonous lap."

Ethem sat beside the old man. "Riplakish has ruled in Moron for over forty years, taxing the people to fund his buildings, his towers, and his throne, not to mention all of the prisons to hold those who could not or would not pay his taxes." He rubbed his thumbnail with his finger. "How many of those years have you spent here, Andibmer?"

The old man crumbled the last bit of bread and let it fall to the dirt floor. "Forty-one years and seven months." He turned to face Ethem, the slightest trace of tears sparkled in the corner of his eyes. "I was thirty-two, in my last year of apprentice to a stone carver, betrothed to the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on. My master lacked the money to pay Riplakish's outrageous tax, so he paid with me instead."

Ethem shook his head and laid his hand on the man's bony shoulder. "Too many similar stories can be found in all of Riplakish's prison's throughout Moron. He has afflicted the people, both within and without the prisons." He took a deep breath. "The time has come to throw off the burdens Riplakish has cast upon us and drive him and his family from the land."

Andibmer offered his young companion a grim smile. "And who will reign in his stead? Someone else seeking power and glory?"

"No. We will govern ourselves, never again to let someone with only his own interests in mind have power over us to afflict us as he has."

"Grand views, Ethem. Very grand." Andibmer rose from the ground, his joints creaking and popping as he did. "I hope all goes as you plan, that freedom and righteousness may be restored to the land." He grabbed his tools and returned to his stone carving.

Ethem gently grabbed the man's arm. "Your freedom shall be restored as well, Andibmer. You will have your life back!"

Andibmer slowly shook his head. "Look at me, Ethem. I am old. I have lived my life; it cannot be restored to me. All that might have been, must remain as might have been."

"But..."

"No, no, Ethem. Do not sorrow for me. I regained my freedom many years ago."

"How is that possible when you have resided here for so long?"

"Riplakish indeed stole everything from me when he placed me in this prison so many years ago. Although he could deny me my earthly possessions, even keep me from marrying and fathering children, Riplakish could not keep me from having faith in the Lord, from trusting that someday He would free me."

Ethem's face was drawn with confusion. "But the Lord has not freed you!"

"Ah but he has. He freed me the day he showed me how much I still had."

"Like what?"

"My life."

"But in prison!"

"Food to eat, people to talk to and befriend me."

"But in prison," Ethem repeated.

"I got to spend my entire life doing what I loved best, coaxing pictures from plain stone, creating beauty where before was only potential."

"But at what cost?" Ethem shook his head.

"Someday you'll understand. Remember me for this, Ethem, that I lived in peace with the lot I was given. No one can say I yielded to the circumstances forced upon me. Although I am Riplakish's subject, a member of his kingdom, I am not subject to Riplakish for my happiness and joy--that I found through the Lord.

Scripture Squiggle: Alma 61:13

2010-05-11T12:02:00.000-07:00

"But behold he doth not command us that we shall subject ourselves to our enemies, but that we should put our trust in him, and he will deliver us."

Pahoran is referring to very literal enemies who are trying to take over the government and destroy the freedom of the people. Together Captain Moroni and Pahoran are able to withstand the king-men and restore the government to the chief judge. The Lord, and His power, was with them, allowing them to be delivered from their enemies.

In applying this scripture to our own lives, we should remember that our enemies don't always come in the form of people that hate us. Enemies, in gospel terms, are things that try to pull us away from the Iron Rod and lead us down the wrong path. We should also look closely at the word "subject." If someone were suffering from a debilitating illness, something that threatened their faith so that every day was a struggle to keep going onward and remember the eternal purposes of life, that illness could qualify as an enemy. This particular enemy also counts as a trial, something the Lord has given this person to help build their faith and testimony. In this case, not allowing ourselves to become subject to our enemies takes on a little bit of a different meaning.

Here it doesn't mean that we won't experience trials, but that we shouldn't allow ourselves to be ruled by them. The person who yields to the enemy of illness allows himself to become bitter and resentful that he has to suffer rather than seeking the Lord's will and allowing himself to grow from the experience. The same thing applies to the enemies known as death, pain, sorrow, etc. When we face each of these, or any other "enemies," we should remember Pahoran's counsel to Moroni and "put our trust in [the Lord], and he will deliver us." Keep in mind, of course, that the deliverance is on the Lord's timetable and not ours.

Fictional Story: Doctrine and Covenants 98:9-10

2010-05-09T12:52:00.000-07:00

King Riplakish ran his hand over the polished gold ornamenting the back the marble throne. The tails of two dragons intertwined at the center, and their bodies stretched out to form the arms of the chair, with their angry mouths opening for a mighty roar. The throne's legs were those of dragons as well, with sharp claws scratching into the floor beneath them. The seat was far enough off the ground that the King required a stool to reach it.

Riplakish nodded in satisfaction. "Very fine work," he said as the artist of the chair rubbed it a final time with a soft cloth. "It is a throne worthy of my office." He waved his hand at the thin, stooped man who twisted the cloth nervously in his hands. "Return him to the prison until I have further need of him."

"But, you promised me that if I built you this throne, more beautiful than that of the ancient kings, that you would grant me my freedom!" The man's voice was as thin and raspy as his frame.

Riplakish tapped his finger against his lips as he considered the man's plea. "No, Andibmer, I cannot risk losing your skills. The east tower is nearly complete and will require a master's touch." The king paused. "However, I will move you to the Inner Prison and I will see that you receive of the first-foods. Take him away."

Andibmer fought against the two men who pulled him out of the room. "One day," he shouted at Riplakish, "you will die for the wickedness you've brought upon this people."

"Wickedness?" Riplakish adjusted his feathered headdress and tossed his silken cloak over one shoulder. "I have restored this people to greatness, brought back the beauty and glory of this land that was lost when the poisonous serpents invaded the land and drove us southward. Without me, Moron would be a mere shadow, a pathetic reflection of what it once was, not the glorious kingdom it is today."

"Your father restored the land; he built up a broken and suffering people and reminded them of the many blessings the Lord had shown our father Jared and his brother. He brought our people back to God, and in so doing, restored our glory."

Riplakish struck Andibmer across the face with the back of his hand. His polished silver ring tore the skin on the prisoner's cheek. "Enough! Return him to the prison at once."

To be continued...

Scripture Squiggle: Doctrine and Covenants 98:9-10

2010-05-04T09:08:00.000-07:00

"Nevertheless, when the wicked rule the people mourn.

"Wherefore, honest men and wise men should be sought for diligently, and good men and wise men ye should observe to uphold; otherwise whatsoever is less than these cometh of evil."

When the wicked rule the people mourn. This is true on so many levels. Of course we have seen numerous instances in government, both modern and ancient, where the people have suffered when someone with unrighteous desires has power in the government. The people of ancient Israel suffered terribly when they were ruled by wicked kings, as did the Nephites. In modern times, leaders such as Saddam Hussein have oppressed their people as they have sought for their own gratification. But wicked rulers can create mourning in smaller settings. Look at all of the problems the wicked governors of business have caused. Corrupt businessmen hurt their employees and often the economy as well. Fathers and husbands who do not rule their homes in righteousness hurt their wives and children spiritually, physically, and emotionally. Whenever wicked men and women are given even the tiniest bit of power, those who come under that power suffer.

Our responsibility to seek for honest and wise men, and to uphold them when we do find them, is an extremely important one. For as Mosiah cautioned, "if the time comes that the voice of the people doth choose iniquity, then is the time that the judgements of God will come upon you." (see Mosiah 29:27)

Fictional Story: 1 Nephi 9:5-6

2010-04-30T09:30:00.000-07:00

Nothing could be more hideous than my blue minivan. Okay, so something could be, but it had to be really bad. I stood on the side of the interstate and glared at the ugly hulk of blue that had embarrassed me by suddenly decelerating and then obstinately refused to start up again. My toddler sat in his car seat behind the driver's seat watching the cars speed by. I kicked at the passenger tire and muttered under my breath, "Stupid van."

At least I'd had the foresight to leave early for my OB appointment. When my mom arrived to rescue my son and I, I still had time to get to the doctor's. I drove my mom's new Pontiac Vibe to the appointment, enjoying the new smell, the cleanliness of the interior and the smooth sparkle of the flawless silver paint. It reminded me of my dream van--the van I'd been privileged to own for a mere fourteen months. That minivan had also been silver, with double sliding doors I could control with the touch of a button, an awesome radio system that let my kids listen to their music, while I enjoyed my own. Everyday that I drove my van, I discovered some new, wonderful trait that it possessed. Until my husband totaled it and the insurance company refused to cover it because he was unlicensed.

And now I was stuck driving the ghetto van, as my brothers liked to call it, because they were the lucky ones who got to work on it every time it broke down--which was often. Against my will I had learned such wonderful terms as distributor cap, power steering box, ignition box, and oxygen sensor; I could locate most of them and replace some of them. I suppose I might have been able to handle the van's continual problems if I had been the only person to suffer the consequences, but far too often I had one or more of my kids in the car, and I hated to see them sitting on the side of the road, imagining all the fun they were missing at their grandparents' house while we waited for someone to fix the van. And I couldn't stand to see their hot, sweaty faces as we drove around in the Phoenix heat with only minimal air flow in the front, and no rear A/C--not to mention the fact that the power windows refused to open.

Why would the Lord make us suffer so? What purpose was there to us being stuck with such a terrible vehicle? I had prayed often for the Lord to help us get a newer vehicle, something clean and reliable. Now, on my way to the doctor, I wondered again why my prayers went unanswered. Baby number six was due to join the family in a few weeks; how could I subject our new family member to the trauma of riding in the ghetto van?

But still our prayers went seemingly unheeded. Baby number six arrived, and we had to redo the entire front end of the van after a tire nearly slipped off. We bought battery powered fans and did our best to cope with the summer's tortuous temperatures. We Gorilla Glued the leak in the A/C unit, and replaced the power steering gaskets. And still I prayed for a newer vehicle.

I began to panic as the arrival of baby number seven neared. Although I had resigned myself to the ugly blue van, and even was able to recognize what a blessing it was to have any vehicle at all, the van only had room for eight passengers. When the baby came, we would be one seat short.

Finally, three months before my due date, the awaited miracle arrived. I found myself driving home in a nearly new, twelve-passenger van. I marveled at its new smell, its cleanliness, and the flawless shining white paint. And I spent days trying to convince myself that it was really mine. What wise purpose had the Lord had in mind as he had me wait all those years for what I wanted and needed?

Never have I cared for a vehicle as I care for the van. And from all of the selfless service people rendered to me when my car was broken, I have learned to share, to give back. I fill up those seats as often as I can.

Scripture Squiggle: 1 Nephi 9:5-6

2010-04-27T11:56:00.000-07:00

"Wherefore, the Lord hath commanded me to make these plates for a wise purpose in him, which purpose I know not.
But the Lord knoweth all things from the beginning; wherefore, he prepareth a way to accomplish all his works among the children of men; for behold, he hath all power unto the fulfilling of all his words. And thus it is. Amen."

It may have seemed a little strange to Nephi to have the Lord ask him to make a second record on a different set of plates when he had already kept a full record of his people. But he had learned to trust the Lord because He "knoweth all things from the beginning," and if the Lord said the second record was necessary, Nephi did not doubt Him. Nephi did not live to see the Lord's purpose accomplished, but we can be sure he later learned what that purpose was and was grateful that he had chosen to be obedient.

We are often asked to do things that don't make much sense. Instead of doubting the Lord, though, we should do our best to obey Him. Someday we may see the purpose behind the task, or the purpose may, as in Nephi's case, come after we have left this life. No matter which it may be, we can be sure that the Lord has a reason for asking us to do things, to suffer things, to endure, and our lives and the lives of others will be blessed for our obedience.

Fictional Story: Proverbs 15:4

2010-04-23T09:29:00.000-07:00

Izabelle dropped her french fry onto her tray and covered her ears to block out the punch line of a dirty joke someone at her table was sharing with the group. She sighed as she retrieved her fry and stabbed it into a pool of ketchup. A woman a few seats away let out a string of profanity and everyone laughed. Izabelle abandoned her fry in its red bath and dumped her tray at the garbage.

The knots in her stomach remained as she left the break room and returned to work. If I only had to endure the language at lunch, I might survive. But I hear it out on the dock while I'm working, too. No one seems to respect the fact that I don't participate. With a shake of her head, she pushed her cart over to where she left off and began counting boxes of laundry soap on the first pallet. She enjoyed a brief fifteen minutes of peace until the unloader returned. The young man climbed onto his forklift and drove it into the trailer. On his first try he managed to poke a box of laundry soap with one of his forks. Cussing, inevitably followed.

Izabelle frowned and tried to block it out. That's it! I'm buying earplugs. She continued counting boxes of detergent and moved on to pallets of diapers, cringing every time a foul word disturbed the air. As she finished up her third pallet of diapers, the new girl Marcy approached her.

"Can you help me?" Marcy asked. "I pushed something I shouldn't have on this darn scanner and now it just beeps at me when I scan a barcode."

Izabelle took the scanner and began pushing buttons. While she messed with it, her unloader came over to tell her the trailer was empty and to give her the last of the paperwork. "I just have to clean up the..." The unloader swallowed and gave Marcy a sidelong glance. "Uh, I have to finish sweeping the spilled soap, so they can bring in another trailer."

"Okay." Izabelle studied the unloader for a minute as he walked away, certain that he'd been about to use an expletive until he looked at Marcy. She pushed a few more buttons on the scanner and then handed it back. "It should work now. Watch out for that yellow button on the left; it likes to mess everything up."

Over the next week, Izabelle observed how the other employees acted when Marcy was present. Everyone seemed to make a conscious effort to clean up their language, and if something did slip, they immediately apologized. Izabelle found that she wanted to be around Marcy as much as possible, so that she could be free of the bad language, too.

"Can you answer a question?" Izabelle asked Marcy one day when they were alone on the dock.

"Sure." Marcy smiled.

"Neither one of us uses profanity or tells off-colored jokes, so why is it that when you're around everyone keeps their language clean, but if it's just me, they talk vulgar and dirty?"

"Well, the first few days everyone spoke pretty much the way you say the do around you, but I told them that I didn't like it and asked if they would please not talk that way. By the end of my first week, everyone's language had improved."

"You asked them?" Izabelle mused. "I didn't even think of that. I figured that as long as I didn't participate they'd realize that I didn't like the way the talked."

Marcy patted Izabelle's arm. "Most often, people take silence to mean acceptance. If we don't voice our opinions, others will assume we share theirs." Marcy glanced at her watch. "It's just about break time; let's go let your opinion be known."

Scripture Squiggle: Proverbs 15:4

2010-04-20T09:18:00.000-07:00

"A wholesome tongue is a tree of life: but perverseness therein is a breach in the spirit."

How very true this is! As long as we are not desensitized to swearing and foul language, we find ourselves turned away by its use. When I hear someone speaking in vulgar tongue, I want to be as far from them as I can possibly get--hopefully out of earshot. But I am drawn to those who use clean and uplifting language. Their words feed my soul and help me to feel closer to the Lord.

President Hinckley counselled "To each of you I say, be clean in your language. There is so much of filthy, sleazy talk these days. Failure to express yourself in language that is clean marks you as one whose vocabulary is extremely limited." (Ensign May 2007)

Fictional Story: Alma 60:23

2010-04-18T14:00:00.000-07:00

"I just can't figure it out. How many tries is it supposed to take to quit smoking?" Nathaniel asked his son Preston.

Preston shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and combed his fingers through his hair. "There's no set number. You just keep trying until it works."

Nathaniel shook his head. A few locks of dark brown hair streaked with gray fell over his forehead. "I don't know." He sighed. "Maybe I'm just too old and set in my ways."

"Old? You're a walking time-bomb, Dad. If you don't quit, you're likely to die of a heart attack. You'll just have to prove that you can teach old dogs new tricks." Preston bit his lip. "I've got to get going; I'll look some stuff up on the Internet for you. Maybe I'll find something that will help you out."

"Thanks, Prez. I appreciate all the help and support you provide." Nathaniel escorted his son to the door and watched him drive away.

As soon as he rounded the corner, Preston opened his glove box and pulled out his stash of Marlboros. He felt the tension began to seep out of his body as soon as he placed the cigarette between his lips, even though he had yet to light it. He flicked the lighter and drew the flame into the cigarette; after several puffs, he held the cigarette between his first two fingers and let it dangle out the window.

Guilt engulfed him. His father thought he had quit smoking years ago, and now he was looking for help with his own addiction. You won't be able to help him until you conquer your own problem. Preston shoved the thought aside. He's older, and his heart is bad. He needs to quit or he could die. I'm still young--I have plenty of time to quit. I'm just not ready. He sucked in another lungful of tobacco and blew the smoke out slowly.

When he arrived home, Preston sat at his computer, staring at the black screen. After nearly ten minutes he finally reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a thick file folder. The folder held every bit of information he had ever found on quitting smoking. He had it all--nicotine patches, gum, hypnosis, prescription drugs, quitting support groups and websites, hot lines, and testimonials. When I'm ready, I'll know exactly how to do it. Preston flipped through some of the pages until he found some information he thought might help his dad. Then he sent his father an e-mail. The stress of his hypocrisy forced him to light up again.

Preston walked to the backyard and retrieved his hidden pack from the tool box in the shed. He was grateful that his wife, Loren, who also believed he'd quit smoking, had an appointment, so he could smoke in the comfort of his backyard instead of finding a reason to drive somewhere. Flipping the lid back, Preston counted his remaining cigarettes. Five? Now I'll have to figure out how to get some more, soon. His brow furrowed when he noticed a folded piece of paper tucked inside the carton.

He pulled it out and read in his wife's handwriting, although she'd tried to disguise it: Alma 60:23 Cleanse the inner vessel. Apparently I haven't been as sly as I thought. But if she knew, why didn't she confront me and toss out the cigarettes like she did before? Preston started to remove a cigarette from the carton, but then stopped. He replaced the carton in its hiding place and returned to the house. When he found his scriptures, he looked up the scripture from the note.

He read the verse and then went back and started at the beginning of the chapter. As he read about Moroni's struggles against the Lamanite army and the lack of support and supplies from the government, Preston began to see that he could not provide support for his father as long as he was held prisoner by his own addiction. He also saw that, although Pahoran could not fight off the king-men on his own, when he and Moroni joined together, they were able to defeat them.

Preston called his wife, knowing she wouldn't answer because of her meeting. "I'm ready to cleanse the inner vessel," he told her voice mail. Then he called his father.

Scripture Squiggle: Alma 60:23

2010-04-13T09:23:00.000-07:00

"Do ye suppose that God will look upon you as guiltless while ye sit still and behold these things? Behold I say unto you, Nay. Now I would that ye should remember that God has said that the inward vessel shall be cleansed first, and then shall the outer vessel be cleansed also."

In this scripture, Moroni is lecturing Pahoran about his lack of support for the armies. While he is referring to the government as the inward vessel and the attacking Lamanites as the outer vessel, his words can apply to individuals as well. When I was reading this verse, I thought about those of us who are so quick to find fault in others but can't see it in ourselves--the whole let me pull the mote out of your eye without first removing the beam from mine scenario. It's great to see others' struggles and to want to help them overcome them, but you can't really help others unless you've dealt with any issues you have in your own life. And we definitely shouldn't find pleasure in others' struggles as Moroni feared the government was doing to the armies.

Where do we begin to cleanse the inner vessel? I suppose it starts by looking inward. When we find ourselves judging others, we should ask ourselves if maybe we have a problem with this as well. As we consistently turn our thoughts back upon ourselves, we will criticize those around us less and be more aware of our own shortcomings--those things we need to cleanse.

Fictional Story: 3 John 1:4

2010-04-09T12:43:00.000-07:00

The breeze rustling through the pine trees lifted Lynette's hair from her shoulders and tossed it in her face. She brushed her hair aside and raised her face so the wind could wash over her. Glancing around, Lynette decided she'd found the spot she was looking for. A small cluster of trees yielded to an open space just large enough for her to kneel down. She cleared away some pine needles and a small pine cone and then slowly knelt in the soft dirt. Above her head, the tall trees swayed, the branches and needles whispered gently as the wind blew through them.

Lynette took a deep breath and pulled an envelope from the back pocket of her jeans. Before opening it, she examined her mother's looped, elegant writing on the front. Too bad I inherited Dad's chicken scratch. She stuck her finger under the flap, but stopped when she heard a noise nearby. Sister Jenkins had told them to find a quiet spot to read their letters, and Lynette didn't want to be disturbed. She peered around the trunk of one of the nearby trees and saw a flash of blue and red. Whoever it was, surely someone else attending Youth Conference, he or she was headed away from Lynette's location. Her attention returned to the envelope.

As she unfolded the letter, Lynette thought about what her mother may have written. Of course she'll tell me how proud she is of my grades and all of my hard work in school. And sports, too. She's so excited that I made varsity this year in Volleyball. She bit her lip and could feel her face turning red as her thoughts turned to Kyle. Will she mention Kyle and how cute we would be together? I can't wait until my birthday next month, when I can finally go on a date with him.

Smiling at herself, Lynette shook her head and began to read:

Dear Lynette,

I am so glad that the Lord trusted me enough to be your mother. Words cannot express the joy you bring into my life. As I watch you and the choices that you're making in your life, I am pleased that you are doing your best to rely on the Lord to help guide you. I see in everything that you do, that you know that you are a daughter of God. I am especially proud of your decision to listen only to uplifting music on Sunday, and really any day. You have no idea the influence that choice has had on your younger sister. She looks to you as a role model in her life. Your dress, appearance and demeanor are helping her determine her course.

Lynette, I know you're anxious to grow up and be a mother, but take your time in choosing who you want to be with for eternity. Little crushes may pass, but true, abiding love takes time to nurture and develop. You cannot know what you want, until you know what's out there. Get to know as many worthy young men as you can, so you can learn what you truly want from a marriage partner. You have plenty of time.

Again, my daughter, I am so grateful to see your wonderful testimony of the gospel of Christ. Continue to rely on Him throughout your life, and He will always be there to guide you along the path you should follow. I love you Lynette; always know that.

Love, Mom.

Lynette slid the letter back into the envelope. She moved from her knees to a sitting position, drawing her legs out in front and wrapping her arms around them. Resting her chin on her knees, she thought about what she'd read. With a sigh, she admitted to herself that she was disappointed. She'd wanted her mom to tell her how talented and beautiful she was. That she and Kyle would be together forever.

She looked up and watched the needles and pine cones dancing in the breeze. A few white clouds dotted the deep blue sky. A warm feeling crawled down her arms, leaving goosebumps behind. She brought her gaze back to the letter in her hands. Maybe mom knows that I already know how proud she is of me when it comes to sports and grades and all of that. She does tell me all the time. So maybe this other stuff is important to her, too. And I should keep doing my best to make her and Heavenly Father proud.

When Lynette stood up to return to the cabin and find out the next activity, the warm feeling stayed with her. She tucked the envelope back into her pocket, determined to place it safely in her journal, and to re-read it often.

Scripture Squiggle: 3 John 1:4

2010-04-06T09:32:00.000-07:00

"I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth."

I know I feel absolutely wonderful when people tell me how amazing my children are, but it is especially poignant when the praise is spiritually related. I joy when my kids tell me of a challenge they faced at school and that their response to it was to pray. I love when they acknowledge the Lord's hand in their lives.

So do we warm the hearts of our Heavenly Parents when we walk in truth, obeying the Lord's commandments. Yes, He loves when we excel at our jobs, get good grades, and solve difficult problems. But His work and glory is our eternal salvation, so His greatest joy comes when we walk the path He has marked for us.

Fictional Story: Alma 31: 21-23

2010-04-05T09:24:00.000-07:00

Corianton watched the Zoramite climb down from the high tower, his robe, ornamented with golden thread, shimmered as he moved. The sun sparkled on the man's jangling ringlets and bracelets.

"Wow, that's quite an outfit," Shiblon, Corianton's brother whispered to him.

"Yeah, the man can dress, but he sure is dumb." Corianton replied. "How can he think that he is saved yet in the same breath deny the Redeemer."

Shiblon looked to his father, Alma. "Father, where do they get these strange ideas?"

"Satan is very cunning. These people want to believe that they can be saved without any effort on their part. They want to justify their sins rather than forsake them." Alma's glance fell briefly on Corianton with his last words.

Corianton rolled his eyes. "How stupid. Won't they be surprised come judgement day!"

Alma looked again toward the Rameumptom. The first man had reached the bottom and a second man now ascended the tall ladder that lead to the top of the tower. His clothing was as elaborate as his fellow Zoramite's. When he reached the platform, the man stretched his hands up, as if reaching for heaven and began reciting the same prayer as the previous man.

Corianton snorted. "Not very creative are they?"

"Corianton," Alma chastised, "What have we been commanded concerning judging others?"

"I'm not judging them," Corianton protested, shaking his head. "They're condemning themselves with their blasphemy."

"I see the contempt in your eyes when you speak. You see these Zoramites as being less than you, sinners that deserve to feel the wrath of the Almighty." Alma paused to watch and listen as another Zoramite began his prayer. "When you condemn them, are you not ascending your own Rameumptom and thanking the Lord that you're saved and they are not?"

"Well, we do have the true gospel, don't we?"

"We do have the true gospel, yes. But we are only following it when we are humble and show charity to those around us. Corianton, these are precious souls, many of them are our brethren. We cannot merely mark them as lost and move on without even trying to bring them back to Christ."

Corianton took a deep breath. "Look at them, Father!" He gestured toward the tower and the people gathered around. "Do you really think they'll listen?"

"We all have our weaknesses, my son." Alma's blue eyes caught his son's gaze and held it. "We are all sinners in need of the Lord's redeeming love to save us. It matters not if they will listen, it only matters that we try, for their sake and our own."

Corianton looked away and said nothing.

"Come my son; climb down from your lofty thoughts, humble yourself. We have a mission to fulfill."

Scripture Squiggle: Alma 31:21-23

2010-03-30T09:40:00.000-07:00

"Now the place was called by them Rameumptom, which, being interpreted, is the holy stand.

Now, from this stand they did offer up, every man, the selfsame prayer unto God, thanking their God that they were chosen of him, and that he did not lead them away after the tradition of their brethren, and that their hearts were not stolen away to believe in things to come, which they knew nothing about.

Now, after the people had all offered up thanks after this manner, they returned to their homes, never speaking of their God again until they had assembled themselves together again to the holy stand, to offer up thanks after their manner."

I find it impossible not to judge the Zoramites, their high tower, and their ridiculous prayer, along with their once-a-week worship habits. They were so obviously wrong! But while it is easy for us to see the incorrectness of their tower and their prayer, how often do we climb upon a spiritual Rameumptom and look down at others, grateful that we have the truth and we'll be saved? In my mind I climb that tower as I sit in my car in the pick-up line at the school and see the man in front of me smoking his cigarette with a toddler in the backseat. Thanks, Lord that I can be better than this man that I don't know, because I have thy Gospel, and I don't smoke. And I ascend again at the store when I see that teenage boy with the spike through his ear, walking and complaining and cussing so that the entire world can hear. Again, thank thee Father that my son has the Gospel and that I don't let him go out and annoy other people with inappropriate dress and language.

Okay, so I don't actually say such prayers, but my attitude towards the people I see speaks the words just as effectively. Don't we all feel better when we see someone who falls short of the marks that we are able to conquer (just as we all feel rotten when we see someone who does well, that which we cannot)? So maybe the next time we feel ourselves scaling that ladder to the Rameumptom, we should make an effort to climb back down and remember that we have shortcomings as well.

Fictional Story: Proverbs 24:17-20; 3 Nephi 12:44

2010-03-26T12:41:00.001-07:00

A Little Friendly Competition

Rebecca Stone was the only thing blocking my path to a college education. She was also blocking my locker after classes let out on the first day of school our senior year.

“Cami Taylor, I didn’t see you in fourth hour AP Chemistry.”

“Of course you didn’t; I hate Chemistry. Do you mind moving?”

“What a shame. I thought you were serious about being valedictorian.” She flipped her hair around and started to walk away.

I forgot about getting in to my locker. “Rebecca, wait! What does Chemistry have to do with valedictorian?”

Rebecca smiled. “Everything. Our GPA’s are tied and we share five out of six classes. But that one class makes all the difference. If I score an A in Chemistry, it’s worth five points on the GPA scale. An A in your fourth hour class is only worth 4. So my GPA will be higher, I’ll be valedictorian and I’ll take the Silverton Scholarship.”

I felt as if Ryan Stanford, star of the varsity team, had just used me for tackle practice. My dreams of a higher education hinged on the Silverton Scholarship. John Silverton, the rich founder of our small Arizona town had died ten years ago. Through his will he established a $2000 scholarship awarded each year to the valedictorian of Desert West High School.

“I’m going to win the Silverton.”

“Not without AP Chemistry.”

My best friend Leslie walked up as Rebecca strolled away. “Cami, you look terrible. What did she say to you?”

I explained about AP Chemistry as I shuffled books in and out of my locker. “I’ll never be able to go to the University of Washington without that scholarship, Leslie. The full tuition scholarship the college has offered isn’t enough. I still need transportation up there and money for room and board.”

“It doesn’t have to be Washington. You could get a full ride to any college in the state.”

“It does have to be Washington.” My hand automatically reached for the college ring that hung from a silver chain around my neck – my father’s parting gift to me the summer after eighth grade.

He had come home to die, his voice scratchy and sharp from the breathing tube that had aided him for so many months. Pressing the ring into my hand he had said, “Promise me you’ll go to college, Cami. Make something of yourself. Don’t waste the precious time you have here.” Two days later, when we laid him in the ground, I had promised myself I would go to college, but not just any college, Daddy’s college – the University of Washington.

“Cami?” Leslie’s voice broke my reverie.

“I’m okay.” Slowly I released the ring. “I’m going to transfer into AP Chemistry.”

A week later, Principal Mallard asked me to meet with him after school. He sat at his desk with his fingers templed together.

"Good afternoon, Cami.” He cleared his throat and gestured for me to sit down. “We need to discuss the honor of valedictorian. The school board has voted to make the selection of valedictorian and salutatorian based off of student GPA’s after first semester.”

“First semester?”

“Yes, they feel that this will allow the recipients time to prepare their speeches and have them approved by the administration.”

Principal Mallard rearranged the photo paper weights on his desk. “If things remain as they are, Cami, you and Rebecca will be co-valedictorians and you will split the Silverton Scholarship. However, with the race as close as it is, it could be that mere hundredths of a decimal point will separate the two of you. In the instance that the numbers are that close, the district superintendent feels that the decision of whether to share the honors should rest with the student with the highest GPA.”

“So, if I’m on top I can decide if I want to share it with Rebecca?”

“Precisely.”

I thought about the Silverton money. One thousand might not be enough. Rebecca had never been very nice to me, except when she needed something. It would serve her right to end up with salutatorian. But that morning in Seminary we’d talked about Proverbs 24. ”Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth.” Thanks Sister Kampton. “Well, if it’s that close, I don’t mind sharing.”

He let out a sigh, removed his glasses and wiped his face with a handkerchief. “Don’t expect the same kindness from Rebecca. I met with her earlier today. She doesn’t care how close the GPA’s are. If she has the highest, she’ll take everything for herself.”

“Oh. Well, that doesn’t change my decision.” Inside I felt miserable, yet I tried to remind myself that I was doing the right thing.

Midterms arrived the week before Thanksgiving. Rebecca caught up with me in the hall outside U.S. History. “Hey Cam, how are the tests going?” She sounded friendly.

“Okay, I guess. Tomorrow’s the big one – Chemistry.”

“Yeah I know. Hey, I was hoping we could swap notes. It might really improve our chances for a good grade on the test.”

“Sure, that sounds great.” I dug through my backpack for my notes and handed them to her. “When will I get these back?”

“I’ll make copies of yours and mine after school. Meet me outside Government.”

That was the last time I saw my Chemistry notes. I was up well past midnight pouring over my Chemistry textbook trying to remember the explanations Mrs. Johnson had given in class. When my alarm went off at five, I was still sitting at my desk, head down with my left cheek sticking to the open page of the book.

Rebecca was waiting by the chemistry room after school. She shook her head when she saw me. “81% is pretty impressive for someone who didn’t have any notes. But it can’t compete with my 97%.”

I looked her in the eyes. “I hope my notes were useful to you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t even look at them before throwing them away.”

Leslie found me as I was unlocking the door of my 1975 Buick Apollo. Its puke green color matched the way I felt.

“There you are, girl! Did you forget about Debate Team?”

“No.”

“Then what’s going on? We were supposed to start the practice session for next week’s big meet ten minutes ago.”

I picked at a piece of peeling paint on the roof of my car. “I have to drop the team.”

“Why?”

“I got a B on the midterm. Every assignment, every test or quiz from here on out has to be perfect. I’ll be living and breathing Chemistry until after finals.”

“Why did you trust Rebecca anyway?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t mind sharing my notes. She’s never been super nice or anything, but I never expected her to steal them.”

Leslie laid her hand on my arm. “Rebecca’s your alternate. If you drop the team she gets to participate in the state meet.”

“What else can I do? She has me at every turn.”

On the day of the big debate meet I walked with Leslie to where the bus waited to take the team to Tucson and the University of Arizona. I tried unsuccessfully to ignore Rebecca’s smug grin as she waved at some friends from the bus window. Three pages of Chemistry work waited for me in my backpack.

At home I grabbed a bag of pretzels and got to work. Midway through the first page my mom rushed into my room, carrying two-month old Vanessa Carter.

“Cami, I need you to watch Vanessa. I’m late for work as it is.” She plopped Vanessa in my lap. “Her bottles are in the fridge, diapers and wipes are in her bag, and her schedule is on the notepad by the phone.”

“Why can’t Mrs. Carter watch Vanessa? She’s her baby.”

“Mrs. Carter is at the hospital. Her son is having an emergency appendectomy. Please, Cami, Mrs. Carter helped us during our time of need, let’s return the favor.” She kissed my forehead and hurried out of the house.

I looked down at Vanessa. She smiled and cooed at me. “Well, baby girl, I’ve got some school work to do. Why don’t you play on your blanket right here by my desk?” I spread her blanket out and laid her on it. As soon as I did, her innocent face puckered up and she began to howl. I gave her my stuffed animals to look at and the few toys I had kept for sentimental reasons. She continued to cry. I begged her to stop and promised to buy her a car on her sixteenth birthday. She continued to holler. Finally I picked her up. The second she was in my arms, she was quiet.

The schedule mom left indicated that Vanessa would probably nap in thirty minutes or so. I grabbed a couple of my old kids’ books and sat with Vanessa in the recliner. Part way through The Monster at the End of this Book she was asleep. I stood slowly, holding Vanessa against my chest. With infinite gentleness I laid her in the playpen Mom had set up. She fussed for a moment then settled down with an airy sigh.

I crept back to my homework. Before I could even pick up my pencil, her wails began again.

Vanessa and I had just drifted to sleep when my mom got home around 3 a.m. My arms ached from holding the baby and my chemistry work sat unfinished on my desk. Mom relieved me of Vanessa and sent me to bed. I set my alarm for an hour and a half earlier than usual and crawled under the sheets.

The sun creeping in my window woke me up long after my alarm should have. I grabbed the first clothes I could find, threw my books into my backpack, and spent fifteen minutes looking for my car keys.

At lunch, I was just desperate enough to ask Rebecca for help on my Chemistry assignment. She refused. When the fourth hour bell rang I still had a half a page left.

“In my class, Ms. Taylor, incomplete work is unacceptable. If you expect to pass the Advanced Placement Exam at the end of the year and receive college credit, I expect you to behave like a college student. I made my expectations clear at the start of the year: incomplete work is an automatic zero.”

I watched Mrs. Johnson draw a large red “0” on the top of my paper and viciously slash a line through it for emphasis. I could feel Rebecca’s laughing eyes on my back as I slunk to my seat.

It’s tradition for the teachers at Desert West to provide study notes on the Monday before finals, making attendance that day a must for any academically minded students.

I expected to see Rebecca already in her seat when I walked in the classroom after lunch, but her chair was empty. It remained empty all through class.

I had just pressed the handle down on the door to the U.S. History room when a voice behind me called out, “Cami, wait!” A sense of déjà vu struck me when I turned around and saw Rebecca. I hugged the folder that held my precious chemistry notes to my chest.

“What do you want?’

“I took some friends to the Pizzeria at lunch and my car wouldn’t start. I just got back. I need your notes; you know Mrs. Johnson will never give them to me.”

“You’re crazy. There are nineteen other people in the class. Ask one of them.” I shook my head, determined to enter the classroom and leave Rebecca to her woes.

“Cami, no one else in that class can take notes like you do. Please.”

All I had to do was open the door and go to class. Rebecca could never pull an A on the final without the notes and I, Cami Taylor, would be Desert West’s Valedictorian.

“Meet me by the flag pole after school. Give me ten minutes to get the copies made.” I opened the door without waiting for her reply.

I didn’t hear much of the lecture on the Great Depression. My thoughts kept wandering to the notes I had slipped into my backpack at the start of class. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was share them with Rebecca. A little voice kept whispering that poetic justice would be served if I left Rebecca standing at the flagpole, waiting all afternoon. Or I could give her blank pages. Or make five copies of just the first page. My head began to pound from the thoughts of retribution that flooded it.

It would serve her right. After all, she’s not willing to share valedictorian if our GPA’s are hundredths apart. And she stole my midterm notes. Why should I feel obligated to help her?

My headache continued throughout Government where Mr. Shaw offered tips on how we should determine which candidate to support in our upcoming mock election. I jotted quick notes down as he spoke: share beliefs and goals, clear and precise, does not avoid issues, honest. I put my pencil down and breathed out slowly. That was why I had to give Rebecca the notes. Because I believed in being honest. I rushed to the copy room after class.

Rebecca’s eyes widened in a surprised-relieved look when she saw me. “I didn’t think you’d show up.”

“If I’m going to be valedictorian and win the Silverton, it will be because I earned it, not because I cheated. Besides, I told you I would.”

She didn’t flinch. She snatched the notes out of my hand. “You’re not going to be valedictorian. You probably need a perfect score on the final just to pull an A in the class. We both know Chemistry is not your best subject. I, on the other hand, can get a B on the final and still have an A. And now that I have these notes, that won’t be a problem.”

I clenched my teeth and stomped away. Rebecca was close – I needed a 98%.

Leslie came over the night before the Chemistry exam. In between mouthfuls of ham-and-pineapple pizza she quizzed me on terms and formulas. After she left, I spent another two hours reviewing my old assignments and rereading the portions of the text that Mrs. Johnson had mentioned in the study notes. At ten I decided that all the studying in the world wouldn’t help me if I didn’t get enough sleep; I closed my textbook and went to bed.

When I walked into the Chemistry room the next day, my hands had already started shaking and my stomach was working on setting a new world record in summersaults. I sat at my desk and pulled out my notes; I had three minutes to fit in some more studying.

“I bet you studied all night.”

“I’m studying now, Rebecca. Go away.” I kept my gaze on my papers.

“I spent about thirty minutes looking over the notes you gave me before my parents took me out to dinner in anticipation of my victory.”

“Congratulations. Now go away.”

Five minutes later, after taking roll, Mrs. Johnson passed out the exams. Then she stood at the front of the classroom with a smile. “You may begin.”

It seemed only minutes later when the bell startled me out of my intense concentration, signaling the end of class.

Semester grades wouldn’t be posted until after Christmas break. I tried to enjoy shopping, watching movies and Christmas caroling from a trailer full of hay, but worry about my Chemistry grade hovered at the back of my mind. It was a relief then, when Principal Mallard called Rebecca and me to his office during second hour the first day back after break.

He asked to speak with me first and a sense of failure washed over me. Second place is always announced first. I sat down and fought with the tears that threatened to fall. “Meeting with us individually must mean we aren’t tied for first anymore.”

“A very intelligent deduction.” Principal Mallard replied as he sat down as well. “You know, Cami, I am a firm believer that people often get what they deserve.”

“That’s probably true.” I was losing the battle against the tears.

“So, I would like to congratulate you on obtaining the honor of valedictorian!”

“What? Valedictorian? Are you sure?”

“Quite sure, Cami.”

“But how?”

“Through a lot of hard work! Of course, it didn’t hurt any that you got straight A’s for the semester, again.”

“I got an A in chemistry? But then I should be tied with Rebecca.”

“You would have been, except that Rebecca got a B in Chemistry.”

Rebecca had no way of knowing the tears streaming down my face were tears of joy; she offered me her smug grin and walked into the principal’s office. My left hand clutched at my father’s ring. Principal Mallard was right – we do often get what we deserve. But I was much happier knowing that I had treated my “enemy” fairly and reserved judgment for the Lord.

Scripture Squiggle: Proverbs 24: 17-20; 3 Nephi 12:44

2010-03-23T09:50:00.000-07:00

"Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth, and let not thine heart be glad when he stumbleth;
Lest the Lord see it, and it displease him, and he turn away his wrath from him.
Fret not thyself because of evil men, neither be thou envious at the wicked;
For there shall be no reward to the evil man; the candle of the wicked shall be put out."

"But behold I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you."

Loving our enemies is not an easy task--especially when the opportunity arises to give back to them the mistreatment they've given us. In my life, I've had many chances to turn the other cheek, but I've chosen instead to give the person what I felt he deserved. Like the bill collector who keeps calling my house for somebody I've never heard of--and the caller is definitely not nice about questioning my integrity. After three or four times of telling this company that the person they're looking for does not live at my home, and no, I don't know who they are or where they might be, I get a little peeved. So on the fifth call, I gave the caller some of that irritation. Okay, so I felt better for a few minutes, but inevitably the guilt set in and I regretted my rash behavior.

In that moment, when the debt collector called my house yet again and I judged the caller worthy of my wrath, I forgot the Lord's warning that "with what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged" (see Matt 7:1). We need to remind ourselves, that if we want mercy from the Lord, we have to be merciful to those around us, not just the people we happen to like or know well.

Ficitonal Story: Alma 30:44

2010-03-19T10:56:00.000-07:00

Nephihah, the chief judge watched Alma rise from his seat beside him and descend the stairs until he stood level with Korihor. Alma's simple clothing--brown sandals, tan tunic and deep green robe--enhanced Korihor's elaborate dress. As Alma walked around the man, the gold rings on Korihor's bound hands glittered, and although the prisoner had been stripped of his elaborate cape and feathered headdress, Korihor's tunic was made of the finest-twined blue linen with intricate patterns embroidered along the sleeves and hem.

Interesting, Nephihah thought, that Korihor in his fine clothes could accuse Alma of glutting on the labors of the people. Below the dais, Alma stopped in front of Korihor; he held the prisoner's gaze with his piercing blue eyes. Yet Korihor didn't flinch; his eyes smoldered with disdain for the prophet.

"Believest thou that there is a God?" Alma questioned.

"Nay," Korihor snorted with disgust.

Without dropping Korihor's gaze, Alma asked slowly, "Will ye deny again that there is a God, and also deny the Christ? For behold, I say unto you, I know there is a God, and also that Christ shall come. And now what evidence have ye that there is no God, or that Christ cometh not? I say unto you that ye have none, save it be your word only. But behold, I have all things as a testimony that these things are true; and ye also have all things as a testimony unto you that they are true; and will ye deny them? Believest thou that these things are true?"

Alma swept his arms out to encompass the world and raised his head toward the heavens as he spoke. Korihor shook his head and a small smirk sat upon his lips.

The power in Alma's words sent pulses of joy shivering up Nephihah's arms. How can anyone deny God in the face of such testimony?

Whirling around, Alma again faced Korihor; his eyes narrowed at the prisoner. "Behold, I know that thou believest, but thou art possessed with a lying spirit, and ye have put off the Spirit of God that it may have no place in you; but the devil has power over you, and he doth carry you about, working devices that he may destroy the children of God."

Korihor bowed his head in mock humility. "If thou wilt show me a sign, that I may be convinced that there is a God, yea show unto me that he hath power, and then will I be convinced of the truth of thy words."

"Thou hast had signs enough," Alma said, "will ye tempt your God? Will ye say, Show unto me a sign, when ye have the testimony of all these thy brethren, and also all the holy prophets?" He paused and looked around the room at the group of priests and judges gathered in assembly. Alma returned his attention to Korihor. "The scriptures are laid before thee, yea and all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which do move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator."

Nephihah watched Korihor for a reaction, but he just stood before Alma with his self-satisfied smile. He knows the law cannot lay hold on him for his beliefs.

Alma regarded Korihor with pity. "And yet ye go about, leading away the hearts of this people, testifying unto them there is no God? And yet will ye deny against all these witnesses?"

Korihor barely suppressed a laugh. "Yea, I will deny, except ye shall show me a sign."

Shaking his head, Alma sighed. "Behold, I am grieved because of the hardness of your heart, yea, that ye will still resist the spirit of the truth, that thy soul may be destroyed. But behold, it is better that thy soul should be lost than that thou shouldst be the means of bringing many souls down to destruction, by thy lying and by thy flattering words; therefore if thou shalt deny again, behold God shall smite thee, that thou shalt become dumb, that thou shalt never open thy mouth any more, that thou shalt not deceive this people any more."

The haughtiness in Korihor's eyes faltered. Nephihah thought he detected the faintest tremor in Korihor's voice when he replied. "I do not deny the existence of a God, but I do not believe that there is a God; and I say also, that ye do not know that there is a God; and except ye show me a sign, I will not believe."

Alma stood up straight and turned away from Korihor. "Then this will I give thee for a sign, that thou shalt be struck dumb, according to my words; and I say, that in the name of God, ye shall be struck dumb, that ye shall no more have utterance.

Korihor opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. His lips moved, and his bound hands flew up to hold his throat as if they could force his voice to emerge. Nephihah watched him for a minute and then reached beside his seat for the flat black rock he kept for writing. Grabbing a sharp stone, he wrote upon the surface; then he stepped down to Korihor and allowed him to read the words: Art thou convinced of the power of God? In whom did ye desire that Alma should show forth his sign? Would ye that he should afflict others, to show unto thee a sign? Behold, he has showed unto you a sign; and now will ye dispute more?"

When he finished reading, Korihor gestured for the stone so that he could write. "I always knew there was a God. But behold, the devil hath deceived me." He continued to scratch words onto the surface of the stone, blaming the devil for teaching him the words to say when he deceived the people. "Please, Alma, pray that this curse be taken from me."

Alma thrust the stone away after reading Korihor's words. "If this curse should be taken from thee thou wouldst again lead away the hearts of this people; therefore, it shall be unto thee even as the Lord will."

Korihor's eyes widened with fear. He shook his head and mouthed the word "no" several times. But Alma turned away. "Free him," Alma said to Nephihah. "He will lead no more astray."

Nephihah nodded and one of his officers stepped forward and removed the ropes around Korihor's hands and feet. Korihor rubbed his wrists; he glared at Nephihah and spat in the direction that Alma had departed. Then he raised his head, resumed his look of disdain and marched out of the assembly hall.

Outside, his followers waited. They cheered when they saw him walk out, his bonds removed. Pushing and shoving to be near their leader, his followers gathered around him and waited for him to speak. Korihor smiled, nodded, and pumped his fists in the air, but his people wanted more. Finally, Korihor gave in, he moved his lips and pointed to his throat to indicate that he was dumb, mute, unable to speak.

At first, his followers thought he was just having fun with them, but when it became apparent that Korihor was truly dumb, they began to disperse. When all were gone, and Korihor remained alone, he was left with one thought echoing in his mind: Thou hast had signs enough.

Scripture Squiggle: Alma 30:44

2010-03-16T09:54:00.000-07:00

"But Alma said unto him: Thou hast had signs enough; will ye tempt your God? Will ye say, Show unto me a sign, when ye have the testimony of all these thy brethren, and also all the holy prophets? The scriptures are laid before thee, yea, and all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all the things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator."

I heard a country song recently that reminded me of this verse. I thought I'd share the lyrics.

Lee Ann Womack: There is a God (Songwriters: Chris Dubois and Ashley Gorley)

Try and put your arms around the 100 year old tree
Climb up on a horse and let him run full speed
Take a look out at the world from 30,000 feet
On your next flight

Watch a flock of birds against the morning sun
Close your eyes and listen to the river run
Catch a firefly in your hand or a raindrop on your tongue
That's right

There is a God
There is a God
There is a God
How much proof do you need?

Plant a seed and see what comes out of the ground
Find the heartbeat on your baby's ultrasound
In a few years hear him laughing
And don't it sound like a song?

Stop and think about what you don't understand
Things like life and love and how the world began
Hear the doctor say he can't explain it
But the cancer is gone

There is a God
There is a God
There is a God
How much proof do you need?

Science says it's all just circumstance
Like this whole world's just and accident
But if you want to shoot that theory down
Look around, just look around

There is a God
There is a God
There is a God
How much proof do you need?

Oh, there is a God
There is a God
There is a God
How much proof do you need?

Fictional Story: 3 Nephi 11:3-7

2010-03-12T11:57:00.000-08:00

Kimberlea set her knitting down with a sigh and pushed herself out of her rocking chair to answer the sharp rap on her door. She took a peek through the peephole. Mormon missionaries. Kimberlea shook her head and her short red curls danced around her face. With another sigh, she pulled the door open.

"Good afternoon, Elders." She said and smiled as they looked at each other in confusion.

"Uh, are you LDS?" the taller of the two asked.

She leaned closer to read his name badge. "No, Elder Boon, but I have been taught by Mormon missionaries before." She paused. "Twice actually."

"Oh. well what do you think about what you learned?"

It's true. Kimberlea nearly jumped when the thought popped into her head. She shook her head trying to expel it. "You boys are good kids, and the things you teach are nice. But your church isn't for me."

"Well, take these anyway," the shorter missionary said with the slightest hint of a Hispanic accent. He pushed a handful of pamphlets into her hand. "Our number's on the back, so you can call us if you ever have any questions."

Kimberlea watched through the gap in the living room curtains as the two young men walked away. When they turned the corner at the end of the street, she dropped the pamphlets on the table; then she sat back down and retrieved her knitting needles. They flashed in her agile hands and within a few minutes she had completed a tiny set of green and white booties. She placed the pair in a basket at her side, nearly filled with more booties in varying shades of blue, pink, yellow and green. In a few days I'll have enough to drop off at the hospital.

Her eyes narrowed as her thought reminded her of the last time she had allowed the missionaries into her home.

"Are you telling me that unless I'm baptized into your church that I can't get into heaven?"

The sister missionary pulled her hair away from her face and swallowed hard before answering. "Heavenly Father has commanded us to be baptized, even Jesus Christ submitted to this law."

Kimberlea frowned. "Jesus wasn't baptized into your church."

"Well, no, but..."

Kimberlea cut her off. "You're telling me that all of the good deeds I do are worth nothing to the Lord unless I'm baptized." She grabbed her Bible from the coffee table and flipped to the page she wanted. "What about 'ye see then how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only'? It says nothing about baptizing here, and a whole lot about justification."

The sister and her companion exchanged a quick glance but said nothing.

"I think our meetings are done. I'd appreciate it if you don't contact me again."

That was two years ago, and Kimberlea still felt her chest tighten and her face flush with anger. I'm a good person; surely the Lord will see all that I have done in His name and find that far more important than which church I belong to.

Kimberlea stood up and stretched out her limbs. When she turned back to place her needles and yarn in the basket a trailing strand caught on the coffee table and pulled the pamphlets onto the floor. Kimberlea bit her lip to keep from getting angry. I should've just thrown them away to begin with. As she picked the pamphlets up, however, she felt drawn to cover picture on one of them. It was a depiction of Christ speaking with the Samarian woman at the well. I've always loved this story.

She sat back down with the pamphlet in her hand, admiring the artwork. As she studied it, a verse came to her mind--one she'd helped her granddaughter memorize for Bible School last summer.

"Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water."

"A lovely portrayal of that scene." Kimberlea said aloud. She placed the stack of pamphlets back on the table and walked into the kitchen.

Kimberlea, why do you reject my gift?

Kimberlea froze with one hand on the handle of the refrigerator. The voice, although quiet, had sounded like it came from right next to her. She glanced around, but saw no one. "What gift?"

She heard no reply, only the buzzing of the fridge and the heavy ticking of her old fashioned cuckoo clock. "What gift?" she asked again, but softer this time, more to herself. Then she remembered the pamphlet and the verse she had rehearsed. Kimberlea hurried back to the living room and grabbed the stack. She spent the next hour reading through them. When she was done, she reached for the phone.

Elder Boon's voice filled the line.

With her voice shaking, Kimberlea identified herself and asked, "Is it too late for me?"

"Of course not."

Scripture Squiggle: 3 Nephi 11:3-7

2010-03-09T08:21:00.000-08:00

"And it came to pass that while they were thus conversing one with another, they heard a voice as if it came out of heaven; and they cast their eyes round about, for they understood not the voice which they heard; and it was not a harsh voice, neither was it a loud voice; nevertheless, and notwithstanding it being a small voice it did pierce them that did hear to the center, insomuch that there was no part of their frame that it did not cause to quake; yea, it did pierce them to the very soul, and did cause their hearts to burn
And it came to pass that again they heard the voice, and they understood it not.
And again the third time they did hear the voice, and did open their ears to hear it; and their eyes were towards the sound thereof; and they did look steadfastly towards heaven, from whence the sound came.
And behold, the third time they did understand the voice which they heard; and it said unto them:
Behold my Beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased, in whom I have glorified my name--hear ye him."

I am so grateful that the Lord continues to speak to us, even if we don't understand, or don't really listen the first few times. I'd be in a lot of trouble if the Lord's law was one strike and you're out.

On the other hand, I'm glad that he doesn't always make things easy, either. Heavenly Father reminds me frequently that he values patience and persistence!

Fictional Story: 1 Kings 5:4

2010-03-05T08:50:00.000-08:00

Continued from Fictional Story: Mosiah 4:30.

Tara tossed her books through the open window and onto the front seat of her Toyota Corolla then turned around and leaned against the vehicle. She could see Paul pushing his way through the stream of students. He wore jeans and a black muscle shirt and his brown hair was tousled; a few stray locks hung over his forehead. Wow! He's handsome. Tara waved and Paul hurried over to her car.

"Hey Beautiful, what's up?"

"Not much." Tara shrugged and felt the queasiness begin in her stomach.

Paul wrapped her in a hug and gave her a quick kiss on the lips before moving his attention to her neck. "Jared is having a party at his place tonight. Wanna hang?" he asked as he dotted her neck with kisses.

"I thought we were going to have some time for just me and you. I really need to talk to you, Paul."

"So talk. Why do we have to schedule it?"

Tara moved our of his embrace. "This really isn't the right place or time for what I have to say." She tried to keep the anger out of her voice, but Paul caught it.

"What's with you? You've been so moody lately."

"Please, Paul, not here, not right now!" Tara's eyes filled with tears that she tried to blink away.

"Oh, no," Paul shook his head, "you're not pregnant are you?"

Tara covered her face with her hands and nodded.

Paul kicked at the asphalt. "That's just great. And I suppose you have this idea that you're going to keep it, and we're going to be one big happy family?"

Tara slowly brought her hands away from her face. "Well, I had hoped, since you said you loved me..."

Paul held up one hand. "Wait a minute. I have plans, Tara, and those plans don't include a baby."

"But you said you loved me!" Tara protested.

"Ah, sheesh, Tara, do you know how many girls I've said that to?"

Tara stared at Paul; the pain from the blow he'd just dealt her kept her throat constricted. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

"Go ahead, turn on the faucet. I'm outta here." Paul turned on his heel and stalked away.

Tara opened the door and climbed into her car. Her vision was too blurry for her to drive, so she sat with her forehead resting on the steering wheel until her sobs subsided. Then she dabbed at her face with her sleeve and started the car. I hurt like I've never hurt before.

For a while she merely drove, completely unaware of where she was going. But as her troubled thoughts began to settle down, she knew what destination she wanted. She pulled into the Mesa Arizona Temple parking lot near the Visitor's Center and shifted her car into park. Deep green grass stretched in front of her; she remembered the area from her family's visits to the Easter Pageant. Slowly, she opened the door and got out.

You don't belong here. The thought hit her hard, almost knocking the breath out of her, and she almost climbed back into the car. You've messed up really bad; the Lord doesn't want you at his holy temple--you'll defile it. This time, Tara's knees buckled and she sank to the ground; she hugged her knees and tried not to cry. She stood up and lifted her head with determination. This is the Visitor's Center. I don't have to be pure to be here; I just won't go onto the temple grounds.

As she followed the sidewalk up to the Visitor's Center, Tara continued to argue with negative thoughts that seemed determined to prevent her from going any further. When she reached the building she looked through the glass doors and windows and saw the Christus standing with his arms open, welcoming. Tara could see the nail prints in His hands and feet.

Warmth, tingling and comforting, spread through her body. Tara, return to me. Walk the grounds of my temple and feel my rest.

"I will!" she whispered. She gazed into the tranquil reflection pool that separated the temple from the Visitor's Center and marveled at the image of the temple that sparkled in the water. She walked the sidewalks slowly admiring the different varieties of plants and flowers--from the towering palms to the small daisy shrubs. Tara lingered again at the second reflection pool, and then wandered through the small cactus garden. She sat on the cement bench and studied the Organ Pipe cactus. As she sat, she realized that her thoughts had calmed--she no longer felt hopeless; instead, she felt peace. She didn't know what she was going to do, but while she remained on the temple grounds, she knew somehow everything would be okay, eventually.

Scripture Squiggle: 1 Kings 5:4

2010-03-02T12:02:00.000-08:00

"But now the Lord my God hath given me rest on every side, so that there is neither adversary nor evil occurrent."

King David wanted to build a temple to the Lord, but because his reign was fraught with wars and aggression, he was unable to. The Lord called upon Solomon (whose name means "peaceable"), David's son to build His house, and during Solomon's reign, the Lord brought peace to the land.

I love how appropriate this is for the building of the temple. The Lord gave Solomon "rest on every side." I feel that same peace, that "rest on every side," when I visit the temple. For those short hours that I am within the temple walls, all of my adversaries, my trials melt away in the Spirit of the Lord.

Fictional Story: Moroni 7:33

2010-02-26T09:51:00.000-08:00

Melinda stared at the phone, her finger perched over the "talk" button. Why is this so hard for me? With a sigh, she dropped the phone on the bed where she sat and took another look at her visiting teaching list. None of theses sisters are strangers to me, and none of them are inactive, either. This should be easy. But she continued to sit glancing back and forth between the phone and the list, rehearsing in her mind the things she could say. A few times she picked the phone up; once she even started dialing a number, yet as her hands began to tremble and her heart began to pound, she ended the call and tossed the phone aside like a hot potato.

Tears pooled in her eyes, and the names and numbers on her list blurred. Jackie always made the calls for me, and I taught the lesson. She sighed. Why am I able to teach and unable to make a simple phone call? Her new companion, Kourtney had recently moved into the ward from out of state. Since Kourtney didn't have a home phone yet, and her cell phone had a different area code, all of the visiting teaching phone calls would have been long-distance.

"I know it's crazy," Kourtney had said at church on Sunday. "Here I am living within ten miles of these sisters, but calling them is long distance!"

"Yeah, crazy," Melinda had replied, swallowing hard. "I guess I'll make the calls this month, then."

"Great. And I'll do the message." Kourtney offered.

Melinda wished she'd never offered to call. Maybe I'll just wait until Sunday and talk to all of my sisters at church. She knew the problem with that idea, though. As second counsellor in the Primary presidency, she was often too busy to talk to anyone. Sister Magnes dishes had sat in Melinda's car for nearly two months before Melinda found the time to hunt her down and return them. Phone calls are the only way.

After wiping her tears with the back of her hand, Melinda reached for the letter that had accompanied her new visiting teaching route. In the letter, Sister Paul made reference to Moroni 7:46. Melinda reached for her scriptures to look up the verse. As she was turning the final page to reach the verse, her eyes were drawn to another scripture that she had highlighted in blue: Moroni 7:33. And Christ hath said: If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me.

Melinda sat for a moment contemplating what she had just read. I know that Jesus wants us to fellowship each other and strengthen our sisters. I suppose, that although calling a few sisters may seem like a small thing, that if I have faith, I will have the power to make these calls.

Her heart still pounded, and her hands and voice trembled, but Melinda tried to remember that the calls she was making were important to the Lord, and that He would give her the power she needed to get them done.

Scripture Squiggle: Moroni 7:33

2010-02-23T13:24:00.000-08:00

"And Christ hath said: If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me."

This verse is short and simple yet so meaningful. Faith is the key to unlocking the power of God in our lives. The Lord often asks us to do things that seem hard, maybe even impossible, but at the same time, He provides us with the power to accomplish them. I think what I love most about this verse is that Christ doesn't just say that our faith will empower us in the "big" things, but that faith gives us "power to do whatsoever thing" the Lord has asked us to do--whether that thing is a big thing like saving a life, or a small thing like overcoming dreadful shyness to give a talk in church.

Poem: Psalm of Isaiah (inspired by Isaiah 40:31)

2010-02-19T11:56:00.000-08:00

I decided to try something new. This poem is inspired by Isaiah 40:31 as well as some of my other favorite verses in Isaiah.

Psalm of Isaiah

We knowest, O Lord, thou art our Father.

Mount us, thy children, upon eagles’ wings

Ever to serve thee, thy praises to sing.

We are the clay, in the hands of the Potter.

Thou art a refuge from the raging storm;

The cooling shadow in the burning heat.

We are graven upon thy hands and feet,

Upon thy shoulders our sorrows are borne

Redeemer of All, Beginning and End,

Hold thou us fast in thy hand’s safe hollow

Set forth our feet on thy path to follow.

Thy soul was an offering; our souls to mend.

We knowest, O Lord, thou art our Father;

We are the clay, in the hands of the Potter.

Scripture Squiggle: Isaiah 40:31

2010-02-16T09:13:00.000-08:00

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint."

I love the poetic beauty of Isaiah and the images he uses to augment his message. Here he tells us that if we trust the Lord, the Lord will strengthen us; then comes his image--flying with the tirelessness of eagles. As I read this verse, I can see the majestic eagle soaring in the sky, wings stretched out, buoyed up by the wind. Isaiah subtly tells us that we can soar, too, if we allow the Lord to buoy us, to be the strength that holds us up. Knowing that the Lord is our support gives additional meaning to the phrase "run, and not be weary...walk, and not faint." We will not be weary or faint because the Lord is with us, holding us up.

Fictional Story: Alma 8:15-16

2010-02-12T09:19:00.000-08:00

Alma trudged down the dusty path leading out of Ammonihah toward the city of Aaron. His shoulders slumped forward, and he kept his gaze down on his sandals. He stopped only briefly, at a small stream to wash the spit from his face and the dirt from the scrapes he'd sustained when the three men tossed him out of the city. Although the revilings, mocking and spitting had been difficult to bear, they were not the cause of his rejection. Alma understood the torment that came when you rejected the truth as the people of Ammonihah had done.

As a youth, he and his friends had rejected the teachings of the prophets, had journeyed through the land convincing others that the traditions of their fathers were foolish. In his pride and arrogance, he had looked down with pity upon his father, the prophet of Christ's church, trapped in his limiting beliefs. Until the angel appeared to him and those that were with him. Alma then felt the fear of God; he trembled and shook as the angel chided him for his actions, and his anguish eventually overcame him as the angel commanded him to cease his work of destruction or he would be destroyed.

Alma ran his hand through his hair as the memory of the three days that followed the angel's visit played through his mind. I was tormented with the pains of hell, with the realization of all of my sins. I knew that I had willfully rebelled against God. But no matter the bitterness of my anguish, what sweet peace filled my soul when I finally called out to Jesus and accepted that He and only He had the power to save me, and that he offered me a way to return through repentance. The people of Ammonihah will never know such joy because they have rejected the prophets, rejected Christ and his atonement.

As he walked, Alma became aware of a light descending from the sky, brilliant and beautiful, shining above the brightness of the daylight that surrounded him. A being emerged from the light, and the brilliance gathered around him. He smiled at Alma

"Blessed art thou, Alma; therefore, lift up thy head and rejoice, for thou has great cause to rejoice; for thou has been faithful in keeping the commandments of God from the time which thou receivedst thy first message from him. Behold I am he that delivered it unto you."

Alma felt the Spirit of God pour through his body. It tingled through his limbs and lifted his burden of sorrow. Heavenly Father has accepted my offering of service; He considers me faithful! He has sent the same angel who once threatened my destruction to confirm his acceptance of my actions. In that moment, Alma felt he could fly. The angel confirmed that the Lord knew of his sufferings, and reminded him that he still had many reasons to rejoice.

Then the angel continued his message. "And behold, I am sent to command thee that thou return to the city of Ammonihah, and preach again unto the people of the city; yea, preach unto them. Yea, say unto them, except they repent the lord God will destroy them. For behold, they do study at this time that they may destroy the liberty of thy people, (for thus saith the Lord) which is contrary to the statutes, and judgments, and commandments which he has given unto his people."

The message was similar to the one Alma had received from the angel in his youth--repent or be destroyed. His message delivered, the angel ascended again into the sky and the brilliant light vanished away. Alma pivoted and hurried back toward Ammonihah. The angel's promise of destruction if I did not mend my actions lead to my conversion, to my conviction of the reality of Jesus Christ. Now I must deliver the same message and perhaps help rescue a few lost souls from the pains of hell.

Scripture Squiggle: Alma 8:15-16

2010-02-09T08:30:00.000-08:00

"Blessed art thou, Alma,; therefore, lift up thy head and rejoice, for thou hast great cause to rejoice; for thou hast been faithful in keeping the commandments of God from the time which thou receivedst thy first message from him. Behold, I am he that delivered it unto you
And behold, I am sent to command thee that thou return to the city of Ammonihah, and preach again unto the people of the city; yea, preach unto them. Yea, say unto them, except they repent the Lord God will destroy them."

To me, this scripture is a wonderful example of the Lord's love for the individual. Alma is on his way out of Ammonihah; he has been reviled, spat upon, and cast out of the city. The people refused to listen to his words, and even mocked him. Already he's having a pretty lousy day, but then the Lord sends an angel commanding him to return to Ammonihah and do some more preaching. It may have seemed to Alma that the Lord was saying: Yeah, yeah, I know you had a tough time; they spat on you and threw you out, but why not go back for some more?

But the Lord knew what kind of man Alma was; He knew what Alma needed to give him the strength to do what He asked. First, He sent the same angel that He sent when Alma and the sons of Mosiah were causing havoc among the members of the church, and had this angel tell Alma to lift up his head. Yes, the Lord knew Alma had been through some discouraging events in Ammonihah, but He reminds Alma that despite those events, he has reason to rejoice. Then, the Lord has that angel, who was a witness to Alma's actions (remember he told him to change his ways or be destroyed), say to Alma that he is blessed, that he has been faithful since the time he first visited him. This had to be very encouraging to Alma; imagine having an angel of God tell you that you've been faithful!

Why does the angel include the part about "from the time that thou receivedst thy first message?" I believe that rather than discourage Alma by reminding him of his past, the Lord included this in His message because he wanted to remind Alma that He knew Alma's past, yet still felt that Alma was capable of accomplishing the mission He had for him.

Did the Lord know Alma and his needs? Evidently! As soon as the angel delivered his message, Alma "returned speedily to the land of Ammonihah." (verse 18).

Fictional Story: Mosiah 4:30

2010-02-05T09:33:00.000-08:00

Tara sat on her canopied pink bed with her legs pulled up and her arms wrapped around them. The knees of her jeans were wet with tears, but the streaks were already drying on her cheeks--no fresh tears fell from her eyes; although, she continued to shake with sobs. After a few more minutes her sobs quieted, and she released her legs, flipping around so she lay on her stomach, chin resting on her hands.

It looks just like any other Mormon girl's room, she thought as she looked around. She was tidy by nature and had always enjoyed rearranging and redecorating her room every few months. The last time she'd done so, she'd created a little Young Women's shrine on her dresser--framed pictures she had received from her teachers and leaders, a mirror admonishing that "modest is hottest," and several little handouts that she had especially liked adorned the top. Her scripture bag hung from a hook nearby underneath a poster that reminded her of the importance of getting her spiritual nourishment. She looked away and sighed. I haven't used those in a while. Sitting up, she tugged at her shirt, as if sheer will power could make the material lengthen downward to the top of her jeans.

I thought I had everybody fooled, but really I was only fooling myself. Where's the girl that truly believed that "modest is hottest? Where's the girl that promised herself a temple marriage? She reached beside her on the bed and picked up something long and thin. She looked at it for several seconds as renewed tears gathered in her eyes. Then she threw it across the room.

Tara closed her eyes. Who am I kidding? I know exactly when that faithful girl started to leave. And it all started with a thought...

"Hey, Tara," her friend Natalie called.

"Hmmm?" Tara replied as she stuck a french fry in her mouth without looking up from her homework.

"I have a question for you."

"What's that?"

"What would you do if you weren't Mormon for a day?"

Tara raised her head and gave Natalie a quizzical look. "What do you mean."

"You know," Natalie shrugged, "if you didn't have to live by all of those rules you follow, just for one day, what would you do?"

"I don't know. That's not likely to happen."

"Okay, just wondering."

But the question kept nagging at Tara until she finally began to think about the some of the things that her friends did that she couldn't do. Where was the harm in merely thinking about the things she would do? It wasn't like she was actually doing them. However, once she begin thinking about everything she was missing out on, she found her resolve not to do them slipping. A cuss word started to slip out here and there, and then she started to participate when her friends told dirty jokes. One thing led to another until...

Now I'm here. Pregnant, and wishing I had never thought about the answer to that stupid question.

Scripture Squiggle: Mosiah 4:30

2010-02-02T08:53:00.000-08:00

"But this much I can tell you, that if ye do not watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds, and observe the commandments of God, and continue in the faith of what ye have heard concerning the coming of our Lord, even unto the end of your lives, ye must perish. And now, O man, remember, and perish not."

King Benjamin understood that what a person thinks about eventually leads to what he says and then what he does. If we want to keep our lives in harmony with God's commandments, the best place to start is with the things we think about. I know that I'm in trouble when I go to sleep thinking about how much I would rather sleep in instead of getting up to exercise. As soon as that thought takes hold in my mind, I'm doomed--the exercising never happens. But if I go to bed rehearsing to myself all of the reasons that I want to exercise in the morning, than I am more motivated to get up and do it. The power of our thoughts is amazing, but scary, too. The challenge is keeping control of our thoughts, instead of allowing them to control us.

I believe that this is one of the greatest benefits of fasting. By limiting our physical bodies, we are allowing our spirits to take control. We can either suffer through the day, miserable because of our lack of food and drink, or we can take charge, direct our thoughts to spiritual feasting and find ourselves wishing at the end of the day that the fast had lasted a little longer.

Remember the proverb: "For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he..." (Proverbs 23:7)

Fictional Story: Alma 22: 33-34

2010-01-29T10:11:00.000-08:00

Cassandra glanced at the clock and felt her pulse jump to a faster pace. Sophomore English was almost over. Soon the hallway would be filled with students headed to their next class, and if she was lucky, Cassandra would see him. Dusty Jenkins. Everyday, for the past two weeks, they had passed each other in the hall after first period, and everyday Dusty had smiled at her. She liked the way his dirty-blonde hair fell across his forehead, drawing attention to his blue eyes. Cassandra was certain she had never seen a more handsome boy in her life. The bell rang, and Cassandra quickly grabbed her books and shoved them into her backpack. Maybe today he'll talk to me.

Out in the sea of people, Cassandra looked hopefully around. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she spotted Dusty. He was smiling--and walking straight towards her.

"Hi," he said when he reached her.

"Hi." Cassandra barley managed to squeeze the word past her constricted throat.

"Are you going to the game tonight?"

"We play the Wolverines tonight; who isn't going?"

"Then maybe I'll see you there." Dusty smiled again and then disappeared into the crowd.

Cassandra thought her heart was going to pound its way out of her chest.

That night she dressed in her favorite jeans and her Rascal Flatts t-shirt. She curled her hair and put on a touch of lipstick. When her dad dropped her off at the school, her hands were shaking with nervousness. She didn't have to search long for Dusty. He was sitting with a large group of students up near the top of the bleachers. He stood up when he spotted her, waving for her to climb up and join him. Cassandra swallowed her nerves and headed up the stairs.

Dusty pushed one of his friends aside to make room for her. She sat beside him, and he draped his arm around her shoulders.

"You look great!" he whispered in her ear. Cassandra felt like she had just won a million dollars. She casually glanced around to see if any of her friends had arrived. Lori was sitting a few rows up and over. Cassandra caught her eye and gave her a little wave. Lori sent her a thumbs-up in return. Dusty turned away from her for a moment to talk to someone.

"Hey," he said when the other student left, "Do you want a cigarette?"

Cassandra's stomach began to knot up. She didn't smoke, and she never planned to. He's so cute, and maybe just once really wouldn't be too bad... But she had made this decision a long time before, and despite Dusty's good looks, she knew she couldn't change her mind. Okay, here's hoping being a good example makes me even more attractive. "No, thanks. I don't smoke."

"Well, you could start." Dusty smiled that gorgeous smile.

She shook her head. "No, I'd rather not."

Dusty's smile faded a little. "Do you drink?"

Feeling like a popped balloon, Cassandra replied, "No, I don't do that either."

"Oh." Dusty said, pulling his arm from around her shoulders.

Cassandra wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans and sighed. "I guess I'll go sit somewhere else."

She got up and walked down the steps and then behind the bleachers. She could hear Dusty's group above her, laughing and talking, and she could smell the potent smell of cigarette smoke. Are you crazy? Dusty liked you! All you had to do was smoke one lousy cigarette and you could have had the cutest boy in school for a boyfriend. You could always go back and tell him you've changed your mind, that for him, maybe you could try it.

She only managed a few steps before she stopped and shook her head. "No, I can't," She said softly to herself. "I made a promise to Sister Landers and Sister Polanski, but more importantly, I made a promise to the Lord." As she said the words, she found warm strength pouring into her body. Cassandra took a deep breath, walked back around to the front of the bleachers, waved at Dusty, and joined Lori to watch the game.