Asking Forgiveness

   Many times when I find myself in prayer, asking for forgiveness for the same offenses over and over, I want to shrink at my weakness, rather than bring them to the Lord...again. I was impatient. I was quick to anger. I wasn't soft-spoken. I was too opinionated. The list could go on.

    I am well aware that my road to perfection has a lot of speed bumps and pot holes. Sometimes the adversary can get in my ear and tell me to not bother to pray. That Heavenly Father is tired of the daily report of my imperfections. However, peace came to my heart as I read Helaman 3:27 where it said "Thus we see that the Lord is merciful unto all who will, in the sincerity of their hearts, call upon His holy name." 

    It's nice to be reminded that the Lord isn't merciful to just the star students of life who only have good reports. He is merciful to all, who in humility can bring their shortcomings to His feet, and offer them up, and ask for His help. It brings me peace to know that while I don't deserve it, Jesus Christ fills the gaps I create daily, through His atoning sacrifice. Their love for me, despite my unworthiness, makes me want to keep picking myself up and trying, knowing Their mercy is there to help me through each day. It is my prayer that as I continue to bring my flawed self to Their feet, that eventually my actions will become a truer reflection of my love for them.

The Lord Provides

   I think we all will find times in our lives where we feel stretched thin and fear that we can not accomplish all that has been asked of us. Maybe it is embarking on a journey in continuing our education and struggling to find balance with our everyday lives. Maybe it is accepting a new assignment or calling at work or church. Perhaps we struggle in a relationship that requires much personal sacrifice to help it grow. Whatever the circumstance may be, I find such peace in knowing that the Lord is there to sustain us as we turn to Him in all things.

   Alma and his companions found this sustaining influence as they prayed for and sought wisdom in their dealings with the Zoramites before splitting up and going forth to preach the word of God. In Alma 31:37-38 it says "And after that they did separate themselves from one another, taking no thought for themselves what they should eat, or what they should drink, or what they should put on. And the Lord provided them that they should hunger not, neither should they thirst; yea and he also gave them strength, that they should suffer no manner of afflictions, save it were swallowed up in the joy of Christ..."

   They had a tall order in front of them and surely knew they would be met with some opposition. Yet they were blessed with a single-minded faith in God's plan and in His peace. They did not worry about the details because they knew Heavenly Father would work it out. I had a similar experience this week. Sunday morning I was seriously considering dropping my classes because my schedule for the next couple months is even busier than "normal" for me (which is already very busy) and I wasn't sure I would be able to keep up with my coursework. As I thought on it though, I came to feel a certain peace and the thought came to not stress how the whole semester would be handled. Rather I felt impressed to take it day by day, having faith that the Lord could help me accomplish the things I didn't think I could do alone. I am so grateful that the stresses and requirements of life can be taken in stride as they are swallowed up in the joy of Christ and in the knowledge that we are in His care.

"O Remember, Remember"

                     
                                          
  I can only hope to be as consistent as President Eyring in recording those tender mercies that Heavenly Father blesses our family with each day. Lately though my mind has been full of them. I knew that they needed to be recorded somewhere besides the scattered regions of my brain.

   This past year has been a refiners fire for me personally and for my family as a whole. I remember a year ago at this time, as 2013 drew to a close, that I felt there was something on the horizon and I needed to hold on tight. Just a few weeks into 2014 it all seemed to hit me a once. I had the first crisis of my health, developments in my marriage had brought it to the breaking point, and financial concerns kept cropping up with our rental house that threatened to devastate us.

   "Hang on, just hang on..." a voice seemed to whisper to me. I don't know who it was. Perhaps it was the Holy Ghost, although at times it felt like the unseen hands and whispers of angels. I can't describe why I felt this way, but I felt the influence of my grandmothers on the other side of the veil lifting me when the road ahead felt too hard to bear. One night I sat in the temple parking lot as I read their patriarchal blessings and sobbed at the realization that in their own ways, and in their own lives, they could relate to what I was going through. That beyond the white hair and years, they were women just like me, with lives full of experiences that could offer empathy, even in their physical absence. The things that in my pain and privacy I couldn't open up to people about, they understood and saw and because of that they were able to be with me and guide me.

  Hanging on, even when it was the hardest thing to do, saved me. Because of the white knuckle grip those unseen hands somehow managed to help me keep, the Lord was able to guide me to sources of strength and to help me find peace or resolution for challenges that I was facing. After surgery, uncertainty, and more time in the doctor's office in the past 12 months than I have in the past 30+ years, I am ending this year in a much better place than I began it, in terms of my health.

   At one point this year, after many years of trying, I stood at the heart-wrenching precipice of deciding if ending my marriage with my husband was the right decision. Wanting so badly to feel a wholeness in our relationship, that had long felt elusive, but fearing my heart and trust could never be mended. After counseling, a lot of work, and allowing the Atonement to work for both of us, I feel more at peace in our relationship than I have since the day it began. In addition, Justin has started to come to church with us again, to pray with us again, and to turn to the Lord in his own ways. As I watch his transformation emerge, my heart and it's ability to love and forgive have transformed and changed too. I can honestly say that working from and through the depths of my sorrow has born a love more honest than ever.

   In terms of hope financially, we were finally able to sell our rental house and with it the financial strain and uncertainty of being landlords on a property we were consistently losing money on. Rather than feeling like we are constantly sinking, there is the hope to keep treading water towards brighter days ahead. Additionally, I was led to opportunities to gain a love of the scriptures this year. I was able to fulfill the longtime goal of going back to school this year. Justin and I will be closing on our family's forever home in a few short weeks. Finally as this year closes, after so many hard years before, I can feel a sense of hope and peace on the horizon.

   Around me I see friends who's grips are slipping as the challenges and adversities of life pile up. It breaks my heart and I find myself on my knees pleading with the Lord to provide those heavenly whispers "Hold on, just hold on..." to them as well. Watching the struggles around me and reflecting on my own has brought to my remembrance the many, many blessings and miracles that I have watched come to pass this year. It has helped me to see how much I have grown in my testimony and understanding. It has helped me to better understand the Lord's plan, timing, and purposes. It has deepened my understanding of God's love for me individually and an unshakable faith that His promises are sure.

   Tonight as I was wiping countertops and listening to my scriptures on my phone, the thought occurred to me that I undeniably know which team I am on. I am on the Lord's side. The truths and benefits of the Gospel have been made so abundantly clear to me, that I know without a doubt the condemnation that would come upon me if I ever turned away from it. Not that I ever had plans to, but as I watch friends who were rock solid slip and slide away, I see that the adversary can get his grips in anyone. But this year has opened my eyes to the bigger picture in so many ways.

   The way I saw the Lord's hand in my life today was that solidifying witness, in my own private moment, that everything that has happened in the past year, and years before that building up to now, was to bring me to that knowledge. To cement the path of discipleship before me and to help me better come to love and know my Father in Heaven and Savior, Jesus Christ. That there has been purpose in the pain, and it was to bring me to the exquisite joy and peace that comes from allowing the Savior to guide your path and making the conscious decision to follow Him.

"I'm a Rebel, Dottie"

   Random quotation from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure there. My brothers and I used to watch that movie and laugh and laugh as kids. Good times. But I am feeling like a rebel because the kidlets are finally in bed and I am supposed to be balancing my checkbook, picking out a new insurance plan, and putting in about 3 hours of homework tonight. But instead I am here, in my happy place, the ol' bloggerito, sharing a picture that makes me very happy. 

   We took family pictures the day after Halloween and let me just tell you, it was FREEZING cold outside!! Our hair, we had spent way too much time on, (beautifying five heads of hair ain't no easy thing, folks!) was blown to bits within seconds by giant gusts of seemingly arctic winds. We had chattering teeth and red noses. The downpour from the night before left us with wet bums after posing for our first picture in the grass. I kept looking at Justin and giving him the "This is a disaster, I should have rescheduled" face. It was kind of like a metaphor for our life though. Things rarely go according to plan. You have to adjust and accommodate to what life throws at you and just smile at the fact that we are all together! Actually, we are all smiling here, but really it's just because I had bribed the kids with a steamy mug of Roma!

   Like every crazy bump in life though, I am grateful it was experienced together, as The Young Crew. I am truly grateful for a husband that loves me, gets me, and has been with me through it all. For four, beautiful, smart, spunky, hilarious daughters who fry my patience and inspire me daily. Arctic blasts, wet bums and all, I am one blessed woman.

Jesus & Elvis

I am not much into Facebook anymore so I am going to post those random little ramblings that I want to remember, but don't necessarily need the commentary of the whole world on...

1. Earlier our little friend Laci Jensen was over, she saw our Christmas elf, Elvis, was on the mantle and said that her elves came last night too! They had brought her and her brothers lotion, gum, and a movie. Lulu thought for a second and said "Well....our elf didn't bring us presents, but he brings us HAPPINESS! Which is pretty much the greatest things EVER!!" It was pretty, dang, stinkin' cute!!

2. Devy and Lu were at the table playing with kinetic sand and I heard Devy say "I love Jesus so much and miss him. He died, but He will come alive again at Easter." Lauryn said "Well He is always alive because of Easter Devyn!" Devy thought about that for a minute and then said matter of factly "Well, He still dies sometimes, okay!"

Love those nuggets!

Hard Work

Hello dear, old blog. I have missed being able to spend time with my thoughts and you, just writing about life or experiences. Things have been busy and any extra moments I have outside of work, family and life have been spent on schoolwork. Tonight though for one of my classes, I actually got to take a break from the typical, monotonous method of answering questions! We were asked to take a couple pages to share an experience where we had to work hard for something and reaped the rewards of that hard work. This was my experience...

   My oldest daughter is eleven years old. Sometimes I still have to pinch myself to think that so many years have slipped by between her place in life and when it was me, fresh over the decade mark. My sixth grade year was a bubble of happiness, and in my own nerdy way, confidence. Nestled right next to my home on 3644 Autumn Ridge Parkway was my best friend’s house. Just a few skips between doorsteps and there, in a world of brothers who shooed their only sister away, was someone who understood me. We had woods to explore behind us and plenty of sidewalk to rollerskate on in front of us. We would play Barbies for hours and make up goofy commercials with my dad’s bulky camcorder. I was always a shy girl, but I felt safe and secure in the little world that had been created around me.

     At school I had always tried to be a conscientious student and was eager to please. I remember one time in the fifth grade I received a mark on my spotless behavior card for forgetting my homework. I laid my head down on my desk and quietly fought back tears of shame. I was humiliated and disappointed that my perfect record had been marred. It was this conscientiousness that had led me generally to do very well in school. Starting middle school and going into sixth grade had been a fun transition for me. I started playing the flute, got my very first locker, got along well with my classmates, and got used to changing classes for each subject. I flourished and my grades were a reflection of that.

    At the end of that first year at J.J. Daniell Middle School though my parents made an announcement. We would be leaving our red, brick house on Autumn Ridge Parkway and our life, in the Southern United States, to move across the country to Washington State, in the Great Northwest. We were proud of my dad for receiving a promotion and pulled together as a family to support him. The moving truck came, and while the movers loaded all our familiar things into the belly of the truck to make the cross-country trek, I found that even after we unpacked, nothing felt familiar again to me for quite some time. 

    It seemed that my confidence had been left there in that red, brick house in my secure, little bubble on Autumn Ridge Parkway, as we drove away without it. The kids at my new school and in my new neighborhood weren’t as warm and accepting. Before I had never thought to question myself, because I was surrounded by the love of people who knew me and accepted me, quirks and all. Here in this new place that I couldn’t bring myself to call home, I didn’t say the right things, I didn’t wear the right clothes, and in my insecurity I stood too close. Desperately wanting to fit in and to feel familiar, safe, and secure.

   I became preoccupied with this lonely feeling, but tried to put on a good face. I yearned for acceptance, for a connection, and to feel like being me was okay. I remember sitting in seventh grade Pre-Algebra and coming out of my fog long enough to realize that in my pre-occupation I no longer had any idea what the teacher was talking about. My formerly-conscientious self  was falling behind. But instead of asking for help I froze and over the next couple of years dug myself in deeper and deeper.

   By ninth grade I was failing Algebra. Our teacher was the wrestling coach and seemed to give preferential treatment to athletes. I wasn’t an athlete. I was a ghost. Floating through that school, but never really feeling like anyone saw me. Never really feeling like anyone cared. After flunking Algebra, I enrolled in idiot math for losers who couldn’t hack it in real math. We were supposed to learn how to balance a checkbook and figure out if we could afford things. But our freakishly tall, ruddy-faced teacher would just tell us glory-days stories from college and make fun of his son who was an “egghead”. One day close to Christmas, he said if we could score him a box of Cuban cigars that he would give us an “A” in the class. It was at that moment that I officially gave up. My teachers didn’t care if I learned a dang thing, so why should I?!

    I ended up excelling in flunking that year. I took some extra classes through BYU Independent Study to make up for the lost credits and barely hacked it as an average student for the next couple of years. By my Senior year though I was begging my parents to just let me homeschool or drop out. I hated being there. I hated being a ghost. I just wanted to drop off the map and hide.

     I ended up attending a vocational program my Senior year that gave me the high school credits I needed to graduate. But I only made that walk across the stage in my purple cap and gown by the skin of my teeth. For years after graduation I would wake up in a panic that it didn’t actually happen. Dreaming that I never graduated and that I was the biggest, dumbest loser of all time. 

    I went on to use my vocational training, where I did flourish and continued to gain knowledge within the Dental industry where I worked. This helped my confidence and did put some of those nagging nightmares at bay. But somehow there was always this dark place in the back of my mind that told me I was too dumb to ever learn math.

   After the birth of my fourth child, with strained relationships in my life, and in the midst of another difficult move, I felt myself craving, amongst the chaos of life, something measurable that I could control, that I could take a hold of. There was a community college about 15 minutes from my house. Scared to death by the hauntings of my former self, but ready to bury that nagging fear once and for all, I went and enrolled in an Algebra class. 

    I worked my tail off that semester. Studying for hours on end, staying late up into the night after a busy day of tending to my young family. I refused to take “I don’t get this” as an acceptable answer or excuse to roadblocks in my understanding. I set my pride aside and asked for help, even when it made me feel dumb. I visualized that this was the end of the line. Never again would I say to myself “I can’t do math.” When I checked my final grade at the end of the semester and saw an “A” glowing back at me from that computer screen, a grin broke free on my face. I felt like if I could ace Algebra, as silly and simple as that was to some people, that there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. 

   At that moment the ghost of my past left me in peace. I knew that I would have a long way to go in my learning journey, and that there was still so much to prove to myself. But at that moment I could feel a confidence that had long lied dormant, starting to emerge. I could feel that fear and doubt were no longer going to be the motivator in my life. Rather it was going to be the discovery of the capable, smart, hard-working person that was in there all along, just waiting to be believed in.

I think I'm Crazy...

As if my life wasn't already crazy enough, I've decided to pursue a degree from BYU-Idaho on top of working, serving, running a house and being a wife and mom. I am about three weeks in and let me just tell you, sleep and a social life may be a thing of the past for the next several years. Ay, caramba! Can't wait to check this item off the bucket list though!