Category Archives: Divinity

The spiritual side of motherhood.

This is a really good post. You should read it.

Posted in Divinity by

While walking the treadmill at the gym with my good friend Shantel the other day, we had a conversation about two things that are frequent themes on my blog:  the often misunderstood, nevertheless eternal importance of motherhood and the sometimes crushing sense of underachievement we women tend to drag around with us.  Amidst the pathetic huffing and puffing, our conversation turned to the scriptures.  I can’t speak for Shantel (who usually knows everything already), but I had a major lightbulb moment.

I’m hoping I can share it well because the principles are awesome. (Hence, the incredibly demure title of this post.)

Women are pulled in so many directions, our expectations dictated by an ever-demanding society and our own overactive sense of self-judgment.  We are bombarded with thousands of skills, ideas, practices, habits, philosophies, and even possessions that are somehow advertised as necessary pieces of the puzzle that is the “fulfilled modern woman.”  Give me a break.  Even when we can see through all the smoke and mirrors and try hard to focus our priorities on what we know really matters, we hear spoken and unspoken messages suggesting we should really be doing more with our lives.  Making a difference.  Making a name for ourselves.  We’re told we can be better mothers if we fulfill ourselves in myriad areas of our lives (like a career, for example) and focus on our own needs (“Spoil yourself.  You deserve it.”).  Elder Ballard taught recently:
“Water cannot be drawn from an empty well, and if you are not setting aside a little time for what replenishes you, you will have less and less to give to others, even to your children.”
His message refers, I think, mostly to our spiritual reservoirs and certainly also to allowing ourselves opportunity to develop talents and interests.  However, society has twisted and abused this point to mean that women should do everything and anything we want to do or are capable of doing, or we’ll have nothing valuable to offer.  Anyway, all of that was more of a rant than the actual lesson I learned.  Here is what a couple Bible stories taught me about the simple glory of being a stay-at-home mom, or at least the best kind of mom and woman I can be.

Marys_Anointing_of_Jesus_small From Matthew 26:

6 Now when Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper,
7 There came unto him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on his head, as he sat at meat.
8 But when his disciples saw it, they had indignation, saying, To what purpose is this waste?
9 For this ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor.
10 When Jesus understood it, he said unto them, Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me.

Now, this woman brought the finest she had and shared it with the Savior.  The disciples called it a “waste,” suggesting she should give it to the poor or use it in a way to do so much more good in the world.  The Savior rebukes them and reminds them that He is a worthy recipient of her good works.  Think of this in terms of taking all our education, our precious time, our talents and resources that could maybe make us powerful or famous or of great influence elsewhere in the world, and yet, we wipe noses and wash feet.  Like the disciples, others may say or we may ask ourselves, “Don’t you wish you could do more with your life?”  Think of the Savior’s assertion just one chapter earlier that “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”  The same account in Luke tells us that she was also a sinner.  She was not perfect by any means, but the Savior accepted and honored her offering, deemed it better than any other way she could have spent herself, and he accepted her.

GREENE_Nathan_Martha_and_MaryFrom Luke 10:

38 Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house.
39 And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his word.
40 But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me.
41 And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things:
42 But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.

Martha was trying hard to do what was right, but she also tried to impose her version of what-should-be-done onto Mary.  She even complained to the Savior that Mary should be doing more.  He gently pointed out that by simply focusing on Him, Mary’s “doing less” was actually doing more; a personal relationship with Him was– and still is– the good part.  Society and even well-meaning friends, family and peers may try to impose upon us their standards for our success, but what the Savior measures us by is solely our attention and response to personal revelation from Him as we act out our part in life.  He, and He alone, sets the only “rules” that matter.  We can try to meet everyone else’s expectations, and even our exaggerated own, until we are blue in the face, but it’s not supposed to be that hard, and we might just end up missing out on the needful good part.
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So in a world of mixed messages and voices that tell us we are never enough, I’m thankful for Jesus Christ, who asks so little of me by comparison.  I feel bold enough to say that what I often see as mundane He will (and does) crown with glory.  He loves my children even more than I do, and my heart is enough for Him.  And really, that’s all that matters.

Pre-dawn ponderings

Posted in Diapers, Divinity by

It’s 4- something in the morning and I’ve been lying awake in bed for over an hour, so I thought “Hey, maybe I should get up and do something productive since I’m not sleeping.”  And blogging sounded a lot more fun then laundry.  I don’t suffer from insomnia; I could sleep for a day straight probably, but when I get woken up (my children pee in their beds through their nighttime diapers on a regular basis and we have midnight sheet changing rituals.  My pediatrician swears it’s normal, but I’m ready to hook everyone up to some kind of automatic electro-shock system and stop giving them liquids after breakfast.), well, then I think too much and it’s hard to go back to sleep.

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So, lucky you.  Welcome to my sleep-deprived midnight musings.

With all the sickness around here lately, and a handful of unexpected drama in other areas of my life, there’s been a sense of trudging knee-deep through some drudgery lately.  I won’t lie, I’ve felt overwhelmed and run-down.  I can feel it getting better now as it always does once you just get through it and start to get to the other side.  Matt’s been down with the flu the last couple days and Natalie’s been taking care of him by bringing him pieces of candy (from the Great Pumpkin stash she discovered) and asking him if he feels better.  Matt, recognizing her nurturing instinct, said, “Natalie, thanks for taking care of me.  Are you like a mommy?”  She nodded and smiled and replied, “I’m a mudder (mother).”  Then she called me in the room and said, “Guess what mom?  I’m a mudder.”  I watched her with her kindness, and pride in her new title, and it was a grounding moment for me.  She saw the value in that nurturing role, embraced it, and wore it with pride.  There are days I forget that, but guess what everybody?  I’m a mudder.

I had an experience this week where some good intentions went wrong and I offended someone.  I know that I have a strong personality (I like to call it “resolute”), but I don’t think I’m controlling, and I really really hate contention, so I try not to rustle up fights or drama.  I may have offended people many times and not known about it, but in this case, I was was made quickly and abruptly aware of my offenses.  Can I just say humility sucks?  It is hard to step back when you feel under attack and realize that maybe you need to make some improvements.  I had to pray my way through this one and then have a nervous-stomach, heart-pounding conversation and apologize for my mistakes.  Anyway, the whole drama is not the point, but I just wanted to testify that prayer works.  And priesthood blessings.  I  knew I was heard, and I knew I was not left alone in solving it.  I could feel that Heavenly Father understood my heart, but that he also wanted me to acknowledge and change some things.  He was so nice about it, but it still hurt a little, as all stretching does.  But there’s a new lightness and hope after He helped me understand it better.  It’s the beginning of learning process for me.

On a lighter note, I shaved my legs yesterday.  Um, maybe I’m running out of substance here.  I think I’ll go back to bed.

Dear Wise Readers,

Posted in Diapers, Divinity by

Just pretend that you’re Dear Abby (except with the kind of morals that you don’t tell people that they should be proud of the life they’ve chosen for themselves even though it’s riddled with sin and selfishness), and hit me with your best advice.  These are real questions, some dumber than others, that would greatly benefit from your insights.  Pick and choose, or if you’re infinitely smarter than I am, go ahead and answer them all.  (I made up little pseudonyms to sign off each question because maybe that will make you forget that there’s ONE person out there with all these issues.)

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  1. Will my laundry situation improve or get worse if I buy more towels and sheets?  We seem to always be running out.  —MAYBE MORE IS BETTER
  2. I’ve been asked to give a talk in church on a big ol’ topic that could take hours to discuss, but I’ve been given 13 minutes.  How do you narrow it down without feeling like you’ve left out some really important stuff?  —CAN’T SHUT UP
  3. When I walk from room to room in my house and see huge projects that need to be done in each one, I get a little panicky and shut down.  I know you can only eat an elephant one bite at a time, but how can I get my brain to just think about the one bite instead of the whole blasted elephant?  —I THINK I’M GOING BACK TO BED NOW
  4. Another laundry question.  I have serious doubts about whether or not the clothes that come through the laundry are dirty or not.  I wonder if many of them have even been worn or if maybe they just fell off a hanger.  Is there any way to minimize this problem without being a 24-hour monitor that has to question and sniff each item of laundry as it is placed in the dirty-clothes pile?  —HAMPER GOALIE
  5. Does anyone have good ideas for cold-weather after-school snacks?  I keep trying to think of a warm snack, but everything I think of is cookies or desserts.  Any ideas for healthy, cozy after-school snacks I can use during the Winter months?— BECAUSE A BAGEL IS GETTING OLD
  6. I have a lot of dried beans in food storage and I really need to learn how to use them this year.  I love soups and stuff, but I never remember to use my beans in time.  They’re supposed to soak overnight, right?  How can I work them into my regular meal schedule?  —OVERWHELMED BY BUCKETS OF BEANS
  7. This one’s a little heavy, but how does one apply the Atonement to all the “little stuff”? It’s easier to identify the application when there are big issues, major sins, or heavy burdens.  I wish I understood better how to hand over all my small struggles (the recurring shortcomings or undeveloped attributes) and tap into the Savior’s ability to “fix” it.  Any thoughts?  —TRYING TO GET IT RIGHT

The fruits of a name: glory or shame?

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imgShakerFruitTreeIn the local news, there has been a story this week of a man who has been accused of some horrible stuff.  I went to bed uneasy last night after reading the article, but I didn’t pay close attention to the details.  Today I got a phone call from a well-meaning neighbor letting me know that the accused person lives right by me.  After an initial shock and some back-and-forth detective work, we both determined that it couldn’t possibly be my neighbor, but it is his adult son who lives elsewhere in town.  They have the same name.

I’ve felt a little heavy-hearted today, as I always am when I read or hear stories of abuse or crime, especially when children are involved, but this time there’s a more personal sadness to the story.  I like my neighbors.  They are kind and thoughtful and have done nice things for my family.  They are an older couple and they have shown faith and determination while she has undergone cancer treatments on and off over the last year or more.  I can’t imagine the turmoil they must be experiencing knowing that their son is accused of a shameful act.  And I especially feel bad for the father who is known by the same name.  His son has dragged his name through the mud.  His parents will no doubt now feel deeply embarrassed, perhaps ostracized by many.  And that goes without mentioning the pain and turmoil it will surely wreak within their own family dynamics.  I am sad for them.

And yet I realize how often we are careless with our own names.  We perhaps do or say things that, though not criminal, smack of selfishness or reckless abandon.  We fool ourselves into thinking that our choices are ours alone and don’t affect others.  This news story has reminded me that this is not so; Whatever I do with my family name reflects upon my whole family, for better or for worse.

And any of us who considers ourselves Christian does so with a direct connection to the name of Christ.  I have entered into a covenant to take His name upon me, and therefore, He graciously (and obviously at certain personal risk) allows my life to be connected to and associated with His.  When anyone who knows me to be Christian sees me serve and love and show kindness, I glorify His name and honor Him.  When I choose to be selfish or undisciplined or quick to judge, I tarnish that name.  And though He himself cannot be diminished by my poor choices, I blatantly misrepresent Him and I hinder the expression of glory that could and should be for Him.

I remember as a missionary in Argentina, I wore a small black badge every day, pinned directly above my heart.  There were two names on it:  My family (maiden) name and the name of the Savior.  I can recall the tangible responsibility it symbolized.  My identity was wrapped up in theirs, and I knew that whatever I said or did would represent them in some way.  We all wear one of those, you know— at least figuratively.  I make mistakes all the time, but I do better if I remember who I stand for.  I’m certainly not implying that our imperfections mean complete, overwhelming failure or cause for shame.  The Savior does not expect us to be perfect, but his mercy is perfect and his atonement can make us perfect if we repent and submit to Him.

Elder Russell M. Nelson said:

“One day you will be asked if you took upon yourself the name of Christ and if you were faithful to that covenant. . . . We are all allowed—even encouraged—to achieve the fulness of the stature of Christ (see Eph. 4:13).”

Elder D. Todd Christofferson pointed out how, with each obedient act, there is an increase in our blessings and in our ability to honor His name:

“Our willingness to take upon us the name of Christ and keep His commandments requires a degree of faith, but as we honor our covenants, that faith expands. In the first place, the promised fruits of obedience become evident, which confirms our faith. Secondly, the Spirit communicates God’s pleasure, and we feel secure in His continued blessing and help. Thirdly, come what may, we can face life with hope and equanimity, knowing that we will succeed in the end because we have God’s promise to us individually, by name, and we know He cannot lie.”

I’m amazed how generous He is with His name.  I hope I make Him proud of how I use it.

I’m ashamed to admit it…

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… but I think I’m in a post-Conference funk.  I felt so uplifted and even fired up as I watched General Conference this past weekend, and my mind was swirling with goals and self-improvement– in an honestly hopeful way that was buoyed up by the Spirit of it all.

But today I’m not feeling it.  Maybe I’m just discouraged because I’m no different than I was last week.  That’s, admittedly, a little ridiculous.  I guess I just have not figured out any specific ways to implement all the good ideas I felt, so I’m kind of limboish— stuck between the same-old-me and the me-I-felt-inspired-to-be.  Hmmm.

I just sat here and stared at my last paragraph for the last few minutes and these are the two thoughts that came to my mind:

1.  In April General Conference, President Uctdorf shared a story about a man who was struggling with his faith.  President Uctdorf mailed him a letter with suggestions of things to do, and then received a letter from him in return only a week or so later.  The letter said, in essence, “I tried what you said.  It didn’t work.  What else have you got?”  President Uctdorf went on to explain that you can’t rush matters of testimony, and I suspect you cant rush matters of change or improvement or repentance either.  It’s a process, like much of the gospel is, and perhaps requires more patience than I’ve been willing to grant myself in this short period of time.  And right now my thoughts hopped to Elder Bednar’s counsel to “Be Consistent.”  Don’t give up, keep trying, and wait patiently for the “change” to come.

2.  Michael McLean has a song called “Gentle.” (Unnecessary tangent:  When I was in junior high and high school, I was a squeaky clean kid who would come home from school, plop down on my bed with my pink and green backpack, pop in a Janice Kapp Perry or Michael McLean cassette tape, and do my homework until I fell into a peaceful nap.  I still like several genres of Christian music, but now I can hardly stomach that stuff from my youth.  The whole cheesy, emotional, psued0-spiritual sap kind of makes me nauseous.  But I do still like this one song.  Anyway . . .)  These words just did a little tap dance across the stage in my brain:

We’ve been hurt by others often.  We’ve forgiven and forgotten.  We should be more gentle with ourselves.

Oh, apparently there’s one more thought:

3.  Pray about it.  Duh, Stephanie, pray.  Some day I will learn to think of this first.  (It would probably prevent pathetic blog posts.)

I do feel a little better just for having purged out the frustration and getting some clarifying thoughts back in return.  Has anyone else had this same struggle this week?  What helps you to get through it without backing off your 4- or 5-day-old conviction to rise up and refine yourself?