Plan of Happiness by Nic Finch

One of my favorite Gospel teachings is that of the Plan of Salvation. I've loved it since I was young. What hope and purpose it gives us in this life. The majority of the world wonders, why am I here, where did I come from, and where will I go when I die? We are so blessed as members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to have these answers to these questions.

We lived with our Heavenly Father and our Elder Brother, the Savior Jesus Christ, before we came here to this earth. There was a great council held where all that have ever lived, are living, or yet will live on this earth participated. Two plans were offered to us. The first was by Satan. He said send me down to earth, and I will make everyone choose the right so that not one soul will be lost. In return, Heavenly Father, I want all the glory for myself. The second plan was from our Elder Brother, Jesus Christ, He said I will go down and show them how to return to live with thee, Heavenly Father, and the glory will be thine. Satan, because of his greed to try and make himself greater than our Heavenly Father, was cast out of the Father's presence along with 1/3 of the hosts that were in that great council. They were sent here to earth to never obtain a body. They will never progress.

We all chose the Savior’s plan, but how do we know this? Because we are here with a physical body to do our best and do all that is required while we are here to qualify us to return to live with our Heavenly Father. What are those things that we are required to do in this life? First, baptism by immersion by one who holds the Priesthood Authority; second, the laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost; third, we must go to the Temple and receive our Endowments; fourth, we must be sealed in the Temple to our spouse for time and for all eternity; fourth, we must repent daily for the sins we commit; fifth, we must endure with faith to the end. If we do these things, we will have favor in the Lord’s sight, and, through his love and grace, we will be able to live with Him and the Father in the Celestial Kingdom.

Those who choose not to follow this path, do as they please, and live a not so pleasant life, will inherit the lowest kingdom, the Telestial Kingdom. Those who have lived a good life but never found the saving truths, or chose not to accept those savings truths, will inherit the Terrestrial Kingdom. But before we are judged and assigned the degrees of glory or kingdoms in which we earned, there is a place that we go to when we die. That place is known as the Spirit World. The Spirit World is divided in to two places: Spirit Prison and Spirit Paradise. Those who have accepted the Gospel in this life and died are in Paradise and have the great responsibility of doing missionary work and preaching  to those in Spirit Prison. We have a great responsibility here in this life to get saving ordinances done for those who are in Spirit Prison. These ordinances are a physical ordinance and must be done in the flesh. That is why we do Genealogy work. To find our loved ones and get their temple work done for them. That way, if they accept and believe what is being taught to them in the Spirit World, they will have those ordinances done for them and qualify themselves to live with our Father in Heaven in the Celestial Kingdom.

Oh what joy and peace this gives me. I know that these things are true. I know that I will see my loved ones again and that families can be together forever. I know that if I will endure well to the end, I will live with my wife and kids and my Heavenly Father.  How grateful I am for a loving Heavenly Father who provided this Plan of Salvation or Plan of Happiness. He truly loves each and every one of us and knows us by name.

Choosing to Love Myself by Krystin Wahl

I remember one specific Valentine's Day.  It was the year I attended BYU-Hawaii, February 2003.  My friend next door had the same misfortune I did, we both did not have a date for this night of "love".  I remember sitting on the Haleiwa beach together, listening to the sound of crashing waves.   I had my own tub of ice cream in hand..... indulging, or drowning, my thoughts.  I resented all those who had a date for the night and who were even possibly enjoying a goodnight kiss.   Happiness Shmappiness, who needs it anyway?? (especially when you have ice cream).

To this day,  I can vividly recall the feeling of walking back home that night plum full, but empty.  

Something deep inside me knew I was missing a key concept of life. "Men are that they might have joy!", so why was I not allowing myself to experience such an emotion?   It wasn't until many years down the road where I learned a very valuable lesson.

Fast forward more than a decade.

My marriage was struggling.  How could this be?  I had 4 beautiful children, an amazing husband, and financially we were well off.  In fact, Kyle and I had set a goal to be completely financially free by the age of 30 and we accomplished it 3 months prior to our deadline.  From this experience, I can confidently state that money does not buy you joyful relationships, neither can it pay for any of your problems to vanish.  We still struggled.  I still struggled.... and I didn't know the reason, I was just unhappy. 

However,  I knew what would make me happy.  If my children would just LISTEN the first time I asked them to do something, if everyone would keep the house in the order I left it in, and if my husband would just take me on a date once in a while..... then I would be happy.  It was all their fault I was unhappy.  Somehow I felt justified by putting the blame on everyone else.  There was simply no other way for me to be happy; it had been outsourced.

I remember praying one night with the intent to understand why I was feeling so empty. I had a burning desire to have change come into my life.... my marriage, kids, and future were all on the line.  I did not enjoy this depressed feeling I was experiencing and held onto the hope that there was something I was missing.  After all,  I was doing all the things I should be... attending church, reading my scriptures, praying, gratitude journaling.... so why wasn't I whole-heartedly happy!? 

 I prayed long and hard for that answer. It was unveiled to me in such a beautiful way!  God is so good!  There it was, I finally saw it!  This LIE that fueled my unhappiness.  

The beauty in it was that I saw it was something I could fix myself.  What baffled me was that it had very little to do with anyone else.  You see, at my core I had adopted a belief that I was "not good enough".  Not good enough to have a date on Valentines, not a good enough wife, not good enough at sports, not thin enough, not a good enough mother, cook, mentor, sister, singer, friend, visiting teacher, daughter.... the list was lengthy.  With this belief, my brain gathered all the evidence to make it a case-closed deal.  To top it off,  I was triggered by anyone, and anything, who confirmed this distorted belief.  It was their fault, or so I thought.  I saw how this lie was infecting my life, causing the relationships around me to unravel.  What a glorious realization..... the moment my eyes were opened to see that I could smash that belief that was not serving me in a positive way.  I could change!   I could CHOOSE to feel "good enough" and collect all the positive evidence just as I had done with the negative!

I will state here that this new way of thinking was not as easy as I had hoped.  It took time and effort.  But by small and simple things are great things brought to pass, and I can proudly say that I have found my own happiness and joy by changing my thoughts.  I now take full responsibility for my emotions and thoughts and it has made all the difference not just in my inner and outer world, but also in my relationships.    

What thoughts go through your mind all day?  What about at the end of the day?  I was guilty of lying in bed thinking of all the things I did not get done, or the things I failed at, or replaying what I should or should not have said!?  I will just call this way of thinking out like it is.  It's a set up for failure!  The last thought that we should be dozing off with should be HOW AMAZING WE ARE! Gathering positive evidence by counting up all the accomplishments of our day. 

I propose this way of thinking.  One where we fire all the negative thoughts and voices in our head who are not cheering us on.  February is the month of LOVE, and who better to show it to than our own self!?? Try seeing ourselves the way that God does.  God loves us unconditionally.  As we learn from Him how to love, it instills in us that we were "fearfully and wonderfully made", and that we were "bought with a price".  It gives us the powerful peace that lets us know  WE ARE ENOUGH!  Choose to love ourselves, even as God loves us, and by so doing we are choosing to see Him in us.  This allows us more space and room to have better relationships all around. PROFOUND!

So this month, I propose this challenge of 'CHOOSING TO LOVE MYSELF'.  I hope you choose to play!   

1. NO NEGATIVE SELF TALK FOR THE MONTH OF FEBRUARY

(that's like 16 more days)

This means no negative comments, no negative words, or negative jokes about yourself.  Use the heart print to track your efforts.  Put it on the wall in a place where you see it often so it can remind you of this challenge.  Color in a section of the heart for each day you go without negative self-talk.  If you mess up, forgive yourself and commit to try again the next day.  Awareness is key!

2.  REPLACE OLD HABITS WITH POSITIVE ONES

As you catch the negative comments, turn them into a positive!  Two positives for each negative.  An example would be if I happened to do something silly,  and a thought inside said "You are so stupid".... counter it with "I am intelligent and I learn from my mistakes".

You are enough simply because you are Divine.  I know who I am, a daughter of God.  I leave my testimony of this knowledge and pray that we will all remember our Divine heritage. XOXO

Choose love.   CHOOSE TO BE HAPPY.   Choose JOY!

Weak Things Become Strong by Leisha Greer

I’m not normally a person who has a way with words, especially when I’m nervous.  I tend to stammer, which I like to tell myself is my extremely rapid brain thinking too fast for my mouth to catch up.  This is how I’ve managed to get out of public speaking duties for 25 years.  My senior year of high school we were required to speak in the ward of our choice for our last seminary assignment. My friends all found out and showed up in support, which I stumbled my way through, voice trembling, and uttering moans and weird sounds throughout the whole talk which my friends found hilarious.  This was the last time I spoke in church.  

My problem with public speaking is in large part due to my struggle with self-esteem.  I hate the feeling of being watched and automatically think I am being judged.  When I was younger, I hated being the center of attention. Pictures taken of myself show me shrugging my shoulders up by my ears in an effort to try and hide my face.  I resembled a turtle.

I never wanted to be seen or heard.  In school, when I was called on, my heart would race, my hands would sweat, and an icy chill would flow over my whole body.  I always felt everyone was laughing at me, especially when I would stutter.

You think as I have gotten older and wiser, I wouldn’t care about what others have to think about me.  But unfortunately it carried on into my 30’s.  Living in Utah, I regularly compared myself to the other moms in the ward and often came up short with the talents that I associated with these ‘supermoms', as I liked to call them.  I put these moms on imaginary pedestals, which made me sink to a low depth of insignificance and depression.  I also grew up in an inactive home and never had a firm grasp of gospel principles.  I had tremendous guilt for not being able to teach and pass these down to my children.  

I finally realized something needed to be done.  I had a frank discussion with my bishop at the time and told him of my insecurities.  With love and understanding, he told me that first and foremost, I needed to stop comparing myself to these other moms.  He added that we all have issues that we are dealing with and that nobody’s family is perfect.

Secondly, he said to overcome my feelings of worthlessness, I needed  to remember who I am, which is a daughter of God.  I should seek His help through prayer.  For the first time in my life, I prayed for help with my anxieties.   I felt surrounded by what I can only describe as warm hug.  I knew in that moment that my Heavenly Father loved me and every one of my imperfections.

Last, he said to surround myself with positive people and positive things. Have you noticed when you are in negative company, it makes you also want to be negative?  However, this can work both ways.  Find the uplifting people in your life that make you happy.  The people who love you will always encourage you to do better and never in a critical way.  

One thing I have come to notice is that my problem is not uncommon.  At some point in our lives most people struggle with problems of self-worth.

Ether 12:27 says: “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”

Elder Glenn L. Pace of the Seventy added that, “Too often we wallow in our weaknesses so much that we do not allow “weak things” to “become strong.” Our condition is frequently misdiagnosed as humility, when in reality it is a lack of confidence. To lack confidence is to have feelings of low self-worth. We are preoccupied with our weaknesses, and we lack faith in the Lord’s ability to use those weaknesses for our good. We do not understand our inestimable worth in the eyes of God, nor do we appreciate our divine potential. Ironically, both pride and a lack of self-confidence cause us to focus excessively on ourselves and to deny the power of God in our lives.”

I still struggle with self-esteem and loving myself; I unfortunately always will.  It’s hard changing a lifetime of insecurities.  But I’ve come to realize that loving yourself is not about puffing your chest and tooting your own horn.  It’s not trying to compare oneself to the world’s idea of flawlessness.  In the end,  I know through humbling myself, seeking Heavenly Father’s help through prayer, surrounding myself with those that love me,  and knowing who I am, that my struggles and insecurities can and will improve.  I have faith in knowing He will always love me, imperfections and all.  

He is Your Biggest Fan by Rachel Winters

I was asked to write a post for this blog on day two of a huge wrestling tournament, so naturally that is where my thoughts are right now. A friend showed me this poem.

I feel this is how Heavenly Father feels about us here on earth. He is our cheerleader on the sideline of each one of our lives. He is there to guide and comfort us, but He can't jump in and save us. How refreshing it is to know we have Him there, to comfort us when we're in pain, to give us reassurance when we're overwhelmed or discouraged. I know He is cheering for a victory, He is hoping we don't get hurt, and He is loving us no matter what.

Heaven is Just a Prayer Away - Ethan's Story by Christy Skousen

Life is most certainly full of curve balls. One second you’re headed smoothly down your intended path, and the next minute you are soaring into an abyss of unplanned and uncharted territory. December 6, 2016 was a day just like this. Well, let me back up a bit. A month prior to this date, we had travelled down to the valley to support the Redskins’ varsity football team for their first playoff game. In Mesa, on Sunday, November 6, 2016, 30 minutes before we planned to head home, my daughter, Faith, broke her arm while attempting to beat her brother, Ethan, in a wrestling match. She tried to best him at his game. She lost. Three days in the hospital and an emergency surgery to reset her elbow with pins later, we were headed back up the mountain. After returning home, we were able to iron out the wrinkles of the weekend well enough, and we were back to our normal (crazy) life. 

Now, back to Tuesday, December 6, 2016. Faith was scheduled to have her pins removed at Cardon Children’s Hospital in Mesa. Scott and I had planned an insanely crazy day. I don’t typically accompany him on these types of trips, but today was an exception. You know, when you live in St. Johns, you have to make the most out of a trip to the Valley. We were to leave at 6 am. At 10 am we were to pick up some Christmas presents we had purchased, at 10:30 Scott dropped me off at my hair appointment, ran to Sam’s Club for a few things, and then took Faith to have her cast and pins removed. At 12:30, Scott dropped Faith off at my mother’s house and headed to meet his brothers in Maricopa to give his father, who had been ill, a blessing. Faith, my mom, and my sister met me at the hairdressers and we headed to lunch for my mother’s birthday.  Everything was working out as planned! So far, the day had gone off without a hitch.

On the home front things seemed to be going well, too! We had left Conner in charge, and he had it under control. He had a list of the “to and froms” that were necessary for everyone else to accomplish their tasks for the day and a list of emergency contacts “just in case.” Around 2 pm I received a phone call asking for permission for Ethan to accompany a friend to the rock quarry. My immediate response was, “Yes, of course!” You see, Ethan is our wild card. In a matter of speaking, he constantly mixes up the fruit basket at our house. You just never know how things are going to turn out when he’s around. I knew that being cooped up all day with his little sisters could be potentially disastrous. Remember, it was because of his helpfulness that we were headed to the Valley in the first place (Sister…wrestling…broken arm).  

After lunch, Faith and I headed back to my mom’s house to wait for Scott. Our appointed departure time was 3 pm. We had to get on the road to be back in St. Johns by 6:30 pm for Hope’s dance performance, and even that was pushing it. As we were making preparations to leave, I received a phone call. Ethan had fallen… he hit his head… the ambulance was on its way… MY HEART STOPPED. In situations like this I tend to downplay the seriousness of what has happened. For some reason this time, I couldn’t shake the uneasiness I felt inside.  Maybe it was because I was almost 4 hours away, and I was relying on others to care for my son until I returned, maybe it was the quiet whisper in my head that told me something was really wrong, maybe it was both. There is something terribly unnerving that happens to a parent when they feel like they cannot do anything to help their child. As I stood in my mother’s kitchen, I mentally grasped for things I knew to be true. Truth #1- God loves each of us. He loves Ethan, and He loves me. Truth #2- God has a plan for each of us. No matter what happens, God will give us the strength to be endure this trial if we accept His will. Truth #3- I can access God’s help through prayer. After taking a very long and deep breath, I issued a silent prayer. I asked God to send angels to bless and help Ethan and those who were assisting him. I prayed for peace and comfort; I prayed that I might be able to hold it together until I was able to get to him. Scott returned to my mom’s house a few minutes later, I explained the situation to him, and we were off. 

As we approached Fountain Hills, Scott asked me to call and find out if there was any more information available because soon the cell phone reception would be spotty at best. Luckily, we were able to make contact and found out that Ethan was going to be flown to Phoenix Children’s Hospital. We were also told that he had received a Priesthood blessing before being loaded into the helicopter. The helicopter medic explained that Ethan had fallen approximately 35-40 feet, had a laceration on his head that had bled profusely, that he had lost consciousness, and that when he came to, he had remained in a semi-conscious state. We also knew, that as a precautionary measure, the emergency response team sedated and then intubated him.  We immediately turned around and headed back to my parents’ house. 

After dropping Faith off with my mom, Scott, my Dad, and I climbed back into the car to head to the hospital, where we met my brother. After registering Ethan, the four of us were ushered into a little waiting room. I remember feeling grateful that I was surrounded by the most important men in my life. They are my rocks. A nurse entered the room and explained that Ethan had arrived and asked Scott and I to follow her. We exited the waiting room as Ethan was being wheeled passed us on the stretcher. He was pale. The emergency room nurse was squeezing the respirator that was sending oxygen into his lungs. He was wrapped in a foil blanket to keep warm. We entered the emergency trauma unit together. Approximately 30 doctors and resident doctors were in the room. 10 of them surrounded Ethan. The head ER doctor started shouting out orders and diagnoses that I didn’t understand.  I heard level one trauma… right side not responding… chest x-ray stat! These people worked together like a well-oiled machine.  I stood back in amazement. 10 minutes later we were following them into the room where he was to receive a CAT scan. The results would tell us if he needed emergency brain surgery.

By this time a whole new army of angels had stepped up to help our family, the good people in our little town of St. Johns, AZ! A multitude of prayers were being offered in our behalf. People were organizing and taking action. The girls had been picked up and fed. Hope’s hair was done, she was dressed like a princess, and taken to her performance. Dinner was brought in, our floors were mopped, the dishes were cleaned, and the pantry was stocked. We received calls and texts from numerous well-wishers. The outpouring was overwhelming and humbling. 

Ethan’s scan showed a skull fracture and a brain bleed also known as a hematoma. The epidural hematoma was on the borderline. If much more blood pooled inside his head, it would require brain surgery to drain it. Another scan was ordered to be completed 3 hours later. They stapled his laceration closed and sent us up to the intensive care unit. Ethan was still heavily sedated, and we still had no idea what the extent of his injuries were, but he had been responsive, (not verbally because he was still intubated) he had blinked his eyes and squeezed our hands to answer questions.  

The second scan showed a little more bleeding but not enough to require emergency surgery. The neurologists ordered another follow up scan for the following evening. The intensive care nurse was given orders to extubate Ethan which we were really excited about. Being able to breathe on his own meant that that hospital staff could start to wean him off all of the drugs they were administering. With less drugs in his system, the possibility that he would be more awake and aware was higher.  We were hoping that he would be able to tell us what happened. Unfortunately, (or fortunately depending how you look at it) he couldn’t recall anything that had happened just prior to his fall or anything that had happened to that point. The good news is that he could remember all other facts and miscellaneous information about his past. His brain was functioning properly! Prayers were being answered. 

The next day he awoke severely nauseous; every time he was moved, even the slightest bit, he vomited.  He was extremely sleepy and preferred to just be left alone. (Not that I blame him, he had been poked and prodded all night out of necessity). He hadn’t needed any pain medication since 10 pm and remained at about a 2 out of 10 on the pain scale, although he did complain of a headache when asked. The hospital staff continued to monitor him in the ICU for the duration of the day. 

As Ethan rested, I had the opportunity to process all that had taken place. Ethan’s fall wasn’t fatal. He was administered to at the sight of the accident by two worthy Priesthood holders that on all accounts should not have even been at the scene. They both work desk jobs for the Sheriff’s Department.  Angels on both sides of the veil were busily working for the benefit and betterment of my family. The six children that were alone in St. Johns, weren’t really alone. Earthly angels were attending to their needs. They were having a great time. In fact, they were being so well taken care of in our absence that when I called to visit with them they were so excited to tell me about all of the fun things they were doing that I hardly got a word in edgewise. According to the neurologists, Ethan’s head injury was in the perfect location. Had it been even an inch lower, they would have had to operate immediately, and the outcome of brain surgery is sketchy at best. The doctors emphasized that you just never know what the long term side effects will be when you are working with the brain. From all angles, it truly was a miracle that Ethan hadn’t been hurt worse.  Truth #4- Jesus is a God of Miracles! Ethan is proof that God honors the prayers of His people. I know that our journey had been blessed because of the cumulative prayers that had been uttered on his behalf. Our family and the good people of St. Johns provided the vehicle that accessed God’s power. To say that I was humbled by this outpouring in our behalf is a severe understatement.  Feeling completely in awe and overwhelmed by love, I wept. Truth #5- We were never expected to go through the trials of life alone. The collected faith of others will strengthen and lift you in your time of need. Words of comfort came flooding into my mind, “Those that are with you are more than those that are against you.”

Ethan awoke with a nasty headache the following morning. The MRI taken the night before showed extreme bruising of the brain but that the bleeding had stopped. He was diagnosed with a severe concussion which was causing his massive headache. We were also told that brain injuries often peak two days after the incident. So far though, with the exception of an angry headache, he performed well on all of his cognitive tests. Both sides of his body were responding normally. They decided that they could move him to a normal hospital room and continue to monitor him there. After getting settled in his new hospital room, we ordered him lunch which he ate and kept down. It was the first meal he had eaten in 48 hours. Because of all of the nausea, he had had no desire to eat.  His doctors assured us that if he could eat and drink, keep the food down that he consumed, and show that he could walk around without becoming too weary or dizzy, they would release him the following day. 

Ethan passed his physical therapy test. He was able to do everything that the doctor needed to see. He completed balance exercises, walked halls, and climbed stairs. It wore him out, though, and he slept for three hours afterwards. The next day the occupational therapist came in to make sure that Ethan could perform daily tasks normally. He had to show that he could dress and feed himself and use the bathroom on his own.  Thankfully, he didn’t struggle with any of these things. The final assessment he had to complete was to be given by the speech therapist. He had to read and answer questions both written and orally. They needed to assess his ability to process information. The speech pathologist explained that often after brain trauma thinking can become cumbersome. Thankfully, Ethan didn’t show any reason for concern. (Other than instead of naming pets and farm animals, he named all of the creatures in the sea).  After she left, Ethan took another long nap. He was still unable to do any activity for long lengths of time, but that was to be expected. At his release from the hospital the neurologist explained to him that his head was broken and, just like having a broken leg, he has to let it heal.  6-8 weeks of very limited activity were the doctor’s orders. We are so grateful, though, that it looks like he will have no residual side effects from his tumble. 

I know that the prayers that have been rendered in his behalf have made all of the difference. I have never in my life felt so strongly the presence and power of unseen hands healing, lifting, and blessing anyone. If the veil had been lifted for even a second, I know that I would have seen Ethan surrounded by angels. I love the song by Hillary Weeks that says, “I did what I could, I said a prayer.” I could never appropriately express my gratitude to all those that helped bring to pass this miracle. Thank you!! Thank you for helping me remember that 1. God loves each of us. 2. God has a plan for each of us. 3. I can access Gods help through prayer. 4. Jesus is a God of miracles! And 5. We are never expected to go through the trials of life alone. The collected faith of others will strengthen and lift you in your time of need.

Some people live in places where those around them are indifferent. They neither know nor care for their neighbors. We have been blessed to live in a tight knit community. One that has shown love for and rendered help to those in need. I am grateful to call this little town of “Friendly Neighbors” my home.

In the Midst of the Mom Rut by Jenn Frieden

I don’t know if anyone has told you this but life is hard. Being a parent is HARD! There are days that I think I have got this whole mom thing under control and it’s the best job in the whole wide world. Other days I feel like I am willing to take any OTHER job in the whole wide world just to get away from the responsibilities of motherhood and keeping our home running. How can it be possible to have so much joy and misery doing the exact same thing? 

I’ve always wanted a big family. In my adolescent mind I thought the crazier, louder, bigger family the better.  Now all I can think is “What was I thinking?” and “My poor mother!” I think we all have this ideal picture in our head of how our family and our life will be. Our expectations are that we will meet the man (woman) of our dreams, get married, have the perfect amount of beautiful brilliant children and all live in a beautifully clean home happily ever after. And then life happens and that picture is shattered into a thousand pieces of reality. Somedays I am that mother I saw in my mind doing crafts and taking my kids to the park. Somedays I am the mother I never knew existed doing the 17^th load of laundry and forgetting, again, that dinner happens every day. I find myself getting into the motherhood rut of doing the same things over and over again, existing in my life instead of living it. Then comes the added bonus of motherhood guilt for everything. I should be doing this. I could have done that better. Even on those good days where I did everything I was “supposed” to and my kids are all clean and sleeping in their own beds at the right time; no one knows about it. Where is my A+? Where is my gold star? I want a little acknowledgment and validation that I’m doing what I’m supposed to, and that I am doing a dang good job at it as well! I want to shout from my rooftop that today, I did my job right! But guess what?  I have to do it again tomorrow, and the result is most likely going to change. It’s an ongoing cycle of crazy and some days I just want to get out. 

It also doesn’t help that there are so many ways that I get to see other mothers doing a WAY better job than me at everything! I get to see kids with perfect outfits and hair expertly done, homes decorated to look like the magazines and dinners that belong in a resort style restaurant. Man, I suck at my job. 

How can we get out of the Mom Rut? How can I change my attitude so that I am living my life and not just existing?  I believe that in our darkest times the Lord sends us little rays of sunshine to point out what we are missing. Rosemary Wixom stated “Our divine nature has nothing to do with our personal accomplishments, the status we achieve, the number of marathons we run, or our popularity and self-esteem. Our divine nature comes from God.” This quote is one of these golden rays! What I do during every day is not changing my worth or value to the Lord. I am important to Him, not because I was that “perfect mother” I expected to be today, but because I was me. I might have been blinded by the 18^th load of laundry and dinner but my value in the Lords eyes has not changed. What better validation can I receive than from the creator of the universe? 

Can we stop with the unrealistic expectations of life? Can we stop comparing our weaknesses to someone else’s strengths? Can we stop putting so much pressure on ourselves that we can’t find any joy in our life? Can we all help each other, lift each other, and tell one another the positive instead of focusing on the negative? I, for one, don’t like feeling so overwhelmed that life just feels like a giant to do list. That’s not what God wants for us. I’ve had countless moms from this amazing community tell me they are going through the same things, and that is ok. That is more than ok. It makes me feel like my crazy is normal. 

In the “Family: A Proclamation to the World” released by the Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, it says “Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, and to teach them to love and serve one another, observe the commandments of God, and be law-abiding citizens wherever they live.”  No pressure there! (Sarcasm) He has a plan and a purpose for each one of us. I, as a mom, am not more important than my children because I was born first in this world. “Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ.”  The Savior is the central role in this purpose and life and He should be the center of our marriages and families. Easier said than done, I’m afraid. But Elder Jeffrey Holland gives me another ray of hope when he said “Don’t give up… don’t you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead… It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come.”

Tenderfully Merciful by Stacy Waite

When the Jaredites FINALLY landed in the promised land, they immediately “bowed themselves down upon the face of the land, and did humble themselves before the Lord, and did shed tears of joy before the Lord, because of the multitude of his tender mercies over them.”  I’ve always loved the phrase ‘tender mercies’ because it so perfectly captures what I imagine my Heavenly Father to be. Tenderfully Merciful.

I’m not a writer, but I’ll share with you two of the greatest Tender Mercies that Heavenly Father ever granted to me.  He truly lives and loves His children and wants only what is best for us and what will get us back to Him.

My dad passed away 25 years ago this past December at the young age of 52.  I used to call him old all the time, but he really wasn’t.  He used to joke and say that it wasn’t the years, but the miles that aged you.  If that’s true, my dad had a lot of miles.

He was called to serve in the Vera Cruz, Mexico Mission.  He had only been serving for a few months when he drew the short straw and was elected to put up an antenna on top of their apartment building so they could listen to general conference on the radio.  He had just finished setting the antenna up and was dropping the cable down the side of the building when the wind caught the cable and it came in contact with a 240 volt power line.  The cable conducted the power directly to my dad who had it in his hands, knocking him unconscious.  He fell over the side of the 2 story building, some 25 feet to the concrete below.  He fortunately landed on his feet and he always said that he came to long enough to see his glasses go skidding across the sidewalk.  The electricity had gone to ground through his right leg and had severed the artery just below his calf muscle.  When he landed on the pavement, most of his weight was on his left leg and it both dislocated his knee and shattered the bone into 17 pieces between the knee and ankle.  The doctors were so worried about his left leg that they failed to notice the lack of circulation in his right foot and consequently they ended up amputating it just below the calf.  They removed 2 inches of bone from his left leg as it was so broken up they couldn’t piece it back together.  Needless to say, he was pretty banged up.  He stayed in the hospital in Mexico City for several months.  When he was well enough to leave the hospital, he still couldn’t travel and convalesced at the home of the ambassador for the US to Mexico, Dean Tyler.  Brother Tyler and his wife were kind enough to allow my dad to stay there several more months, until he was well enough to travel back to St. Johns.  The Tyler’s and my grandparents corresponded frequently and for years after dad came home they continued to send Christmas cards to one another.  Over the decades though, the Tyler’s and my grandparents lost contact with one another.

President Gordon B. Hinckley was the Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve at that time and was the liaison between the mission and my grandparents and church headquarters.  I didn’t know this until we were living in Idaho 15 years ago. I found some letters between him and my grandparents from the time of the accident.  President Hinckley was the prophet by then and I thought it would be neat to write him a letter to see if he remembered what happened to my dad down there, so I did.  I explained who I was and summarized the accident and then told him that dad had passed away 10 years prior and at the time of his passing he was a full tithe payer, had his home teaching done, and was a worthy temple recommend holder.  To my surprise, he had his personal assistant respond to my letter.  He did remember my dad and the accident and was happy to hear that my dad was faithful till the end.  This is tender mercy #1.

Fast forward a few decades…

My dad died on December 5^th, 1991.  Almost a year later, to the date, I reported to the MTC to prepare to  serve my own mission in the Missouri Independence Mission in Kansas City, Kansas.  When I had been out a few months, I was assigned to the Olathe Branch in a suburb of KC, KS which was a tiny congregation of about 25 people.  It was very intimate, to say the least.  I had been serving there for a couple of months and I had just received the news that I would be leaving and serving in another area.  Fortunately the Sunday before transfers was a fast Sunday and I was able to share my testimony with the branch one last time and let them know I was leaving.  I noticed a new couple in the back of the room we were meeting in.  We didn’t get visitors very often and the Spirit whispered that I needed to talk to them. So I did.  I introduced myself to them:

“Hello, I’m Elder Waite.”

“Hello Elder Waite”, the man replied, “Where are you from?”

I gave my standard answer, “A tiny, little town in Arizona, I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

He said, “Try me”, so I told him…”St. Johns”.  I could tell he recognized it and confirmed it by saying that he knew exactly where St. Johns was.

“Who are your grandparents?” he asked me.  I told him my grandparents were Edward and LaRue Waite.  His eyes started to sparkle a little as he told me that he knew them.  I was at a loss.

“Who are your parents?” he continued.  “Richard and Beverly Waite”, I said proudly.  He really started to cry and said that he knew my dad.  “My name is Dean Tyler”, he said, and I had heard his name before, but never the story behind it.  So he told me all about the accident that my dad had while he was on his mission.  We embraced and the tears flowed freely.  I was able to give him my home address and my grandmother LaRue’s address so they could reconnect after so many decades.

I had many reservations about going on a mission since my dad was gone.  I really felt like I was abandoning my mom in a time that she really needed me.  I know now that serving a mission was the most important thing for me to do at that time.  I never would have met the Tyler’s and experienced one of the most comforting, testimony building, and divine tender mercies ever.