#tbt blog post… The gloves are coming off, August 2012

I prayed for guidance this morning.  Prayed to be filled with understanding and the discernment needed to see God’s truth in a world of deception.

I prayed and was guided to my grandmother’s message– found in this throwback post from 2012–a message so profound that I paused while writing it, unable to capture the words. A message of God’s truth, powerful enough to block out all deception.

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The gloves are coming off…

August 30, 2012

It was while scrubbing my shower this morning that the thought flowed through me, “There are many people on the other side who love you very much.” I then thought of all of those on the other side who do love me. I saw my Grandpa’s face and felt empowered by the army of loved ones buoying me up each day.

My phone rang and after a nice conversation with my dearest love I lay back and thought more about my army of loved ones. I thought of my Grandma and smiled as I remembered a time she showed me the burn scars on her fingers and said, “These really suck.” She was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s and my sister and I giggled at hearing her use the word “suck”.

Remembering that story I whispered, “You understand don’t you Grandma? You understand what it feels like to be a woman. To be so hard on yourself and to continuously believe that something about you sucks.”

It was then that her love washed over me and I sobbed in her warm embrace.

I opened my eyes and marveled as the ceiling above me seemed to expand higher and higher opening to a feeling of vast limitlessness. Then I heard my Grandma say, “If you had any idea of who you really are, you would never waiver. If you KNEW who you really are…”

I sobbed and trembled as her words penetrated my soul and I knew at that moment that I was sent here for a great purpose, a purpose worth fighting for.

So I will fight. I will fight everyday to overcome the deceptions of this world. Deceptions that put such life-shattering, debilitating false value on things that are of no worth. I will fight to not become ensnared by it. I will fight to walk uprightly with boldness and power. And I will fight to always remember who I really am–because apparently I’m pretty special.

My Grandma told me so.

 

That my eyes may be opened…

I declared the Christmas season of 2010 to be a time of service, setting a goal to perform at least one act of service each day.  I marveled at the opportunities for service the Lord placed in my path when I asked for His help in fulfilling my goal.

One afternoon, realizing that I had not yet found an opportunity to serve, I prayed that the Lord would give me eyes to see someone in need.

Shortly after my prayer I got into my car and headed out to get my kids from school.  Rounding the corner by my house, I noticed my neighbor had slid off the icy road into a shallow ditch.

Seeing that she was already on her cell phone and knowing that my kids were waiting for me and that I lacked the skills needed to pull her from the ditch, I waved to her with a sympathetic furrow of my brow as I drove past.

“Look deeper.”  The spirit then whispered.  “What can you do to help?”

Turning my car around I pulled up beside her and asked if I could pick her son up from school.

During the LDS General Conference this Easter weekend (or GenCon as my kids like to call it) I was asked to minister to those in need.  I was asked to abandon plans and assignments and to serve as Jesus taught.  I was asked to look deeper and to ask myself what I could do to help.

I felt excited about this call and hopeful that I would learn to walk as Jesus walked, succoring the weak, lifting up the hands which hang down and strengthening the feeble knees.

This morning–already elbow deep in my plans for today–I received a phone call.  “Would you like to go to the store with me this morning?”  I was asked.  “It’s senior discount day and I can get you some things if you need groceries.”

“Oh thank you.”  I said.  “But I don’t really need anything right now and I’m trying to tackle my dirty dishes.”

A few minutes later, understanding pierced my heart and tears filled my eyes as I realized that I had failed to look deeper.  I saw my plans for the day, I saw my dirty dishes and I saw that I didn’t really need anything from the store.  But what I didn’t see was what I could have done to help.

Had I looked deeper I would have recognized that the offer to take me to the store was really a request. A request made by someone with a lonely heart, looking for company.

Though today I failed to see, I’m still hopeful that God will continue to open my eyes as I learn to walk as Jesus walked, succoring the weak, lifting up the hands which hang down and strengthening the feeble knees.

So if you happen to be free next week, come see me at the grocery store. I’ll be the one getting in on that Senior Discount while enjoying the company of a friend.

And Jesus stood still, and called them, and said, What will ye that I shall do unto you?
They say unto him, Lord, that our eyes may be opened.
So Jesus had compassion on them, and touched their eyes: and immediately their eyes received sight, and they followed him.

 

 

 

Forever welcome…

Just days after Landon left to serve a mission in South Carolina, we took our kids to see Toy Story 3–where Rick and I promptly died!  We sobbed so bitterly that I contemplated rolling around the isles in an attempt to extinguish my grief.

The movie was a painful reminder that we too had watched our “Andy” pack up his childhood and walk away.  I desperately longed for a do-over.  More time to laugh play and explore together.  More time to listen, experience and learn.  More snuggles, stories and songs.  More.  Lots more.

“Did I do enough?” I wondered.  “Did he know that he was my everything?  That he was my world?”  I wanted more time to make sure that he did.

I experience similar emotions–though far less intensely–when I visit my old blog.  Reading the stories of my young family fills me with the desire for a do-over.  I want to go back and hold tighter, longer and more attentively to each moment. And I want to live more of the moments we loved.

My recent #tbt post about the Welcome Home Snack especially pinged my heart as I  found myself wrestling with feelings of guilt for not continuing a tradition that brought my children–and me–so much joy.

Until, remembering a blessing I received the day before, a blessing that reminded me of my continued influence over all of my children and the need to use, to the very fullest, the remaining time I have with my kids still at home, I shook off that guilt and developed a plan.

“Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.”

With the same enthusiasm I used to create a world of wonder and whimsy for my kids while they were young, I brought back the Welcome Home Snack.

And just as I suspected,

no one’s ever too old for a plate full of love,

after a long day at school.