Month: September 2018

When I first had the dream I wrote about in yesterday’s post, I was confused about the baby I had scooped out of the water.  Why a baby?  I wondered.

It then became clear to me that the baby represented the next generation or my responsibility to teach my children.

I have a responsibility to pull my children out of the water.  A task that becomes increasingly harder as the swimming pool grows ever larger. I must teach them to seek the dry ground for themselves.  To desire more than the empty promises of this world. I have to do better.

Which brings me to this throwback blog post from 2010.  On this day I was given a gift, a gentle reminder of the importance of my job as a mother.

Reflecting on my dream and now this post, I’m reminded that though my kids are older now and capable of independence, which gives me added independence of my own, my work is not yet complete.  My kids still walk on the edge–as do all who walk in this world–in danger of slipping into the water at any time.  And my job.  My one job. Is more important than ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So good to know…

September 22, 2010

A strange thing happens when one becomes a small town person, and now I find myself saying things like, “Aww man, I don’t want to drive into town today.”  Into town? Really? Who am I?

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to make round trips into town and back 20 times a day (slight exaggeration) but I do, across horrid, bumpy dirt roads no less.

So sometimes, after picking up one kid and waiting for another to finish music lessons or the like, I hang out in town instead of driving back and forth. This process often irritates me because I always have SO MUCH TO DO at home.

But on Monday I was given a gift. While hanging out in town watching my kids play at the park a sweet gift flooded my mind and my heart as I heard the Spirit whisper, “This is your one job. The most important job you will ever do.”

It wasn’t a warning voice as in, “This is your one job so you better not mess it up.” But a sweet reminder, a special feeling of permission given to me by a loving Father in Heaven that it was okay for me to put all other things aside because this, my one job, was what mattered the very most.

Now, because of this precious gift, when I’m with my kids I am really–WITH MY KIDS. The need for multitasking is gone. Because after all,

I only have one job.

 

 

 

I listened to the songs of Lauren Daigle today while I cleaned–something I do often–and heard her sing these words about the Lord,

“You’re not threatened by the war.  You’re not shaken by the storm.”

Reflecting on this truth I was reminded of a dream I had sixteen years ago. A dream so powerful, I felt moved to write it in my journal the next morning.

The dream began in a swimming pool where I and many others were having a wonderful time.  All of this changed when demons rushed in and began pulling people under the water to their deaths.

Then entered the scariest one of all.  It was the devil himself.  He looked at the death, fear and destruction and he smiled and laughed with delight.

Terrified, I jumped out of the pool then reached down and scooped a baby up out of the water.  Holding the baby close to me I ran.

The devil looked at me and laughed.  He told me to go ahead and run.  He said he would get me when he was finished with the others.  He knew where I’d be.  I couldn’t hide from him.

I ran through streets and ally ways but every time I looked back over my shoulder he was there, coming toward me.

Running into a tiny room, I slammed the door and while looking for something to barricade it with, I noticed there was a man sitting in the room with me. He was a well dressed man who brought with him a feeling of peace and calm.

I recognized him as a prophet of God. He had a very pleasant smile on his face and wasn’t worried at all even though the devil was headed toward our door.

He told me I didn’t need to barricade the door.  He told me to look at the door and pray mightily in the name of the Savior that it would not open.

The door began to shake and I began to pray.  Angered by my prayer, the devil tried with all of his might to open the door.

Smoke and light beams came through the door as it came off of its hinges and pushed forward into the room.  I prayed harder and the door pushed back into place.  This went on and on.

All the while I looked to the prophet who would encourage me with his calm smile.  He was never afraid.

Finally the door shut completely for the last time.  I felt a sense of peace as the prophet touched my shoulder and, giving me one last smile, he was lifted up, disappearing inside of a very bright star.

I knew then that the battle was over.

This dream has always been a reminder to me–just as Lauren Daigle’s song was today–that neither God nor his disciples are threatened by the war or shaken by the storm.

I need never fear. But I must be mindful each day to get out of the water (the distractions and deceptions of this world) and come unto Him, the author of peace, my Savior Jesus Christ.

 

 

We stood on the outskirts of a great story.

Or so I thought.

A simple angle of the wall–one small step on the sidewalk–stood between us and our fifteen seconds of fame at the American Idol auditions last week.

Enforced by the presence of a security guard, we watched as all those who stood in line in front of us–chosen to participate in filming for the upcoming episodes–were led away to glory town.

“We almost had a story to tell.”  I thought as they filmed just beyond our reach.

“Look for us on American Idol.”  We could have said.  “We’re there.  In the cheering crowd.” We would have gushed.  “See right there?  That’s us!”

Though our backpack–positioned on the winner’s side–made the cut, he remained loyally by our sides as the simple angle of the wall, one small step on the sidewalk, robbed us of our story.

Or so I thought.

Until, struck with realization, I smiled. “But wait.  We do have a story.”  I said.

It’s not a story of fame and glory.  It’s a story of almost fame and glory. And almost stories can be great stories too.

I learned the power of almost stories at a family gathering in my early teen years when my Grandpa casually announced,

“I almost bought the land at the corner of Alma School and Southern once.”

Now, because the corner of Alma School and Southern was the most happening place in all of Mesa, Arizona at the time of this gathering, my Grandpa’s announcement caused an eruption that filled the room with an energy so electrifying that the memory of it makes my spine tickle even now.

Gasps, groans and hollers of disbelief followed by the most delicious side splitting laughter burst through the air as we all reflected on the knowledge that we had almost been a very wealthy family.

I loved that almost story moment and I wouldn’t trade it or any of the priceless moments spent in my Grandpa’s humble home for all the wealth in the world.

And though a story of American Idol fame would be a fun one to tell, an almost story made while spending the day with my girls is good enough for me.

I might even tell my grandchildren about it, at a future gathering of our own.