Born With the Seeds of Life and Death

Today I attended a funeral for the son of our cousin. He was 28 yrs. old, and was born with a "bent" chromosome. According to the doctors - he was one of a kind. The grandfather gave the closing remarks and commented that we are each born with the seeds of living and dying, and when those seeds mature, the blessings are manifest. For those who understand and embrace eternal progression, his passing was a blessing. He no longer will ask "Why am I different? Why did God make me this way?" He is at rest with the One who created him. And for those that remain - we must continue to nurture and reflect on the seed within - of living. 

It's All in the Can

For the last few days I have been picking through a HEAP of Ball, Kerr and Kraft jars, filled with "mystery" ingredients. The purpose is to increase my stash of canning jars for some summertime fun.

What - you don't think this will be fun? My husband, HB (honey buns), thinks I should can everything we can to fill our pantry. Not! We found a free source for apricots last year. HB thinks I should can apricots. I hate canned apricots - and so does he. HB thinks we can trade them for canned fruit we like. Not even going there. I will just make jam - which we both like and I can give it away, because I want to.

However, I do have some items I would like to can this year - because I now have some canning jars. Here is my list:

• Bread and Butter Pickles 
• Hot Sauce
• Tomatoes
• Chunky Apple Butter
• Cherries
• Peaches
• and Jam

And when I am all through (this is the best part), I will have a pantry lined with beautiful jars just like this!

Story @ Home 2012

The last two days I have been attending a conference about "story-telling." The conference ticket was a gift to me from my family. They found out about it and said, "Mom, you need to go! You are the story-teller in our family and hopefully this will be something you will enjoy."


Well, it has been enjoyable. Yesterday there were some speakers - some motivational, others just good story-tellers. Today they had a workshop with a variety of classes to choose from. I chose to learn more about the blogging world - only to discover that there have been several "blogging" conferences held in Utah already. Hey - I was in school full time and wouldn't have had time for this anyway!


Of all the classes, the most empowering one was about taking your fear and turning it into reality. I admit that I have this fear (lack of faith?) in myself. This week I am going to do some rethinking about what it is I want to do, create that "vision board," and learn to move forward towards that goal of redefining the possibilities.

You Will Not Believe It!

This past Sunday, during Relief Society meeting, we had a wonderful lesson on "The Spirit of Revelation." There were quite a few interpretations that the women shared. One was, "From God's lips to our ears." 

We are not always in a frame of mind to hear that still small voice, so the Lord in His mercy allows us to receive needed revelations in many other ways. In seeking direction and guidance to life's questions it may come as a thought, pure inspiration, a memory, recognition of truth, a vision, or even visiting with a friend or a new acquaintance. Revelation doesn't always come when we want it. Sometimes it is delayed and comes instead - when we need it and not necessarily because we asked!

That is the beauty of revelation, it is "personal" revelation from God, something my faith believes in. He is mindful of us every day. The question for me as is - am I listening?

Our teacher this Sunday, Carolyn, is an elementary school principal. She shared two powerful examples of revelation that I will share here. Each has a message that touched my heart.

A member of Carolyn's office staff is an incredible woman. Regularly, when coming in to work, she would say, "You won't believe what happened to me!" A short while ago she came in and said, "You won't believe what happened to me. I received this incredible revelation at church!", and shared the experience she had as the sacrament was passed to the congregation.

                                       

A 14-year old young man was passing the sacrament for the first time. Most young men in my Church are given thisresponsibility at age 12, but due to some emotional issues, this young man's opportunity to pass the sacrament had been postponed. During this particular meeting, all went well until he came to this pew where this woman was sitting. Accidently, he dropped the sacrament tray that had the cups with water in them. The cups fell out, the water went everywhere. Quietly, the nearby deacons gathered up the spilled cups and tray. Reverently, it was refilled with new cups and water and passed to those in the pews 

To hear about this incident, one might think - "how embarrassing for that young man," and move on with your thoughts. But for this woman, Carolyn's friend, watching this accident happen, she received a "revelation." She told Carolyn, "It wasn't about the spilled water - it was that there was enough water for everyone." - I will let you think about that one.

Carolyn then went on to share that this story did not end there. About six weeks later, Carolyn's friend had realized that this young man had not attended church since the incident happened. She felt impressed to visit the young man's home - to tell his mother about the "revelation," she had received that day, and how grateful she was for this young man's part of her greater understanding of the Atonement of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

After Carolyn's friend shared her gratitude with this mother, the mother then proceeded to share what had transpired for her son when they had returned  home from Church on that fateful Sunday. He had been so traumatized by the accident that he had to be admitted into the hospital. The mother continued by explaining that her son had returned home the previous day. This mother, receiving her own inspiration, asked if Carolyn's friend would share the story with her son, which she did. The friend expressed her gratitude for him being there that day and allowing the Spirit to reveal and testify to her of the power of the Atonement.

The following Sunday this young man came back to church. He sat down beside Carolyn's friend and held her hand throughout the meeting. 

When this woman came to school the next day, she said, "You won't believe it, I witnessed a miracle, but I was the only one who saw it!" Revelations - they are personal.

The second example Carolyn shared was of a Russian nesting Babushka doll, like the one I have pictured here. She took us through an exercise of taking each doll out - and labeling the different layers with the things we have going on in our lives - such as work, family, personal issues, health, finances, etc. She finally arrived at the last doll which she identified as our spirit - and then made this observation. "When the Lord desires to speak to us through the Spirit - personal revelation - He sure does have to go through a lot of layers to get our attention."

We then went through the exercise again, of putting the dolls - or layers - back together. But this time the layers were personal prayer in the morning, personal prayer in the evening, scripture study, serving others, etc. The objective was to help us visually see that when we re-purpose the layers of our life - we will be able to receive personal revelation again.

Then you can say, "You won't believe what happened to me!"

Dinner at my house

Tomorrow night we are playing host for a ward progressive dinner - or something like that. Different families in our congregation have been divided up in hopes that we can get to know one another better. We have some lovely people coming to our home. This is what we are having for dinner.

Menu:

Aussie Chicken

Steamed Veggies

Baked Potatoes

Green Salad with Dressing 

Rolls

Drink 

My husband is requesting that the liquid refreshment be a "stiff drink" - I rolled my eyes. He is thinking something like Martinelli's, with a high level of carbonation or a very potent lemonade!

Last night I had some ladies from my ward over for a meeting. One, who is around my age asked if I really did cook dinner every night.

Is it becoming a lost art? From all the food blogs and the popularity of Food Network,  you would think EVERYONE cooks. All the time. But they don't - they just secretly wish someone would cook for them.

The real question should be - do you like to cook dinner every night? Do you?

Last night I had my husband prepare some soup. He has made this before, many times, so I was surprised that it had a funny taste. He caught me making faces and came clean. He wasn't paying attention to the measurements and put in 2 tablespoons of red pepper flakes and 2 tablespoons of dried basil. Yes, that would make it taste - different. However, he said that he  realized his mistake and quickly scooped out the excess ingredients. 


Since I have been home from NYC - where I didn't cook anything for 51 days - I have cooked every meal here at home for the last three months - with the exception of possibly five - when my husband BBQ-ued.

I am a believer in family meals, like I am a believer in family prayers, family games and family projects. I am also a believer that when I say "dinner at my house" family and friends will come knowing that they will be fed something delicious.

Are Mothers Invisible?

This is one of those stories that someone sent to me - that just needs repeating. During the summertime, moms are under-appreciated for all the time they spend raising and nuturing children. This is just a reminder to hang in there. Your "PayDay" will come.

I'm invisible. 

 

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" 

Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. 

 

I'm invisible. 

 

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? 

 

Some days I'm not a pair of hands;

I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?"  

I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?"

I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please." 

 

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going ... she's going... she's gone! 

 

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. 

 

I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. 

 

I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees." 

 

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 

 

No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. 

 

These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 

 

The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman 

carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." 

 

And the workman replied, "Because God sees." 

 

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of 

kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." 

 

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. 

 

The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. 

 

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

The Button-Pushers Are Coming

It is summer time.

That means children are home.

All day.

Fortunately, or unfortunately

(depends on how you look at it),

I no longer have kids at home.

But my children do.

All day.

And my grandchildren are very good.

At knowing which buttons to push. 

That drive their parents crazy!

All day.

The "button-pushers" will be coming.

Soon.

To my house.

The question - will they push my buttons?

Or does Grandma know how.

To reverse the practice - of pushing their buttons.

All Day?