Glimpse into Heaven

Today I got a glimpse of heaven. Through another’s eyes.

It was our ward’s Primary Program and my three oldest were to showcase the beautiful songs and speaking parts they had memorized. This is a Sunday each year where the chapel overflows with supportive grandparents and family members. My children have never had more than their Dad and I to smile at them, mouth helpful words to them, and be overcome with joy and love because of them. That is, until today.

And I didn’t even know it.

I arrived late to the meeting and entered the chapel just after the opening prayer with Grady’s infant seat in my arms and leading Haven by the hand. The others had arrived early to save a seat. I found their row, placed Grady’s carseat in the aisle outside our bench, told everyone to “scoot over” and sat down. As I was dealing with getting Haven situated and consoling a crying Taryn, who was upset that I wouldn’t let her sit on my lap, I glanced down at Graydon – 5 weeks old and has never cracked a smile except in his sleep – and he had the Hugest most beautiful grin on his face. My attention was turned back to the sobs of my 4-year-old until I could look at him a few moments later, and the smile was still plastered from ear to ear. This was definitely more than a “gassy” reaction and his eyes were wide and bright, no where near a sleepy slumber as he stared off into the void. There was no one in neighboring rows making faces at him. And yet the smile persisted. For at least five minutes, every time I looked at him, he wore the look of a splendored stupor. His happy attitude lasted through half of the meeting until he got fussy from a dirty diaper.

We enjoyed the program immensely. Apparently, our primary chorister is incredibly ambitious and every song they sang from the outline was coupled or tripled into a medley of other primary songs. These kids learned a lot of lyrics this year! Taryn became the one for the congregation to watch. You know the one. She sang the greatest (meaning loudest), and held out those loud, semi-pitchless notes just a second longer than everyone else. She presented her speaking part into the microphone with equal fervor, even adding a few words that she said she felt “inspired” to say. Evan sang the songs with precision and beamed with each doting smile from his parents. His perfectionism showed through during his speaking part, which was delivered with amazing accuracy and clarity – and seriousness, with nary a smile. Zion was a tough one to spot. Her height hid her behind the taller children. But she would peak her head around from time to time so we could see her glowing eyes and send her encouraging smiles. The movements of her mouth were much less exaggerated than that of her sister’s, but I knew how much she loves and knows those songs and did not doubt her contribution to the cause. She spoke her line about Adam and Eve effortlessly and it appears her speech impediments have all but disappeared.

It was an amazing program – bringing me to tears on a number of occasions. It was a meeting truly fit for the angels. I could not have been more proud and honored to be the parents of those three incredible children. I only wished other family were there to witness their achievements.

When I got home, I realized they were.

I laid down, exhausted – as church always makes me. My mind reflected on Grady, and his continuous and knowing smiles during the meeting. I kept replaying them over and over, baffled. Why was he smiling so much? Then, in the peaceful quiet, it hit me. Not as a thought, but as a fact. She was there. She was there!

Grady was smiling at his Grammy!

My mom had come. She traveled further than anyone to see her grandchildren present their special messages and say hello to the grandbaby to whom she recently bid a heavenly farewell. I could suddenly picture her doing “piggies” to his toes and “weeing” all the way home as only she can. No wonder he was smiling so big. His newborn eyes, still tuned to the things of heaven, were the only ones focused enough to see the angel in our midst. In the same moment that my heart filled with joy knowing that she had come, it filled with equal sorrow. I wish I had known. I wish I had felt her enveloping arms. I wish I had taken a breath and savored a sense of her presence.

I didn’t know it, but I glimpsed into the heavens today, through the eyes and smiles of my newborn babe. I have no doubt of it now.

And if the contents of heaven can send an impossible smile so easily to a baby unable to wear one, then that is the heaven waiting for me.

Sometimes the veil between this life and the life beyond becomes very thin. Our loved ones who have passed on are not far from us. -President Ezra Taft Benson

Stone Age

Remember those pre-internet days?

{Are my kids going to think I’m a dinosaur for even being able to remember such a time?}

…that time when games used a board or cards, books had pages to turn, encyclopedias were a necessity, time wasn’t wasted, chores got done, phone calls were made, stories were told, dinner was planned, letters were hand written, and life just seemed. simpler?

We’ve been living without the modern convenience of Facebook, blogger, email, pinterest, google, etc. etc. for two weeks.

No Internet.

And they were annoying, yet lovely two weeks.

I got to know my kids better and spend uninterrupted time with them.

I actually kept up on my dishes and laundry and found spare minutes to sit down at the piano.

I turned to the scriptures to plan my Primary lessons, instead of the internet.

True. It was a little bit lonely.

I felt totally disconnected from the world.

But is that what I really want to feel connected to?

Admittedly, at times (at many times) – yes.

But ultimately – no.

Highlights from last 2 weeks

Last day of school

Swimming time at my sister’s

Memorial Day at Strawberry Cabin

One week of summer

Started boot camp

Summer school began for Evan

Making new friends and Barbecuing

Summer craigslist splurge

The Song of the Heart

Music is sacred to me. I suppose it’s the way I was raised; the way good music was engrained in me; the satisfaction I’ve felt from developing musical talent; the hundreds of undeniable spiritual witnesses I’ve experienced through music, that makes it sacred.

It’s what makes me cringe at watching musicals like Grease or Mama Mia or other “fun”, light-hearted plays that use something I consider so sacred, to discuss worldly, vulgar issues. Don’t get me wrong. I can certainly be found listening to some alternative rock on any occasion - music that can be open to many interpretations.

I’ve been disappointed since moving to AZ that I can not find a radio station that I like. Preferably something that doesn’t play any 80’s music in their mix. (I just can’t stand 80’s).

I have, instead found two or three Christian Rock stations. And while I miss being able to sing along to the radio, I have been surprisingly delighted by the selection. Occasionally, there will even be a contemporary, well-known song on there that I have heard many times. One that I had originally thought was about a romance. But suddenly, playing on a Christian station, I see how the lyrics can totally apply to a person’s love for Christ or His love for us. That has been fun.

Anyway…

Music is sacred to me.

I spent a good part of my afternoon curled up on my son’s bed during nap time - crying.

His room is the one farthest away from our neighbor’s backyard. The neighbor that for weeks now has been bombarding my home with HATE. My walls literally shake with it. And I just couldn’t endure it any longer.

Our neighbors are either deaf or wish to become so, and blare their backyard radio to the loudest decibel. This isn’t so bad when the older parents are playing fun oldies or even their native Spanish music. But when the younger generation is home, the atmosphere is thick with animosity.

And I can’t escape it. Even from within my house, I can hear every curse word, every degrading remark, every line of explicit smut and filth coming from the booming wrap “music”.

I can feel the spirit immediately leave and I become filled with such animosity. My temper is shortened, I have no patience, my thoughts reel, and the offensive words circle around and around in my mind.

And my kids are held prisoner. I don’t dare let them outside. At least inside I can turn up the volume on the tv or blast the fans to mask the words. But I can still feel the beat. That beat. That thundering, thundering beat.  

“In our day music itself has been corrupted. Music can, by its tempo, by its beat, by its intensity, dull the spiritual sensitivity of men”

I know this to be true. I have felt it.

But I need that spirit. I need it to stay in my home. What am I to do when being bombarded in this way? I’m not letting it in. I’m not choosing it. I want to escape it.

I may not be hearing the music by choice. But I can choose not to listen to it.

I suppose that is what I need to work on doing.

That, and summoning the courage to ask my neighbors to turn it down.

Maybe a plate of cookies will do the trick.

------------------------------------------------

A couple more quotes from Pres. Packer’s talk that I say “AMEN” to!

“Music is one of the most forceful instruments for governing the mind and spirit of man.”

“Through music, man’s ability to express himself extends beyond the limits of the spoken language in both subtlety and power. Music can be used to exalt and inspire or to carry messages of degradation and destruction. It is therefore important that as Latter-day Saints we at all times apply the principles of the gospel and seek the guidance of the Spirit in selecting the music with which we surround ourselves.”

Blessed Day

Dear Heavenly Father, by the Holy Melchizedek Priesthood that we hold, we take this infant into our hands to give her a name and blessing. The name which she shall be known in this life and on the records of the Church is -

Haven Lucy Palmer

Haven, at this time, we give you a blessing that you will be strong in the face of adversity in this life. That you will be able to stand up to the trials that come to you.

We bless you to have a keen understanding of the principles of the gospel and share it with those around you. That you will be brave and always stand for what is right.

We bless you to be able to rely on and listen to the Holy Ghost. And be able to follow its promptings.

We bless you to be an influence for good with those you come in contact with.

We bless you with a great love for your family – Mother and sisters – and for you to look up to your  siblings. That you will be able to see the good examples in your life and follow them.

We bless you that you will be able to show love to those around you and that the love of Christ can be shown through your love.

We bless you to be worthy to enter the temple, find a worthy companion, and be sealed for time and all eternity.

We bless you with these and any other blessings that our Heavenly Father has in store for you in the name of Jesus Christ.

Amen

Personal

{I was asked to give a talk yesterday in church on Elder Tad Callister’s talk from this past conference on the Book of Mormon. Such a great talk! Here is my personal testimony.}

 

While unpacking a couple weeks ago, I came across an old box of things my Mom had saved for me when they moved out of their house on Lyn Rae Sq. Inside, written in my own, young handwriting (and with atrocious spelling), I found a piece of notebook paper. It read:

Then in my Mom’s cursive below, she wrote: Jan 6, 1989 (so I was 7 years old)

I have looked at this piece of paper in awe at the faith I had as a little girl.

You see, I have a confession to make. As I was preparing for this talk, I realized that I have never “asked” Heavenly Father if the Book of Mormon was true. Never had I got down on my knees and sincerely prayed to know.

So I decided to finally put Moroni’s promise to the test. And as I prayed, the funniest thing happened. I did not hear a voice of confirmation, or even feel an undeniable burning. Instead, I started laughing. And the thought that I received was, “Silly Tasha. Why are you even asking me this? You already know.” And it reminded me of the very frequent response I use on my children – when they ask me a silly question that I know they already know the answer to. I don’t indulge them. Instead I ask them for the answer.

So I changed my prayer. And instead of wasting Heavenly Father’s time asking for an answer I already knew, I asked to be reminded of how I have come to know that the Book of Mormon is true.

How do I know the Book of Mormon is a book from God?

I know it because I was taught its stories by my parents from a young age

I know it because I have had excellent Primary and Youth teachers in my life that have born testimony to me of its truths

I know it because I have read its pages and only ever felt the witness of the Holy Ghost while doing so

I know it because when I have born my own small testimony of the Book of Mormon’s truthfulness, it has been reconfirmed undeniably to me and my testimony has been strengthened

I know it because when I read or listen to talks like this one regarding the Book of Mormon’s divinity, they pierce my heart

And I know it because since the age of 7 I have been able to say that this book is a “very special gift from God”, and I can still proclaim, with all sincerity, that the Book of Mormon is a special gift from God.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Guilty

I’ve been feeling extremely blessed.

And a little guilty.

I was so worried about being alone. Being on my own. Who was going to take care of me? Of my kids who I couldn’t take care of? I felt abandoned. Scared.

But I have been so blessed.

From random acts of kindness, to dinners, to treats, to the miraculously slow-ticking of the clock so I can get everyone to church on time, to a few more meals, to fresh baked loaves of bread, to paper products in the mail, to lawns being mowed, and garbages being taken out, and my kids playing with neighbors for hours, and the greatest of all blessings this week – my pile of dishes being done for me… I have been overwhelmed. 

Completely overwhelmed.

And guilty.

Because there are so many people more deserving than me. With more ailing predicaments. More legitimately sympathetic circumstances. Perhaps, without even an end in sight. My end is unknown. But at least I know there is one.

And despite my pathetic plight. And my thoughts of inadequacy and undeservedness - it feels good.

And amazing.

To know that I am known. That I am being taken care of. That I am not abandoned. I am not forgotten.

On My Own

Well.

He Left.

Packed his bags and was gone before sunup.

And another of the many agonizing decisions we’ve been having to make is actually upon us.

 

Greg got a job in Arizona. Starts tomorrow.

And we are mostly thrilled. Deep down inside.

But on the surface? On the surface there is only sorrow and fear. Lots of fear.

From me at least.

Because here I am - left, all alone. On my own.

For who knows how long it will take.

And I just don’t know how I’m going to do it.

Sick as I am. Tired as I am. Impatient as I am.

I just don’t know.

But I have no choice. It has to be done. I have to do it.

And maybe that’s a good thing.

I’m good at not doing things if I don’t have to.

This is what it is, for however long it is.

And then we will see what’s next.

So many unknowns.

So many possibilities.

Long and Winding Trip, Part 2

We told the kids they were not allowed to ask, “Are we there yet?” until they could see cacti. So that negated about 7 hours of the drive and left us with only one hour of the incessant questioning. 

Valley of the Sun, Arizona (ie., Mesa/Gilbert)

Highlights:

Chillaxin’ at my sister’s

Dunkin Donuts – sorry Utah, Krispy Kreme just doesn’t do it for me – I even got a free dozen because they didn’t have my favorite kind (Bavarian Cream all the way baby) and I told them I came all the way down from Utah for them. So they saved me a free dozen for the next morning. :) Nice!

Swimming

Nice visit with Great Grandma Palmer

Tennis with my nephew

Gecko Grill – their southwest shrimp burros are a must whenever we come to town)

An afternoon with a dear friend from high school and picking up right where we left off even though it’s been years

Joe’s Bar-b-q – another must for Greg

More swimming

Gusty sand storm that blew in – makes for even more gorgeous sunsets

Bounce U with the kids

Still feeling like its home

Lowlights:

children burning legs on hot carseat buckles

waking up drenched in sweat

getting creamed at tennis and even tumbling to the ground while chasing a perfectly placed lob and getting some awesome battle wounds

----

Of course the place my kids were most anxious to visit was their Grammy’s grave at the Mesa cemetery. Don’t ask me why, but Zion has pretty much been obsessed with Grammy’s death and whenever we pass by a cemetery she asks if that is where Grammy is. I had not been to the Mesa Cemetery since my Mom’s passing and had yet to see her grave as well. So we dropped by for a quick hello on our way back out of town. The sun was shining brightly in the kids’ eyes so the picture is no good. And Taryn thought it was a huge grassy park that she could run around in to her heart’s content. We had to wrestle her away from stomping on the headstone of a grieving family a few yards away from Mom. But it was a nice opportunity to talk to them about the difference between Grammy’s body and her spirit. I don’t know if it was because I was dealing with whiney and escaping kids, or if it was because the difference between body and spirit is so apparent for me, but I felt absolutely no attachment to the place. And really no desire to stay. We were there only a few minutes.

Onward to the Mogollon Rim 

and the most seat-gripping part of our trip

Church Crush

I got to substitute on the organ last week. Happy Father’s Day to Greg, I know. But it sure was nice to get some of that quiet sacrament time back. And it reminded me of one of my favorite things about sitting up on the stand.

Remember as a teenager when you would briefly catch the eye of your school crush? And the butterflies would start fluttering? And your cheeks would flush? And an automatic, giddy smile would spread across your face?

As I take the sacrament, I watch my kids.

They are busy coloring, or scrambling for their turn with the water and bread trays, or reading a book, or reverently zooming their cars on the back of the pew.

But every now and then, one will look up at me, and catch my eye.

And it is magic.

Then, I look down the row and watch their father.

He glances at me and sends a wink.

And the butterflies return.

And cheeks get hot.

And rather than a smile of adolescent giddiness, I react with a smile of pure joy.

Hands of Heaven on Earth

Today I was the recipient of a very sweet and tender mercy.

This world can seem so big and crazy and it can feel at times as though there is no way the Lord could possibly know the little things that you need.

But He does.

He really does.

Even if it is something as small and seemingly silly as a pack of toilet paper.

It baffles me. It truly does.

And it makes me want to be better.

To listen more. Really listen and follow those little promptings. So that someday I can be His hands.

I am so thankful to the sister today that did listen. That witnessed to me that I am known.

That I do matter.

And that I am loved.

What Matters Most

Class is in Session

POP QUIZ

1. How many glasses of water should you drink each day?
2. Which President established the emancipation proclamation?
3. In what month should you plant onions?
4. Which household product is most effective at cleaning countertops?
1. Bleach
2. Vinegar
3. Ammonia
4. Baking soda
5. The line “To be or not to be” comes from which play?
1. King Lear
2. Romeo and Juliet
3. Macbeth
4. Hamlet
6. What are the two sections of the Spirit World called?
7. Who won American Idol last night?
8. T or F A Senator can serve only two terms?
9. If your child’s temperature is 101 degrees F, you should
1. put him in a warm bath
2. call the doctor
3. rush him to the hospital
4. give him ibuprofen
10. What is the law of inertia?
1. E=mc²
2. amount of resistance to change in velocity
3. two or more things functioning together to produce a result not independently obtainable
4. a² + b² = c²

^{I had to give a lesson at Enrichment tonight about the importance of education. Not necessarily a formal education that results in a fraying tassel and a dust-collecting diploma – but a CONTINUAL education. And while this is something I am definitely not personally very good at, it is something I want to be. {like learning how to form my sentences in a grammatically correct manner – you caught that right}.}

^{So here’s some food for thought: If…}

Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life,

will rise with us in the resurrection

And if a person gains

more knowledge and intelligence

in this life through his diligence and obedience than another,

he will have

so much the advantage in the world to come

D&C 130:18-19

Then…

What intelligence do you want to rise with you???

Sunday Firesides

Another Sunday at home.

And although most Sundays, Sacrament meeting is anything but something spiritual or uplifting while I strangle wrangle three kids and try to divide shushing responsibilities evenly between Greg and I, I’m starting to miss those little pieces of bread and miniature cups of water.

Luckily, I have had the opportunity to be spiritually fed these last two weeks by performing in a couple firesides with Jenny Phillips. If you are not familiar with this LDS artist, I would encourage you to become so. She is amazing. My testimony is strengthened every time I listen or speak to her. She has such a passion for strengthening and encouraging our youth to be valiant. I wish I were more like her. I wish I were more outspoken on matters that really matter.

The majority of the firesides we do are various stakes’ Trek Firesides. The theme of her music at these events includes taking the lessons we learned from the pioneers and applying them in our lives. That instead of being asked by our prophets to pull handcarts or risk frostbite, we are asked to stay clean and not be distracted by the things of the world. It is such a wonderful message. And as I sing in the choir and I look out at the audience of impressionable youth, I just hope in my heart that they get it. I think back to when I was their age. Would I have gotten it? I know Music was usually the best way to reach me. I think Jenny’s firesides have just the right mix of song and scripture and video and anecdotes and comedy to reach all the youth. It’s amazing to watch her be inspired.

She thanks us at each performance for our unselfish service. But really, I am there selfishly. I want to partake of that incredible spirit as often as I can. And I suppose, unselfishly, I want to do whatever small part I can to help others feel that spirit as well. :)

It’s definitely a win-win.

3 Snippets of Today

Perhaps she’ll be a model. She LOVES the wind. She kept trying to eat it.

I think the windblown look suits her pretty well.

******

Laid down with Zion during naptime today.

It was much needed as I only got about 3 hours of sleep last night taking care of our flu-stricken boy.

As I dozed off into peaceful slumber, I was suddenly awakened.

“No. Let me hold it!”

She said it so clear, and without the slightest dreamy mumble, I thought for sure she was wide-awake.

But her immediate snoring proved otherwise.

******

Evan’s Bed Time Prayer:

Dear Heavenly Father

Thank you for this day.

Bless us to be nice

and that our friends will be nice to us.

[Pause]

…… Looks up at me for a prompting

Mom: Bless me to feel better.

…… quizzical look from Evan

Evan: You? No me.

Mom: Right. You say, “Bless me to feel better.”

Evan: You?

Mom: No you. But you say, me.

{both of us are laughing by now}

Mom: Just say it silly.

Evan: You or me?

{laughing}

Mom: You.

Evan: Bless us to feel better.

In the name of Jesus Christ,

amen.

A-men.

Bloom Where You are Planted

 

Once Upon a Time we moved from Arizona to Utah where all Four Seasons come and go with confident beauty. And as a result, the fruits of your Fall labors will magically appear in Spring splendor after a long, cold winter. I love to look at tulips, daffodils, lilies, or bulbs of any kind popping out of people’s yards. And so, on a whim our first fall here, I decided to buy myself one of those big bags of onion-looking things and started digging.

But what do I know about planting tulips? In the desert, we know very little about bulbs – unless its the bulb of a black light used in searching for scorpions around your yard late at night. So while placing the balls into the dirt, I thought of a carrot whose pointed end was the root. And I put those pointed ends deepest into the mud, covered the bulbs up, and waited anxiously for spring.

I remember telling my Mom how excited I was to have tulips. She then related a comical story about her friend who spent hours one fall planting bulbs, only to realize afterward that she had put them all in upside-down. What a silly thing to do, I thought.

Months into spring, a few thick green leaves finally poked themselves up through the dirt and stretched their rubbery skins. But that spring’s harvest was very disappointing and only a hand-full of bulbs actually bloomed. What a waste.

It wasn’t until the following Spring that I noticed one of the bulbs had become uncovered. Upon further exploration I was astonished to find the stem of the flower had done a complete 1-80 and wrapped itself around the bulb in order to push up toward the sunlight. {Oops! I guess I’m sillier than I thought. Wish I could call Mom and tell her about this.}

Now, every spring I look at my multi-colored, tulip-lined back planter with awe. I never did replant those bulbs. Instead, I ponder with amazement how much strength and determination those little plants have to muster, in order to bloom where they are planted.

It’s a reminder to me. That no matter the rocky soil; no matter the long, harsh winters; no matter if someone picked you up and dropped you on your head; no matter if circumstances are less than ideal and ideals are left to circumstance – I can bloom.

In radiant, colorful splendor – I can thrive.

Reaching for the Stars

Do you ever have so many dreams and expectations that “just being a mom” doesn’t seem quite good enough? I know, I know, being a mom is the most important thing a woman can do; it’s a noble and righteous calling. But what about Joan of Arc, Madam Curie, Helen Keller or Eleanor Roosevelt? I’ve always wanted to be more. They say the sky is the limit, so naturally I want the stars.

When people ask “What will you be when you grow up?” I used to answer, a dancer, a soccer player, etc. Now I answer an architect or a pediatrician. I want to work for the CIA or the FBI. I’m going to be a world known ambassador who has the gift of tongues and can help solve problems with her vast knowledge. I want to be wise and smart, but playful and fun. I want to go beyond the limits - set new expectations. I want to invent a cure for cancer, patch the whole in the ozone layer, talk to dolphins and discover the mysteries of the rain forest. Then, I’ll be the first woman on Mars and invent the rocket that gets us there. I’ll work at NASA. I’ll be in the government - first woman president. Then I’ll go perform on Broadway. I’ll help the orphans in Africa and then...then I’ll learn to fly, fly with the birds, fly with the wind...on my own power.

If the sky is the limit...I want the stars.

I will be quoted like President Hinckley. I’ll stand up for my country just like Joan of Arc. I’ll score the winning goal at the World Cup finals. I will do great. I will be great. And when I’ve done all that, there will be only one thing greater...to be a God. And the only way to do that, will be to follow Heavenly Fathers plan, which means...I will be a mom. I guess He must know best - He is a God. So I won’t just be a mom, I’ll be a heavenly mother in training.

So all this time, when I’ve thought about reaching for the stars, well, now the plan, is to be the one who creates those stars.

…

Wish I could take credit for this. It was actually written by a 15-year-old (Erin Maxwell, whose mother spoke at a BYU Women’s Conference class I attended a few years ago)! Incredible! I think about it often when motherhood occasionally becomes something less than what I think it should be. I thought it appropriate to share today.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Just for Me

It's amazing how the spirit can just reach right out and grab you during conference time. I love it!

Saturday Morning Elder Quentin L. Cook

LDS Women are Incredible

"No woman should ever feel the need to apologize or feel that her contribution is less significant because she is devoting her primary efforts to raising and nurturing children. "

Sunday Afternoon Elder Lynn G. Robbins

What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?

"As a parent, when can I check a child off my list as done? We are never done being good parents. And to be good parents, one of the most important things we can teach our children is how to be more like the Savior."

To See the Temple

The other night we were driving home from Provo. The drive for us is a good hour North on the I-15 highway. Now driving that stretch takes us past quite a few temples. Six to be exact. But most of them are difficult to spot because they are either tiny dots from away far off or they are ones that the highway only allows brief moments of clarity for a quick glimpse. I'm certain my children think the State Capitol Building is the Salt Lake Temple for this very reason.

But the Timpanogos Temple in American Fork is different. It is quite a ways off the freeway, but there are miles of open fields that allow a passerby minutes (not just moments) of gazing at its distant glow. So as soon as we came into the clearing where its brightly lit spire was visible, I tried to point it out to my children.

I soon realized that driving and pointing at something for your children to see is a combination that does not go hand-in-hand and is pretty much one of the must frustrating things on this wide earth. Because where your finger points from your stand point is not at all the direction it should be pointing from each of your three children's stand points. And my children in particular seem to be blind to anything beyond the shoulder of the highway.

Those minutes of beautiful temple brilliance passed in complete and total frustration, until finally my 4-year-old announced that he could see it (out of truth or consequence, I know not) and I gave up on the 3-year-old who try as she might could not seem to point her gaze in the right direction of my mis-guided finger. Then we continued on our drive, which soon became extremely quiet as my brood succumbed to, what always looks like, a terribly uncomfortable car-seat sleep.

Upon exiting the highway and turning toward home, our silence was suddenly interrupted.

"I see it now!"

The sweet voice of our 3-year-old pierced the darkness.

"What do you see?" I asked intrigued.

"The temple!!!!"

Somewhere between the intersection's brightly lit "Rancheritos" and "Enterprise Rent-a-car" signs, she could see a temple. Go figure. I can only imagine how hard she must have been searching in her dreams for that to be her waking words.

**** and here it seems appropriate to insert something about how my hope for her will be that she always search for the temple with such diligence. But that would not be my hope for her. No. Instead, my hope is that she will find the temple. That she will always know exactly which direction to look to see its holy glory. And that she will always stay on the path that will lead her inside its gates. I don't want her to simply search. I want her to find. And then never lose sight of it once she does. That is my hope for her.

Kick in the Pants

I am not the most "in-tune" person. I rarely feel prompted by the spirit in my decision making or guided in my daily routine. This is my fault, not the Lord's. It's my fault because I rarely "invite" the spirit into my life. Granted, I'm not hosting raves or swinger parties or doing anything even close to terribly sinful that would drive the spirit away and allow the devil access to my life. But I don't fortify or prepare myself each day either. And sometimes it's those sins of omission that can really pull you away.

Well, despite my lack of spirituality, I am, for some reason, our ward's Compassionate Service leader. And while I have felt completely inadequate in knowing how best to help others in their times of need, lately I have been called upon to do just that in a seemingly overwhelming number. And thanks to the willingness and participation of many other ward sisters, we have put together care packages, meals, gifts, notes of encouragement, notes of comfort, and everything has come together without a hitch and at the right times.

In a moment of reflection the other day, I found myself wondering why and how I was able to help fill other's needs when I knew I was undeserving of any inspiration on their behalf.

In a flood of emotion it came to me:

He is not going to deprive a deserving child their needs because of my shortcomings.

And suddenly I felt so small.

And selfish.

Who am I to hinder the work of God? And if He can use my unworthy, unfit hands to do good for another, than just think what He could do with ones that were prepared, qualified, and pure. Why shouldn't I give Him that chance?

None of us can do it on our own.

None of us...

The Power of a Bribe

Saturday night I got the call.

"Evan is having a hard time sitting reverently for the Primary Program. Will you please sit next to him."

Darn.

I was so excited to watch my little Sunbeam in what was to be our first, of I'm sure many, Primary Programs. He even had a speaking part.

We had practiced and practiced the songs, and practiced and practiced his scripture. He knew them all and I was so proud. I thought I had prepared him for the daunting task of sitting reverently for an entire hour with all eyes on him. We had rehearsed and talked about it and talked about it and rehearsed for weeks. But alas. I had not done enough.

ah ha!

One last trick.

A bribe.

"Evan, if you are super reverent during the program then we can go to the store and you can pick out a reward. What is something you have really been wanting?"

First he says, "Fold my arms...."

"Yes, that is one way that you can be reverent. But what is a special prize that you want if you fold your arms and are reverent during the program?"

"hmmmm.....[and he puts his pointer finger to his chin while he thinks thinks thinks]... maybe a car. A remote control car!"

"Awesome. So when I am sitting next to you if I see that you are starting to misbehave, then I will tap you and sign the word 'car' to remind you of the reward you will get if you can sit still and reverent. This will be great Evan. I know you can do it."

Sunday comes.

While playing the prelude on the organ, I hear my son's cute, familiar voice behind me telling the sweet girl next to him in a not-so-reverent voice, "If I'm wevwent I get a wemote contwol cahw!" So I turn my head and remind him to "shush". {I know, not so very reverent on both our parts.}

After I play the sacrament hymn I take my position next to Evan in the stands. He does decent through the bread, but by the time the water comes around he is getting antsy. That is a long time to be reverent already, but the program hadn't even started yet. I gave him another quick car sign.

The program begins.

All the kids get up for the first song. Why is my good little singer not singing? arrrrggg.... Is this really how it's going to be? Darn again.

I should give him a little more credit. He is only 4 after all. He stood and sat when he was supposed to, but he also played around with his chair while he stood and bounced up and down in it while he sat. He also came up with lots of secrets to suddenly share with me, which I usually relish, but not at this particular moment.

I tried to remind him of the prize awaiting. And sometimes it would snap him back to attention. But only for a few seconds.

Then it was his turn to speak.

He was a little too eager and kind of crashed into some of the kids that were exiting the pulpit from having just sang. And unfortunately, that enthusiasm translated into the mic. He rushed the first part of his scripture, even though we had practiced doing it slow, over and over. "If ye love me, keep my commandments. John 14:15". But I still had a proud smile on my face.

There is such a sweetness in hearing children, especially your own, recite the words of God.

So pure, just as God intended.

Well, the program ended. It was a marvelous pr0gram. Filled with beautiful gospel truths spoken by beautiful little angels. It just wasn't quite so uplifting from my seat of scrutiny.

I suppose it's just that it is hard to watch your child not reach their full potential.

After church Evan was talking about his remote control car and I asked him if he was reverent during the program.

"No."

"So then do you get a remote control car?"

"No. But maybe next time I will."

Yes, son. Maybe next time.

And now I have a whole year to prepare!