A Few Thoughts on Faith

I just can't take it anymore.  I have got to say something.  I have been passively standing back, reading and agonizing over article after article, feeling increasingly saddened and, to be perfectly frank, hurt by so much of what is being discussed regarding Kate Kelly.  Up until now I have resisted the impulse to speak up because I do not want to throw another thought piece into the proverbial den of lions that seems to characterize the current arena of dialogue, just to see it devoured by bitterness and negativity.  But I am relenting.

What I have to say actually has very little to do with the details of the Ordain Women leader's excommunication from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and more to do with the overall shadow of pessimism and doubt I see lurking in all corners of the social network world in response to it. This is not the first time a person of such influence among members of the church has been formally disciplined by Church leadership, nor is it even the first time a high profile individual has made their separation from the Church so public.  Why then are so many members suddenly questioning their own faith and standing in the aftermath of all of this?

One reason might be the communication age that we live in.  Before when a difficult event might have resulted in significant self-reflection of members' loyalty and testimony, those thoughts and feelings were stewed over in the privacy of their own minds and perhaps discussed within the circle of trusted friends and family members.  With today's technological landscape however, these same sort of feelings are discussed in such a public and sensational way that if a reader wasn't already inclined to second guess his testimony, suddenly it would appear that maybe he should be!  It reminds me of a talk given by President Spencer W. Kimball in 1971 in which he cites the Apostle Paul's prophecies of the latter days:

" 'There are … so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of them is without signification.” (1 Cor. 14:8–10.)  

Paul’s was an impressive voice, powerful and strong, never silenced in all the interim centuries.  There are voices all about us. Some are harsh and raucous, others sweet and penetrating.  Paul’s revelations included visions of these latter days. His voice is saying:  “… in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils; Speaking lies in hypocrisy; having their conscience seared with a hot iron;' "

So is that it?  Is it simply a matter of deception?  As interesting to consider as this theory might be, it still doesn't approach the crux of the issue for me.  In fact, it simply begs the question in a new light.  Why are some members of the Church so easily swayed by the voices and opinions and intellectual extrapolations of others?  What is it about someone else's spiritual descent that causes some to question their own path?

The answer for me is a tough one, because it is completely inconclusive.

I. Just. Don't. Know.

I can guess, I can theorize, but when it comes down to it I just do not know why certain people hold on and others let go.  All I know is what makes me remain.  That is what I want to share.

I am a devout, "card carrying" Mormon.  In fact, I have often been labeled what is referred to in Mormon culture, a "Molly Mormon".  I don't drink caffeine of any kind, I still kind of cringe when I hear the word "butt" (I struggled to even type out the letters, you guys), I cheer for BYU, and I keep a blog about my family life.  Pretty much, I make a lot of people in my home town of Logan, Utah crazy (I love you all dearly).  I have always been bothered by the tag Molly Mormon. It seems to imply either an air of selfrighteous superiority or of blind compliance to the finest details of gospel living, as though the bearer of the moniker is somehow incapable of or unwilling to think for herself.  I'm not sure which application is more insulting, but I reject both whole heartedly.  The choices I make are very personal and have absolutely nothing to do with anyone else around me and have everything to do with my relationship with Heavenly Father only.  Also, I realize I don't have a brilliant mind, but I do consider myself a proficient thinker.  To suggest that following the tenants of my religion with rigidity infers a level of blind obedience is to overlook the entire concept of faith.

Must we always understand something completely before being willing to obey?  To me, part of demonstrating faith is seeking first to obey, then to understand. Isn't this the pattern of faith that is found again and again in the scriptures?  Namaan must have thought washing in the filthy muck of the Jordan River was the last thing that could possibly cleanse him from his leprosy.  But he obeyed.  And was healed.  The children of Israel must have wondered how on earth staring at a serpent on a stick could ever save a person from death.  But those who complied lived.  

People of faith are often accused of following blindly.  But anyone who lays such an accusation on me and concludes that I must remain in the Church because I have never taken the time or had the courage to examine tough issues is simply wrong.  Do you think I don't know the feeling of lying awake in bed unable to sleep at 2:00 in the morning because my brain is wresting on the concept of Eternity and the actual existence of  God?  Or because my heart is breaking over the principle of polygamy or the historically exclusive nature of the priesthood?  Or because I'm angry that I was never taught about certain parts of our church history?  Or maybe you think I haven't noticed and been upset by the many examples of hypocrisy that can seem so rampant in a church filled by imperfect humans and hierarchal authority.

I am a gospel reader. When I was about sixteen years old I caught the wave of spiritual curiosity and began reading everything I could to learn more.  At first this habit was driven primarily by inquisitiveness.  But I soon observed that the more I learned, the more my desire to improve the way I lived increased as well.  I soon became especially interested in Church History, so when a number of years later I heard about a new book called "A Rough Stone Rolling," by Richard Bushman, I couldn't wait to get my hands on it.  It was a comprehensive biography of the Prophet Joseph Smith and perfect for my current leanings.  Sadly, I had also heard things about this book that for the first time in my gospel study quest caused me pause.  It apparently was creating some level of disturbance in faith among many members of the church because of its unbiased honesty.  For a while, I wondered if I should not read it for fear that it might shake my own faith.  But I couldn't resist it.  My desire is for truth, and if that truth is to be found in difficult things, I will take on the challenge.  And so I did.

I approached the book differently than I had with any other book, with the exception of the Book of Mormon.  I began each reading with a prayer, pleading for the Holy Ghost to be with me to offer understanding and assurance.  When I came to something that was challenging, difficult or uncomfortable, I took time to ponder and pray over it.  There were many questions, many long nights, and many, many prayers.  When the end of the book finally came, I wept.  I wept for Joseph Smith, I wept for the people who killed him, I wept for Emma and the broken hearts of the Saints.  But mostly, I wept over the experience I had just had.  I felt the Holy Ghost so strongly throughout my reading of that book that it became one of the most tangible and emotional experiences of my spiritual life up to that point.  This book that had begun as almost a burden to my soul to read, had become a catalyst for my personal testimony of the prophet Joseph Smith and of the gospel he restored.  It certainly wasn't because all my questions in the process of reading had been answered.  In fact, I probably had fewer questions satisfied than I had left unanswered.  What made my experience such a powerful pinnacle in my spiritual journey were the moments when instead of understanding, comfort was what I received.  Comfort in the conclusion of "I don't know."  Comfort in relying on faith.  The kind of comfort that the Holy Ghost gives when testifying of truth.

This experience was the genesis for all subsequent questioning and lack of understanding I would have as I have chosen to remain faithful to my religion.

There are some things that I. Just. Don't. Know.

For so many, that is difficult to swallow because as finite beings we so desperately want definitive resolutions.  To leave questions hanging in the air creates a bogging uncertainty that goes against the very grain of our being.

But for me now, it is okay to not know some things.  Because based on moments with the Holy Spirit that cannot be denied or suppressed, there are plenty of things that I do know.

I know that there is a God.  I know that Heavenly Father is loving, all knowing, all powerful, kind, forgiving, perfect, just, and that he knows me personally, more than I know myself.

I know that Jesus Christ is His only begotten Son and the Savior of the world.  Without Him, I am nothing.

I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.  He saw God the Father and Jesus Christ in the Sacred Grove and restored Christ's original church, with all the keys of the Holy Priesthood, upon the earth again.

I know that the Book of Mormon that was translated from gold plates, written by ancient prophets on this American continent, is true.

I know that Jesus Christ is at the head of this church.  I know that He speaks to a living prophet today, President Thomas S. Monson, who holds those same priesthood keys and leads this church through direct revelation from God.

Because of the things that I do know, I choose to have faith in all the rest.  It is because of this that I remain.  And always will.

 

Mother's Day

I have to say,  boys are pretty special.  They are so weird, and gross… but amazing.  Even their weaknesses are strengths in disguise.  Like when they fight over who gets to sit by me on the bench in Sacrament meeting because they have an uncanny ability to create competition out of any circumstance-- it is this same spirit that will ultimately, when my prayers are finally answered, help them succeed in sports, academics, and eventually providing for their families.  And when one child inappropriately reprimands another for not immediately complying with a request from mom… it’s just those protective instincts kicking in.  Like when Ashton and I were on the running/biking trail the other day.  I was running and he was on his rip stick.  Now, typically when the kids come with me in situations like that I will make sure they are on the inside of me, to the right, so that I can protect them should the need arise.  But there comes a point, first with Talmage and now with Ashton, that they just instinctively reverse that, making sure that I am on the inside in case something happens.  So the other day on the trail, without any kind of prompting from me, I noticed Ashton riding to my left.  As I opened my mouth to ask him to ride to my right out of the way of potential hazards, I noticed him motion to me with his hand to move more to the right just as a biker passed by us.  It was then that I noticed that he was surveying our surroundings, in bodyguard-like fashion, purposefully glancing back at me and in every direction as he rode.  He was now protecting me.  


They are really quite remarkable, these men in my life.


Every Mother's Day, I get to enjoy their sweetness on a higher level than usual.  It's really the best:).

My absolute favorite part of Mother's day is receiving their little love offerings.  

Seth was worried that this year's mother's day was going to be a bust because Talmage was the only one who bought me something.  I had to remind him that moms don't care about that.  Yes, a lemon zester or a new spatula or a pretty necklace...we love all these sorts of things.

But if all they ever gave me for the rest of their lives was a homemade creation and thoughtful card, I would be perfectly, 100% satisfied. 

And it sure helps to have this incredible man as a husband.  He made the day so perfect: taking over all kitchen tasks, preparing me a delicious dinner and dessert, making sure the boys had their gifts ready, and helping me feel so loved and appreciated on a day that he knows can be a difficult one for me.  (Too bad he cut himself off in our Mother's Day selfie!)  

I clearly didn't know this was a silly shot.  

For the typical mom, Mother's Day can so easily be a day a of guilt and regret.  I know I have had my fair share of not-so-happy ones, gazing upon other obviously successful and much more capable, talented mothers at church, feeling ever so below par in comparison, wishing the talks would just end already because I'm not sure I can take another minute of perfection on parade.  But I am noticing that over the years, particularly these last three that I have been married to basically the best man on earth, I'm not beating myself up nearly as much as I used to.  I think one major reason is because I have such a solid sense of support and love from a true helpmate and companion who reminds me often that I am more than adequate.  But I also feel as though part of my growth as a mom is occurring as I realize that I am indeed enough.  I am beginning to accept that I make mistakes, regularly, and that is okay.  Because we have a Savior.  He makes up the difference every day, and it's all going to be okay.  It's quite liberating as a parent to come to that place where you finally acknowledge that it's not your job to be perfect.  And it is actually not up to us to save our families.  That is Christ's role!  That bit of recognition brings tremendous relief. Our responsibility is to teach, to nurture, to protect, to provide, to love, and to do our best in the process.  And everybody is capable of doing their best.  I feel like I am growing more and more in this understanding, and because of this growth Mother's Day is becoming a much happier and more fulfilling day.  The guilt is fading away and joy is taking it's place.

I am literally surrounded by testosterone.  All the time. (And it is sometimes worse, because they have friends who like to occasionally drop by.)  But what girl is going to complain about this picture?  This mother's day was joyful because of these guys. It's a blessed life.

Our Birthday Caboose

Around these parts, February 24th to May 7th is our kids' official "birthday season", with four out of five birthdays falling within a five week span of each other.  Throw in Easter, spring break, and our wedding anniversary and things can can get a little nutso!  I just know that one of these years I am going to lose steam by the time poor Emery's birthday arrives and that he will receive such a pitiful amount of energy and attention that it will scar him for life.  

I am trying my best to not let that happen just yet.  So this year as the birthday caboose, Emery received ample adoration.

He began the day with his favorite breakfast...muffins:).

And bananas.  He literally inhales these as though he is, in fact, a primate.

When evening came, it was time to celebrate.  Culver's was the dinner of choice (thank you, Grandpa!), followed by presents and cake at home.

We always do gifts first.  It's cleaner.

After weeks of watching his brothers open presents, this one was thrilled to finally have his turn!

Emery was such a gentleman opening his gifts.  He sat in his little chair and received them graciously and with sufficient excitement:).

 

Cute, cute boys.

Getting him situated for the main event.  Let's be honest, the cake is the only part that really matters to a two year old.

Happily, he has much improved his eating skills since the last time he ate cake with such an audience.  There was some disappointment in the room as a result of his nimble control of a spoon (sorry, Uncle Devin), but mom was grateful!

Aaaand, further display of his dexterity with eating utensils.  Even gentlemen pick their noses sometimes.  With spoons, evidently.

There aren't many words to express how much we adore our little boy.  He is pure sunshine and delight, every single day.    

Emery is loving and affectionate and unusually perceptive to the feelings of others.  

He is smart and curious and funny. 

He loves the outdoors.  He would spend his entire day outside if he could.  We recently had to finally purchase door handle covers because of his tendency to flee to nearby fields.  Of course, he figured those out in about a 30 minutes, so now we must dead bolt all the doors.  At all times.  Without exception.  

He loves music and is often heard singing around the house as he plays, eats, is supposed to be taking naps... Sometimes when I think an older child has gotten bored with their piano practicing and has starting just plunking around trying new melodies and note combinations, I discover that it is actually Emery.  (I will fuel this flame.  One of my children has got to have some naturally occurring musical inclinations, right?) 

He has the most infectious laugh you can imagine and a smile that catches your breath in your chest. It's impossible to ever be mad at him.  Even when he takes a green marker to the walls.  And then does it again later for good measure.

Truly, we are so blessed to have this child.  It amazes me daily to think that I have such joy in my life.

<3

Double Digits for Ashton

Oh, this boy. 

He had such an unusually spherical (and huge) head when he was born that my sisters called him potato.  Not that potatoes are known to be perfect orbs, but there was something about the roundness of his head that somehow required that particular moniker and secured their affection.

For me, however, it was the sweet look in his eyes when he smiled that forever gained his entry into my heart.

And he still has it.

Ashton has many attributes that warm my heart.

He is loyal, smart, thoughtful, inquisitive, handsome, brave, and forgiving.

(A suit coat for church was about the only thing he asked for.  And cereal.) 

And perhaps my favorite thing about him is that inside that ultra thin, hyper-metabolic, afraid-he-might-fly-away-in-a-windstorm body...

 (Trying out his new receiving gloves.  I'm sure that's not their official name.)

...is a giant sized, squooshy heart.

 (This year's request was a strawberries and cream cake.  It tasted much better than it looked! I don't think I'll be trying a duct tape bunting again.  Eeek!  The goal was to try and make the cake look at least a little more birthday-ish...and boy-ish.  Oops.)

This was a big birthday for Ashton.  He officially left behind single digits and entered the double digit club, which of course is major material in the minds of little boys.  This is when they become an "older" kid, and begin to demand a little more respect from other children while hoping for a little bit more from Mom and Dad as well.  


For our boys, it is also when they become a Webelo.

(The answer is no, I am not pregnant again.  It just takes me a little while to not 

look it after delivery!)

And participate in their last Pinewood Derby.

We are so pleased with the way Ashton is growing up.  Over the course of his ten years on earth, he has had a few obstacles placed in his path, roadblocks that sometimes seem unfair.  But he is learning to face and overcome them with faith and fortitude and is becoming stronger and happier in the process.  It is in the refining that true value is exposed.  As Ashton's mother, I feel honored to witness his priceless potential beginning to emerge.  


Oh, this boy.  How I love him. <3

We Have a Teenager

So, this was just a few years ago...

And then this happened.

What.

(Receiving a "bill" for his data use over the last few months)

We have a thirteen year old.

(Now, tearing it up as one of his gifts...probably his favorite present of the night)

A teenager.

 

A young man.

(A little love from sweet cousin Sophie.  He still wishes he could have a sister.)

Wasn't I  just about to enter 8th grade?

Apparently, that was a long time ago and I am now parenting my own offspring through the awkward years.  Except, Talmage seems to be averting that condition of adolescence fairly successfully so far.  Lucky kid.

When I think about this boy, my heart melts.  I mean, can we please look at another miniature version of this child again?

Look at that face!  Nothing. Sweeter.

From the time that he was born, my mammoth child of almost ten pounds, he has been a joy and a delight.  My Talmage has always had an innate desire to please and a natural drive to excel.  When he was about eighteen months old, I discovered that he loved to try and make baskets in his Little Tykes Hoop.  So almost every day we would practice making baskets from a certain distance until he could make them consistently and then move the basket farther away.  Every time he would make a basket I would cheer and praise him.  He would smile and laugh and then do it again so that he could see my happy reaction.  This continued for months.  By the time he was two years old, he could make those baskets from 10+ feet away many times in a row and from different angles.  He hardly ever missed. It was pretty cool to watch:).  That same persistence and proclivity to perfect tasks has continued to be one of his most prominent characteristics.  This kid can pretty much do anything he sets his mind to, whether it's teaching himself how to create intricate origami art, duct tape wallets, and paracord bracelets, or perfecting his three point shot. 

I must say, what Seth and I are most proud of is Talmage's desire to please his Father in Heaven.  He is building a strong testimony and doing his best to live righteously and honor his priesthood.  He consistently works toward his goal of serving a full time mission by completing Duty to God requirements, reading the Book of Mormon every day, serving in his Deacon's Quorum, and putting a large majority of the money he earns into his mission savings account.  He is helpful at home and phenomenal with his two baby brothers.  He is aware of his weaknesses and makes efforts every day to improve (okay, most days).  Honestly, there is just not a whole lot to complain about this boy.


As far as teenagers go, we feel pretty grateful to have this one.