Taking Actions Instead of Offenses

One of my favorite scriptures in the Book of Mormon is Alma 62: 41.  “But behold, because of the exceedingly great length of the war between the Nephites and the Lamanites many had become hardened, because of the exceedingly great length of the war; and many were softened because of their afflictions, insomuch that they did humble themselves before God, even in the depth of humility.”  This scripture teaches me that we can’t always control what we encounter, such as the adversities we face, but we can control how we respond to these things.  Elder Dallin H. Oaks said, “Our responses inevitably shape our souls and ultimately determine our status in eternity.  Because opposition is divinely decreed for the purpose of helping us to grow, we have the assurance of God that in the long view of eternity it will not be allowed to overcome us if we persevere in faith.  We will prevail.  Like the mortal life of which they are a part, adversities are temporary.  What is permanent is what we become by the way we react to them.”

We are moral agents.  We have the power to choose.  One of the choices we can make is how we respond to feelings of insult, mistreatment, neglect, disrespect, disappointment, and an array of other feelings of hurt.  Do we erupt in anger and lash out on the person who caused or delivered the hurt or even someone else we encounter?  Do we sever a relationship, whether new or long-formed?  Do we mirror back the same action thus perpetuating the injury?  Do we slander the person who caused us harm?  Do we become paralyzed and unable to move forward?  Do we hold on to that hurt until it festers into hate and resentment?  Do we discontinue our Church involvement because of our disappointment or hurt?

Or do we confront and release the feelings, allowing the Savior to heal our hearts?


(To read the rest of my talk given in church today, go to my other blog: seekinghappinessandjoy.blogspot.com)

One Day at a Time

I was in the depths of despair only minutes ago.  I was experiencing feelings of defeat and an attitude of utmost frustration.

And then it hit me.

I know everything I need to do to get through this, because I attended a church meeting earlier this evening.

During tonight's Church Education System Broadcast for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Elder D. Todd Chistofferson spoke of getting through challenging times.  During the fireside, my mind raced as I thought of so many things going on in my life right now.  Decisions I needed to make.  Confrontations that are going to occur.  Opportunities for humility that I should take otherwise I'll face damage to myself if I maintain my pride.  I didn't realize I heard very much of his talk.

Until it hit me.

Many of his words were brought to my remembrance and his meaning became very clear.


I am to face these trials one day at a time.


I can do that.  I can tackle this one piece at a time.  I don't know right now how it will all turn out, but I do know that I have the strength to make it through one day at a time.


I am grateful for this tender mercy of the Lord in answering my prayer before it could even be uttered.  I am grateful to have attended this fireside.  I am grateful to be a beneficiary of the simplicity of this Apostolic advice.  As I act upon this advice, I know that I will be blessed with the comfort and the strength to be seen through these trials.  I am grateful that I could converse with my Heavenly Father and to feel His immediate comfort and peace.  He is watching over me and He provided me with just what I needed.


Watch the church meeting I referenced here http://lds.org/broadcasts/watch/ces-fireside/2011/01?pid=738917358001&pkey=AQ~~,AAAAmBrDwtE~,_58lK-P1xvJ5WTHbRnmdONkYkAiPKoal&lang=eng

How I got to this moment in time

I was sitting in church yesterday next to a cousin of mine that I hadn't previously known.  I am quite excited to know him since he's also a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints like my mother.

As I sat there, I wondered.  How did I get to this moment in time?  What string of events led me to church in Wetumpka, Alabama on Sunday, December 26, 2010?

When I was eleven years old, I lived in a small northwest Florida town and went to church across the river in Blountstown.  I was in an age-assigned Sunday School group called Merry Miss.  My Merry Miss leader wanted us to learn a song from the Primary Songbook called "I Will Follow God's Plan for Me", but we didn't have anyone available to us in that small congregation to play the piano and help us learn that song.

I had been in band at school for almost a year by this point where I had learned about written music.  Using music books I had found at our house and a keyboard my father had picked up at a yard sale, I started teaching myself to play the piano so that I could play that Primary song for my class to practice.

We moved to a slightly bigger Florida town where there were plenty of opportunities to use my developing musical talents.  I enjoyed playing the keyboard but wanted to play a real piano, so I begged my parents to buy one.  They found one advertised for sale for $300.  That was quite a sacrifice for my parents, but they purchased the piano with the promise from myself that I would continue to teach myself to play.

I continued playing the piano for the youth meetings and set a goal to play for the congregational meeting (it helped that my grandmother had promised $100 to any grandchild who played in the congregational meeting).  The first hymn I played for the entire church congregation to sing was "How Firm a Foundation".

My family moved to Southwestern Utah when I was a sophomore in high school.  I continued to play for the youth meetings there.

When I was 16, I moved to a different part of town and was now attending a different ward (church congregation).  A woman there, who later served as my youth leader, invited me to learn to play the organ.  With her short instruction, I began playing the organ for congregational meetings.

As a young woman, I would attend the Temple regularly to perform baptisms for the dead.  While I waited for my turn, I would listen to the beautiful hymns flowing quietly through the building.  I assumed that the organ music was a recording.  One day, while I sat in the Temple, I heard a wrong note played.  It was then that I realized that the organ music was being played right then by someone in the Temple.  I got really excited and wondered aloud to my friend how I could have that opportunity to play.  A volunteer at the Temple came over and explained that I could volunteer as soon as I had participated in the other Temple ordinances.  It is traditional for young people in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to wait until they are about to go on a mission or be married in the Temple before they participate in these other ordinances.  I was close to neither at the time, but I stored that thought in my mind for when it would be applicable.

Fast forward to April 2009.

After counseling with my Bishop (my ecclesiastical leader), I decided it was a good time for me to go to the Temple and participate in the other ordinances that were available to me.  As I was leaving the St. George Temple that time, I remembered that thought and my desire to play the organ in the Temple and filled out a volunteer card.  I hand-wrote that I was interested most in playing the organ.

I received a phone call from a volunteer coordinator asking if I'd be willing to serve as a substitute for other organ players when they couldn't make their assigned shift.  I readily took that position and prayed for an opportunity to play.  I was able to play a half dozen times between April and June when I moved to Tooele.

Living in Tooele, the closest Temple was now the Salt Lake Temple.  I began attending the Salt Lake Temple.  After my first visit to this Temple, I filled out a volunteer card with hopes of playing the organ in the Salt Lake Temple as well.

I received a phone call from a volunteer coordinator who explained that they had more organ players than they could ever use but asked if I was willing to volunteer in other capacities.  He listed a few options that were conducive to my schedule.  I was intrigued by a position available at the Family File desk; however, I was hesitant, because I had little experience with Family History research.  But as he described the position, it sounded like office work; I could do office work.  I accepted that position and began volunteering weekly.

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are charged with the responsibility to learn of our family history so that we can perform sacred ordinances in the Temple for those family members who didn't have access to these things on Earth.  Temple patrons will bring information to the Family File desk so that they can perform these ordinances for their deceased family members.

I was filled with joy every time I printed these Temple ordinance cards for these patrons.  I couldn't believe the overwhelming positive emotions when someone would tell me their connection to the names on the cards as I cut them.  If I felt this way assisting someone else, how would I feel if I was printing my own Temple cards?

At this time, I gained access to a new church website that makes getting family names ready for the Temple so much easier.  Within minutes of signing up for the website and after only one text sent to my mother, I had all the information I needed to take my maternal grandmother's name to the Temple.
I continued volunteering and began my own Family History research.  Just before Christmas, my mother asked me if I was willing to go down South to visit her father during my winter break.  I consented telling her I wanted to make it a Family History adventure.

While visiting, my grandfather took me to a cemetery where his parents, uncles, aunts, and grandparents were buried.  I had been to that cemetery when I was younger since he was the caretaker and was there to mow the lawns, but I played on the toys by the church across the street not knowing the treasured family members that lay buried in that cemetery.  I began snapping pictures of headstones and grew excited to begin processing this information.

Also on this same trip, my mother took me to Eclectic, Alabama where her mother had been born and raised.  We contacted the cousin that we finally met up with yesterday.  He and his wife were in Salt Lake serving a mission for the Church.  He gave us contact information for another cousin of ours who we didn't know existed.  Andy took us on a cemetery tour of the county and I was able to take hundreds of photos of headstones and to see the graves of my great-grandparents, great-great-grandparents, and countless other relatives.

I continued my own Family History research and continued volunteering at the Temple.  During one volunteer shift, I was helping a gentleman who handed me a stack of cards.  I read the submitter's name on the card and then asked the gentleman his name.  I immediately recognized his name and told him, I'm your cousin.  He talked with me briefly and shared that this was the first time he had ever been inside the Temple with a member of his family outside of his wife and children.

A couple months ago, I asked my mother if we were going down South again for my break.  She said no since this would be the grandbabies' first Christmas.  Fortunately in early December, my mother changed her mind.  We tossed around possible itineraries and came up with a plan a couple days before we left town.

My mother contacted Cousin John about a possible visit.  Needing to attend church, we decided to plan our trip so that we could go to church with John in Alabama.


 And that is how I got to that moment in time.

Worth reviving the blog

I got an interesting surprise yesterday.  I received a picture message on my phone of my older sister having her head shaved.

Wait!  What?!

My sister had posted on facebook earlier in the day that there was a fundraiser at the school where she teaches, but I had no idea how committed she was to this fundraiser.

A fifth grade girl, Jenecee, was recently diagnosed with cancer.  A tumor and part of her thyroid were removed, but the cancer had spread to her lungs.  She has been undergoing chemotherapy these last weeks.

Mrs. Ashmore and my sister.  Mrs. Ashmore paid $250 for my sister to shave her head.

My sister said this morning via text message that she wanted Jenecee to have someone to be bald with.  Well, my sister has three others to be bald with as well.

Quadruplets: my sister, her husband, and their twin boys

Welcome to the world

Dear world,
You are so lucky. You just gained two brand new citizens who are likely to make a great contribution during their lifetimes.

Meet Jasper.

Meet Russell.

They may look small an insignificant now, but they will be a force to be reckoned with in no time. They come from goodly parents and will be well taught and well cared for. You are lucky to have them in your presence, world. Be good to them.

Sincerely,
A very proud aunt

A few thoughts on women's lib

I was helping some friends move this summer. A couple of guy friends were helping as well. One of the boys was pulling some items out of the truck and handed me a couple small things. I acted very offended, and he then moved out of my way and let me pick out something heavier.
Later in the move, I was carrying a large piece of furniture alone. When I got to the door of the house, he said out loud that he didn't know if he should offer help. I told him that I wanted him to treat me like a capable, independent woman, but I didn't want him to refrain from being a gentleman. He admitted that was a very fine, very difficult line to work with.
Fast forward a couple months. I was at lunch with him today. This very same topic came up, and I reminded him of our previous experience.
When we got to the car, he made it very obvious and very clear that he was getting the car door for me. He offered his hand and insisted I take it to ensure my safety. He was being very silly about it.
When he got in the other car door, he expressed that he would not like to be treated like a fragile object. I pointed out to him that there was a difference between being treated like I couldn't do it and being shown that I deserved more respectful and delicate treatment. That made sense to him.

I went on an overnight canoe trip last week with my friend, Holly. We had car trouble, so her father and brother picked us up at the end of the trip. I loved watching the way that Holly's father and brother treated her and interacted with her. They insisted she help load the canoes and tie them down. It wasn't because they thought she deserved part of the workload. It was because they trusted her ability and knew they could accomplish the task easier with her help.

One of my most treasured work-related memories had to do with my supervisor, Andy. Andy and I worked together in the automotive department at Wal-Mart. There were many a time that men would come in wanting to purchase goods or services from our department. I would offer to help them and they would walk past me and often times not even acknowledge me.
On one particular instance, a gentleman (can I even call him that?) walked right past me and my offer to help because Andy was in sight. This customer asked Andy about one of our tires. Andy knew the answer, but he used this opportunity to demonstrate his confidence in me and attempt to instill this in our customer base. He said to that particular customer that I would know better than he and walked him over to me. I more than adequately answered all this customer's questions.
It wasn't that Andy was too busy to answer the question or that he didn't want to help this customer. Like me, he was tired of the assumptions. He knew my ability.
It was one of the most empowering moments of my life. Andy taught me so much in that small gesture that day.

An idea of romance

I'll admit it. I signed up with an online dating website.

Wow. That was hard to admit. It shouldn't be. It's typical for our technology-driven society. Alas, it is strange with how social I am and how many people I know that I'm not having the dating life I desire. It is as though dating has been replaced with meaningless social events that lead to little (but physical relationships, it seems).

But the above is not the purpose of this post.

As part of the service, I am able send site generated messages back and forth with my matches to help us get to know one another. One of the boys I'm communicating with recently responded to the questions I sent him. One of my questions was "How would you spend a romantic evening with someone you've been dating for more than a year?"
His response: "Having a picnic and watching the sunset together. Maybe I will even muster up the little skill I have and make the picnic myself."

I watch the sunset a few times a week. In fact, I stopped by a friend's house tonight, and he suggested we move the conversation outside so that we could watch the sunset. This is the same friend who cooked a wonderfully delicious dinner for me and my sister while we watched the sunset, just before watching the fireworks from the accessible rooftop.

A friend. I watched the sunset with a friend.

Maybe this just means I live a very romantic life already.

Or maybe this boy lives in a part of the city where the sunset isn't easily seen, so watching the sunset is a rare occasion for him. In that case, working to enjoy that simple part of life is romantic.

Maybe this sunset viewing would involve a beautiful hike to get to the location and a hidden guitar that he "finds" and uses to play a little song for me.

Or maybe the simplicity of it all would make it so romantic.

I mean the sunset is a glorious thing every time I watch it. For example, I love catching the sunset over the Great Salt Lake on my way home from the Salt Lake Temple. On the nights when there are clouds, I like to stick around until after the sun has set. The way the dusk light reflects off the varying depths of the water make it appear almost as though there are white caps of cresting waves. It makes me feel like I'm back in Florida. I can even sometimes hear the waves crashing onto the shore.

His idea, although very simple, is romantic. But is it the kind of romance I'm looking for? Why am I left wanting for more?

Maybe I'm too consumed with looking for more than I already have. Maybe the best kind of relationship would involve spending time with someone doing the things I already do, the things I already love. I shouldn't be put off by his response. I should appreciate that we share that enjoyment of the simple things in life. Maybe I should make the search for love a little less complicated.

It depends on the thickness of its skull

After this week's Twilight Concert Series show, Casey and I went back to our friend's house. He and his roommate just moved into a 7th story penthouse just south of downtown Salt Lake. The penthouse also has a view of the Salt Lake Bees Stadium. Knowing that the Bees were having fireworks after their games last night and tonight, Casey and I used the power of suggestion (referencing how nice it would be to watch the show from a conveniently located penthouse) to score an invite. These guys are so classy that they suggested we come early enough to watch the sunset and then doubled the offer with a dinner invitation.

Dinner was on the grill while we watched the sunset. At one point, one of the boys posed the question, What is the largest predator you think you could fight to the death using only a hammer? After rationalizing her choice for a minute or so, Casey had to stop because she was grossed out by the images of carnage she was creating for herself. Our friend suggested that if she were in the coliseum, she would no doubtedly watch the horrific scene and might possibly enjoy it. She insisted that it would not be the case.

After dinner was so elegantly served on the ping pong table, we rushed outside to catch the fireworks show. From the roof (since the balcony had a slightly obstructed view), our friend spotted a handcuffed man being escorted from the bottom floor by a few officers.

Before our photoreceptor bleaching had been resolved, we had already shifted our attention to what would be our next show. Our buddy who had been arrested was starting to get upset. Although we couldn't make out his words, we could hear his raised voice. The female officer at his side had no trouble letting her voice carry. We could clearly hear her using his full first name, probably much like his mother had done repeatedly growing up.

The detained began displaying his resistance with his body. As they walked toward the police car, he began flailing his legs. Two bike cops rushed onto the scene at this time. The mass of officers circled the young man. Shortly after, he was on the ground. He had been tased (which we had barbarically been hoping for on the balcony). He was soon calf-roped, securing his legs that he had been attempting to use as a weapon.

A police minivan (which I never knew existed) was on the scene next. A female in a simple uniform exited the vehicle and began taking pictures of the man who was now lying very still on the ground. They rolled him over to get photographs of every angle.

In the mean time, we had busted out the binoculars. We each took turns getting a close-up of the action. I was bummed when it was my turn and the officers were blocking my shot. I never got a good look.

It was then that I realized that as averse as Casey was to the idea of watching an animal get taken down, we had no trouble watching this shirtless law-breaker meet his consequences.

E pluribus unum

Today I got a package together for my grandfather. The purpose of the package was to send him this picture.

He's cute. Isn't he?

I've been working on my family history since November. It accelerated in December when I went down South for a visit. It has been a wonderful yet very challenging adventure. There is still one line in his 4th and 5th generation that I'm not certain is correct, but I wanted to get it in the mail. I don't know how long it'll take to figure it out. It took me over a month to get information about his 3rd generation in that line.
A strange feeling came over me when I merged his 5 generation with his picture. It was so fascinating to see how many lives came together to produce the life of my grandfather.
The post I wanted to publish last week but couldn't involved me realizing how the decisions that others had made negatively affected the life I lived. I missed out on relationships, because these others had severed relationships with these people before I could form them and enjoy them.
However, when I looked at this picture, I realized that because of the decisions that all these people made, my grandfather exists. And because of his decisions, I exist.
And as painful as my realization was the other day, I can't help but also realize how so incredibly blessed I am to live now, to live in these circumstances, to have these experiences, and to create my own relationships. I have been a part of so many lives by choice and by chance.
I can only imagine how my choices will affect those I meet and those I one day mother. I wonder whose picture could be merged with me as his great-great-grandmother.


See what others did today at communal global.

I never know what to post

When it comes to blogging, I'm always torn.

I want to be an open book, but the things I want to write about most include someone else. Unless it's a happy thing, I don't think it's fair to them to share this intimate information.

Like today, I want to post about the emotional day I had, but it involves the relationship I have with my father.

I wrote about it in my journal, but it doesn't seem cleansing enough. I want to say it out loud (which I definitely count posting it on the internet as out loud), but again, I don't think it is fair to my father. It would be a one-sided story, although legitimately how I feel, but it may or may not paint him in a good light.

I've considered creating a whole new blog identity just to be able to post anything and everything, but I don't know if I'm willing to do the work to keep it anonymous.

Until then, I will have to continue to keep all the real posts to myself. No one will ever get to hear of my frustrations, embarrassing encounters, angry moments, or imagine me posting with tears streaming down my cheeks. That is unless you catch me at just the right moment in person. Then I'll be willing to let you into my world and attempt to communicate how I see the world.

After tossing around a Frisbee for an hour or more, a couple friends and I took a seat in the luscious grass of the park to enjoy the sunset. While we basked in this everyday but never common beauty, we talked about how we had spent the last week.

I told these two guys about going home to St. George. The highlight as always was seeing my niece, Emma. Brad asked how old she was. He then remarked with real sincerity, What do you do with a 3-month old baby?


Well, you enjoy watching her being herself.


And you revel at the fact that this tiny human has such a complex body structure. And you wonder how it happens every time. I mean, you've read about it in books, but wow! It really works.
And all the while you are thinking these things and watching her every movement, you realize that it isn't just fascination. It's love.
And you heart melts.

Then you realize you aren't just watching her. You are adoring her. And you try to soak it all in.
And you feel grateful in your heart that you get to experience this awe and unparalleled love.


And then you do eat her toes. (That was Nick's answer.) And kiss her face just to watch her eyes get bigger as you get closer.

And then you let her tiny hand wrap around your finger.


And then you tell her stories hoping she'll reciprocate. When you finish your story, you stop and listen. Then she starts to tell you a story. Her face lights up and her expressions change while she rattles off what sounds like nonsense to you, but you know it probably has a much deeper meaning, since she did just leave God's presence.

And you delight when she squeals.
And you gladly feed her because that is one of the greatest interactions. There is a special bond that occurs while you feed her. She stares ever so peacefully into your eyes, and in your heart you promise to always keep her safe.

And you are grateful that time seems to slow down, because you cherish every moment.

In its prime

Today I finally stopped to take pictures of one of my favorite sites in Tooele County. I always admire this old home as I pass and have every intention to come back and take pictures. Today I passed it with my sister, and the setting sun made for perfect lighting. She insisted we stop, and I am so grateful we did.

Check out Communal Global to see images of what some other gals from around the world did today.

A change in priorities

It used to be thoughts of this that would get me to rush home to St. George.

Now it is rightfully thoughts of this sweet little 11-week old angel that makes me thrilled to go home. Emma sure is sweet.

Memorial Day Memories

It was on this day back in two thousand and nine that I experienced Tooele for the first time.

After accepting the position at Excelsior Academy, my next step was to secure a place to live. I searched the internet from top to bottom and was only finding houses for rent. I didn't want to fork out that much money for just little ol' me.

I knew the only way to find a place in the area was to network.

I had already contacted a few people on facebook. (I sent a message to a girl who had hosted a News Year's Eve party. She had to be cool. It turns out that she also happened to be the Relief Society President of the Singles Ward in Tooele.) But the sense of urgency wasn't there. They were all willing to keep me informed about what they heard, but were they really listening out? I knew if they met me, they'd be more proactive in helping me in my search.

I made a trip up to Tooele on Memorial Day 2009. (I was already almost in the area for the weekend anyway.)

Megan, the Relief Society President I mentioned earlier in parenthesis, offered to show me around and help me locate some places and introduce me to people. I called her on my drive to Tooele and she mentioned that she was headed to a barbeque and that I was more than welcome to come with her there.

We agreed to meet at a central location. The local Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart should've been easy to find. And most people would've found it immediately. I figured it was on Main Street, but no matter how many times I drove up and down that road I couldn't find it. I sent a text Google's way and got the address. Even with the address, I knew where it should be, but I still didn't see it when I drove past. I was too distracted by taking in the sights I guess. I finally saw it tucked away behind a front row of shops and restaurants.

I was early for the designated meeting time. Of course. I was nervous, and I had nothing else to do. And I feared getting lost. I waited for what seemed like forever before Megan showed up.

She still had brownies in the oven at home, so we got in her car and went back to her place. I met her mother. So far, my impression of the town was very positive.

We headed to the barbeque. I met a handful of girls who would be in my ward. None of them were helpful in suggesting places I might be able to live. Turns out, they weren't being rude; there just aren't places to rent in Tooele.

After the barbeque, we headed up the street to a local park to play volleyball and kickball. As much fun as I was having, I didn't want too much time to pass because I was determined to find a place to live that day.

I met many of those who would become my closest friends that day. I like to reminisce with a few of them about that day.

I texted one friend today to remind him of our first meeting. "It was on this day in 2009 that I first met you. And it was because you didn't remember meeting me that you later labeled me a stalker." Hahahaha. Good times.

Casey, my sister, and I drove the back way to Tooele, which was the way I took one year ago. We arrived at the same park where I played kickball on that fateful day. After an hour of Ultimate Frisbee, I returned home to the apartment I secured on this day last year.

Ah, the memories.