Day 91, March 31

Once again it is Fast and Testimony meeting in our ward.  Once again, I long for the words to bear my testimony, to tell of my love for the Savior.  But I have no fancy or even un-fancy words.  They stick in my throat and get garbled by my tongue.

That it is Easter Day, a day when we give special remembrance to Christ, who made the Atonement possible, only highlights my desire for the eloquence to give voice to my testimony.

My testimony is precious to me, perhaps all the more so because it remains unspoken and held close within my heart.  For is that not where all the most important things are held--a wife and mother's love for her husband and children, a sister's devotion to her sister, a friend's loyalty to her friend?  Those things reside in the deep recesses of our hearts. 

As does my testimoy of the truthfulness of the Gosepl.

So, for today, I am grateful for testimonies, those given voice to and those which are tucked inside tender hearts.

Day 90, March 30

Yesterday I wrote about Deacons.  The story is not complete, though.  Behind every Deacon are a mother and a father, training and teaching their sons in preparation for accepting the job of passing the Sacrament.

Mothers wash their sons' clothes and make sure they are presentable for Sunday.  Fathers lead by example in honoring their own Priesthood.

Deacons don't just happen.  They are made, by loving and righteous parents who are intent on imparting to their sons (and daughters) a love for the Lord.

So, for today, I am grateful for righteous parents everywhere.

Day 89, March 29

Last Sunday, as I watched the Deacons (boys 12-14) in our ward pass the Sacrament, I was impressed by their reverence to this all important Priesthood duty.  Having raised three sons of my own, I know how squirrely boys of that age can be.  Yet, these sweet boys gave the task their complete devotion.and attention.

My heart was touched, as it always is, by those who serve the Lord, in whatever capacity.  These boys are starting early in their service.   And my heart swelled at the thought of these same young men in six or so years serving the Lord yet again as they serve missions to bring the good news of the Gospel to all parts of the world.

So, for today, I am grateful for Deacons.

Day 88, March 28,

I had a different post planned for today, but I felt compelled to write about something that is, as the television shows say, "ripped from the headlines."

A professor at a Florida university instructed his students to write the name "Jesus" on a piece of paper, then throw that paper to the ground and stomp on it.  (How dare he?)

One student, Ryan Rotela, a Mormon, refused.  Initially, his refusal earned him reprobation (from the university) rather than approbation.  Only when the media got involved was his integrity brought to light.  What a courageous young man Ryan must be.  And how proud his parents must be that he stood for what he believed, that he stood for Jesus.

In a world that seems to be determined to take God from our schools, our civic organizations, our celebrations, even our currency, it is refreshing and empowering to witness someone who refused to defame the Lord. 

So, for today, I am grateful for a courageous and faithful student.

Day 87, March 27

Like many people, I watch for the signs of spring.  I watch for the greening of the grass, the buds on trees, the crocus and tulips and daffodils pushing their way up through the winter-hardened ground.

Recently, I discovered that our tulips are poking their heads above the ground, just specks of green against the dreary brown.  The writer in me is always seeking analogies, comparisons, and I couldn't help but think of some friends who are also poking their heads above the trials and hardships of this life.

One friend has undergone numerous surgeries as a result of her cancer of last year.  She has come back stronger than ever, determined that she will have a good life despite what she's endured.  Another friend lost her heartmate of 40-plus years.  She, too, has emerged stronger, her resilience a testament of her faith and testimony.

So, for today, I am grateful for the courage to survive, in flowers and in friends.

Day 86, March 26

I came aross an article on AOL about the effects stress has on skin.  Naturally, I read it.  With my aging, dry skin, I'm always looking for ways to improve it.  

The trouble was, the article didn't give any hints about how to avoid the stresses (i.e. worries) of everyday life.   How does a wife stop worrying about her husband when work isn't going well?  She doesn't.  How does a mother (whatever her age) stop worrying about her children?  How does a grandmother stop worrying over her grandchildren?   She doesn't.  How does a daughter of God stop worrying that she isn't living up to the potential He sees within her?  She doesn't.

I was left with the acceptance that I can't avoid stress; I can only learn to live with it and perhaps use it to help me to do better whenever I can.

So, for today, I am grateful for people to worry about because that means I have people to love.

Day 85, March 25

A couple of days ago, our area was blanketed with a thick snow.  Slick roads and bone-chilling cold convinced me that I didn't have to go out, that anything I'd planned to do wasn't important.  And so I stayed home, content and warm in our snug house, our cat, Harley, curled up next to me.

I remember (many) years ago how much joy my sister and I took in "snow days," those precious days when school was canceled and we were free to go play outside and return home sloppy wet and pleasurably cold.  These days, I don't romp in the snow (though perhaps I should).  I find things to do inside--folding laundry, tidying up the bits and pieces of a home, working on my writing. 

So, for today, I am grateful for snow days.

Day 84, March 24

In doing some reading for my other blog (The Patriot Pages), I came across some information about President Calvin Coolidge.  I never knew much about Coolidge other than his nickname, "Silent Cal." 

In my research, I learned that Coolidge was famous for saying "No."  He said no to budget increases, to unreasonable requests put to him by Congress and by other groups.  He did not gain any popularity by saying "No."  In fact, he made quite a few enemies.  Still, I couldn't help but be impressed by his integrity, his determination in doing what he felt to be right.

Our present culture is one of "Yes."  We say yes to ourselves, to our children, and, in my case, to our grandchildren.  Perhaps we say "Yes" too much. 

In 2012, Colorado said "Yes" to making marijuana legal, a decision we are already regretting.  We said "Yes" to a president who is determined to take away our freedoms.  We said "Yes" to other lawmakers with the same agenda.

So, for today, I am grateful for President Calvin Coolidge and his courage in saying "No."

Day 83, March 23

A couple of days ago, Janet, our ward's Relief Society president, asked me to visit some sisters in our ward with her. We learned that one lady, a new mother with a three week old son and a three-year-old daughter, was leaving in two days to visit her sick mother.  Janet noticed a pile of dirty laundry and offered to take it home with her and wash it.

Why hadn't I noticed the laundry?  Why hadn't I made a similar offer? 

I've known Janet for 36 years.  She continues to amaze me, not just with her talents, which are many and remarkable, but with her sensitivity and compassion.  She saw a need and acted on it--immediately.  She didn't make the well-intentioned but often meaningless offer of "If you need anything, just call."  She gave a specific offer of help, which was readily accepted.

So, for today, and for everyday, I'm grateful for Janet.

Day 82, March 22

As I re-read yesterday's post (before it was published), I was sorely tempted to delete it.  After all, do I really want you to know how petty and mean I am?  But then I decided you should know where I'm coming from and how far I have to go to be anywhere close to where I want to be, more, where the Father wants me to be.

Deleting the post would have required only a touch of a key.  So easy.  The Father has His own way to help us delete the nasties that sometimes overtake us, or, at least, me.  It's called repentance.

Unfortunately, it requires more than the touch of a key.  It requires hard work, humility, and the willingness to admit that we need help. 

So, for today, I'm grateful for the Father's delete key.

Day 81, March 21

I have a confession to make:  I have a hard heart.  Try as I will, my heart remains hard toward some people.  Last weekend, Larry and I were asked to help a lady in our ward move.  I grumbled the entire time we were carrying things from her house to the trucks and then carrying the same things from the trucks to a different house.

I grumbled that the lady didn't deserve our help.  I grumbled that she was ungrateful.  I grumbled that she never bothered to help others.  If there were a gold medal awarded for grumbling, I would win it hands down.

My husband, wise man that he is, reminded me that the Savior gives us what we don't deserve all the time.  He gives us His patience.  He gives us His love.  He gives us His understanding.  He gives us His grace.  He gives when I don't deserve these gifts, which is all of the time.

I hate it when he's right.

So, for today, I am grateful for the undeserved gifts I receive from the Savior.

Day 80, March 20

In our ward's Sacrament Meeting (regular Sunday meeting), a speaker gave a talk on grace.  Grace is one of those subjects that still confuses me.  Many people, including many Mormons, think that we earn grace by our good works, by charitable acts, or even by attending meetings. 

The fact is, we cannot earn the Savior's grace.  Nothing we can ever do will be enough to earn that most precious of gifts.  But the Savior can and does bestow His grace upon us, simply because He loves us.  To use a current saying, the Savior does the heavy lifting.  All we have to do is to accept Him into our lives.

If we cannot earn grace, then what are we doing here on earth?  Are the good things we do for nothing?  Not at all.  We are learning to become like the Savior.  Whatever good we do brings us that much closer to Him. 

So, for today, I am grateful for grace.  I am always grateful for the Savior's love.

Day 79, March 19

""The gospel is a plan of freedom that gives discipline to appetite and direction to behavior.” - President Gordon B. Hinckley

As always, President Hinckley says much in a few words.  I am still trying to get it right--the discpline to appetite and direction to behavior.  My appetites are many, and my direction is frequently skewed.    If I give heed to the Prophet's words, I would corral those appetities (not only for food but for material things, unhealthy emotions, and others) and point myself in the right direction.

Did you notice my use of the word "if?"  If.  A two-letter word that often goes unrecognized.  If I do this ... If I hadn't done that ...  The list of ifs in my life is a long one indeed.

So, for today, I am grateful for the words of a wise and loving prophet.

Day 78, March 18

It appears that we're not through talking about the Holy Ghost. 

A few days ago, I submitted (electronically) a manuscript to a new publisher.  Less than twenty-four hours later, I heard back from the publisher, saying they wanted to talk with me.  In talking with a representative, I didn't have a good feeling about signing with his press, but I agreed to have him send me a contract.

I'm the first to admit that I'm not business person, and as I read through the contract, I couldn't identify why I felt uneasy.  I emailed a writer friend, one who has signed many contracts and is savvy in the business world.  After looking at the contract, she wrote back and told me that I was right to be wary and identified the parts of the contract she felt were troublesome.

What does this have to do with the Holy Ghost?  Maybe nothing ... and maybe everything.  I believe my wariness or uneasiness about signing with this publisher was the Holy Ghost telling me, "Don't do this.  You'll regret it if you do."

So, for today, I am grateful for the whisperings of the Spirit.

Day 77, March 17

Yesterday we talked about the Holy Ghost and what it can do in helping us make righteous and wise judgments.   Protecting us from potentially dangerous situations is not the only aid the Holy Ghost can give us.  I rely on it, many times unconsciously, in my everyday life.

I like to send pretty cards to friends and family.   Sometimes, when I'm not certain who could use an extra dose of love, I go through our ward (congregation) list and just read the names to myself.  Often, a name will jump out.  I believe that the Holy Ghost has let me know that this individual needs a card. 

A small thing ... perhaps.  But an important thing all the same. Certainly this is not an earth-shattering, life-saving event, but it confirms to me that the Holy Ghost is there if we but listen to its promptings.

Unfortunately, I am not sensitive to the "still, small voice" all the time. I wish I were.  Maybe I could do something earth-shattering, life-saving.  All I can say is that I'm trying.

So, for today, I am grateful for promptings of the Spirit, even when I don't deserve them.  Especially when I don't deserve them.

Day 76, March 16

Last week at church, during Sunday School class, we were reading scriptures from the Doctrine & Covenants about the Holy Ghost.  One phrase in particular stood out in the list of the function of this third personage of the Godhead, that it was to help us "... to judge righteously ..."

Though I've read this scripture many times before, I had not zeroed in on those words.  How many times have we been admonished not to judge?   I've always questioned that, because we are, of necessity, forced to make judgments every day.  From what do we have for breakfast to how do we vote in the presidential election. Making judgments is a part of life.

You have probably had the experience of feeling uneasy or wary about a certain situation or person.  You have no logical reason for that feeling, only that something isn't right.  I believe that feeling comes from the Holy Ghost, telling you that you are in jeopardy, either physically, emotionally, or spiritually.   Not giving heed to that feeling is not only unwise, it can also be dangerous.

So, for today, I am grateful for the Holy Ghost's help in judging righteously.

Day 75, March 15

Yesterday I wrote about downsizing of possessions.  No doubt about it, that's hard.  Even harder, though, is the downsizing of harmful feelings.  You know the ones I mean:  jealousy, envy, anger.  These tend to result in grudges and even harder and more harmful feelings.  I call these "the nasties."

I don't know about you, but for me, it's a lot easier to get rid of a dress that I no longer wear than to rid myself of the yucky feelings that creep into my mind and heart.  Once there, they tend to fester and cling and, pretty soon, they take on a life of their own.  They've morphed from a tiny, niggling hurt to a full-blown tumor of pain.

There's only one way I know of to vanquish these feelings:  turn them--and myself--over to the Savior.  Only when I do that, am I able to erase them from my heart.

So, for today, I am grateful for the Savior, Who's always willing to help me downsize the nasties.

Day 74, March 14

Recently I came across an article about extreme downsizing, citing individuals who had sold and/or given away all of their possessions.  They moved on to their new lives with only a few pieces of clothing.  I wondered what that would be like.  The truth is, I like my stuff.  I like my comfy bed.  I like my pretty purses.  And so on.

Then I started to wonder if I liked them too much.  Do I possess my things or do they possess me?  This question is certainly not original with me.  It is easy to get caught up in our possessions.  Every once in a while I'll watch the television program Hoarders.  I shudder at the messes portrayed and give myself a mental pat on the back that at least I'm not "that bad."

After a reality shot of how bad things could get, I get busy and compile a box of  stuff to be taken to Goodwill or some other such place.  How do I reward myself for this noble act?  Well, I go out and get more stuff.  It's a vicious cycle.

So, for today, I am grateful for people who downsize and encourage me to do the same.

Day 73, March 13

"Let us leave a splendid legacy for our children...let us turn to them and say, this you inherit: guard it well, for it is far more precious than money...and once destroyed, nature's beauty cannot be repurchased at any price."  ~ Ansel Adams

 

I love these words of the famous photographer.  Guarding the beauty of our earth, protecting it, cherishing it, should be a priority for all of us.

 

As I read and re-read the quote, I realize that Adams' words might just as easily apply to another kind of legacy, that of our testimony of the Lord.  Are we guarding it, protecting it, cherishing it?  

 

So, for today, I am grateful for those who guard legacies.

Day 71, March 12

Spring is almost upon us.  The ground is warming up, quickly melting any lingering snow and ice.  Shoots of green are poking their heads through the up-to-now frozen soil. 

That is the good news.  The less-so-good news is that with spring, come demands.  Be upbeat, we're told.  Be energetic.  Clean your house (for many, spring cleaning is a set-in-stone mandate).   Being of a rebellious nature, I am tempted to defy these strictures.  I'll be upbeat when I want to, I want to shout.  And as for energetic?  Forget it.  Any energy I ever had was sucked away three children and twenty or so years ago.  Clean my house?  No way will I clean it in spring.  I'll clean it any other season, but I won't be trapped into spring cleaning.

What does this say about me?  Rebellious, certainly.  Stubborn, definitely.   And that I like to march to the beat of my own drummer.   My internal drummer tells me that I don't have to listen to anyone's voice but mine ... and God's.  I figure that's enough. 

So, if I'm not upbeat, energetic, and possessed of a cleaning frenzy in spring, what do I do?  I go to garage sales.   I start a new writing project that I have no intention of finishing, but I have to get those voices out of my head.  I talk to myself on my morning walks.

So, for today, I am grateful for my internal drummer, even when it's off beat from the world's.

Day 70, March 11

Recently, our Relief Society (the Mormon church's women's organization) had a workshop on visiting teaching.  (For those of you who aren't Mormon, visiting teaching is where two women visit several other women each month, offering encouragement and lessons on the gospel.)

I love visiting teaching.  I have since I first left home and attended college at BYU, where I was assigned to be a visiting teacher to other coeds.  We learned about each other.  We laughed together.

More than forty years later (oooh, that hurts to write), I'm still in love with visiting teaching.  Through it, I've made wonderful friends, friends I may not have met had it not been for visiting teaching.  I've helped sisters with babysitting, meals, and, driving them to cancer treatment appointments.

My visiting teachers have helped me as well.  They tended me through the hectic weeks after the birth of babies.  They tended to my family while I was away tending to my parents when my mother was dying.  They tended to my heart.

So, for today, I am grateful for visiting teaching.

Day 69, March 10

It's no secret that I love books.  I love the feel of them, the smell of them, the sound of them as I turn the pages.  I love to haunt thrift stores and garage sales to find treasures among the bookshelves.  (To feed my reading addiction, I have to bargain hunt for books. Who can afford them retail?)

I hear about alien people who don't have books in their homes.  (Really?  How do they live?)  And I grieve for them.  How do they learn?  How do their children learn?  In our world of instant gratification, sound bytes, and other such things, I am still, and will always be, a book-lover.

That is not to say that I don't appreciate electronic readers.  They provide an important service.  But they will never replace books.  At least, not for me.

So, for today, I am grateful for books.

Day 68, March 9

Have you ever wondered why some people seem to "have it all together?"  Why their lives seem charmed, unblemished by the troubles of this world?

I have.

I've wondered about, even envied, these people.  And then I realize that I am seeing only the most superficial aspects of their lives.  I am not seeing their anguish over a child's poor choices.  I am not seeing their worry over an elderly parent's declining health.  I am not seeing their heartache when a mate is unfaithful. 

Only rarely do I get a glimpse into the sorrow that touches another's life.  I am grateful for those moments for they allow me to exercise the compassion and understanding that I should be extending all along.

So, for today, I am grateful for glimpses into sorrow.

Day 67, March 8

It was on March 8, 1884 that Susan B. Anthony addressed the U.S. House Judiciary Committee arguing for an amendment to the U.S. Constitution granting women the right to vote.  This argument came 16 years after legislators had first introduced a federal women's suffrage amendment.  But it was not until 1919 that the 19th Admendment was added to the Constitution.

Wyoming was the first state to grant women the right to vote.  Colorado, Utah, and Idaho quickly  followed.  (I take pride in the fact that these states had a large Mormon population.)

Today, women take for granted their right to vote and may forget that it was not always this way.  During the last election, my husband and I were at the polls the first thing in the morning.  In fact, one of the volunteers said that we were the very first in our precinct to vote.  I would never let this opportunity pass by.  I would never forgo my right to have a say in who is governing our nation and how it is governed.

So, for today, I am grateful for Susan B. Anthony and all the women who sacrificed to making voting possible for women.

Day 66, March 7

I love to go to garage sales.  The thrill of the hunt for good bargains gets my adrenaline flowing, my blood pumping.   One day, in a particularly reflective mood, I thought about the bargain the Lord has offered me, indeed, all of us.

He paid the price for all my sins.  I didn't have to pay Him a thing in return except to accept Him into my heart, into my life.  What a bargain.  And yet...  

I have not fully taken advantage of this most precious bargain of all and, at times, have even counted it of little worth.  How foolish of me.  I am an unprofitable servant, failing to appreciate the ultimate of bargains.

So, for today, I am grateful for the Lord's sacrifice in providing me with the greatest bargain of all.

Day 65, March 6

In the last several weeks, three dear friends have lost family members, in two cases a child, in one case, a parent.  My heart weeps for these friends.  But at the same time, my heart rejoices at the knowledge we have of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, that death is not a permanent loss but merely a temporary separation.

This does not mitigate the sorrow these families feel, though.  To love is to know sorrow.  My mother-in-law was fond of saying, "Grief is a work that has to be done."  I know my friends will be doing this most difficult of work in these ensuing weeks and months.
How much more difficult, though, would that work be if not for Christ's Atonement and His work on our behalf? 

So, for today, I am grateful for Christ who carries our burdens with His infinite love.

Day 64, March 5

I accidentally almost caught Harley's (our kitty) tail in our kitchen door when I closed it.  She gave me a reproachful look, then, minutes later, was on my lap, giving me kitty kisses.  Harley is quick to forgive.

Though Harley and I share many qualities (we both like a good book--me to read, her to shred; we're both inclined to curl up on a snowy day under a blanket; we're both Republican), I do not share her forgiving nature.  In fact, Larry and I were just reminiscing about our daughter Alanna's birth, and we discovered, not to my surprise, that I have still not forgiven him for going off to have breakfast in the midst of an excruciating labor (mine).  Suffice it to say that this occurred decades ago.

I admire those who can forgive those who hurt or offend them.  I wish I had that trait, but I don't.

So, for today, I am grateful for Harley's forgiving nature ... and for all those who can let go of past hurts.

Day 63, March 4

Yesterday I wrote about the beauty found in a clump of grass.  I could have easily overlooked it.  I fear that I have overlooked many such vignettes of beauty because my mind was cluttered with the busy-ness of life.

It is good to be busy.  Good to be productive and of value.  However, when I allow that busy-ness of life to blind me to the world the Lord has created, I fear that I am beleaguered in the importance of unimportant things.

Finding beauty is not so much a process of discovering it in out-of-way places but of recognizing what already surrounds us, such as   stumbling upon the first crocus of spring struggling to break through a layer of snow.

So, for today, I am grateful for unexpected bits of beauty.

Day 62, March 3

We have an ornamental grass called pampas grass planted in clumps along the side of our house.  In the summer, it is a pale green color.  Now, however, it is the color of wheat.  When snow and ice cling to it, it resembles stalks of diamonds.

If I am overstating this, blame it on my writer's imagination.  Whatever whimsy possesses me to describe it this way, I could not help but be struck by its elegant beauty the other day when our area was hit by a snowstorm.  Though I am not a fan of snow, I am moved by the beauty of the Father's creations.

How could something so simple be so beautiful, I wondered.  And then I realized that the simplest things are often the most beautiful.  A child's voice, untrained and untutored, rivals that of an operatic diva when she is singing a Primary song.   Caught in the sunlight, my cat's whiskers appear to be strands of fine silk.  

So, for today, I am grateful for pampas grass silvered with snow and ice.

Day 61, March 2

My father's great-great grandfather, William McBride, was born on March 22, 1807 at Greene County, Ohio.

My father wrote this about his ancestor:  "In 1835, he (William)  married Elizabeth Harris Booram. It is not known when William and Elizabeth joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but on April l6, 1844 (according to a certificate), he was ordained an Elder. In 1846, he was ordained a Seventy. (A record kept by Elizabeth Clark McBride, reveals that Elizabeth and William were sealed to each other in Nauvoo, Illinois, by President Brigham Young.)

"William performed work for some of his wife's family in the Temple, probably the Kirtland Temple. With their growing family, William and Elizabeth journeyed to the Salt Lake Valley in Utah with the body of the Saints in 1849. At a call from the Prophet, William served a mission to the Sandwich Islands (Hawaii)."

Today, young men and young women are called to serve missions, at their own expense, to wherever the Lord sees fit to send them.  At this period of Church history, however, husbands and fathers were called to leave their families and preach the Gospel.  How hard it must have been for William to leave his wife and children to fend for themselves while he traveled thousands of miles away.

So, for today, I am grateful for those who follow the Lord's commands, no matter how difficult.

Day 60, March 1

I suppose I've been in a reflective mood lately, looking back to my roots, to my family's roots, which is, perhaps, why I've been quoting from personal histories.

I'm proud of my heritage, of my parents.  As I've written before, they understood and appreciated work.  The following is, once more, from my father's writings:

"My first memory of life, as I recall, is that of sitting on a stool (a short, 2 by 4 inch board, which was nailed at the top of a board about one inch thick and aboaut 10inches square) milking a cow. We always brought the cows from the 15 acre field every night to milk them in the corral (pen). One of the jobs of my brothers and myself was the milking of the cows, feeding the calves (still on milk), letting them suck our fingers to learn what the milk tasted like, after dipping our fingers in the milk.

"Of course we milked the cows morning and night. After milking the cows, we put the milk through what was called a separator, a machine which separated the milk from the cream, the cream coming out of one spout and the milk, now removed of the cream, coming out of another spout. We saved enough milk before it was separated for our own use in drinking. We fed the milk with the cream removed to the young calves still on milk, and mixed the remainder of the milk with the cream removed with dishwater and other garbage, to feed to the hogs. In addition, we fed the hogs corn, and a weed in the summer, which we called pig weed, a sort of reddish-color weed, which the hogs liked. "

As you can see, my father was introduced to work at an early age.  He accepted work and the satisfaction that comes with it as a necessary and important part of life.

So, for today, I am grateful for the example of work.