Itty-Bitty Blessings

There is a lot I could say to preface this, but I'll be brief. Thoughts patterns really matter. Especially the ones we rarely verbalize. Several recent experiences (such as Caleb's RSV) forced some of my deep-rooted perceptions up to the surface, and they surprised me. Spiritual concepts that I grasped intellectually were suddenly new and difficult again, because I realized they weren't deeply rooted in my heart. Because those roots only went so deep, that hard moment was HARD. Processing it was hard for months. BUT that heart-break experience and soul-sifting process opened my heart and helped me internalize gospel principles on a new level. I'm confident that the next hard thing won't be nearly as hard, because my faith is deeper. Altering some of my less-faithful thought patterns has not only helped me process difficult experiences, but has also made me more free, more full of joy, and more prone to peace. This is far from a finished process!! For example,

I love to know and understand things. It's a core part of who I am. I want to understand why gas prices just went up, what chemical function corn starch serves in a recipe, why charity is always referred to as an object and not a quality... All the things! Maybe that's why this is one of my favorite memes... #knowallthethings Here's my dilemma. I know how to find and apply spiritual knowledge. It's my foundation and lens for all further questions. I'm also pretty good at finding and evaluating intellectual truth. (Thank you, Google Scholar, Provo library, and at least 5 news sources on any given topic) But what about cultural truths?  I want to know what my society really values. I want to know how "the majority" really spend their time, their attention, their priorities. This knowledge will inform my life views, my parenting, and my habits much less than spiritual or intellectual knowledge, but it's still useful and important to me. My awaren

Caleb's near-death experience in January left me with a lot of emotional and spiritual trauma to work through. I prayed and studied the scriptures extensively, slowly identifying why I still felt so insecure even after Caleb's recovery. I realized several important things. 1. Subconsciously, I had expected my gospel living to result in specific blessings: a happy marriage, healthy and safe children, etc. Those expectations went unchallenged for a while, but then my two-week-old baby stopped breathing. And didn't really start breathing again for another 10 days. 2. As a result of those shattered expectations, I felt betrayed by God. This was hard to admit to myself. I knew He was still aware of me, but I was confused and hurt. Why had He allowed me to suffer when I had tried so hard to be righteous? I thought of this as I watched the YA Face to Face on Sunday. One of the last questions echoed mine. Why are the righteous denied certain blessings? That young adult wante

I tried to build a fence up in the sky To gather in a realm of my control. A boundary, I hoped, would satisfy My need to understand, to do, to know. I placed a willing god up in the sky Who let me win his blessings and his love. I did my part, and he would then comply By show’ring chosen favors from above. But then a day when all the light blue sky— It fell in broken pieces on the ground. I couldn’t fix it, find a reason why. And from the empty heavens, not a sound. I mourned and suffered, looked up at the sky. I’d kept my rules, but still I faced this pain. My tidy, righteous living did not buy The blessings or the peace I hoped to gain. The real God saw my fences in the sky And knew my fear of giving up control. My pride, it sat between the Lord and I, But waiting there, He yearned to touch my soul. And only when I crouched ‘neath shattered sky Could I begin again to know His face. My helplessness inspired me to try To tru

A Golden Thread A poem by Erica Mace When fingers point, accuse the sky For some unwanted episode The wounded blame, and oft deny That their hand also shapes the load, Not only He who sits on high. For did He not an earth create By law and order, by design? And does it not now operate By those same laws, which He makes known, Thus granting us our hand in fate? For once created, life unfolds With consequences predisposed. Not hidden, buried there untold, But preached by science, faith and time That all might know, observe, behold. When law’s unknown, it still remains In force, but we less easily Can see God’s plan, unbind our chains Or be the agents we might be. We point a finger in our pains. But known, these laws inform our thought, Have consequence, respond to tests. Their truth endures, and so our lot Is finding truth and living it-- For knowing only changes naught. The laws we base our lives upon Will cast their shadows,