Musings on a Man with No Name

As a missionary it was so easy to believe in forgiveness for those whom I taught. I knew that the Lord would forgive them for any misdeed they committed before they obtained the gift of the gospel. I also knew that they would be forgiven by the Savior as they continued on a path of righteousness and strived to live the gospel. I felt great conviction when I bore testimony of these truths to investigators and members. Sometimes however, it is difficult to extend those promises to myself.

The Lord comes to the Brother of Jared in Ether 2:14 and speaks to him for three hours. The Lord chastens him for his forgetfulness. The brother of Jared repents and the Lord forgives him with an admonition to not sin anymore. Sometime it is hard to come to the Lord with repentance. Sometimes feelings of unworthiness or embarrassment prevent us from going to Him. There are times when we know very well not to do something and yet we do it, not only once but we make the same mistake over and over again. How could the Lord want to forgive us when He has seen our repetitive nature? It reminds me of overeating or indulging in treats. It tastes great while we savor the food and treats, we feel sick by the end, promise ourselves that we will never eat that much or a specific food again, and eventually eat the very same food in the same quantity!

The Lord is always ready to forgive though. He is waiting with open arms and in some instances even comes to us. I love the words of the Lord in the book of Isaiah which read, “I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins: return unto me; for I have redeemed thee.”(44:22) The Lord comes to us and asks that we return to Him.

We  do not have to carry the burden of regret of guilt. We can return to the Lord because He has come to us and redeemed us. We can find peace and be tools in the Lord’s hand as we regularly repent and strive to be better.

Only 266 more Days!

Christmas is my most favorite time of the year! I enjoy the whole season. Christmas music starts to play in October, and the longer the decorations can be up, the better. I love the feeling that permeates the air. It is as if everyone is a little bit happier and a little bit kinder. Cheer and charity seem to be far more prevalent at this time of year. The anticipation of Christmas morning is a feeling which is difficult to replicate. As I was growing up my family had the privilege of taking Christmas to a family who had very little. The family was dealt a hard hand in this life. They were struggling to make it from day to day. Christmas would not be an option for them. Every year we gathered gifts, gift cards, and food to take to them on Christmas Eve. Our family looked forward to this tradition every year. The anticipation for taking Christmas to this family was often greater than the anticipation for our own Christmas morning.One year when we went to visit them we found the house dark with no lights or tree. We left and went to a near by store where we were able to pick up a tree and lights to decorate it with. Seeing the joy and anticipation on their faces every time we arrived at their house was a beautiful gift and often my family drove home with silent tears falling over our cheeks.

Christmas has been a time of anticipation from the very beginning. 3rd Nephi speaks of the people looking forward to the birth of Christ and watching for the signs of his birth. I think that the anticipation of Jesus Christ is what creates the irreplaceable feeling I so enjoy at Christmas time. Whether people realize it or not, the joyful prospect of the night which celebrates the coming of the Messiah causes all to be more merry and bright. I am grateful for the birth of our Savior and the opportunity we have each year to celebrate it. The music, the lights, the gifts and opportunities to serve are all ways in which Christmas helps us to anticipate the coming of the Savior.

Eternal Lessons from a Four Year Old

There is much confusion and strife in the world surrounding the death of young children. This is a horrendously heavy burden to bear, made even more so by the prospect of never seeing them again. This idea is perpetuated by the theory that only those who receive baptism will be received into Heaven and those who do not will be cast out to Hell. The immense pain of knowing that you will never hold that precious baby, never hear them cry or coo, and never watch them grow up, is heightened by the fear that their little soul is lost to Hell. The restored gospel brings with it so many tender revelations. The Book of Mormon contains a revelation regarding small children who have passed away before receiving baptism. "Little children are alive in Christ because of the atonement." (Moroni 8)

I find this doctrine so tender and sweet. Of course the Lord would not condemn small children to Hell after they have passed on before obtaining the ordinance of baptism. The fact that the false doctrine of small children needing baptism is so pervasive is morose. Having never had first hand experience with this doctrine or situation, it became prevalent and far more real to me when I read a short book titled Heaven is For Real. The book is written by a Pastor, whose son, at the time was just four years old, visits Heaven while undergoing an operation  in the emergency room. In the few months following the operation the son begins to slowly tell his family of the experiences he had while in heaven. One day he tells his mother that he has a sister, other than the one on earth with him. The mother is shocked and tells him that this is true.  She explains to him that she had a baby who died while still in her stomach. Her son, calmly and rather nonchalantly, let’s her know that the little girl whom she lost is up in Heaven and is waiting for her and the Pastor to come and raise her. His mother is overcome with emotion as she learns that the sweet baby girl she loved is not lost forever but is instead saved in Heaven, waiting for her parents arrival.

It is difficult for me to imagine the intense pain of losing someone and having no hope of seeing them again. The Plan of Salvation is such a blessing, especially in times of loss. With the restored gospel, we not only have a knowledge that there is life after death, but we also know that those children who pass on without receiving baptism will be safely received home to Heaven. This knowledge can bless not only my life but those around me who may not have the same beliefs.

Heaven on my Mind

When I think of Heaven I picture Jesus Christ with His arms out stretched. He is welcoming me home. I picture the Christus statue but as a real person. Fourth Nephi describes a Heaven on earth which was created after the visitation of Christ. The book makes it clear that some things have to be in place for this heaven on earth to be established. The people have no contention. They are all living according to the commandments of God. They are meeting together to worship and are constantly drawing themselves closer to God by reading the scriptures and praying. It is clear that the people are working hard and being productive. The Lord is prospering them because of their hard work and their strict adherence to His word. The people are able to have all things common among them because they are working so hard, there are none that are lazy or leaching. The scriptures also say that the people have the love of God in their hearts. This is the cause of the disappearance of contention and sins. Such a society is hardly imaginable. It would be an incredible society to behold and to be apart of.

When I think of Heaven on earth I think of my family. I have been blessed with a loving family. When I am with my family I feel warm and at home, no matter where we are. In family we can find unconditional love. We can be ourselves without the fear of being judged. We can feel safe and secure.

I think that the Savior has given us families so that we can participate in a heaven on earth. This may not be the family one is born in to. IT may be the family they begin. It may also be their family that they find within a congregation or group of people. It may be a simple family made up of a person and their dog. The Lord loves His children and wants them to experience joy and happiness in this life. He knows that one of the best ways for us to do this is through experiencing rich and fulfilling interpersonal relationships.

Once Upon a Time...

The Demise of a Fairy Tale

I had never seen such a handsome face in real life. Not only was his face out of a Giorgio Armani ad, but his body was perfect. His muscles rippled under his T-shirts; the light fabric laying softly over his angel wings. One day fate dealt me a lucky hand-we were both in the break room with no one else around.

“Hey, what ethnicity are you?” I asked.

“Mexican,” He responded in a confused tone. “Why?”

“Because you are beautiful! Your dark skin, your complexion, you’re just beautiful,” came my hurried reply. “I mean handsome,” I corrected, worried he may take offense to the feminine term.

“No beautiful works for me,” he grinned.

I had never before in my life talked to a stranger that way. The butterflies, who congregated in my stomach after the interaction, left no room for embarrassment .

It was not long before he asked for my number. I suppose the male ego can’t really resist a girl who gushes over him and tells him how beautiful he is. I had never been so excited for a first date in my life. I spent plenty of time prepping and primping, trying to make sure that my beauty would be equal to his. The date was everything I hoped it would be. He was incredibly handsome and smelled divine. He was cute, despite having spoken English since he was a child he still made mistakes with the language. He was a perfect gentleman, opened every door. He was protective, stepping between me and sketchy looking man on the way inside one of the destinations on the date. He had the whole date planned-a relief when one has become accustomed to men picking her up for dates and asking what she wanted to do. I was intrigued by him right away. He was so very different than me. He had been born in Mexico and moved to the states when he was four. He was an avid soccer player, and from what I could tell (from stalking the videos of him playing on facebook) quite good. He came from a completely different culture and language than me. There were small things that caught my attention. His parents were divorced. He still lived with his mother, and it appeared she depended on him for everything. He was not attending school and had no specific plans for his schooling. However, I brushed these aside.

We met at the end of August. A few weeks later we were going steady and not long after that he told me that he loved me. I was in a whirlwind of adoration for this man and infatuated with being in love for the first time. He cared for me so tenderly and sweetly. When we were together he devoted himself to me and my needs. We would sit and talk for hours, sharing our deepest thoughts. We would laugh and play together. After only a few short months we began to wonder what marriage to each other would be like.

The red flags that had caught my attention on our first date and at the beginning of our courtship were constantly looming over me. Instead of not being serious enough to deserve attention or smoothing themselves out as I had hoped, the problems became exacerbated as our relationship progressed. He struggled between wanting to please me and maintaining his loyalty to his mother. As the only son, he recognized that his mother had come to rely on him too heavily and had cajoled him into filling not only the role of son but that of husband as well. He was tied to her apron strings in an unhealthy way. Having come from a family where neither parent received schooling past high school, his education was of little importance to him. He had a good job which could lead to a career and which left him plenty of time to pursue his passion for soccer. This passion was not one that persuaded him to try to play collegiate or move to professional, but one that did take up plenty of time and money as he played in small clubs around the area.  He also knew that the things I was asking of him, moving out on his own, obtaining an education, deciding his goals with soccer, were good and healthy expectations. He would tell me how these were the things he wanted as well. These words from him were enough to calm my stresses for a little while each time. I constantly tried to convince myself that his words were true, despite the fact that his actions proved otherwise.

“Hey, I am ready for you to pick me up,” I said happily as I admired my newly manicured nails. He had dropped me off and told me he would pick me up when I was finished.

“Hey, actually I am still with my family and it looks like it will be a while. We are about to go and have dinner.”

Crestfallen and confused I said, “Okay, so when will I see you tonight?” It was the night before my birthday and we had planned a dinner date.

“I don’t really know how long this will take so maybe I can just call you later.”

I began my walk home from the nail salon. Once home I waited for the call. It never came. Later that night my phone buzzed. I picked it up to see a text from him. I hadn’t finished reading about how he was still with family and would just see me the following day before I chucked the phone across the room in frustration. It was clear that his loyalty to his family far surpassed any loyalty he had to me. I was never welcome at these activities and as much as it pained me to admit it, I knew that a wedding gown and the exchanging of rings would not change that. Even though I knew that I was second to his mother and his sisters and would probably always be, I naively gave him the benefit of the doubt. How could a man so breathtakingly handsome, so unfailingly chivalrous and who told me he loved me, not keep his word?

When Christmas came we had been dating for four months. We were in innocent and ignorant love. I foolishly saw him as the man I thought I knew he could become. He said the things he knew I wanted to hear in a desperate attempt to keep me by his side, but would do the exact opposite in order to maintain his relationship with is mother and keep her content. I was flying home to California for Christmas. I was disappointed that I would have to fly back to Utah on Christmas day due to work commitments but excited when he assured that he would be at the airport to pick me up. As I boarded the plane, I received a text from him wondering if I could ride the train back and reassuring me that he would be at the train station in Provo to pick me up. Upon my arrival in the hustle of bustle of Salt Lake International Airport I realized that the train was not running due to the national holiday. After further inquiry I discovered that there was no public transportation and that I would have to wait three hours for the next shuttle to depart to Provo.

“Hey, are you back?!” he asked excitedly when he answered the phone.

“The train does not run today because it is Christmas,” I replied.  There was a moment of silence on the other line.

“Oh… Well, can you find another way?” he inquired.

“Not really,” I said in frustration as I explained the predicament and the three hours I would have to wait before any shuttles would be leaving.

“Oh, well, take the shuttle and I will come see you when you get home.”

Hearing my frustration and tears on the other end he began to explain how he was with family and they were all about to go see a movie for which they already had tickets. I barely heard or understood him as I stood in the crowded airport, tears of disappointment running down my face. I hung up the phone, went into a bathroom stall, and sobbed uncontrollably.

The relationship lasted only three more days. I am embarrassed to say that it was not I who broke up with him. It took me a long time to come to the realization that he was not the fairytale I had built up in my mind; love does not conquer all.

The doorbell rings, I open to see the man I am currently dating on the doorstep.  In his hand is a lovely bouquet of flowers, despite the absence of a special occasion. He is tall, built like a bear, and strong. While he doesn’t turn heads or attract second glances the way my last boyfriend did, he is dependable, a friend to everyone he meets and always has people laughing with his quick wit and humor.

“You look absolutely beautiful!” he exclaims.

“Thank you,” I respond bashfully.

As he puts his phone away for the night he says, “Tonight I am with you, and there is no where else I would rather be.”

Reflections on a narrative

It was hard to choose a story to write about for our narrative assignment. In fact, that was the hardest part of the paper. I explored ideas in my head and even met with Sister Steadman to explore ideas further. As I tried to think of learning experiences I had many cross my mind, and finally I chose a rather recent one. When I decided to write about a past relationship I was a bit nervous. Was this really something I wanted to share with others? I felt vulnerable writing this story. However, it ended up being rather therapeutic. When I sat down to write the first draft of the paper I wrote the whole five pages in an hour and a half. It felt good to write and get it all out. As I revised the paper multiple times I continued to learn and grow from the experience. I am glad that I chose to write about this time in my life. I learned more through writing about it and experienced even more closure.

Look Sister Steadman! No hands!: Research Blog

We are writing a research paper in English class. The idea of writing ten pages is daunting in itself, so finding a topic I am interested in has been a journey. We are to write on a family story, does not matter how far back, and make a claim about something in that story. My Mother's parents are both still alive and the only grandparents whom I am close to. I began to try to think of some of their stories about which I could write a research paper. I thought about writing how my grandmother had come back to the church after choosing not to attend for years and the subsequent baptism of my grandfather. I remembered last fall when we celebrated Papa's (my grandfather's) 80th birthday and we sat around hearing stories from his life. I then chose instead to write about my Grandfather's upbringing in Texas. Papa Perry is a little racist in his thoughts and attitudes... and when I say a little, it could be an understatement. I am writing about growing up racist and the influences that cause racist  attitudes in an individual.



"Well,if Papa grew up racist and now at eighty years old he still is racist, can racism ever be eradicated?"
"That is a great question and one that is very intriguing. It is difficult to think that we can ever overcome racism when it is being taught in home."
"So what?"
"It matters because racism is detrimental to our society but many who are racist don't even realize that they are. Especially the older generation. It matters as a study when the question of racism in the United States being eradicated is brought up. It matters because Papa Perry has a pure and loving heart, but has been indoctrinated from birth that black people are less than white people, and others like him are being taught the same thing."