1-800-DIAL-GOD

Last night, my six year old daughter expressed to me that she was having a crisis of faith.

She had been praying, "for years" and none of her prayers had ever been answered. I took her concern seriously, sat down and talked to her about the details. As I gained more information, it began to make sense. You see, Emmy had been praying for the following things: 1) that her mother would become a Queen, so she would be made a Princess; 2) jewels (and she wasn't unreasonable. She'd take any kind or size of jewels); 3) a pony (again, reasonable. Wings and a magical horn was preferred, but without was also fine); and when all of that was ignored, she asked for 4) that God would make her never, ever get angry. She was most indignant about the last one. Apparently, the very day after she prayed for that one simple thing, she got very mad at a little boy on the playground who stole her swing.

You see, Emmy did not quite understand the nature of prayer. I took the time to detail a beloved prophet's journey through the confusing nature of prayer.

I love the book of first Nephi. Nephi writes unabashedly of his struggles with his brothers, and sometimes even with nature in that book. At one point, he is upset with his brothers and they tie him up. He prays to have the strength to burst the bonds so he can show his brothers God's power. In response, the bonds are merely loosened. He must rely on his words and the Spirit to reason with his brothers. It wasn't as flashy, but it worked.

Another time, Nephi is in a dream and he's in the dark. It's very black, scary, and unrelenting. He prays (even in his dreams he's righteous!) that the Lord will grant him mercy, and he is brought back into the light, but in a big open field. God continues to teach him through this dream. He may have wanted the lesson to be over, but it wasn't. You can tell he's learning here, because all he asked for was mercy that time.

I think all of us have a natural tendency to ask for things to be given to us, or miraculous acts to magically solve our problems. Nephi's own brothers asked many times to have God do things, or show His power. One of my favorite parts in the Disney movie, The Incredibles is when a small boy on a tricycle has seen Mr. Incredible smash his car. The boy is sitting on the sidewalk later and Mr. Incredible says something like, "What are you looking at?" The boy replies along the lines of, "I want to see something amazing, I guess." We are all like that young child, and we too want to see something AMAZING. I understand that desire. It's not only that it would be fun, but it would also be so much easier than the alternative.

Nephi and his family travel for many long months at God's direction, abandoning their home, their riches and all their friends and family. God has promised them an amazing land of plenty for their obedience. Imagine Nephi's disappointment when God tells him that first he must cross a vast ocean! At that point, I'd be begging for one thing: give me a cruise ship please, complete with servants, food at the ready, and entertainment. After all, I've got young children and my wife gave birth in the forest. Please provide. I have had and exercised my faith enough already.

God doesn't work that way. Prayer doesn't work that way. God tells Nephi that he will show him where to find ore that he can smelt down and make some tools. After making tools (which Nephi's family is understandably not too keen on), God tells Nephi how to build a boat. Guys, I can barely handle the pinewood derby. I would never ever ever put my family on a boat I was in charge of building. We would drown before we left the sandy shores.

Why does God ask us to do this hard stuff? Why? It's so HARD! Emmy has been praying so faithfully to become a princess. To get jewels. To have a unicorn/pegasus, or even a regular pony. She would settle for God just changing the simple nature of who she is to make her a little bit closer to perfect.

But God doesn't do those things for us, nor should He.

I've been studying Latvian lately, because we are Hosting two girls from Latvia (and we hope we will be adopting them soon). I want to understand how to speak to them in their native tongue. I already speak some Spanish, so I thought it would be easy.

It is not easy.

Many concepts we have in English, and even in Spanish, are lacking in Latvian. They conjugate nouns, guys, and adverbs. It's hard. Sometimes even Google translate has no idea what to do with what I'm trying to say. Similarly, prayer can be a little tricky, because we have to learn how to speak God's language. As we learn His language, we understand Him. We become like Him. He is teaching us with prayer. It is less of a tool, and more of a lesson, or homework if you will.

We want to say, "Please give me ____." We want that item or blessing to be delivered tomorrow, to our front door, with a pink bow. We're somewhat reasonable. A yellow bow would be fine. If it gets delayed, tomorrow afternoon might work.

Except God isn't Amazon. God wants to do something more than get a good review and have happy customers.

God has amazing plans in store for us. He wants to turn us into something phenomenal. He wants us to become ship builders, and orators, and forgiving people who are not full of rage. He wants to transform us. Giving you a gift does not transform you. Handing you something does not teach you. You have no idea what miraculous blessings are waiting for you, if you will take the time to learn how to pray, and then make the effort to learn how to listen.

When I was in college, my parents paid for a 1-800 number so that their kids, who had begun to spread out, could call them anytime. If you're young, you will not understand this. All calls are free right? And six year olds have cell phones. Except then, calls weren't free and cell phones were rare (and huge). "Data" was a guy on a movie called Star Trek. It was hard sometimes to reach someone. There were things called P-A-Y P-H-O-N-E-S, and you had to insert actual quarters to talk. Prepare yourself for this one. It will be confusing: there was no texting.

In light of all that wackiness, I can't express to you what a balm it was to my heart to know that, even with my parents a thousand miles away, I could call them from anywhere. If my car died, I could call. If I was locked out of my room, I could call them. If I got stood up for a date, I could call them. No matter the issue, I could call them for free, and they would be there, even if it was only to give advice.

Your Heavenly Father is and always has been a free call. But, I think sometimes we forget that we can't just ask for something. We should instead tell Heavenly Father our problem and ask him to help us, but let Him determine how that help will come. I tried to tell God once that I was supposed to marry this guy I'd found. He was good looking, funny, and smart. I thought he'd be just fine. God simply needed to get this guy on the same page, and bam. I'd be happy!

I had no idea God had Whitney in mind for me--someone infinitely better than the dope I kinda liked.

Back in the olden days of the 1-800 numbers, it was never enough for me to simply will my parents to know I was in trouble, either. I had to find a phone, dial the number, and wait for them to pick up. Faith requires work.

I know the holidays can be hard. Life can be hard, and it frequently is. Don't just drop to your knees and pray that God will fix your problems. Instead, find that phone, dial the number and listen to His answer. Drop to your knees and tell God your problem, then take steps to line up help. If you're lonely, go to a church activity or call a friend. If you're hungry, walk into the kitchen, and look around. If you need a job, look for job listings and apply. Take the basic steps that will allow God to bless you more easily. And when the opportunity comes, be ready to build that boat. You have no idea what you may learn along the way, but I promise you, it will be glorious, and your Heavenly Father has been dying to teach you and transform you into this magnificent creature all along.

Happy Birthday Emerald

Dearest Princess Emerald!
Good morning! happy birthday.

Im at work, so this may be brief. I remember when you were born. We were living in Oregon. We had two other crazy little kids running around, I was employed for the Three Rivers Community Hospital in Grants Pass. It was a really pretty town, your mom and I were trying to figure what we should call you. I think many names got tossed around. But, Oregon was very Green, It was a fresh start for us, and May birth stone was Emerald, We thought that Emerald Dawn sounded like a fresh beginning, Symbolic of hope for the future.

I remember taking your mom into the hospital. We knew what day you would be born because Dora and Eli were HUGE and born late, The OB let us Induce you on 5/31, If I remember right we started the induction in morning and by afternoon you were born. Dr Cobb was the Obstetrician but he let me deliver you.

I was the first person to see your Head, I got to hold you for the first time, I gave you your first bath, changed your first diapers, You were pink and perfect. We knew we had something special with you.

I don't think we stayed in more than a day after you were born, I came to pick you up in my Mini Cooper Convertible, and we took you and your mom home.

You are such a joy, thanks for coming to our family...

Love you Emmy

Edited to add: I think this was written by Whit and posted to this blog by accident... This is Bridget. I didn't write this one. Hahah!

An Open Letter to Mormons Who Have Walked Away

Dear family, friends and loved ones:

Usually my posts are on topics that are generally applicable to all faiths. Not today. Today I want to begin by saying, I really hope that no one takes offense to this, but I am afraid that no matter what I say on this touchy subject, someone will. That's the reason I've put it off for so long.

I've been wrestling with this issue for years and years, and never posted about it directly.  About six years ago when I moved back to Texas, I found out a dear friend I'd known since high school and her husband, who had been married in a Mormon temple, had left the church. I'm a pretty up front person, so I just asked her why. She explained she left because Sundays were hard. Church is long (three hours) and with meetings and other service, they became longer. For someone with a family and small children and a work week, it was a better fit for them to spend Sunday relaxing, hanging with friends, or out on a boat.

That's how it started for her.

The thing is, all it takes is one little crack.  One little excuse and BAM you start the downward slide into inactivity, because guess what? Anything that is worth anything is HARD.  Sunday is a day of rest, sure, but God's rest is not my rest. God's rest is peace unto your soul and you don't get that on a boat or lounging with a beer. You just don't. And being out with friends, or staying home, or getting a root canal, all of that is just easier than going to church. I have five children, so believe me when I say that I kind of hate going to church. My kids whine and complain. Getting them dressed is a chore. Getting myself ready feels like torture with a baby on one leg. Packing the bag takes forever and I always forget the exact thing I need in the middle of sacrament meeting.

I would rather be sitting on a boat.

Actually, I'd rather be sitting anywhere else, as long as I'm wearing flip flops instead of high heels and my kids have iPads.

Miserable Sundays was the reason my friend stopped at first. You, my reader, could have stopped coming for any reason at all. The bigger issue is... why should you come back? There are so many reasons. In fact, you could read through all my blog posts and see some of the reasons I have for coming. The Spirit fills me with joy, the messages bring peace to my soul, and the people uplift me. My main reason is that Jesus Christ is my Savior and He lives. I worship because it enriches my life. The focus of this blog, however, is on those people who have walked away who may be wondering whether there is a place for them if they want to return.

The danger in writing this post is that my friends and family will think my message is: I know better than you; you are wrong, so listen to me. 

That's actually the opposite of what I'm trying to say. I can't change your mind. The Holy Ghost can't change your mind. We are all here on Earth because God wanted us to have agency, the right to make our own decisions and live our own lives. That very principle dictates that you get to decide what to do for yourself. If that's staying home on Sundays, I'll try not to badger you about it (too much.)

What the heck am I trying to say then? Like always, I'll try and make my point with a little anecdote.

A few years ago, a tree in the front of our neighborhood was struck by lighting. It was a great tree, absolutely enormous, staggeringly large, and utterly beautiful. The lightning struck at an angle and the tree was sheared off about 20 feet from the ground, completely removing the entire canopy of branches. All that remained was a badly damaged trunk.  The neighborhood spent a lot of time debating the details of how to dispose of it. Cut it down? Drag the trunk to the lake? Cut it up and have it hauled away? As time passed and no decision had been made, someone noticed something.  A very small branch was growing from the side of that tree. Three tiny leaves.

That sparked a new discussion.  Could it still be alive? What should we do about that? An expert was consulted. There was no way that growth could ever look quite right. The tree, after all, had been sliced at an angle. Any regrowth, unlikely in any event to be from the actual tree, would look terrible. The expert said it was dead and any offshoots would not amount to anything. If they did grow in any real numbers, they would be an eyesore. We needed to remove it.

We didn't remove it. We left it alone. At first, the expert was right. It was an eyesore, a lump. For a year, nothing else grew. We worried it was rotting. It might fall over and block the road again. Rats might move in. Ultimately though, we left it alone. It rained. The sun shone. Time passed.

That expert was wrong. Science does not have all the answers, because science is man's best guess.

Man's best guess is frequently wrong.

I don't have all the answers. I have some answers, but I don't know your whole story and I don't know what's right for you. I do know you have walked away from the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. I don't know why. You may not even fully understand. But for those of you who have walked away, my message has two parts. Part one is: You can choose to turn your back on God for any reason at all. You may have left the church, asked them not to contact you or even been excommunicated. You may think you can't come back. You may think you're too far gone. You may think the light of Christ is dead in you. The first part of my message is this: You can turn away from God, and you may have done so. But He never turns away from you. He is standing right by you, arms outstretched ready and waiting for you to change your mind. I am right beside him. I will welcome you back with open arms at any time, any moment, any second. Right now, even.

The second part of my message is for those of you who read my words and feel a stirring in your heart. If any part of you has considered returning, but you're hung up on something please read on. Maybe you worry that Joseph Smith was imperfect. (He was. God used him in spite of that, just as He uses me in spite of my many flaws.) Maybe you feel you've done too many things you're ashamed of. (I don't care what those are.) Maybe you feel you won't fit in. (I don't feel like I fit in.) Maybe you have people you'd like to avoid at church. (I have people I try to avoid because we have quarreled.) If any of these applies, please read on.

The second part of my message has to do with that tree.  That eyesore of a dead stump. The lightning was powerful and strong and did significant damage. It scarred that tree badly. That tree may have even had its name removed from the records of the church. It died, spiritually speaking. It might have even done some naughty things, parts of it began to rot.

But the rain fell and the sun shone and the earth provided nutrients and just maybe that tree decided to try again. None of the people in our neighborhood took steps to cut it down.

Here is that tree now.

It is alive. It is beautiful. It is healthy and strong. It is growing its own way, but it is providing shade and oxygen to the world around it. It is fulfilling its purpose here. I would venture to say it's happy.

My second message is this: You have no idea what God has in store for you, but I promise that if you come back, you too will thrive.  No one else can see the beauty that is waiting inside of you, but it's there. You are never so far gone God doesn't want you back. Please, please, please come back. Now, next year, or in twenty years. God is waiting to make something even more beautiful from your life. He loves you and so do I. Neither of us will ever give up, because something amazing is waiting if only you'll give it another chance.

Bridget

Rolling Around on the Floor

My youngest child, Samuel, the one beaming at you in that photo, is eight months old.  He still can’t crawl.  He can, however, roll around pretty proficiently.  He would really rather be held all the time, though, thanks. In fact, being held usually results in a smile like that one.  

Lately, I’ve been putting him on the floor more and more, and abandoning him.  He protests this kind of horrific treatment with a lot of squawks and protests.  You see, rolling around on the floor stinks. 

He rolls into the coffee table.  He rolls off the rug and onto the tile.  We have a dog and a wool rug.  Both are fuzzy, and he gets fur/wool all over his fingers.  When he puts those fingers in his mouth, this gets even more annoying.  He has a play mat with toys, but as a roller, he’s constantly getting stuck or whapped in the face against one of the four corner bars that rise to make the overhang portion.  So you see…all in all…

Rolling around on the floor really really stinks. 

Today I was trying to tell him that I knew he didn’t like it, and I was aware of the problems, but I only made him do it so he could learn to crawl.  As I said that, it occurred to me that crawling kind of stinks, too.  After all, it’s hard on your knees, your hands and body get dirty, and you’re low to the ground. 

Life would be much easier if we could be born walking.  Actually, forget walking.  I’d like to be born running, or doing cartwheels.  I still can’t do a cartwheel and I’m 36, so I’m guessing that one’s never happening. 

And eating.  And talking.  And if everything we needed to learn was just easy and we didn’t have to learn it. 

Of course, I’m sure you see where I am going here.  I can’t even count the number of times I’ve dropped to my knees and asked God for an end product, a goal.  I haven’t put in the work.  I am rolling around on the floor.  I am covered with fuzz and getting stuck and I’m frustrated and I just want to run already.

I’ll even give you the example that came to mind for me today.  A few years ago, after graduating from law school, I decided I wanted to be a novelist.  Well, I sat down and after a lot of time and effort, I plonked out a book. 

Knowing it was clearly amazing, I sent out queries.  I also prayed.  A lot.  To get it published, and to do some cartwheels to celebrate my enormous upcoming literary success. 

The problem was, my book was awful, so I got nothing but a big old pile of rejection letters. 

God must have known it was terrible.  Even when we are terrible, God loves us and He wants to bless us.  He wants us to be throwing cartwheels all over the place.  But we have to learn to do that.  We can’t just ask for it.  It takes a lot of rolling around on the floor before we are ready.  I had faith, and God had love.  I just needed to put in the work.  So now, years and years and years later, I have written lots of manuscripts and guess what??? I still haven’t been published.  But now I can see some of God’s hand in my journey.  I like to think I’m beyond the rolling around and have graduated to crawling on my hands and knees.  I certainly think some of what I’ve been through has been knee-bruising, and a little soul-crushing too, if I’m being honest, but I think my writing has come a long way. 

Now let’s take this one more step.  If you are feeling fuzz covered or bruised, and if you’re a little frustrated lately because you’ve been praying and praying, and by golly, God just hasn’t been listening!  If you feel this way because he has not picked you up off the carpet and carried you in His lap over to the sofa… or whatever other end product you are praying for, maybe it’s not because He doesn’t love you.  Maybe He has something beautiful in mind for you.  Maybe you can’t see Him, but He’s sitting two feet away cheering you on as you learn to crawl and then He’s leaping with joy as you learn to walk.  Maybe He’s even standing there, hands outstretched as you take your first steps.  I know for sure He’s there beaming with joy when you start throwing those first cartwheels.  One day, even possibly one day soon, you will see that He had a plan in mind for you all along.  The fuzz and the getting stuck and the whacks to the head were hard, but they weren’t for nothing.  He had a purpose. You are magnificent, but you became that way because He let you roll around on the floor.   

Because God doesn’t just want to bless you with a one time gift.  He could pick you up off the rug and give you what you’re asking for but He’s not about that. God’s business, nay His joy, is growing beautiful, glorious, wonderful individuals to become like Him, to grow in His image.  It’s hard to deal with sometimes, but God has big plans for you.  So keep rolling around.  Keep trying.  Shake off the fuzz and pick up your bruised knees.  You will get there eventually, and it will be worth it.