Family History- I Am Doing It

"And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers" Malachi 4:6

This morning, as preparation for Relief Society today, I was reading the talk "Gathering the Family of God" by President Henry B Eyring. It brought back a few different memories from my mission. President Eyring focuses on family history and the sealing power found in the temple, that can bind our families together for eternity.

I remembered, first of all, a story my dad told me- he wrote about it in one of his weekly emails. At one time, his grandma had been married to a man named Ray. Grandpa Ray was one of my dad's favorites- he would play with the grandkids and sing silly songs (some of which were passed down to me!) and when they were divorced, Ray told his now ex-wife that one of the saddest things about it was not being able to see the kids anymore.

While researching his name to do his temple work, my dad learned of a story from much earlier in Grandpa Ray's life. He was married young, to his sweetheart, and early in their marriage, they went on a private plane ride with his brother, Morrie. Somewhere along the way, their young and inexperienced pilot got confused and mistook a golf course for the airport runway. Of course, when he realized this mistake he tried to pull the plane back up, but hit some power lines and the plane crashed! Grandpa Ray pulled his wife from the wreckage- everyone survived the crash- and went back for Morrie, who would forever be a quadriplegic thanks to the accident. However, while he was rescuing Morrie, his sweetheart went into diabetic shock and passed away right there where he left her. That must have broken his heart.

My dad was able to find out enough about Ray's young wife to do her temple work. When they went through the endowment session, the spirit was so strong, and my dad felt that the sealing work had to be done right then, that true love couldn't wait. So he explained this to one of the temple workers, who took him immediately to a sealing room, interrupting the session in progress to tell them the story. My parents knelt at the altar, and on behalf of Grandpa Ray and his sweet wife, were sealed for time and all eternity. Everyone was overwhelmed by the spirit in the room, and my dad heard his grandpa's voice, clearly, saying, "Now I have my sweetheart back!" The power of the sealing ordinance is real.

The second story I was reminded of happened to me while serving my mission. Missions are divided geographically, into zones, and then from there into districts and wards. Missionaries often serve in one to two wards at a time, and rarely leave those boundaries- and if they do, usually it's only within a zone. I served in four different zones on my mission, for perspective. I spent six months in my second zone, and during the last part of that, I was looking through my family history and discovered that one of my ancestors (actually the grandmother of my great grandmother- the same one who was married to Grandpa Ray) had been buried in Vancouver, Clark County, Washington. Well, there I was, serving as a missionary in Vancouver, Clark County, Washington! So I did a bit more searching and I eventually discovered a record for her through FindAGrave- she was buried at the Park Hill Cemetery- literally 3.2 miles form where I was, within my zone boundaries. Out of the whole world, I was called there, for that time, in exactly the place where she was. Or at least, where her headstone was. I was able to visit the cemetery and discovered that she isn't actually buried there- they don't know where her body is- but her headstone is there. It was neat to be able to find her, to feel that connection to my family. She had been here, where I was now. Her family had lived here. It was an amazing experience.

So my testimony to you is that the promise is real- the hearts of the children and the fathers are turning towards each other. The Spirit of Elijah wraps around the earth. The sealing power has been restored and we can be with our families forever. Someday I will meet Alvira- who's headstone I found- and Grandpa Ray and his sweetheart. Someday my great-great-grandchildren will meet me. We will all be connected, to be a part of the family of God.

I invite you to go to the temple, to sit outside on the grounds, and to ponder and to realize what this sealing power means. What an impact it has. Your heart will be touched.

 

Battlefield

Shots fired. Explosions too close for comfort. The shadow of my enemy comes between me and the sun. This is every day.

It is hard to fight when the world seems hopeless, but I know if I want to hope again, I must fight. I must conquer the habits that hold me back. I must face these overwhelming fears. I must trust, despite the fact that all my mind tells me is that they'll leave, they don't need you, they don't want you, you're annoying them. I need to choose to believe and act otherwise. I need to begin to learn to separate the truth from the lies.

Things that are true: I am beautiful. People care about me. I am strong. So far I've made it through 100% of my bad days. I can trust people. I can fight back. There is hope. I am smart and I am strong and I love deeply and with all my heart.

Things that my mind lies to me about: You can't trust anyone. Your best friend is annoyed by you. They don't need you. You should just leave. Your life is meaningless. You are stupid and boring and selfish. Why do you even try?

Fighting a mind is an odd thing. There is no visible enemy to face, no one-size-fits-all solution. There is only me, myself, and I, facing each other down inside my head. There is only a lack of explanation or understanding, medications tossed at me as if they'll solve everything, an easy way to hide it all from the world. There are no guidelines, no easy ways out, just me fighting the lies I've told myself for so long that I have to relearn what is true.

Yesterday I tried a mental exercise to help a mind be more grounded- and it worked. I felt better, for the first time in at least a week. I could think clearly and I understood the haze that I'd been in. I felt as if, for the first time in a long time, I had the strength to start fighting back. I felt hope. Unless you've been in the darkness, you don't understand what a relief that is.

So I'm fighting. I'm fighting back the habit of numbing. I'm fighting the habit of picking at my fingers. I'm fighting to write and create and believe in myself more. I'm fighting to trust my friends and my family again, to believe that they aren't going to leave me. I'm fighting for hope.

I am fighting to believe that I can win a war where my own mind is the battlefield

Empty Heart

I rediscovered this while rummaging through old writing notes- a short story. I hope you enjoy it!

She had stumbled across the room without meaning to. She'd just been exploring the house. It was starting to get old and shabby, and the dust was accumulating. It needed maintenance. This room particularly appeared to not have been entered in months, at least. She coughed as the door ruffled the dust layer atop the cold tile.

The walls of this room were barren, only un-patched nail holes showing where pictures had once hung. The paint was peeling in those places, and around the edges of the room, baring the drywall to the air. Furniture was sparse, and all bore white vinyl dust covers. Vague impressions were the only clue to what each item might be. There was one window on the east side, but it did not allow much light to pass, as the panes were encrusted with accumulated filth. A bare light-bulb hung in the northwest corner of the room. The wires were bared in a way that seemed slightly dangerous, but the light flickered to life. It illuminated and shadowed, making the space leap into sharp relief. Small bugs scurried out of the way.

She looked around the room. It seemed so desolate, so empty. If only she could afford to reside in the house and keep it well, but its upkeep was often beyond her meager budget and time. As it was, it seemed to be only a drain on her resources, yet she couldn't bring herself to sell it. It was a gorgeous old mansion, full of large, clear windows with views of the sunrise and the trees, and spacious rooms with open closets and play areas, sweeping stairs and gorgeous antique furniture. Its current shabby state had likely brought the value down, yet any with the proper eye would recognize it as a gem. This room especially would deter any prospective buyers.

Perhaps she could try renting it out again. She'd have to screen the tenants a little better; the last time, they'd destroyed some priceless parts of the house, and damaged others. This time she would have to be more careful- if she even rented it. Would it be worth it? She'd always thought maybe one day a renter would become a buyer. It had almost happened before, once or twice, but the deal always fell through. Perhaps they tired of the sound of the wind, or the isolated location, or perhaps they found a better, newer home. Whatever the reason, it hadn't happened yet. She held out hope, however. Someday she'd meet someone who was meant to live in this house, who fit these rooms like they were built for that purpose. Who would love it the way she did, but who could afford its constant upkeep.

Yes, she resolved. She'd try to rent out the rooms one more time.


There'd be a lot of cleaning to be done first. Starting with this room. Sighing, she tramped out to her car to retrieve the Windex and repair supplies. She'd bring the house to life again. Starting with that empty room.

Focus on Eternity

"The great test of this life is obedience." -President Monson

Yesterday, in the self-reliance group I've been attending, we focused on tithing and on obedience to God's commandments (since it's a class on personal finances, it makes sense to talk about tithing.) I was reminded of a principle I learned on my mission- one that can be hard to remember- and that is to focus on eternity.

Much of my issues with anxiety are triggered by thinking about the future. I'm going into college with very little, I'll be trying to work my way through, and if it goes the way I mapped out about a month ago, I'm looking at probably another four years before I graduate. I'll have to make enough money to pay for rent, tuition, groceries, and everything else, while keeping up with homework and of course I still want to have a social life! So there's a lot of uncertainty there. And then, of course, there's the pressure to get married and start a family- which is what I want more than anything else, and therefore is the thing I am the most nervous about. Lately much of what I've faced has then turned around in my head to tell me that I won't be a good wife or a good mother (which is a lie that I am fighting very hard).

Last night, as we talked about tithing, I remembered all the people I talked to on my mission. That was one of the hardest commandments for people to accept, especially those who had little (which is most of the people we taught). But I remember growing up in a home where we paid tithing and generous fast offerings, and even when we didn't have a lot, we had enough. I remember the story of our couch- we needed a new one but couldn't afford it while paying tithing. One day my dad took a different route home from work and saw a piece of a couch (one of the recliners on the end- it's a sectioned couch) in a driveway with a sign that said "free." He went and asked, and we ended up with a long couch, big enough for the whole family, with two recliners and a couch bed. For free. And every time the cars break down, or something in the house needs fixed, it always seems to happen when we have enough to pay for it. I also remembered a couple from my mission- we were meeting with one of our investigators in their home. They told us a story about a time when the husband lost his job, right as they were preparing to send kids on missions and to college. He was offered a job across the country, for significantly less pay, but they felt impressed to accept. As it turns out, the cost of living was so much less that his salary was perfectly manageable. And a few years later, the original company called and asked if he would come back to work for them, and they'd pay whatever he needed. So they ended up with enough money to send their kids on missions and through college, and that may not have happened without all the craziness and stress in the middle.

I was reminded that, even when I can't see how things will work out, how I'll make enough money or be able to keep up without breaking down, if I put it in the Lord's hands, He will make everything work out for my good. That may not mean a big house or two cars, it may not mean graduating four years from now. But it means that it will help me reach my fullest potential- which in the end will matter much more than the job I held or the car I drove or the house I owned. Eternal perspective to me means letting go of those things and holding on to the end goal- the celestial kingdom.

As I thought about that, an interesting question came into my mind. Would I sacrifice being temple worthy to pay my rent?

Seriously. Think about that one.

For me, the temple is a place of peace and guidance. It's where I can recenter myself and be in touch with my Heavenly Father, and grow closer to my Savior. It is the great school that teaches me to prepare to meet God. And someday, I will be sealed there to an eternal companion. Would I give that up because I chose to pay rent over paying tithing?

In the self reliance manual, there is a quote, from a young bishop to a new convert. He said "If paying tithing means you can't pay for water or electricity, pay tithing. If paying tithing means you  can't pay your rent, pay tithing. If paying tithing means you don't have enough money to feed your family, pay tithing. The Lord will not abandon you." The referenced article, in the December 2012 Ensign, goes on to tell how this family made it through- they didn't become rich, but they had enough- and were later sealed in the temple. I think of the resources I have available to me- if I could not make it, I have family that can help me through a rough time. I can go to the bishop and receive temporal aid. But to have that spiritual foundation, that core of faith- no one else can help me with that. I have to be willing to give it all to the Lord, even when I don't understand or see the end from the beginning. I am not willing to give up being able to go to the temple. I am not willing to sacrifice my future eternal family. I am not willing to lose my faith. Temporally, the Lord will provide. Spiritually, the Lord will provide. But I must first put it in His hands.

Remembering this last night gave me a great sense of peace and increased energy and motivation to move forward, something I've been struggling with for a few weeks. I felt an assurance that everything will be alright. I will be able to obtain an education and keep up as long as I continue to work hard. I am taking steps to better care for my mental and physical health, which will give me some of the strength I need. And I will not give up on the Lord.

My challenge to you is to put your trust in Him, and to focus on eternity. That is the only thing that will get us through.