I Won't Force My Kids to Go to Church - A Response

I hopped on facebook this morning to wish a friend happy birthday and got a little distracted by a post I read. It was an article called "I Won't Force My Kids to Go to Church" that you can read by clicking on that link. The article begins quite cleverly and compares the arguments of why some Christian parents choose not to force their children to go to church with the logic of a parent declaring they will stop forcing their child to eat three times a day, a parent stating they will stop forcing their child not to play in the street, or a parent deciding not to force their child to go to school if they feel their teachers are uninspiring and the children mean, for "Who wants to waste their time going somewhere they aren’t being fulfilled?" 

While this article has, at heart, a great purpose (to bring more people to Christ), it feeds a falsehood that I had to say something about--and I'll try to do so with only twenty minutes to write, so forgive the rough post. 

The falsehood is the assumption that at their core, every person is inherently lazy or desires what is not good, or what is not good for them. It strikes at an argument that has been going on a long time (here's a quick version of some of the ideas of Plato, Plotinus (Plato's follower), Augustine, and the Manicheans came up with that I found interesting and makes me want to learn more about how these minds grappled with such questions at the heart of this article).  

The author of "I Won't Force My Kids to Go to Church" presents two options: either I force my children to go to church, or I do nothing and let them choose what they want to do. It becomes clear that the author believes giving children a choice means that most youth will choose not to go to church.

I disagree. It isn't a choice of A or B. It's C. There is a third alternative. 

My faith and experiences teach me that at their core, every human being is a son and daughter of God with the potential to become like him. Because of this godseed within us, we are not inherently evil because of our body, we are here to shape and love and nourish the natural potential of our body--to train our dragon.  

We are not here because the earth was broken by Adam and Eve's choice. Adam and Eve triumphantly chose to leave a realm of bliss to experience a mortal world of opposition in their journey of eternal progression AND SO HAVE WE. 

Our Savior is not a victim willing to pay for our mistakes, he is the Prince of Peace, the Good Shepherd, the Anointed Son of God. He chooses to at-one with each of us individually, to get in the yoke with us, to pull with us when we are weak, to heal us from this world's woes, to guide us through the mists of darkness, to bless us with his enabling grace. Yes, he pays for our mistakes, but it is not because we are always messing up and he's willing to foot the bill, it is because it is ESSENTIAL to experience the bad if we are to know the good. And we cannot be forced in that journey, so he allows us our agency and the experience of opposition and makes it possible for all those mistakes to work toward our good--a glorious good. THAT IS WHY WE ARE HERE.   

THE PLAN ONLY WORKS IF WE HAVE A CHOICE. 

Maybe our specific eternal journey doesn't always look like the perfect plan according to temporal wisdom, but I firmly believe that if left free to choose, and given exposure to eternal things, the godseed within us will guide us along the path of progression (not digression). As surely as a sunflower chooses to follow the sun, we will come to Christ and experience the gravity of His love.

The article in question is flawed. No child would naturally follow the Light of Christ to walk out into a busy street if taught the dangers (let's speak of children over the age of eight to simplify things). 

No child would choose (forever) to sit at home and eat bonbons all day and learn absolutely nothing if they weren't in a formal school building being forced to learn (you can't force real learning anyway, that's why God doesn't).

And what child refuses to eat? Only a child that needs healing of some other kind that forcing them to eat won't fix. 

It has been my experience with my siblings growing up, and with most of my children now half grown to adulthood, that when we are taught correct principles, and our agency is left unfettered, we choose things of Light--things that nourish the Godseed within us. 

It is when we are forced, coerced, or manipulated, that we rebel or do things that invite darkness (and seem to give evidence to others that we need to be forced to do good things). 

If we aren't making good choices, maybe we just need time to heal from our agency being restricted? From observing and imitating others acting according to incorrect principles? Maybe we need to be taught true principles. Maybe we are learning necessary lessons about darkness so we can more fully embrace the light? Maybe seeing our loved ones more diligently following truth and light would inspire us to act likewise sooner rather than later? 

Maybe we need our parents to trust us to God's care; to feel trusted to live and act as agents, not as servants being forced to measure up to false traditional norms. Maybe our children would find greater truths than we have with such an upbringing and we could learn from new truths they discover! 

However, if we always control and coerce them into following only what we know to be true (breaking correct principles ourselves), they will not progress further than us. Likely, they will wilt and diminish.  

This I know. I will not force my children to go to church. I will not force them to learn. I will focus my efforts and attention on nourishing the seed of godhood within them and protecting the environment they are planted in. I will trust God to guide me in that work. Then, I will trust their seed to the Master Gardner; I will trust that the seed will grow. For it is a good seed.   

Click here for part 2 of this discussion, "But What if God Isn't Enough?" 

Why Would You Let Your Mind Get Like That - Part 2

In part one of this post, I shared some of the words that had moved me to try an experiment applying three things each day for a week. This post, as promised, contains excerpts from the notes I wrote as I applied the following: 

1. I will use a silent mantram (or mantra) to still my mind and focus it in the present moment. It is to be spoken silently with true purpose and intent. (My intent was to use the mantram to center myself more fully in Christ. I chose a short phrase drawn from John 15:4.)  

2. I will Focus on one thing at a time throughout the day.  

3. I will give full attention to each chosen focus and use the mantram to re-center in the present moment when tempted to think about/regret things in the past or worry about/yearn for things in the future.

The timing of this idea was fitting as my schedule was perfectly crammed with plenty to be stressed about being able to accomplish; many opportunities to think outside the present moment abounded... 

A couple things before reading the record of what happened: 

First, taking the time to quickly write in my phone the observations and questions that came during what I have come to call my "meditation in motion" practice has been key--it always is with any personal application focus. The more consistently I record what happens and my thoughts about a chosen application, the more powerful the experience. For obvious reasons, I'm just giving a sample here of three days writing.

Second, like other forms of dissection, I have found that examining recorded thoughts--a kind of mental dissection--is a way to "lift the lid" on God's designs in our life. I testify his hand is in each our lives. He wants to show us His work and His love for us--no matter how small we feel or how ordinary our daily routine is. 

Lastly, I found the simplest moments had the greatest power to teach me--so please forgive the mundane actions often described. I have tried to edit the notes in such a way that emphasizes the macro lessons applicable to all and focuses less on the details specific to my experience. In preparing this, I'm in awe of the way the Lord works; how He uses the small and simple things of our life to teach us great lessons. I'm grateful for the experiences of this week. I am also grateful for what I continue to learn as I have spent time pondering and editing the week's notes for this post. 

Day One:

Today, after coming home from the gym and the 40 minute drive to get Elise to school and back, I began my usual habit of rushing to accomplish several things at once, hurriedly addressing my kids needs before we run to work. I created a mental list: shower, get dressed, dry my hair, put makeup on, sort dirty laundry, clean dirty laundry, fold clean laundry, straighten the main gathering area (a.k.a. my room), finish a load of dishes (so we'd have something to eat dinner with--I really need to buy more bowls!), nudge the children to do their chores and to help me make lunch. 

And there is only an hour and a half before work! Hurry! 

Five minutes in, I remembered my commitment for the week. 

Ok. Here goes. Choose one task to give my full attention to. And somehow, this "mantram" thing will help redirect my mind when (not if :-) I realize my focus has widened again. (Clue to self: if I am tempted to feel overwhelmed or rushed then I'm in the past or the future--stay in the present moment.) 

(Later) 

This is harder than I thought! I chose to take a shower first. While I let the cold water heat up, I started taking off my bedding to wash, then started going into "hurry mode" picking up odds and ends around my room as I grabbed a towel to shower. Not until I returned with the towel and went to grab stray items from my desk to put away did I stop myself...

I'm doing more than one thing at a time again! Is that really a bad thing in this case though? Do I really want to try this one-thing-at-a-time focus? I'm being productive, right? Yet... that way would be what I always do. I'm suppose to be trying something different hoping to get a different result. Fine. I'll stick to the rules. 

Abide in me, and I in you. 

I put things back on my desk and stepped into the shower and gave full focus to getting ready for the day, setting aside the rest on my to-do list. 

(Later) 

While dressing, Nathan [my son] knocked on the door. He wanted to ask about a debt he owes me. It's a little routine in our family: I lock the door to shower and dress and my kids come knocking over and over again while I ignore them, thinking this must be the day they finally realize I'm not answering or coming to the door because I can't.  They keep knocking until I finally yell from my closet, "The door is locked for a reason--I'll talk to you when I'm done!" 

With my focus-on-one-thing-at-a-time commitment today, I had an added excuse to ignore the child at the door until I was done, but something interesting happened instead--reflecting on it now, I realize it's one of the benefits of this "meditation in motion" practice:

Only half dressed, I responded quickly, came out of my closet and spoke with Nathan through the door. I found inside (not just on the outside) I was more patient than I usually am with these negotiations of his. I consciously gave our conversation my full attention (I consciously made sure there was no other task I was aware of in that moment, just his question). Ideas came as we talked. The matter was easily resolved to both our satisfaction and I went back to getting ready. 

In writing this down, I realize: because I had one focus, not ten tasks I was trying to accomplish at once, the "weight" of my mind was light and easy to shift.

(Later) 

Laundry was next. Practicing full attention on one thing, I was quickly aware that I had many thoughts that began to seep into my mind. I stopped my musings and checked myself. 

Wait. What if my chosen focus is something mundane like this and so my mind turns to pondering things other than the task at hand? Does this practice demand I think of soap and clothing color only?  Is there harm in thinking of other things while putting towels into a washer? 

No. It does no harm to my peace, or to my task, but I realized: it does harm to such thoughts. I cannot give the thoughts my full attention, capture them, record them, or ponder them. They become hanging chads in my consciousness; unresolved, lost. That disrupts my peace and the present moments going forward. So I stopped what I was doing and came to write all this in my phone.

I'm learning... there are priorities I must set for this "meditation in motion": 

1. I must allow certain things to change or redirect my full attention. Sticking to the task until it's done isn't the point or where the power is. Giving full attention is where the power is. 

2. So a decision: if the thoughts feel important and worth capturing, I will stop what I'm doing, and write them down in my phone (or somewhere). If I'm driving or can't write, I will dictate them into my phone. Then I will go back to what I was doing before. 

3. However, If the thoughts are not inspired or guiding, but are negative, distracting, or Light-zapping, I will silently repeat my mantram, re-center in the present, and reconnect to my Power Source. 

Also, Nathan has taught me a fourth point:

4. If my children or another person ask for my attention, I will shift my focus to them, or invite them to help me with my task, if needed. People and relationships before tasks. ALWAYS. 

Just sorting that out right now brings more peace to my mind and soul.

(Later that night) 

I was at work easily focusing on all-consuming bookkeeping tasks for my dad while the kids were upstairs doing school with my mom when it struck me--I had forgotten about the girls gymnastics classes! I was planning on picking up my oldest daughter at a play practice 45 minutes away, but forgot my little girl's classes until my phone alerted me. How would I get them there in time when they didn't have their gym leotards with them? I did not think of my mantra but I was surprisingly calm, having practiced a peaceful mind all day. 

Ok. What is the first thing I should focus on? Get the kids downstairs and in the car. 

Focusing on just that one thing helped me stay calm while I explained the situation to my children. We got in the car, and instead of thinking of the whole problem, I chose to only decide what the next focus should be. A solution came clearly in that present moment: 

Call Adam. 

He was at home finishing work and could meet us at the gym with their leotards and take the other kids while I drove to the next valley to pick up Elise. Adam answered the phone quickly. Norah took the phone and guided him to where their clothes were that they would need while I drove. This time I eagerly used the mantram as it was very tempting to think beyond the present moment and worry...

Abide in me, and I in you. 

It struck me how it was an expression of trust to do that. I trusted that my little drama--inconsequential as it was in the eternal scheme--was still something Christ (and those that act in his name) was interested in helping me navigate. All I had to do was center myself in Him and trust the promptings that would come, one at a time. [I read this now and a scripture comes to mind in Isaiah 28:9-10]: 

Whom shall he teach knowledge? and whom shall he make to understand doctrine? them that are weaned from the milk, and drawn from the breasts. For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept; line upon line, line upon line; here a little, and there a little: For with... another tongue will he speak to this people. To whom he said, This is the rest wherewith ye may cause the weary to rest; and this is the refreshing: yet they would not hear.

Adam and I both arrived at the same time to the gym. That was cool. The girls weren't late and Nathan was happy about how this way he didn't have to sit in the car with me for 1 1/2 to get Ellie because he could go home with dad. 

What next? My attention fell on the car's dashboard: the fuel light was on. I looked at the clock. It was rush hour. 

I will be at least 20 minutes late picking up Elise. She doesn't have her phone with her. It is dark outside and they lock up the school after the play practice. Would she be waiting in the cold? Wait. Stop. 

Abide in me, and I in you. 

Just get fuel first. Focus on that. 

There weren't any gas stations I knew of on the way to the freeway from the gym. I'd have to go far afield of the freeway. What was the quickest way? I didn't have any idea. 

Abide in me, and I in you.

It's hard to put certain things into words. Yet everyone has experienced it, I imagine: It isn't clear words that come, or an image. It's instruction through impressions and peaceful assurances. I knew there weren't easily accessible stations near the next two onramps so I felt to travel on the frontage road to the third freeway entrance. I didn't remember if there was a gas station there, but I felt assured I'd find one; that I'd have enough gas to get there. 

Sure enough, there was a gas station at the corner of the last freeway entrance, and I also noticed from afar that I missed heavy freeway traffic by taking this route. I fueled up the car and was able to get right on the freeway without waiting at more than one light. 

But I would still be late. 

Again, I chose to use my mantra to center in The Vine instead of disconnecting through my worries. I chose to leave it to God. I thought of Julian [of Norwich] and what she would say: "All is well and all will be well." 

Abide in me, and I in you.

The next 30 minutes (of rush hour traffic) were a beautiful experience in abiding and trusting My Guide. I arrived at the school calm and peaceful. I found my daughter just finishing up as the practice had gone late. She wasn't even ready to come out to the car yet. 

(Later) 

I reread this tonight and see new meaning after my first day of practice with "meditation in motion." 

When attention stays in the present, worry actually evaporates, releasing a flood of vitality that we can use to face a problem and deal with it instead of fretting. "The moments of our daily life may appear commonplace," said one of Mahatma Gandhi's closest colleagues, Vinoba Bhave, "but they carry enormous significance." He added that when we look upon every moment as sacred, a new energy flows into our lives.… When we look upon each moment as the result of every other moment of our lives, we can sieze it as an opportunity to change our thinking and therefore our action. It is a thrilling thought. (P. 62-63)

Day 2

Tonight while washing the dishes and making dinner, the focus of doing one thing at a time had an efficiency to it I never imagined. It's better than any multi-tasking I've ever tried. Instead of thinking of the whole dinner and running around "getting it all done," I focused on cutting the onions. Then I focused on chopping carrots. While the vegetables boiled I focused on the dishes. 

I didn't think of all that had to be done--cook dinner, clean the kitchen--plus feel a victim because my children weren't helping etc. 

I  j u s t  c h o p p e d   o n i o n s. 

Then an idea came to give one child one simple task to focus on. They quickly agreed and started helping because it wasn't a big looming, "Please help me with dinner?" Just, "Can you peel this carrot?" 

I am loving this. I find my mind is more free to receive and capture quiet thoughts that come; I am more able to shift and heed each nudge. I have a single focus and not a mind overwhelmed with many larger tasks all demanding to be done at once. I feel empowered. I have more choice over what I do. There is not an overwhelming list of mommy things to accomplish. There is a choice of what is most important right now. And even a feeling of help to decide. 

Once I choose, that is my focus. I trust the rest will work out, that the rest will have its turn. But in the moment I choose one thing, the other things leave my consciousness. When the next thing is needful, it gently nudges me and I realize through my now decluttered mind that it is time to shift. So I do. 

It is like a dance. There is something thrilling about it. From the outside I must act and look the same as I always have but on the inside my peace is abiding. I am enjoying the dance. What I am doing fulfills me because each small seemingly insignificant task – chopping carrots, dicing onions, boiling water--is now a small lesson in dancing with a higher mind; a nobler guide.

Tonight, I reread parts I highlighted in the Bhagavad Gita last month. Again, I begin to grasp meaning in what was mostly hazy or felt too "out there" to understand when I first read them: 

(From a preface to chapter two of the Gita) 

This chapter establishes the various definitions of yoga taught in the Gita. Here the word does not refer to the physical postures and exercises (hatha yoga) it connotes in the West; it refers primarily to disciplining the mind. “Yoga is evenness of mind”: detachment from the dualities of pain and pleasure, success and failure. Therefore “yoga is skill in action,” because this kind of detachment is required if one is to act in freedom, rather than merely react to events compelled by conditioning. Krishna is not trying to persuade Arjuna to lead a different kind of life and renounce the world as would a monk or recluse. He tells Arjuna that if he can establish himself in yoga –in unshakable equanimity, profound peace of mind–he will be more effective in the realm of action. His judgment will be better and his vision clear if he is not emotionally entangled in the outcome of what he does.

These past two days I have tasted a bit of what the editor is speaking of, I've felt what that focus brings: peace of mind. I've learned how this focused peace increases my judgment (the nudges and guidance I am now better able to recognize). By using the short language phrase (mantram) to keep me centered, to help me shun distracting thoughts, I am finding myself "more effective in the realm of action."

Day 4 

This morning it fell apart a bit. Yesterday was a breeze with teaching 6am-6pm with two little breaks and Adam having the kids. I had one student at a time to focus on. It's my passion. I love it. Easy. 

But I think it got me out of the habit of consciously doing my "meditation in motion." This morning I was so focused I couldn't shift. I woke up feeling the weight of all I had to do and forgot my practice. Deadlines and demands were too heavy to break away from when my little girls came to talk to me--what did they say? 

I hurriedly replied to texts that I feel now should have been given more attention.  I was distracted in my replies to my oldest daughter's needs. I fulfilled them hurriedly and curtly. She quietly submitted to my quick-jerk braiding, my terse reminders not to use her phone during class, my unkind tone. 

It kept coming to my consciousness to practice focusing on one thing, to use my phrase to re-center, but I pushed the thoughts away. 

It's past noon, I have barely eaten. I'm half ready for the day, but I ignored these things and chose to hunker down and work in my old habitual ways... "getting things done."

... Until I walked into the kitchen to find my son washing the dishes. My son. Washing. Dishes. 

That's my chore, not his. Has he ever done that? No one asked him to. Am I still on the earth that I know? 

He even had classical music playing. It broke my negative cycle. My heart is full to bursting with love for this beautiful soul. I went to him to squash and kiss. He was focused and just sort of smiled and mildly complained, as usual, about the cheek kisses. I sat down at my computer on the kitchen table to "get more done" but instead, I just sit here with tears  in my eyes, watching him, fingering notes into my phone so I don't forget what I've learned from my mistakes today; what I've learned from the gracious acts of my children. 

Boy I'm in need of lots of practice. God grant me time and grace sufficient to become more than I "get done" in this life? Then perhaps I can look back and find real, eternal things were accomplished--and that I was on the side helping, not one of those holding things back. 

The world in which we live is similar to the potter’s spinning wheel, and the speed of that wheel is increasing. Like the clay on the potter’s wheel, we must be centered as well. Our core, the center of our lives, must be Jesus Christ and His gospel. Living a Christ-centered life means we learn about Jesus Christ and His gospel and then we follow His example... The ancient prophet Isaiah stated, “But now, O Lord, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.” 

If our lives are centered in Jesus Christ, He can successfully mold us into who we need to be... The joy we experience in this life will be in direct proportion to how well our lives are centered on the teachings, example, and atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ. 

     ~ "The Joy of Living a Christ-Centered Life" By Elder Richard J. Maynes

Delivery: Exquisite "Oneings"

My humanities class this semester required a creativity project. The teacher wanted us to create using a medium we aren't used to using. Poetry is a new medium I've used only twice and with no formal training, so I chose that. I felt to put more thought into the structure and words of the poem shared here in July and completely reworked it. (I'll post the new version below.) As I've spent more time with the poem, I've realized:

On a micro level this poem relates a personal experience unique to my life, but on a macro level I see it now as a symbol of our universal struggle of shedding the ego--even a form of ego as seemingly innocuous as wanting what we think God wants for us (to do or be). A favorite essay by CS Lewis, Weight of Glory, states with powerful imagery: 

It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak... like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

This shedding of the ego and trusting God's ways and goals is often referred to as a rebirth; giving our life to God, being changed by God. Through the experience related in the following poem, my perspective of what spiritual rebirth must feel like or look like has changed. It is no longer a culminating event that ends a process. It is many moments of delivery--exquisite and costly threads--that God weaves together, changing the fabric of our lives thread by thread. 

I no longer see delivery as getting what we want, or being delivered from what we don't want. I see it as engaging in a journey where we become a child--a child who struggles through the narrow mazes and trials of life seeking their God (like a baby's journey through the birth canal seeking it's source of life).

When we emerge, we find our lonely desert has become the garden of the Lord (Isaiah 51:3). It is like the moment of birth when a mother's agony is turned to joy (John 16:21), or perhaps more accurately, as a baby must feel after such a journey of struggle and sorrow that quickly turns exquisitely sweet because of the embrace from those hands "stretched out still" that have "caught us" as we emerge, embraced us, at-oned with us. 

I've quoted it here before, but it deserves a repeat, at least in part: 

We are aware that all our mothers give us birth only to pain and dying; and what is it but that our true Mother Jesus, He--all love--gives us birth to joy and to endless life. Blessed may He be! Thus He carries us within Himself in love, and labors until full term so that He could suffer the sharpest throes and the hardest birth pains that ever were or ever shall be, and die at the last. And when He had finished, and so given us birth to bliss, not even all this could satisfy His wondrous love.

Again, I am learning that rebirth appears to be moments of struggle, sometimes as intense as child birth, followed by equally exquisite "oneings" with the Lord. And I imagine the supreme goal of existence as an eternity of that at-one-ment with God; that fullness of joy in their presence. 

The atonement is not a commodity. It is not an event long ago that somehow affects us now. It is a divine being; our Savior, full of infinite love and wisdom whose actions and love make it possible to have a relationship with him. A relationship which, if we choose to nourish, will slowly align us and change us to become more and more like him. And the reason? Not so we can achieve some commodity (eternal life of riches, power etc.). He loves us into the kind of person he is so that he can be with us for eternity in a celestial glory full of celestial beings who don't have to hold anything back. They can give us all of their self without such intense Light and Glory harming us because of how Christ’s love has prepared us and slowly recreated us to be like them. I believe thats what is meant by John when he says, “Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.” (1 John 3:2)

Before I paste the poem below, I'm going to be lazy and not remove the numbers in parentheses. To give the poem some unity and structure, I decided to use a kind of numeric symbolism in the lines and stanzas. This being titled "Labor and Delivery," the number nine is significant. So is seven, as a number of creation. So is four as a number symbolizing strength and truth. So are ascending and descending numbers (and the numbers they start and end with). I put the numbers into the poem for the paper I had to write about the creativity process for my class. I imagine it might be helpful for some to leave them here. 

Lastly, I would leave you with one more thought. When we wonder why God has not yet given us desires we consider to be righteous or that we believe are according to his will, perhaps we should consider what C.S. Lewis suggests: our desires are "too weak." To have a husband or wife, a good job, children or more children, to be healed, to have others see us truthfully, to be at peace--all these desires pale in comparison, or are actually encapsulated and fulfilled in what the Lord wants to give us: at-one-ment with Himself. So he works gradually, knowing "as the poet recognized, sometimes, God’s grace, like light, “must dazzle gradually, or every eye be blind.'" (Emily Dickinson, quoted here) 

Labor and Delivery

Labor

Sunday

Severing pain asks a sacrifice. (9)

Needles, tubes, sterile sheets, monitors: (9)

breathless upon the altar, I writhe.  (9)

For me, there is no ram in (7)

the thicket. No angel (6)

stops the knife that stabs (5)

three times and steals (4)

the soul—all (3)

labors: (2)

lost. (1)

Monday

Eyes are open, heart raw, but beating. (9)

Salty tears flow too freely for a (9)

disconnected womb--oh! Dear Father! (9)

Why lead me by miracles (7)

to the Red Sea shore’s edge (6)

and part the waters (5)

as I walk through (4)

only to (3)

let hope (2)

drown? (1)

Tuesday

Bitter. Left at the foot of dead ends, (9)

anger opens in this closing heart. (9)

I cannot choose: a false god; no God. (9)

There is a God— (4)

I've heard Him weep. (4)

I know His pow’r: (4)

enabling grace. (4)

By Light we live, (4)

By Him we're changed. (4)

Impossible maze! I cannot choose: (9)

an indifferent God; a cruel God. (9)

He called to me; (4)

Woke me; asked me: (4)

“Open the door.” (4)

He provided, (4)

assured, sustained; (4)

soothed each loss… (4)

Yet now life’s open door must (7)

sever from its hinges? (6)

Now, He let’s life stray— (5)

lets life bulge, bleed, (4)

burst—‘till they (3)

stitch it (2)

shut? (1)

Then call me Mara, for today I (9)

choose to see the bitter hand dealt me. (9)

While friends and family choose (7)

to call me blessed... and oh! (7)

The words they send, (4)

the meals they bring, (4)

the gifts that come: (4)

prints to color, (4)

Boxes to hit, (4)

Roses, posies, (4)

daisies, lilies, (4)

books, texts, posts, hugs. (4)

What was emptied, (4)

they seek to fill. (4)

Wednesday

fatigue 

sorrow

lights off

eyes shut

head down

heavy sleep

let me sleep

buried

in sleep

no dreams

to think

no thoughts

of life

within

while… (1)

without, (2)

children live; (3)

by my side their (4)

voices call and hands (5)

caress, lips kiss, hearts care, (6)

and all their eyes are watching. (7)

And so I wake (4)

my mind’s desire (4)

to understand— (4)

write what I know, (4)

ask all I don’t (4)

And oh! The Light (4)

rushes in with (4)

a choice revealed: (4)

It was not a loss. 

It was a birth:

of sorrow and pain,

grief and anguish

now remembered no more...

Delivery

... for joy that the impossible maze (9)

widens and opens as a child (8)

sobs into the Light caught by (7)

Hands stretched out still embraced (6)

by Love and nourished (5)

by unspoken (4)

Words of Life. (3)

Morsels of Goodness

My left wrist's tendinitis I've been babying for over a year finally decided to call it enough. For the first time since 11th grade, I'm in a long-term brace again. Typing and playing music is reduced for the rest of the year. How grateful I am for music students and my children who give me the opportunity to still work with music. And thank you Mac for making a dictation tool on my laptop!  

This will be short and sweet. Morsel's of goodness that are nourishing my soul. First, a poem from a poet I have begun to discover:

Christine Rossetti, Later Life: A Double Sonnet of Sonnets, #5

Lord, Thou Thyself I love and only Thou;

Yet I who am not love would fain love Thee;

But Thou alone being Love canst furnish me 

With that same love my heart is craving now.

Allow my plea! for if Thou disallow, 

No second fountain can I find but Thee;

No second hope for help is left to me, 

No second anything, but only Thou.

Oh Love accept, according my request;

Oh Love exhaust, fulfilling my desire:

Uphold me with the strength that cannot tire, 

Nerve me to labor till Thou bid me rest, 

Kindle my fire from Thine unkindled fire, 

And charm the willing heart from out my breast.

This last morsel needs a little introduction. 

I have had a great desire growing in me over the year: to learn of the searches for truth great minds had embarked on and what they had discovered. I have also felt I needed to be accountable for such searching. So I acted upon this growing feeling last month and registered for classes.  I’ll be working on a second degree, this time in philosophy; one or two classes at a time, going slow and absorbing all I can. 

Then last week, I was at the bookstore purchasing a little book for a friend who had lost her mother recently. Sitting next to that book was another that called to me and I let it tag along to the cash register. 

And it has happened again! I felt a nudge. I acted upon it, and soon after, I am led to find beautiful words that express the feelings I could only feel and stumble to explain. I read them again today and feel such nourishment from truth that I would be greedy not to share it with my "neighbors." 

We will not be able to develop his heart within us with only a surface understanding of our fellow men—or with alienation because of difference, whatever the source of that dissimilarity. In this wonderful world of knowledge it is easy to learn. Is not this part of "the gathering"? We rightly call this age the "dispensation of the fullness of times." Notice that the phrase is plural—“times,” not “time.” We want all the best from every age and corner of the globe. 

… One day my teacher gave me a compass. It was a simple instrument with a sharp point on one leg and a pencil secured at the tip of the other. She showed me that by planting the pointed leg firmly and stretching out with the other leg, I could draw a perfect circle. 

… As I grew I was taught how to draw another circle by a divine teacher, one that encompassed truth, beauty, and goodness. The spiritual compass also has two feet—one I call “the fixed foot," and the other, "the searching foot." We all have this spiritual compass. 

… It took a good measure of spiritual maturity for me to realize that the great question of mortality was not really to find the one to church among all the false ones; rather it was to discover where truth and goodness and beauty had reached their most mature form and plant my fixed foot there. That is the critical starting point: Where will we place the fixed foot of our life's compass?  

There can be no true or complete circle without a center. 

… Placing the fixed foot is only half the task, not the whole of life's journey: We would draw the circle.  

…Truth is too grand to be found in such small dimensions. It is scattered around the world, God distributing his wonders as widely as the sower throwing grain. God would have the harvest cover the whole field. Light is given not only in the scriptures or through prophetic inspiration, but in multiple ways. Our Father in Heaven is a light–giving God and dispenses it as widely as the stars. 

… I have learned that there is a tremendous amount of truth we can circumscribe if we reach out with the searching foot. Is this not as important as planting the fixed foot? We need to get them in the right order, of course. We do not wish to go dancing on both feet through the offerings of the world, picking up bits and pieces of truth here and there without ever taking the time, energy of thought, and introspection to find our fixed point. There is a certain intellectual and spiritual laziness in that approach. Discovering the right midpoint will give us the best perspective of the whole, the broad view from the peak, the best chance of encompassing all truth and avoiding error. Remember you cannot draw a perfect circle without an immovable center point.  

… I believed that my Father in Heaven is a loving God toward all his children. My idea of him was often difficult to align with this rather limited understanding of his interaction with humankind. What of the Chinese? What of those in India? He speaks often of his voice penetrating even the isles of the sea. What about those during the centuries of darkness we call the Great Apostasy? Surely God would speak to humanity through every voice he could find. I firmly believe this. God has many voices. If we cannot hear his voice in that of a prophet or apostle, perhaps we can hear it in that of the sage, or a poet, or a philosopher, or playwright, or an artist. Their voices also find their roots in God. In time, I came to desire—to hunger for, really—these other voices. I sensed I would have to reach my searching foot far afield to bring them into my circle of understanding.  

That reach has made all the difference in my life and in my love of God.  

… Almost always in the Scriptures, light is interchangeable with truth. The light of Christ is his truth—that that which he has given us. With the light of Christ as our foundation, our point of planting, we are free to explore and encouraged to augment. 

… At times, I fear that we receive the Lord’s beautiful light only to continually gaze at it reverently. Is not the purpose of light to push back the darkness? Is it not to see with greater clarity? As the Psalms testify, light was given that we might see with it and discover new and enhancing truth… what I marvel at is how much God has accomplished with ordinary people who are also part of flawed humanity. We can't have pure Saints—or profits, apostle's, or holy man for that matter. We need to quit perpetuating the myth that they exist. 

… Other than Jesus Christ, imperfection has been true for Joseph Smith, Moses, Peter, President Thomas S. Monson, or any other scriptural personality or living leader. To believe otherwise is to deny humanity.… The greatest personalities are still part and parcel of their surrounding culture. 

… I repeat: God has many voices. I believe he desires to get as much goodness, beauty, and truth as he can into the lives and hearts and minds of the people of this world…. “Know ye not that there are more nations than one?” the Lord asked (2 Nephi 29:7). Let us answer, “Yea, Lord, we know. We have reached! We have searched!…”

               ~ S. Michael Wilcox, 10 Great Souls I want to Meet in Heaven, xv-11.