I’m not a HUGE Christmas nut. I don’t start fantasizing about the holiday in July; I don’t listen to carols in October; I don’t decorate before Thanksgiving. (My husband’s the one chomping at the bit about those things before Thanksgiving rolls around.) But that doesn’t mean Christmas doesn’t mean something to me. I have good memories of the holiday growing up, involving family, gifts, and treats, among many other things. Especially, I like to remember the significance of why we celebrate: Christ. I’m a Christian, and I love the spiritual messages that remind me of Him during this season. At the same time, I have nothing against Santa and the commercial stuff that’s not exclusively centered on Christ. It’s fine to enjoy all the other trappings of the holiday, too.
I don’t even have a problem with people who aren’t Christian celebrating the holidays in general, all the trappings but not Christ. That’s fine.
But I’ll draw the line at what I saw last night on TV: I happened to have the set on when Saturday Night Live came on, and it showed Martin Short hosting. That, I thought, was worth my time watching for a while to see what he would say and do. He’s done and said some very funny things in the past, so it was fun to see him again.
Honestly, though, he did almost nothing to make me laugh. He was straining. Then he mentioned that “a lot of babies are conceived at Christmas.” OK. Fine. But then, rather than moving on, he and the SNL cast turned that into a huge production number. The tune of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” was turned into a crass and completely tasteless number about sex, and Short used lots and lots and lots of synonyms: lascivious, lusty, … well, I don’t really care to think about it anymore. But it went on for four or five minutes, probably. I kept thinking it would end quickly. It didn’t. I don’t know why I didn’t turn off the TV sooner than I did. Perhaps it was like a train wreck.
I can’t express how tacky and tasteless and offensive it was. Sure, I expect there to be lots of that kind of thing on SNL. That’s part of why I haven’t watched it regularly since, well … ever. But to hijack Christmas, a day on which as a believer, I do try to remember the Savior of the world, well, I just found this one particularly bad.
It’s all been said before, so nothing I can say here will be new. I just hate to see it happen: the insensitivity of others who would call me intolerant if I were to express my views on subjects they wouldn’t agree with me about, but who have no problem taking a subject I consider deserving of some reverence and respect and just dashing it to pieces with, yes, blasphemy.
Needless to say, I didn’t watch any more of that show. I’m sure the SNL folks won’t care that they missed me. Yes, they have a right to do and sing and say everything they did, but was it right? Was it respectful? Was it tolerant? Me, I’m thinking no.
Contrast that “holiday” scene with the one I encountered today during our church service. Two young men sang, one played cello, a friend played her flute, and another woman played piano, coming together on a simply divine arrangement of “Away in a Manger.” For five minutes, I was entranced, transported, absolutely enchanted. The music truly focused on everything that’s best and most important about Christmas, and it was done so well and with such reverence and care. The feeling in the room was of rapt attention and holiness. I wanted it to go on and on. That was absolutely the spirit of Christmas, and I’ll keep it in my heart a good long while. The several minutes I was held captive (somehow) by Martin Short’s completely non-funny routine are minutes I’m trying to scrub from my memory.
I love to laugh, I love to feel reverence, I love to appreciate talent. Today gave me the opportunity for the second and third, and there will be some other wonderful opportunities in coming days with friends and family to experience the first. I am just sorry that SNL insulted me rather than allowing me to laugh.
I was reading some scriptural passages over the weekend that really stood out to me relating to beauty and self-image. They all spoke about envy and how dangerous it is. In my church’s canon is a wonderful chapter that allows us to ask ourselves questions about how prepared we are to meet God. One poses this question: Are you “stripped of envy”? (Alma 5:29)
So I began searching for other scriptural references to envy, as it relates to individuals. At one point, a prophet told his people, “And I know that ye do walk in the pride of your hearts; and there are none save a few only who do not lift themselves up in the pride of their hearts, unto the wearing of very fine apparel, unto envying, and strifes, and malice, and persecutions, and all manner of iniquities.” (Mormon 8:36)
In Galatians 5:26, we are admonished: “Let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, envying one another.” And in 1 Peter 2:1, that prophet tells us: “Wherefore laying aside all malice, and all guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and all evil speakings.”
What struck me particularly were these references in Proverbs about who in particular we don’t want to envy: sinners and oppressors. Proverbs 3:31 exhorts: “Envy thou not the oppressor, and choose none of his ways.” Proverbs 23:17 similarly says: “Let not thine heart envy sinners: but be thou in the fear of the Lord all the day long.”
Today, we might not be oppressed by government or worldly leadership; we’re not in bondage to other people. But we can easily be oppressed by the images and messages that are constantly bombarding us. If we allow them, those who are behind these messages can oppress us in mind and in spirit. Advertisers do all they can to make us feel bad about ourselves, mainly how we look. Cosmetics companies want us to feel bad about our skin’s youthfulness, shine and clearness; clothing manufacturers want us to feel bad about how our clothes fit, how stylish they are, what fine materials they aren’t made out of. Everyone out there wants us to feel fat and ugly in some way so we will buy their products to make ourselves look better somehow, in some way. And it’s SO easy to accept and internalize those messages and to just feel bad about ourselves. And that leads us to envy. We’re envying those who oppress us. When you think about it, isn’t that crazy? Shouldn’t we be rejecting those messages and just laughing at the absurdity of it all?
At the same time, we’re also envying those in society who are sinners. So many celebrities are held up as the icons of beauty and style. But they’re also making headlines as people who are driving drunk, committing adultery, and just plain being immodest and immoral in lots of ways. I don’t think I need to give a whole lot of details to support this statement. Just pick up a magazine or glance at celebrity news on Yahoo. The next time you wish your waistline could look like that of one of the ridiculously talentless but still ubiquitous Kardashian sisters (which is easy to do while standing in a supermarket checkout line), take a second to think about them as people and what they stand for.
Peter goes on in chapter 2 to tell us who we really are: “But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light. … Dearly beloved, I beseech you …, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul.”
No, we shouldn’t be like everyone else; we shouldn’t be envying our oppressors and the sinners in our society. Those of us who are faithful believers in God are a “peculiar” people, which means we’re set apart from others. We’re God’s special people, and He loves us. He doesn’t want us to envy and try to emulate those in our society who only want to hurt us and make us feel bad about ourselves. Envy starts with comparing ourselves with others, and then finding ourselves wanting, in both ways. I think the first step in stopping this cycle is not comparing. As soon as you find yourself seeing a picture (inevitably it’s some kind of image), just stop and think about where your thought processes are going. And don’t go there. Don’t compare. Don’t envy. You’ll find yourself much happier.
While this topic may potentially offend some people or make me seem like a zealot or a super-strict mom or any number of other things, I think I’d still like to approach it because I think in our world of ever-dominant electronics devices, it’s a good idea to take a step back and think carefully about how we use them, where, and when.
This weekend we had a large gathering at church, one we do about twice a year, where all the members of our church in our area came together to listen to inspirational messages. As with most of our weekly meetings, the Sunday-morning meeting included adults and all ages of young people: babies, toddlers, teens and all in between. With a gathering this large, I had occasion to glance around me during the meeting to see how the young people were occupying themselves. Two- and three-year-olds were invariably snacking on Cheerios or other bite-size goodies or looking through quiet books; six- or eight-year-olds were either sitting mostly quietly or sometimes looking at books or drawing. Teens were listening to the speakers or sometimes supervising younger siblings. And in the hands of kids of any age I saw quite a few smart phones. Little kids were playing simple games; teens might be doing the same or texting. No matter the age, bright little screens were being employed in every row.
This is for illustration purposes only; the second I was done taking the photo, she had to give up the game. (ha!)
I had a few reasons for feeling dismayed at this sight. But first, I will explain my expectations, having four daughters myself. I definitely do not expect toddlers to sit still and do nothing but listen during any kind of church meeting. Three- and four-year-olds can often sit mostly still, however, and occupy themselves with books or coloring. And any kid older than eight is usually capable of sitting still and listening to speakers without needing distractions or toys. No, they won’t necessarily get a LOT out of the meeting, but they can pick up bits and pieces of truths that are imparted over the pulpit, and they can practice sitting still and being patient during a time they may still at that age consider to be “boring.” After all, they are at the age of eight already in school and heading toward a stage where they will frequently be sitting and listening to teachers “lecture,” at least for an hour at a time.
I can also make clear that I’m not a big fan of electronics for kids. Period. I do love gadgets (see my kitchen gadgets post and my ode to my Kindle), so I’m by no means a Luddite. I think that we have some amazing technology, and it’s very helpful in its way, at the proper places and times. But I also believe that children still need fairly limited times interacting with any kind of screens, be they TVs or computers or portable devices. Young children need time to be free and have opportunities to create and imagine and use their own minds to keep busy. It’s vital for their healthy development. Giving them a gadget of some type to stay busy with just trains them to turn to electronics whenever they’re bored. I try to limit the time my kids spend watching TV or movies or using the computer or playing on the Wii or Xbox, and they don’t get to play with my iPod Touch.
Now back to the church setting. It dismays me a bit to see iPhones or other little games in the hands of small children because it’s training them to turn to electronics rather than draw or create or read. But it doesn’t bother me a great deal because I respect that for some parents, it’s one of the tools in their arsenals to keep those little ones quiet and busy during a church meeting. Even though I haven’t chosen to have my little ones play on electronics devices, I appreciate it is useful for some other parents.
What bothers me the most is seeing teens or tweens using these gadgets at church. Kids of these ages are perfectly capable of sitting still and listening and getting something from a religious service, and allowing them to distract themselves via video games or texting or surfing the Web is depriving them of the opportunities to learn patience, sit still for an hour, and experience the peace and soul-satisfying feelings of religious worship. Some people out there may not consider faith or organized religion to be important, so they can probably just disregard this whole post. But for those parents who value the role of religion in their lives and the lives of their children, I say, make sure your children aren’t distracted so they can actually feel the good feelings that come from being in a religious meeting. I personally think it’s absolutely crucial that my daughters learn to feel the Holy Spirit, and understand how it can guide them in their lives. I want them to know that God and Jesus Christ are there and that they know them and want to help. Our family devotions of reading scripture and praying are part of that process of helping them to know those things and to turn to God for help. Church services are another piece of that important puzzle. I wouldn’t dare to distract them when they have the opportunity to experience peace and the Holy Ghost at church, and electronics are an easy distraction.
I don’t want to be judgmental, but at the same time, I wonder how many parents have given serious thought to how much electronics can take away from valuable experiences that require quiet and contemplation. Computers and the Internet and games and all of those things can be real sources of distraction, and it’s not a minor issue. I thoroughly enjoyed an article by David A. Bednar called “Things As They Really Are,” which addressed the issue of “cyberspace” interactions and experiences. In it, he said, “Sadly, some young men and young women in the church today ignore ‘things as they really are’ and neglect eternal relationships for digital distractions, diversions, and detours that have no lasting value. … A young man or woman may waste countless hours, postpone or forfeit vocational or academic achievement, and ultimately sacrifice cherished human relationships because of mind- and spirit-numbing video and online games.” And I think those last words are revealing: these devices are numbing. They do not challenge us or encourage us to grow in any way; they simply numb us and prevent us from feeling or thinking too much at all. And why do we attend church? To grow, to ponder, to commune with the divine. We go to be inspired. How can we do that when our minds and spirits are being numbed by electronics? Bednar went on to say: “Please be careful of becoming so immersed and engrossed in pixels, texting, earbuds, twittering, online social networking, and potentially addictive uses of media and the Internet that you fail to recognize the importance of your physical body and miss the richness of person-to-person communication. Beware of digital displays and data in many forms of computer-mediated interaction that can displace the full range of physical capacity and experience.”
As parents, let’s not get enmeshed ourselves in these potentially destructive uses of technology, which can really be a great blessing in so many ways. And let’s not allow and encourage our children, who are in such tender, formative stages of development, to be distracted and numbed, especially when they are in a sacred place like church, when they could be feeling the best of feelings and influences. Let’s think more carefully about how we use our electronics, when, and where.
I think about the idea of “enough” so often that I considered using it as part of the name of this website. In the end, obviously, I didn’t, but the concept comes to my mind frequently.
I’m not the type of person who wants more things. In fact, I’m usually working to get rid of things. Years of moving have taught me to pare down wherever possible. (I’m not a minimalist, however: I love my kitchen gadgets, and I use them. That’s a topic for another post.) I’m satisfied to keep a computer for seven or eight years or a TV for 10 or 15 years, even if they’re getting snazzier, wider and thinner. I have some clothes I’ve worn for years; I have a sweater I just adore that I bought in high school (guess it’s stretched out over the years…). So “enough” doesn’t apply to stuff. Well, it does, actually: I can say with confidence I have enough stuff.
No, “enough” applies to actions. I worried in high school if I had enough on my list of activities to show my dream university I was fit to enter. (I did.) Mostly, I’ve worried over the years if I’ve done enough. As a mother for about 16 years now, I think I worry the most if I’ve done enough for my four daughters, who are truly the most precious gift I’ve been given. I have generally been of the opinion that children will do best if given plenty of free time to find their own way, to keep themselves occupied and use their imaginations and their own inner resources. I haven’t scheduled them in lots of activities or sports or lessons. I haven’t spent all of my free time finding ways to keep them busy or happy. Even knowing that this strategy seems to have worked pretty well for them so far, I have moments of wishing I could just do more or be more for them because they are so amazing, so talented, so delightful. Because they are my only offspring, and these years I have of them living at home with me are my only chance to raise them: I just get this one shot. Because they deserve everything I can offer, everything the world can offer. Again, not stuff, but opportunities.
I’ve given my girls time. I’ve read with them, countless hours curled up on our beds, usually at bedtime, with countless books, many of which are now well worn, pages slipping out of their bindings, bits torn off corners. As they’ve gotten older, I’ve just sat and listened to them talk, telling me about their days, about their friends, about all kinds of thoughts swirling in their heads. I’ve not generally considered that a sacrifice, especially now that I have a high-schooler. She in particular has so much to say, so much that’s entertaining and interesting, at turns humorous and sweet. I cherish these tete-a-tetes. We’ve had “the talk,” we’ve talked about life and the big things, about faith and family; we’ve also talked about all the hilarious things that boys do and all the tasty morsels she ate for lunch. It’s been a pleasure; it’s been a treat.
Perhaps it’s a direct result of that time I’ve spent with them that I feel the urgency to do more, to give my girls the world. I’ve seen inside their souls and seen all that is possible, and I want to give it to them. Now that my oldest has realized how much she enjoys dance, she’d like dance lessons. But when would we fit those in among the band concerts and rehearsals or church activities or that extra class she’s taking in the evenings? Or as I see how much is lacking in our educational system nowadays (thanks to legislation, lack of funding and the bad economy, you name it…), I wish I could home-school or supplement with some somewhat structured lessons of my own. Oh, there’s so much I wish I could do.
But time limits me. Energy certainly limits what I can give. My budget limits me. My own needs, weaknesses and limitations keep me from being able to give all. (If you read about my struggles with my mental health, this will seem even clearer.) The number of children I have limits how much I can give to each, in some ways (I can’t be two or three places at once, sadly). But those things don’t limit how much I love.
At the same time, I know when I think about it seriously that my limitations are just part of life, even part of my children’s lives. They live in the same world I live in, where you can’t get everything you want, where you can only do so much, where the people around you aren’t perfect. No one should be handed everything on a silver platter, now or ever. Life isn’t perfect. There are always disappointments, always choices to be made between two or three good things. Giving my children everything would be doing them a disservice.
So I know in my head that I really am doing pretty well by my girls, that they are happy and well-adjusted, that they truly feel loved and secure. It’s just I struggle on some days when particular things crop up that I wish they could have or do. I wage a battle in my mind and — eventually — conquer my feelings of “not-enough” with the knowledge that they are happy, that they are loved.
I also struggle with that feeling of doing or being enough outside of my small family sphere, with the wide world around me. Every day, I see people and organizations that desperately need help, that need money, that need volunteer hours. There are children all around the world who need food; who need clothes and shelter; who need a strong, loving parent. And I don’t have to look far to be aware of those children. Teachers I know have those children in their classrooms. My daughters have these children as peers. Every time my oldest, in particular, mentions to me how grateful she is that I cook healthy food for her, that she has a comfortable house and plenty of clothes, that she has two parents in her home who love her, it’s because she has been reminded at school that all too many other kids don’t have those things. And my heart breaks, it just starts opening wide and trying to send feelers out to all those other children who don’t live in my home, to show them that someone cares. Oh, how I often wish I could parent so many other kids. Practically, however, I know I’m at my limits with the four I have right now.
There are so many worthy organizations out there that I could give time to. It’s hard to limit myself to just a few. Even as I say yes to one, I know there are many others I simply must say no to. It makes me feel bad to have to choose, to say no. It breaks my heart. The need is great so many places right now, especially, with our economy the way it is, but the need is always great in terms of hearts that need healing, souls that need to be nurtured.
I can only keep reminding myself of a story that I’ve heard a few times over the years. A man goes walking on a beach early one morning and finds a young man on the shore, bending down and picking up starfish and throwing them into the ocean. He keeps bending to the sand, grasping one starfish at a time, and throwing. The beach is just covered with starfish, who are likely going to die if left where they are, washed up on the sand. It seems a ridiculous endeavor, this picking up starfish one at a time and throwing them back. So the man asks the thrower, “Why? Why do you bother? You can’t possibly save them all. This won’t make a difference.” The young man’s reply, as he threw yet another starfish wide into the ocean, “It made a difference to that one.”
That’s the philosophy to which I cling in those times my heart breaks because I can’t possibly save the world. There are so many people in need, so many causes that are worthy. But I have to tell myself, what I do matters to “that one.” I just read about Mother Teresa’s similar thinking: “If you can’t feed a hundred people, feed just one.” I am making a difference to the four children with whom I’ve been entrusted. I hope to make a difference to the women I’ve been assigned to watch over in my church’s visiting teaching program. I hope to make a small difference in what I write here, that if what I say helps just a few readers, I’ve spent my time wisely. You, my friends, are my starfish. I wish I could rescue all the starfish lying on the beaches of the world, but I’m throwing back one at a time.
I watched this video for the first time yesterday and thoroughly enjoyed it. I hope that I can just make one person’s burden lighter each day because I’m willing to share. Enjoy this beautiful, inspiring message.
As a faithful follower of Christ my entire life, my spirituality and connection to the divine have always meant everything to me. My life would not be what it is without my knowledge of and faith in God, my Heavenly Father, and His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ. I have always depended on the great gift of the Comforter that Christ left with his disciples, the Holy Ghost or the Holy Spirit. I’ve been taught since I was young how to understand what the Spirit is trying to communicate to me through his still, small voice. It is explained to people in various ways because it can affect and teach each of us a little differently, so each of us must learn exactly how he sounds to us. A scripture in my faith’s canon says that the Holy Ghost will speak to me in my mind and in my heart, and that really rings true in my experience. I can often just feel ideas popping into my head, and I can feel in my heart a good feeling that confirms they are from a trusted source.
But my challenges with my mental health over the years have thrown wrenches into that beautiful process off and on, in various ways. The depression, irritability and anger I’ve felt have blocked that positive flow of messages from a loving God, leaving me to feel adrift and alone and cut off. I’ve sometimes felt that there are just no answers coming to prayers, and I’ve given up asking. I’ve even gotten angry at the heavens then for leaving me in that isolated state, with no communication coming my way. All of it leads to me feeling that I’m alone and undeserving of God’s love, that for some reason he just isn’t paying attention.
Even medication I’ve taken has caused difficulties of its own. As I wrote in my previous post about my long list of medications over the years, when I tried Abilify for a few months about a year and a half ago, I felt absolutely numb. It was unnerving because I’m usually a bubbly person who often sees the bright side of things and, in terms of faith, relies on (even might take for granted) the wonderful peaceful feeling that comes from turning to prayer and scriptures and other messages of a spiritual nature. I know that when I listen to good music that reminds me of God and Christ or when I read a scripture or an inspirational magazine article, I’ll feel uplifted and recharged. I’ll feel the influence of the Holy Ghost, a marvelous gift. So for the few months I took that medication, I didn’t feel anything, including those spiritual feelings. I didn’t feel bad, but I didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel peaceful or Spirit-filled whenever I did all the things that would normally make me feel that influence. It bothered me a great deal. It was a strange feeling to go to church, where I would normally feel happy and inspired, and just feel … nothing. A black hole where there would normally be gardens in bloom with all colors of gorgeous flowers of faith.
What got me through that time was just the knowledge I had still in my mind about all the experiences I could remember. My brain had stored away the memories of knowing that God had answered my prayers at specific times and that I knew that the Holy Spirit had usually been in my heart. I couldn’t feel it then, but I trusted in my head that it had happened before and would come back to me, no matter what wacky tricks this medication was playing with me. And sure enough, when I got off that medicine and got to mostly myself again, I did feel that peace again. The black hole was gone, filled again with light.
So the wrong medication can play tricks on faith. Depression and other mental illnesses can do their own brand of damage. I’ve been through that emptiness before and am kind of feeling it again, and I’m sure I’ll keep experiencing it throughout this mortal existence. It’s not pleasant, and I’d rather not have to go through this. But my feeling is that this is my cross to bear, so I’m doing the best I can to handle it gracefully. Saying I’m doing my best is the truth, but even then it feels silly to say because “my best” can sometimes not be a whole lot. I feel alone inside of myself and that God isn’t sending me answers or the positive feelings I need. But I know in the part of my brain that’s not “messed up” somehow that he’s still there.
I think what I want most to do here is connect with other people who experience these feelings. I think that faith communities are slowly doing better at directly and publicly addressing matters of mental health in the context of religious belief, and that’s wonderful. But depression and other mental illnesses work hard to isolate their sufferers. Those of us who know in our minds and in our hearts that God is aware of us and loves us but sometimes don’t really “feel” it the way we should because of neurochemical vagaries can talk to each other to buoy each other up not just in our specific trials but in our faith. We’ve been given a great gift to have a Savior and the good news of the gospel he has taught. I believe there are still miracles today. Honestly, though, some days, amid the clouds that create a darkness of despair in my heart and head, I don’t feel a conviction that God will work a miracle in my life. And since I know that isn’t true, deep down, I have to work hard to combat the feeling that is false. A dear, dear friend of mine told me a couple of times that she and her mother were able to talk to a well-known Christian writer of our faith after he gave a talk they attended. She wrote me to remind me what he had told them: “He suffers from depression and told my mom and me that being faithful means that you remember the Lord is with you and mindful of you even when the depression doesn’t let you ‘feel’ it. He is still there!” I just cling to that like a little round life saver thrown to me in an ocean of big waves. Eventually the waves die down, and I’m still clinging on for dear life: alive and well yet again. Still.
I am independent, strong, determined — even stubbornly so. I have always been persistent and goal-oriented, ever since I can remember. I have tried to stand on my own two feet, not depending on someone else to do anything for me, if I can at all help it. I know there are quite a few other people out there like me; others look in at them and either can see the facade of “everything’s great” or, if they notice the person struggling, they think, “Why don’t they just ask for help?”
That’s a darn good question. In answering for myself, I’d say, perhaps, Well, I don’t need it. If things get really bad, then I’ll ask for help. Or, it’s just habit. I’ve tried so hard for so long to do things myself that I just don’t think about asking for help until it’s just kind of … too late, in one way or another. Perhaps many who suffer from this sort of stubbornness just were forced to fend for themselves for years, physically or emotionally (I can’t begin to imagine the kind of lives some people have had to experience), so now it’s absolutely ingrained. Maybe we don’t trust that if we ask someone for help, that we’ll get what we need, or we feel that no one is able or willing to help. Or maybe I’m afraid I will be laughed at, judged and found wanting in some way, or snubbed. Perhaps it comes down to pride. I feel I’m weak if I can’t do something myself. I feel that I should be good enough on my own.
Whatever the reason, or mixture of reasons at any given time, I am in the habit of doing things myself. As life has gotten more difficult and I have experienced various trials over the years, I have recognized I need to be better about saying the very useful words “no” and “please help me.” So I am working on it, even if it just means starting small.
This personality trait has been a real impediment in my life when it comes to faith and my relationship to a loving God and Savior. Faith itself is about believing in something we can’t see. It’s about giving up ourselves and our pride and vanity and stubbornness to a power greater than ourselves. It’s about trust. So as much as I absolutely and completely believe that there is a God and that I have a personal Savior, I still keep them off to the side somehow, saying, “OK, thanks for being available, but I’ve got this one.” I pray with great faith and a full heart for other people I know and care about who need help that I can’t possibly give myself, trusting that God will answer those prayers and help them. But when I’m struggling and feeling weak, I still don’t just give over my heart and worries to God very easily. I hang on to them. It’s absolutely crazy.
I really enjoyed reading a wonderful article in our church’s magazine, the Ensign, this month, about the arms of Christ. The author was speaking about Peter’s experience walking on the water to Jesus in the midst of a storm. He went a little ways actually walking on water. Then he doubted and sank. He cried out to Jesus, just ahead of him, “Lord, save me!” Brent Top writes,
All of us have had, are having, or will yet have a Peter-like “sinking” experience in some way and will at some time (probably many times) cry out, “Lord, save me.” Even Peter’s strong fisherman arms were not strong enough to save him. He needed the rescuing arms of Christ, and so do we. Can you imagine Peter—choking, his head bobbing beneath the surface of the water—saying as the Savior extends His arms: “No, thank you. I will swim to shore. I sank myself, so I must save myself”? Of course not. How ridiculous! Yet we sometimes do just that.
We may know in our heads that our mortal arms and hands are deficient—in fact, utterly incapable of rescuing or redeeming us—but we sometimes resist, even recoil from, the outstretched arms of the Savior. Sometimes we spiritually drown ourselves because we won’t allow His arms to cradle us. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve eloquently stated:
“May I be bold enough to suggest that it is impossible for anyone who really knows God to doubt his willingness to receive us with open arms in a divine embrace if we will but ‘come unto Him.’ …
“I am convinced that none of us can appreciate how deeply it wounds the loving heart of the Savior of the world when he finds that his people do not feel confident in his care or secure in his hands.”
This message is not new information, but it touched me deeply, first, because I spiritually almost always refuse to ask for my Savior’s help. I’m sinking and just frantically treading water, waiting for the storm to cease on its own, for me to somehow get enough strength to swim to shore. Second, I was touched by Elder Holland’s words about how it must hurt our dear Jesus when we don’t go to him for help. I know how I feel when someone I care about could use my help, and I am eager to lend support or specific help and they won’t even ask. The Savior is perfectly loving and compassionate and has the most sensitive soul and heart. He must feel hurt when I refuse his help.
On this Easter Sunday, I could write about how grateful I am for the Lord’s sacrifice, in that he gave his life so we could all live eternally and be resurrected. I could write about how much hope that gives me, that I can one day have a perfect, immortal body, and that my deceased family members will have the same, and that we can all be reunited. All that is absolutely true and deeply important to me. But on the most personal level, I am grateful today that Jesus suffered, that he already experienced, in a way I can’t possibly understand with my mortal brain, all of the pains and struggles that I’m experiencing now, have experienced, and still have yet to experience. He’s already been through it all. He’s on the other side of those sufferings, and he’s waiting to help me to get through to the other side as well. I just have to turn my heart over to him and give up my pride and my need to do it alone.
I’m not going to overcome this struggle in this life, I’m sure. I am just trying to do better, to give up my self and my bad habits, a little at a time. Today, on Easter, I say, thanks be to my Savior for always, always, always being there; for already suffering for me; for patiently waiting for me to give him my whole heart.
My church has a women’s organization called the Relief Society that was established in 1842 with just a small group of women. Now there are millions who belong to the organization, all around the world, from all kinds of backgrounds and life situations.
I think one facet of the organization I have always appreciated is a program called visiting teaching. The woman who has been assigned to be the president of the Relief Society in each congregation, or “ward,” takes the list of all the women in her group and divvies it up so that two women generally are given maybe four or five other women to watch over and, ideally, to visit every month. I once read about it being “love by assignment,” and I think that’s a great description.
I have enjoyed the program because it has allowed me to get to know many really great women I might not otherwise have had the opportunity to get to know so well. I have become acquainted with women by being assigned to visit them and by being visited by others. What’s been most rewarding is knowing that I have a simple way of being able to help someone else in whatever ways they might need. If someone I visit has a baby, I can take in some food. Or I can send a card and goodies when she celebrates a birthday. Or I can just pray for her especially if she’s facing a problem I can’t do anything else about. And I always hope that each woman I’m assigned to feels comfortable to call me if something comes up in her life she might need help with somehow, without me having to ask all the time if there is something.
This program has also allowed me to make some fast friends. I have a very dear friend now who has been a constant in my life, a source of strength and just fun, whom I met because she was assigned to be my visiting teacher some 16-plus years ago. It’s very possible we would have connected if we hadn’t been put together that way, but maybe we wouldn’t have. I shudder to think what my life would be like without her.
And I’m making new friends all the time. Often, we don’t get the chance to cross paths in our congregations because we might be assigned to teach children’s classes or something and we might end up at opposite ends of our church building during our meetings. And we might not think to sit near each other at a potluck or other activity. So when I get to visit someone new I haven’t gotten to really talk to before, I am often very pleased to find I’m making a new dear friend. Our assigned visits then turn into two- or three-hour “hangouts” where we just chat and bond. What’s not to love?
People outside my church may just consider this a nice program. I, however, see it as one that’s inspired from a God who loves me and his other daughters and wants us to be able to serve and be there for one another. I am always grateful for the great friends I’ve made because of this inspired opportunity.
Early last month, I saw this lovely post linked from a friend’s Facebook page. It got me thinking about my situation, and I decided it would be useful to start a blog that talked openly about mental illness. So here we are, about six weeks later.
Being Sunday, I will focus today on some faith-related observations. I don’t necessarily intend this blog to be focused entirely around faith and my religion in particular, but from time to time I’d very much like to address belief because it is very important to me and how I experience life.
I am of the opinion that my church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, has done a nice job bringing some of these more sensitive topics to the attention of the church membership worldwide. The official magazine of our church is called the Ensign, and it comes to homes monthly with lots of wonderful inspiring articles and first-person experiences of how the gospel of Jesus Christ has changed people’s lives. The magazine has featured over the past decade more and more articles that address special situations like how to parent and teach people with disabilities, for instance, and how to tackle the problem of pornography. It has featured articles about mental illness, as well, from the viewpoints of licensed therapists and from those who have struggled with it personally.
So in no way do I think our church has tried to sweep the issue under the rug or act as if it isn’t a challenge to many people. I have definitely enjoyed the articles about mental illness in the official magazine, and I have appreciated books that have been published about the topic that are aimed at the LDS audience.
But I do think that more can be said, more can be done to bring what was once rather a taboo topic out into the open. I’ve already written about how more people seem to understand physical illness, and I liked how this blogger mentioned the same feeling. Our church women are known for providing meals to those who are sick or who have just had babies. We’re great at delivering casseroles. But while I have been given some meals over the years postpartum, I haven’t been provided much sustenance when it’s come to my mental recoveries. I think that there are basically two reasons for that: 1) few people even know when someone’s suffering from mental illness (in general or a bad episode of it) and 2) our society as a whole still just doesn’t talk about it enough so that it’s something people all feel comfortable with. Sure, not everyone is even good about talking about physical illness, shying away from the “C” word, for example, but even so, I think that the more a topic is addressed, the more people can become comfortable with it and the less it will feel like a taboo.
So here I am, again writing these words out in public so they can feel less strange, less taboo, less “other,” less misunderstood. The topic of mental illness is extremely personal to me, and I could continue being very private about how it’s affected me, or I could do what I’m doing now: just speaking out loud. I think this whole blog has that same purpose: to contribute to a conversation, to raise awareness, to increase sensitivity and understanding. I think that in our day we have been blessed with the gift of technology, and if we use it to improve and uplift people’s lives, we will be giving a gift to others.
But I’ll draw the line at what I saw last night on TV: I happened to have the set on when Saturday Night Live came on, and it showed Martin Short hosting. That, I thought, was worth my time watching for a while to see what he would say and do. He’s done and said some very funny things in the past, so it was fun to see him again.
Life and Lims 