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Feel and See

2/22/2015

I had a friend (in fact, I’ve had several….I even still have some!) who said to me “I don’t need to come to Church. I feel closer to God in the mountains among His creations than I do in a stuffy Sacrament Meeting.   Worship is a private matter, between me and Him.   I worship Him on my own.”

Being somewhat of an outdoors aficionado myself, I was unsure what to say to her.   I, too, love being outdoors and I, too, have felt God’s closeness amongst His creations.   Yet I know that we are commanded to attend Church.    And, more than that, I know it is the right thing to do.

So what to tell her? She fancied herself to be an independent thinker, a rebel of sorts, so telling her that she ought to do it because it was a commandment was not likely to convince her. (Incidentally, Satan thought himself an independent thinker as well.   He was also a rebel of sorts. It is amazing to me how many of us, thinking we are independent thinkers, are actually like thousands of others who are also rebelling .)

This week while I was reading the Book of Mormon (#whereareyou), I was struck by this verse:

Christ said, “I have commanded that ye should come unto me, that ye might feel and see”. (3 Nephi 18:25)

In this passage Christ had just instituted the Sacrament, a sacred ordinance that allows us to renew our covenants and helps us to keep them.   We cannot take the Sacrament in the mountains or on our own. We must come unto Him in His house.   By taking the Sacrament we keep our promise that we will always remember Him and we open the door so that He can keep His promise that the Spirit will always be with us.

The wording of verse 25 was particularly poignant to me.   “I have commanded that ye should come unto me, that ye might feel and see;”    When we come unto Him, in His home, we feel Christ’s presence as we see each other and worship together. Feel and see.   I love it!

Christ has repeatedly invited us to come unto Him, to gather in His presence. One such passage (a favorite of mine because it is farm based!) is found in 3 Nephi 10:4-6. Pay close attention to the verbs Christ uses.

“…how oft have I gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and have nourished you.” (vs 4)

“…how oft would I have gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings , and ye would not…” (vs 5)

“…how oft will I gather you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings…” (vs 6)

Mother hens gather their chicks under their wings for a variety of reasons. At the risk of being anthropomorphic, I am going to state that the little ones find protection, instruction, comfort, and safety under their mother’s wings.

Ignoring all risk, I want to state emphatically that we will find protection, instruction, comfort and safety if we will “gather” unto Christ.

“…how oft have I gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and have nourished you.” (vs 4)

If we will honestly reflect back on our lives, we will find countless incidents when Christ has figuratively gathered us under his wings and nourished us.   Miracles large and small. Tender mercies that testify of His watchcare and love. They are there, in our lives (and hopefully in our journals….Life is the stories you can tell!).

“…how oft would I have gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not…” (vs 5)

How many times have we refused to be gathered? Determined to do our own thinking? Destined to be like thousands of others who insist on doing “it” their way?    Denying ourselves Christ’s help and love and nourishment in ways large and small?

“…how oft will I gather you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings…” (vs 6)

This is my favorite part. The invitation is still open!!! It does not matter how many times we have already accepted and/or rejected His invitation, it still stands!! He will still protect us, instruct us, comfort us, and give us safety if we will allow ourselves to be gathered.

Come! Come unto Christ.

See and feel.

And, in so doing, experience joy.

Alma invited those he taught and his invitation applies to us as well.   “….cast about your eyes and begin to believe in the Son of God…that your burdens may be light, through the joy of his Son.” (Alma 33:22,23.)

As we gather to Christ, our burdens will be lightened and we will experience joy; joy now and joy later.

Come! Come unto Christ.   Feel and see.

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Small and Simple Things are HUGE

2/16/2015

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"Mrs. Hislop,” Brady said, “My AVID teacher checked my grades and I have an A+ in your class.”

“That’s awesome,” I said, genuinely pleased with him but puzzled about the reason for his disclosure.

He waited expectantly.

“That’s really great,” I said, repeating myself because he was clearly expectant.

Pause.

“Uh, Mrs. Hislop…..” he said, “..,.the jam.”

Jam? What jam? Paper jam? Log jam? Music jam?   My mind raced…..

“Jam?” my tongue stammered.

“Yah, the jam. Remember?”

At last I remembered.    In October of last year I did a rock cycle demonstration using bread, peanut butter, and homemade, blackberry freezer jam. Brady begged for some of the jam. If I gave him jam I would have to open the lid to every 8th grader in the school so I refused. Undeterred, he offered to buy it from me.   Again I refused.   Selling jam to students seemed almost as bad an idea as selling them drugs; it just wasn’t wise.

“What would I have to do to get some jam?” he pled.

Hum…..I considered the source. Brady could have been a poster child for ADHD.   He rarely stayed in his seat, he rarely did his classwork, and he rarely stopped pestering his tablemates.   At the time his grades were dismal and the likelihood of that every changing was very remote.

“You earn an A in my class and I will give you a jar of jam,” I promised him.   Confident that it would never happen, I promptly forgot my promise. He did not.

And now, four months later, he came to claim his jam.

“I’ll bring it next class,” I promised. And this time, I did not forget my promise.

Jam can be very motivating.   So can spit….

Miles attended the Klondike Derby at Fort Buenaventura last weekend. The Klondike Derby is supposed to be a winter camp-out but 70 degree day time temperatures made the “winter” adjective a seasonal rather than a weather one.

As part of their activities Justin gave the boys a Jolly Rancher and instructions to keep it in their mouths without swallowing and without spitting; the saliva was to accumulate. It was a contest and the last man to swallow would win a dollar.   The scheme was brilliant on multiple levels, not the least of which was that the boys were relatively quiet for a long time.   Spit, money, candy, boys….Perfect.

The field narrowed to just four boys. The four boys drained their mouths into cups, the swirling saliva was measured, and Justin gave the boy with the most spit $1, telling him that was the beginning of what would become a million dollars for him.

Not surprisingly, Miles remembered every detail of the spit contest. (It is memorable; even writing about it my churns my stomack. Eew.)   Surprisingly, to me, is that Miles also vividly remembers the lesson associated with the activity.

The spit represented physical desires. The boy’s bodies wanted to swallow the spit.   The determination not to swallow represented their spirits.   To the extent that they were able to keep from swallowing, their spirits were stronger than their bodies.    Having spirits that are stronger than their bodies—spirits that would make them get out of bed when their bodies wanted to sleep, make them work hard when their bodies wanted to quit, make them turn away unhealthy food and beverages that their bodies craved—will make them very successful people.

Brilliant.    I am SO grateful for the youth leaders who teach and love my children.

I am also SO grateful for my children.

Tuesday evening they found me in the dark, in fetal position on the couch, tears running down my face as I held my breath against the sobs that were racking my body.   [I had a brief meltdown—happens to the best of us, right?]    It was not a pretty sight but their response was beautiful.

Tanah took Miles into the kitchen and helped him make the cookies he had promised to produce for the Primary service project. Then she stayed up late, washed every dirty dish in the room (there were LOTS), cleaned off all the counters, and swept the floor.   She also left a tender note for me on the computer screen that caused me to cry again the next morning when I found it. (It was a very different sort of cry, though.)

Miss Grace wrote me note and, fearing I would not see it in the dark when I awoke, left a flashlight shining on it all night.   In the note she apologized for wasting batteries and told me she loved and appreciated me.   Darling!   Also, she has some hand shaped Post-It notes and she folded two of them to show the signal for “I love you” in sign language. Double darling!!

I am also SO grateful for the people who teach and love me.

Sunday, during a before-Church leadership meeting, the turquoise body popped out of the owl necklace I was wearing.   Left was a dangling, empty owl frame.   It was not a big deal….but it was a big deal.   The owl necklace was the centerpiece of my outfit. (The ladies reading will understand.)   I was wearing a black skirt and jacket and a white shirt. The turquoise owl was the color accent that made the outfit; without it I looked drab, dreary, and matronly.

I had to speak in Sacrament meeting, I had several other appointments before Sacrament meeting started, I had no time and no way to go home and back (I’d gotten a ride to the first meeting because The Zippy Car is in the repair shop), and I had no way to fix it at the church.    It appeared I was destined to speak to the congregation looking every bit the 50 years old that I am.   Bummer.

Enter Randee.   She is so, SO good. Quietly and intuitively she said, “Would you like me to take your necklace home and fix it and bring it back?” She acted like it was no big deal.   I accepted like it was.

“Oh yes, please.”

And she did.   As I sat on the stand, waiting for the meeting to start, she came to the front and handed me the repaired trinket.   It was not a big thing…but it was a very big thing. So big, in fact, that the thought of it lodged in my throat and had me fighting tears even before the meeting began, tears caused by the love I felt for Randee and , through her, from God.

To me, God’s tender mercies testify of the reality of His identity as my Heavenly Father more than do His huge miracles.   Through small and simple tender acts of awareness and kindness, He shows me that He is truly aware of me and that He sincerely cares.   A broken, and then fixed necklace…..an almost missed cell phone call………these are true manifestations of His love for me.

Just before Sunday’s church meeting started I was hunting for something in my scripture bag. I had been busy with leadership meetings for the hour before and was headed for the stand where I would be completely occupied with the worship meeting at hand.   In the brief 30 second interval that I had between obligations, as I was rummaging in the bag, I noticed that my phone was glowing.   I had forgotten the phone was there, the ringer was off, and, if the call had come through 30 second earlier or 30 second later, I would have never known that someone was trying to contact me.

It was my dear Mr. Miles.   “Mom,” he sobbed, “I want to come to Church.   I told Dad I was too sick to come to Church but I am feeling better now and I really want to come to Church.”   His voice was distraught, his tone heartbreaking. “I am so sorry Mom,” he said, “I am so sorry.”

Sorry? Oh my sweet boy! Don’t be sorry! I was so, SO glad—so glad that he wanted to come to Church, so glad that Heavenly Father had me in my scripture bag at that exact moment so I could take the call and send Lance to retrieve him, and so glad that he could spend the next three hours with us worshipping instead of at home alone mourning.

Small and simple things are HUGE.

Love,
Teresa

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Errand of Angels

2/8/2015

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Tanah gasped when she learned that I was being released as Primary President in our local congregation. “That’s terrible,” she exclaimed.

“Why?” I asked, curious about the reason for her passionate response.

“Primary has changed you so much,” she responded.

Her comment further piqued my curiosity.   “How so?” I asked.

“You became nice,” she blurted.

Became nice? BECAME?     Oh dear.

“I mean,” she continued, “I no longer fear for the lives and well-being of children I bring into our home.”

Hum.   The news was not improving. First I learn that I was not nice and then I learn that I was a threat.   “How much longer do you think I would have needed to remain in Primary to become completely nice?” I asked cautiously.

“Seven years.”

Not going to happen.   Primary has no chance of further reforming me because I have been called to serve as Relief Society President.   Now the congregation’s women ages 18 and up (203 of them) will have to complete the job that was started in Primary.   GOOD LUCK!!!

Good luck indeed.   Good blessings are actually what I need. And, blessedly but not coincidentally, good blessings are what I have enjoyed so far.   The two ladies who serve as my counselors are fully committed to Christ and overflowing with love for Him and for His Father’s children.   Our secretary has been through the refiner’s fire and emerged stronger than steel and much, MUCH more compassionate. Already we work well together and will get better at working together as I begin to figure out what I am doing….which is happening….slowly.

One of a Relief Society President’s responsibilities is to watch out for the physical welfare of the congregation.   What does this translate to in real life? One of the things it means is that when a family does not have enough money for food I visit with the mother, discern the needs, help her make a menu, and then fill out a two-week food order that she can take to the Bishop’s Storehouse and fill, free of charge.   It is a divine concept that I feared would be awkward in action.    I completed my first food order this week and it was fine.   Phew.

The most significant discovery I made during my first week as Relief Society President is that I have been given a license to love.   Really, that is what my job is all about:   LOVE. Pretty simple actually.   Love comes naturally to women, something about the way we are wired, I think.   Our compassion circuits are simply more conductive than those of our (often good-hearted but sometimes clueless) male counterparts.   We excel at love.

What I am learning about my call to lead the Relief Society is that it my license to love has been activated and super-charged; activated by the calling and super-charged by the Lord.   The calling gives me the opportunity to love and the Lord shows me who and tells me how.

I felt I needed to visit two sisters but was unsure how to initiate the contact.   To say, “I would simply like to chat with you” seemed weird, unjustified but, for lack of a more graceful opening, I did just that….and it worked.   Love license in action! They graciously welcomed me into their lives. In one home the sister, who struggles with multiple health issues, asked how she could help me. COOL!   In another home I volunteered to hold a fussy baby and ended up cuddling her to sleep.   [A story Lance said was equivalent in miraculousness to the parting of the Red Sea and that Tanah refused to believe happened at all.]

“The errand of angels is given to women and this is a gift that as sisters we claim.” (Hymns, pg 309) Womanhood, by its very nature, gives us a license to love and I totally claim that gift. I claim the gift; I rejoice in the gift; I revel in the gift!   To recognize a need…….to feel a yearning to help, reach out, serve….to act on those feelings………to cheer, to comfort, to connect…..is to experience joy, true, deep, soul-filling, life-influencing joy.     This is our gift.

I like that.   In fact, I love that!! I am so grateful to be a woman.

Love,
Teresa

Grace plays offense and defense. She and her team are the #1 seed in the Girls Charter School State Basketball Tournament. The tournament starts Monday and, hopefully, goes every night until they will the title on Thursday.

Miles also plays offense and defense. His team is 3-1, his confidence is nearly infinite.

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Crazy

2/1/2015

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“Please, please don’t invite my dad,” Joe begged me as his mother and I discussed an upcoming field trip. “His dad might really enjoy a trip to the University of Utah chemistry labs,” the mother mused.

“No, no, NO,” Joe protested.   “Please, please, PLEASE don’t invite my dad.”

“Why?” said I, wondering if there were a legitimate reason for the boy’s passionate plea.

“He’s so embarrassing,” Joe whined. “Please don’t invite him.”

“What will you give me not to invite him?” I probed.

“Anything!” Jay exclaimed.

His answer was too easy, too general so I probed a little more.   “Anything….like what?”

“Like my cell phone,” he blurted.

WOW. Anytime a teen puts a cell phone on the line, it is serious stuff.

I invited the dad.

A few Fridays ago I took OPA’s almost-entire 8th grade (minus a girl who was on a cruise with her family and a boy who was grounded, 100 students in all) to the University of Utah’s chemistry, physics, and INSCC buildings where we extracted capsaicin from peppers of varying strengths, saw graphics of 3D molecules, and learned about the sun.    For us, school started and ended at the train station that day. We rode the FrontRunner (train) to Salt Lake City and switched to Trax (light rail) green line and then red line to make it to the UofU.   To get home, we did the trip in reverse.

I am pleased to report that I brought everyone home to Ogden that I took to SLC though I had breath-taking fears that such would not be the case at one point.

The UofU campus portion of the trip had concluded and I was on the Trax red line, headed west toward the FrontRunner station, surrounded by students when my cell phone rang.

“Hello, this is Teresa,” I said when I answered it.

“Mrs. Hislop?” queried an unidentified female voice.

“Yes.”

“Are we supposed to be on the train?”

I gasped as I processed the implications of her question. Train? Which train? Trax or FrontRunner? And why was she asking? Did that mean she was not on the train? EEK! The connections were tight; if she was not on this lightrail train, her chances of making it to the station in time to catch the real train were small…. And what should I do?   Should I get off at the next stop and find them? Should I put a parent on the hunt? And who was “we”? How many other students were with this child?

“Uh, yes,” I managed to say. “You are supposed to be on the train.”

“Oh good,” she said. “We are on the train but there are no parents in our car and we wanted to make sure we were in the right place.”

My heart slid out of my throat and back into my thoracic cavity as I gave her instructions about when and where to make the transfer from the Trax red to Trax green line. Phew.

Phew and pee-ew!     Capsaicin is the chemical that makes peppers hot; it is used in pepper spray and hot sauces and can be very potent. As part of the extraction process, the students ground the seeds from several peppers, ranging in strength from green to ghost peppers.   Ground pepper powder, when inhaled, can cause significant discomfort so the students had wore face masks during the grinding phase.

“Oh Mrs. Hislop,” said one student , his eyes watering. “This mask is killing me.”

I nodded empathetically; face masks bug me too.

He continued, “I’ve had to breathe my own bad breath for 10 minutes now and it’s awful!”

Awful indeed.

Also awful were some of the students’ eating habits…..

Bryce was eating a huge caramel popcorn ball for lunch.

“Dude, you should eat something healthy,” I told him.

“Oh,” he responded, “I had a bunch of Pringles but I sold them to Dave.”

????As if Pringles are healthy?

Absolutely NOT awful were the students themselves. In fact, they were absolutely wonderful. Absolutely.   When taking a group of 100 junior high students on public transportation, there is an almost infinite number of ways they could misbehave. Those darling kids elected none of their irresponsible options. None. They were polite, respectful, cooperative, and responsible. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

Always, in the days before a field trip, I wonder why I do them. Why, WHY do I submit myself to the added work, added responsibility, added stress? Why, why, why? Crazy!!

And, always so far, at the end of the trip, I know why.   I do it because the kids are wonderful.   Really wonderful.

I hope so because I find myself in the “why” stage again.   Wednesday I am taking the entire 8th grade to the North Fork Environmental Center where we will snow shoe, cross country ski, participate in a GPS activity, and do a lichen survey.

Crazy.

Love,
Teresa

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Feel and See

Small and Simple Things are HUGE

Errand of Angels

Crazy

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