What Doesn't Kill You...

I've spent a lot of time the last few days pondering the things that I read about the Three Nephites.

 Therefore, that they might not taste of death there was a change wrought upon their bodies, that they might not suffer pain nor sorrow save it it were for the sins of the world. (3Nephi 28:38)

Copyright Darrell Wyatt Photography

The part of the chapter that I've been really thinking the most about is that Jesus promised them that they would never suffer pain or sorrow, "save it were for the sins of the world".  At first glance, this seems like the perfect life.  They would never know physical pain.  They could not be harmed.  In fact, I learned from reading that they were cast into prison, cast into pits, cast into a furnace (3 times!), and cast into a den of wild beasts twice.  The prison walls collapsed, the pits were not deep enough to hold them, they received no harm from the furnaces, and they were found playing with the wild beasts "as a child with a suckling lamb".  Nothing could hurt them.  They would never know the pain of death.  There was "a change wrought upon them, insomuch that Satan could have no power over them, that he could not tempt them; and they were sanctified in the flesh, that they were holy, and the the powers of the earth could not hold them"(3 Nephi 28:39).  Sounds marvelous.

As I was thinking though, I couldn't wrap my mind around them not feeling sorrow, "save it were for the sins of the world".  I've felt some physical pain in my life - childbirth, broken bones, cuts, burns, things like that.  I've also felt sorrow.  I've felt sorrow at the death of a loved one.  I've felt the sorrow of watching a friend slowly waste away because of disease. This past week, especially, I've experienced what was - to me - almost unbearable sorrow because of the inevitable suffering of people I care about due to choices they've made in their lives.  I think that might be the worst kind of sorrow, because unlike death or disease, sin can be avoided.  If given the chance to decide, I think that there are many times that physical pain would be preferable to feeling that kind of sorrow.

So why would Jesus take away everything but that?  Why would he allow the Three Nephites to escape everything but sorrow for the sins of the world?  If anyone knew the pain of that kind of sorrow, it was Jesus Christ.  Just days earlier, he had bled from every pore because he took upon himself the sins of the world.  The only thing that I could conclude after careful thought and prayer, is that they needed to feel that sorrow.  Perhaps it is the motivation that they need to keep going.  They have lived through some incredible and horrific times these last almost two thousand years.  They have seen the cycles of righteousness and wickedness. I've wondered these last two days if it ever becomes overwhelming to them - the sorrow that they must feel for the increasingly sinful nature of the world.  Or are they too busy bringing "the souls of men unto" Christ to be overwhelmed?

And for this cause ye shall have fulness of joy; and ye shall sit down in the kingdom of my Father; yea, your joy shall be full, even as the Father hath given me fulness of joy; and ye shall be even as I am...(3 Nephi 28:10)

Because of the great sorrow that these men must feel, the joy that they will experience at the coming of Christ will be all the more sweet.  They will "live to behold all the doings of the Father unto the children of men".  The will see both joy and sorrow in prophesies being fulfilled.  They will truly earn their eternal reward.  Because they have seen the utmost sorrow, they will feel the utmost joy. 

I don't think I've ever spent as much time pondering any scripture passage as I have this one.  Even as I was typing my thoughts, I wasn't sure what Heavenly Father would have me learn from reading these chapters.  Until right now.  There are two thoughts that just came into my head.  First, I realized that no one is exempt from sorrow.  Jesus Christ felt sorrow more fully than I could even imagine.  Why should I think I can go through my life without it?  The second thing that I realized is that Heavenly Father is aware of all of our sorrows.  If we can but endure through them to the end, we also can taste of that fulness of joy that was promised to the Three Nephites.  We will also be able to sit down in the kingdom of our Father, where our earthly sorrows will be turned to joy.  What a blessing!

Suffer the Little Children

But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me; for of such is the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 19:14)

And it came to pass that he commanded that their little children should be brought.

So they brought their little children and set them down upon the ground round about him, and Jesus stood in the midst; and the multitude gave way till they had all been brought to him.(3 Nephi 17:11-12)

And when he had said these words, he wept, and the multitude bare record of it, and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them.

And when he had done this he wept again;

And he spake unto the multitude, and said unto them:  Behold your little ones. (3Nephi 17:21-23)

My grandmother's viewing was held on Sunday, the day before her funeral.  It was a solemn experience, seeing her so motionless.  In life, Grandma was anything but motionless.  She was a ball of fire - always on the go.  So it was a little strange to see her lifeless body on display.  It seemed like there was a long stream of people who came to pay their respects.  As grandchildren and great grandchildren, we mostly stayed off to the side, letting other people have their quiet moment with her.  We took family pictures and talked and looked at the display of Grandma's life to pass the time.  

As I was talking to my dad, my eyes wandered to the other side of the large room, where I saw that my little girls and some of their cousins were playing a game of patty-cake.  They were clapping their hands together and dancing and singing loudly - right in front of my grandma's casket.   Thinking that this probably wasn't an appropriate time or place for such behavior, I walked over and told them that they needed to stop because it might be making some people uncomfortable.  They obediently and quietly walked to the other side of the room.

Photo by Scott Kirk

In retrospect, I wish I wouldn't have stopped them.  I'm sure that, somewhere, my grandmother was smiling.  She loved music and games.  I sometimes hear the catch phrase "What Would Jesus Do?".  I think in this situation, instead of stopping the girls, Jesus may have joined them.  He loved little children.  He showed that through his words and actions.  He often counseled that everyone should be as little children - pure and meek and mild.  I think that I've lost some of that childlike innocence.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a [woman], I put away childish things. (1 Corinthians 13:11)

How boring.  I have let the stresses and responsibilities of life crowd out some very important behaviors.  I need to learn again how to speak and understand and think as a child.  I must become less uptight and starchy.  Stop sweating the small stuff.  That's what Jesus would have me do.

A long time ago, in a beautiful place, children were gathered 'round Jesus.  He blessed and taught as they felt of his love - each saw the tears on his face.  The love that he felt for his little ones, I know he feels for me.  I did not touch him or sit on his knee, but Jesus is real to me.  Wrapped in the arms of my Savior's love, I feel his gentle touch.  Living each day, I will follow his way - home to my Father above.  I know he lives.   I will follow faithfully.  My heart I give to him.  I know that my Savior loves me. (I know that my Savior Loves Me, words and music by Tami Jeppson Creamer and Derena Bell)

How grateful I am for the knowledge that my Savior loves me - even if I am uptight and starchy.  Once again, I can look to my children as an example of Christlike behavior.  What a blessing.

 Click here to read what I read today: 3 Nephi 17

Because I Love Them

There's a fine line, I think, between parenting and over-parenting.  I don't know that I've really discovered where that line is yet, but I do think I'm getting better at seeing the line between parenting and under-parenting.  There are just so many different forms of "acceptable" parenting today.  To spank or not to spank.  Is grounding ok?  Are chores fine?  It can be pretty confusing.

There's one thing that I wish I would have discovered when my children were much younger and I hadn't had time to totally mess them up, and that's that the scriptures are perhaps one of the greatest parenting resources around.  As I've been writing, I've noticed the amazing example that my Heavenly Father is when it comes to parenting, and this has been such a blessing to me.

Something that I've really struggled with as my children get older is when to let them go.  At what age to say, "Well, I've given them all the knowledge that they need, and it's up to them to make their own choices."  I never really thought that I was a control freak, but these teenage years have really brought that out in me, and I've had such an inner battle about when to let go.

And now remember, remember, my brethren, that whosoever perisheth, perisheth unto himself; and whosoever doeth iniquity, doeth it unto himself; for behold, ye are free; ye are permitted to act for yourselves; for behold, God hath given unto you a knowledge and he hath made you free. (Helaman 14:30)

From that verse, it would appear that there is a time that I should just leave it up to my kids to be responsible for their actions, once they've received the knowledge that they should have.  They have their own free agency, and if I've given them the tools that they need, then they will just have to make their own choices and suffer the consequences.  This didn't help clear my mind at all when it comes to letting go.  How will I know when they're ready?  Does my job as a mother just magically end when I feel that I've taught them all the essential skills to make it on their own?

I kept reading, and I'm so glad that I did.

...yea, in the days of their iniquities hath he chastened them because he loveth them. (Helaman 15:3)

Samuel was talking of the Nephites, to whom the Lord had imparted the most knowledge and the most trust.  They were going astray, and Samuel had been sent to preach repentance to them.  The Lord did not say, "Well, I've given them all the knowledge that they need, and it's up to them to make their own choices" and then turn his back on them.  No.  He gave them that knowledge, taught them how to live, and when they were living incorrectly he chastised them and tried to help them correct their courses.  Whether they listened and repented was still their choice.  He didn't take away that agency, his purpose was to enhance it by reminding them of the consequences. 

When my children were younger, and I could see that they were headed out into the street or toward some other danger, I didn't say "Well, I've given them all the knowledge that they need, and it's up to them to make their own choices" and just hope that they wouldn't get hit by a car or fall in the river.  I stopped them.  So why am I struggling now, as they get older, to lead them the same way?  They are still wandering into danger.  Just a different kind.  No matter what the world is telling me about letting them "be themselves", it is still my responsibility to lead and direct them.  Things are becoming clearer and clearer in my mind, thanks to the incredible example of my Father in Heaven.  I am not nagging when I'm redirecting them.  I am not over-parenting.  I chasten them because I love them. 

A Mighty Fortress

Copyright Darrell J. Wyatt

Heaps of earth round about all the cities. 

Timbers "built up to the height of a man" atop these heaps of earth round about all the cities.

Strong and high pickets upon the timbers atop these heaps of earth round about all the cities. 

Towers erected to overlook the pickets upon the timbers atop these heaps of earth round about all the cities. 

Places of security built upon the towers erected to overlook the pickets upon the timbers atop these heaps of earth round about all the cities.

"Thus Moroni did prepare strongholds against the coming of their enemies, round about every city in all the land." (Alma 50:1-6)

I've always admired Captain Moroni. He was young, fearless, wise and strategic, among many other things. At the top of the list of his leadership qualities, his preparedness saved the lives of thousands of people on several different occasions. It's important to note that these particular preparations were made during a time of relative peace amongst the Nephites. Sure, they had to throw some rocks and shoot a few arrows from the top of their "places of security" every once in awhile to keep out those pesky Lamanites, but Moroni's leadership gave the people confidence in their safety. In fact, this confidence gave them the freedom to "prosper exceedingly...and wax strong in the land."

"But behold, there never was a happier time among the people of Nephi...than in the days of Moroni." (Alma 50:23)

This prosperity and peace lasted for several years, until a contention over land rights began to boil. What started out as a quarrel over property quickly eroded the unity of the Nephite people. They formed two separate divisions - one that supported the government and one for whom the overthrow of the government was their end goal. There was warring. There were murders and secret plots. There was great disharmony.

"And thus because of iniquity amongst themselves, yea, because of dissensions and intrigue among themselves they were placed in the most dangerous circumstances." (Alma 53:9)

All the time and effort that was expended by Moroni and his armies in fortifying each city against outside forces was undone by contention within the fortress-like walls. 

I see a close parallel between this time, more than 2000 years ago, and our present circumstances. Though we are not fighting a literal, physical war with an ever-threatening foe as were the Nephites for nearly one-third of The Book of Mormon, we are most definitely at spiritual war with a relentless and savage adversary. Like the Lamanites, his goal is to "usurp great power over [us], and also that he might gain power over [us] by bringing [us] into bondage," (Alma 43:8)

We know this. As followers of Jesus Christ, we are keenly aware of the danger coming at us from all directions. So what do we do? Ideally, we fortify our homes as Moroni fortified his cities. We close every opportunity for the adversary to gain entrance into our places of security. We become unified as families. We keep up our preparations, even in times of peace and prosperity. We fling the rocks of family scripture study and fire off the arrows of Family Home Evening when we can feel him drawing ever nearer.

Lehi was the first Book of Mormon prophet to preach the importance of family unity when he, on his deathbed, told his children, "...be determined in one mind and in one heart, united in all things, that ye may not come down into captivity." (2 Nephi 1:21)

Our family unity is the key to surviving the onslaught of the adversary. Contention is his key to unlocking our front doors and letting himself in. No amount of figurative heaps of earth or turrets or towers will be enough to keep him out if we are not united inside.

"...We warn that the disintegration of the family will bring upon individuals, communities, and nations the calamities foretold by ancient and modern prophets."(The Family: A Proclamation to the World."

Let us not allow all of our fortifications to be undone by contention in our homes. Let us be united in such a way that the power of Satan will be dispelled on every side. We have the promise of the Lord that if we keep the commandments, we will be "delivered at all times." (Alma 50:22)

I testify that if we do our part, He will do His.

The Profit

I have been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints for my whole life. As such, I have held numerous positions or "callings", as we refer to them in the church. I suppose my first official calling came when I was around twelve years old. I was called to the Beehive Presidency. Beehives are girls, ages 12 and 13, and the class presidency is responsible for such things as watching over and fellowshiping class members, "especially those who are new members or less active and those who have disabilities or other special needs. They pray for them, spend time with them, and become genuine friends. They help class members establish close friendships, learn leadership skills, and live the gospel. They help each young woman know that she is welcome when she becomes a member of their class.They support class members’ efforts in the Personal Progress program. They hold regular class presidency meetings.They conduct the Sunday meetings for their classes. They help plan activities, including Mutual. The class presidents serve on the bishopric youth committee (Handbook 2: Administering the Church, 10.3.5). " That's a lot of responsibility for a 12 year-old, but I don't remember ever feeling burdened by it.

Through the years, I have held callings in the Primary, the Young Women, and the Relief Society organizations. I have been a Sports Director for the Young Women's sports program. I, along with my husband, was in charge of monthly youth dances for a time. I'm currently a Gospel Doctrine teacher, which gives me the opportunity to study the scriptures way more deeply than I have ever done before.  I am teaching doctors, lawyers, judges, and teachers. My class consists of former Mission Presidents and their wives, former Area Authorities, Seminary teachers, Bishops and Stake Presidents. It's a calling for which I feel at worst unqualified and at best inadequate. Of all of the callings that have stretched me as a person, this one has got to be at the top of the list.

I was thinking of these callings today, as I read chapter 30 in the book of Alma. In the LDS church, our clergy are unpaid. From the nursery leader to the scoutmaster to the Bishop, there is no monetary compensation for the sometimes countless hours spent performing duties.

"And now, if we do not receive anything for our labors in the church, what doth it profit us to labor in the church...?" (Alma 30:34)

What does it profit me? I have pondered this question more than once. What am I getting out of this? So much time and so much energy, both physical and emotional, are required to "magnify" my callings. What's in it for me?

If I were to compose a list of the things that I have benefited from by accepting callings, it would undoubtedly be shockingly incomplete. The blessings are innumerable, but I thought it important to name a just few:

I'm grateful for the empowering nature of the organization of the church. Thanks to primary talks and class presidency callings, my kids are growing up to be confident, compassionate young adults. They have been speaking in public since they were three years old, so giving a speech in school is second nature. They have been looking after the needs of their peers and planning meetings for many years, which will give them so much the advantage in the corporate world, should they choose that path. My daughters are being taught that, contrary to what the world says, being a wife and mother is a noble and fulfilling privilege and responsibility. If there were nothing else, the blessing of seeing my children empowered would be profit enough for my labors in the church.

But there is more. I have been blessed to grow my testimony of the spiritual mantle that comes with each calling extended by the Lord through his servants. Whether I am planning a youth dance or teaching doctrine from the scriptures, I have felt the comforting support of the spirit guiding and directing my decisions. My mind is quick to understand the sometimes complex principles and doctrine, and my desire to learn is immeasurable. Because of this, I, an uneducated homemaker, can teach with power and authority - even to those whom I am far less experienced than in the matters of the gospel.

This all translates to my family life, where I know that the Lord is with me as I lead my household. The family is central to God's plan of salvation, and if he will lift me up as a once-a-month Sunday School teacher, he will most certainly lift me up in my desire to raise righteous children.

What doth it profit me to labor in the church? Everything.

My (miserable, wonderful, hard, rewarding) Job

Behold, it is expedient that much should be done among this people, because of the hardness of their hearts, and the deafness of their ears, and the blindness of their minds, and the stiffness of their necks; nevertheless, God is exceedingly merciful unto them, and has not as yet swept them off from the face of the land.(Jarom 1:3)

The last time I read the Book of Mormon, I remember reading this verse on a particularly hard mom-of-a-teenage-daughter day.  I had really had enough of the deafness of her ears and the blindness of her mind.  I was ready to get out my broom and sweep her off the face of the land.  She didn't think it was as funny as I did.  

Today, as I was reading, the teenager comparison was still in my mind (maybe because I had written "teenagers" and a little smiley face in the margin the last time I read), but as I continued to read, I could look at it a little more from my daughter's point of view. "And the laws of the land were exceedingly strict" (Jarom 1:5).  I do have some strict rules for my kids.  Nothing outrageous or harsh, but I am much more strict than some of their friends' parents.  They have a curfew.  They have dating rules ("so lame").  They have certain jobs around the house.  There are limits to cell phone use and video game use.  They have a bedtime (this doesn't seem crazy to me, but believe it or not, they have friends with no set bedtime).  I have to know where they are and who they're with and what they're doing as much as it is possible for me to do so.  I expect respect, not only for me but for other adults and, most importantly, I demand that they respect themselves.  Right now, they certainly are of the opinion that "the laws of the land are exceedingly strict".  

These days, in the world, there is much discussion on parental behavior.  It seems that the general consensus is that we must be our kids' friends.  We must not hinder their growth with things like rules and chores.  We must let them discover who they are by giving them the freedom to explore.  While I agree that kids need some room to explore and to make mistakes, I also firmly believe that without boundaries, it's actually much tougher for them to figure out who they really are.  There is so much coming at them from all directions.  There is no room for inner reflection - only the world telling them what they should wear and what entertainment they should like and ultimately who they should be.

Much like the Lamanites and Nephites were at constant battle with each other, my kids walk out the door every morning to face a battle of their own.  They have to make so many choices!  Who to be with, who to listen to.  They (especially the older kids) battle with me at least a few times a week because they feel that I'm being unreasonable.  Just yesterday, I was "forcing" my daughter to do something that she didn't want to do.  We had made a deal earlier in the day that if she completed this task, she would be able to make some plans for last night.  At the time, she didn't have any specific plans, but I knew that something would inevitably come up, it being a Saturday night and all.  I reminded her many times throughout the day that she'd better get started.  There was always a reason why she would start "in a minute".  Finally, I forced her to begin.  In the middle of the task, a friend invited her to a concert, for which she would be leaving any minute.  My daughter begged and pleaded with me to let her go, even though the job wasn't done.  I wouldn't budge.  Because I was standing my ground, I was dubbed "ridiculous" and "lame" and I believe a "stupid" or two was thrown in there.  I didn't flinch.  Now don't think that I never flinch, because sometimes do I not only flinch, I explode.  But last night, I didn't flinch.  I helped her finish the job, and we got it done just in time for her to still be able to go to the concert with her friend.  Suddenly, I was the best mom ever.  Only in fairytales and motherhood can one be a wicked witch, a superhero and a princess - all in the same day.

Parenting is hard.  Parenting done correctly is harder.  It's not easy to enforce rules and expect good behavior.  Kids will be kids.  But, because I love them, I make rules.  I want them to succeed.  Just as the Lord said, "Inasmuch as ye will keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land" (Jarom 1:9), I know that if I make and enforce just and fair rules for my kids, they will prosper by following them.  My parents were strict.  They expected many of the same things of me as I expect of my kids.  At times I did think the rules were unreasonable.  But now, having kids of my own, I can see the wisdom of my parents and the boundaries they set, and I am so grateful for them.

Wherefore, the prophets, and the priests, and the teachers, did labor diligently, exhorting with all long-suffering the people to diligence;...

...for they did prick their hearts with the word, continually stirring them up unto repentance. (Jarom 1:11-12)    

Labor diligently.  Exhort.  Be long-suffering.  Continually.  Just as the prophets and teachers of old did not give up, I cannot give up.  My job is too important!  It's hard work, and it is worth every ounce of  labor and long-suffering.  I think I'll keep that broom in the closet for a little while longer.

The Mountain of the Lord's House

©Darrell Wyatt

I have a temple 3.63 miles from my front door.  I know, because I just mapped it.  According to the map, it would take me 12 minutes to get from my house to the Logan Temple.  In fact, if I were to travel around 8 hours in any direction, I could have the pick of 24 temples.  Eight hours!  Twenty-four temples!  I've heard stories of people who sell everything they have and travel for days, just to be able to attend the temple one time.

Isaiah foretold of the building of temples in the last days:

And it shall come to pass in the last days, when the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills, and all nations shall flow unto it.

And many people shall go and say, Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob...(2 Nephi 12:2-3)

And people are coming from all nations.  Right now, there are 178 temples, including the ones just announced or under construction.  There are temples on all but one continent.  That is incredible to me.  

I remember watching General Conference in 1998, when President Hinckley made this announcement:

As I have previously indicated, in recent months we have traveled far out among the membership of the Church. I have been with many who have very little of this world's goods. But they have in their hearts a great burning faith concerning this latter-day work. They love the Church. They love the gospel. They love the Lord and want to do His will. They are paying their tithing, modest as it is. They make tremendous sacrifices to visit the temples. They travel for days at a time in cheap buses and on old boats. They save their money and do without to make it all possible.

They need nearby temples--small, beautiful, serviceable temples.

Accordingly, I take this opportunity to announce to the entire Church a program to construct some 30 smaller temples immediately. They will be in Europe, in Asia, in Australia and Fiji, in Mexico and Central and South America and Africa, as well as in the United States and Canada. They will have all the necessary facilities to provide the ordinances of the Lord's house. (Gordon B. Hinckley, April 1998)

Goosebumps.  At the time that he said this, there were 51 operating temples and 17 under construction, with these 30 smaller temples bringing the total number to 98.  Then he said, "I think we had better add 2 more to make it an even 100 by the end of this century."  I remember thinking that this was almost an unreachable goal.  The Church was almost 170 years old, and only 51 temples had been built.  President Hinckley wanted to double that amount in just two years!  Here we are, 17 years after his talk, and 125 more temples have been built or announced since then.  What a testimony to me of the greatness of having a living prophet on this earth.  Just as Isaiah did almost 2700 years ago, President Hinckly knew, without a doubt, that this almost impossible undertaking would be possible.  He knew that all nations needed to be able to attend the temple.  And knew that this would make it much easier for them to do so.  I can only imagine the excitement of those in other countries who were watching conference or who read his words later in church magazines.  I bet the feeling of gratitude was overwhelming.  The Lord had remembered them!  He knew of their desire to perform temple ordinances and to move the gospel forward.  He knew them.

Prophets and temples and prophesies fulfilled. What a glorious dispensation in which to live!

This Wilderness of Mine

 I've spent some time this week thinking about the wilderness.  Lehi and his family had traveled for eight years in the wilderness at this point in my reading.  Nephi writes, "And we did travel and wade through much affliction in the wilderness;".  I'm sure it was miserable!  And adding to it, their wives bore children during those eight years. Nephi's very next statement is so touching to me - "And so great were the blessings of the Lord upon us..."  He was so grateful that they'd had enough food along the way that their wives were able to nurse the babies, and that they remained strong and did not murmur.

And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them; wherefore, he did provide means for us while we did sojourn in the wilderness. (1Nephi 17:3)

While Lehi and his family faced a literal wilderness on their journey to the promised land, I believe that each one of us has our own figurative wilderness that we must wade through on our journey back to our Father in Heaven.  Whether this journey is through trials of poor health, poor finances, death of a loved one or something else, it is our personal wilderness. Sometimes, we feel completely alone and utterly helpless.  It can be a very dark and barren place if we let it.

©Darrell Wyatt

I know that when I have felt the most down, the most tired, the most alone, I have sometimes forgotten that I am never, ever truly alone.  I forget that there is One who loves me above all, who wants the best for me, and who can look past my many faults.  

I have a quote on the wall of my entry way:  "This time, like all times, is a very good one if you know what to do with it."  Every time I look at this wall, it helps me to remember the lessons I've learned from my struggles.  When I've struggled the most financially, I have learned to be frugal.  I learned to make meals that I wouldn't have tried had we not struggled.  When I've struggled with depression, I learned that I have a husband and children who love me and will help me through.  When I've struggled with having a special needs child, I've learned patience and tolerance and love.

My wilderness is unique to me.  Only I can figure out what tools I need to make it through this journey.  But I am not alone. I need to lean on my Heavenly Father for help.  I need to be worthy to receive that help by keeping the commandments and following His plan for me.  I need to never be "slow to remember" the Lord.  I will make it!  I will forge my path through this wilderness of mine and I will make it to the promised land - back home with my Father and Heaven and my eternal family.

And I will also be your light in the wilderness; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; wherefore, inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall be led towards the promised land; and ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led.
(1 Nephi 17:13)

Back to the Books

A couple of months ago, we had a Family Home Evening lesson about the importance of the scriptures. I asked the kids to pick their favorite scripture and, without telling anyone what it was, draw a picture that represented it. After all of the pictures were drawn, they took turns seeing if the rest of the family could guess their favorite scripture by just looking at the drawing. This one was my favorite:

My son held his picture up, and we were stumped. What could it be? A pinata was the most common guess, but we knew that there were very few scripture references to pinatas, so that couldn't be it. He finally tired of waiting for us to guess correctly and told us that his favorite scripture is 1 Nephi 4:6 which says, "And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do." Can you see it now?

I also love this scripture. Nephi and his brothers had gone back to Jerusalem to retrieve the plates of brass. After one unsuccessful attempt by his brother, Nephi went into the city. Not knowing how he was going to accomplish this task, he displayed incredible faith by following the spirit. And the rest, as they say, is history. Because Nephi was able to retrieve the plates, his family's genealogy was preserved and the records were able to "go forth unto all nations, kindreds, tongues, and people."

I'm at the beginning of a journey of my own. I felt prompted that now is the time for me to go back to school, and about two weeks ago I followed that prompting. I feel like Nephi, being "led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand" how I will accomplish this hard thing. I have many, many reasons why now is NOT the time to begin a four or five year adventure - all of my six kids are still at home, including one with special needs and one who is struggling to figure out her place in the world and is still really dependent on us. I don't know if we will be able to financially handle it. I don't know how I will find the time between soccer and gymnastics and basketball and running forgotten papers and lunches to school. There really are so many reasons that it won't work. There is, however, one very important reason that it WILL work: the Lord is on my side. I know that it is His will that I follow this path at this particular time and that He will prepare the way for me, as he did for Nephi.

"For behold, he is mightier than all the earth, then why not mightier" than all of my excuses and tendencies to procrastinate? I know I will not be alone in my journey, and I am so very grateful for that knowledge. 

To My Daughter

My Dearest Daughter,

You might not remember this, but when you were very little, you taught me a very important lesson.  You were following me around the kitchen.  Every time I would take a step, your little feet would take two or three to catch up.  In my efforts to get dinner on the table, I impatiently asked you what you were doing - why you were following me.  Your reply will forever stay with me.  "I learned that I'm supposed to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, but I can't see him, so I'm following in yours."  From that day, I have tried to remember that I have six of His children following in my footsteps.  I have faltered, for sure.  I am far from perfect.

You said something this weekend that has weighed heavy on my mind.  Something that makes me feel that I have not just faltered, but perhaps failed, in my duties as your mother.  We were passing the protesters on Temple Square, and they were being particularly raucous and aggressive.  Horns were blowing, people were shouting and large, hateful signs were being waved in the faces of passersby.  "I would give anything," you said, "to drop mom off in the middle of that group."  "Really? Why?" I asked.  "So you could debate them.  I love listening to you debate people."  My heart dropped.  The only reply I could come up with is that I don't debate with people anymore.  It doesn't do any good.  And then I changed the subject, but my mind was racing.  Is that what you've learned from me?  From the depths of my heart, I'm sorry.

Now that I've had time to ponder, this is what I really want to tell you:

I want to tell you that those protesters are people just like you and me.  They have families at home.  They have jobs and friends and pets and mortgages.  They also have strong beliefs.  Just like we do.  Their beliefs don't align with ours, and that's ok.  We are more the alike than we are different.

I want to tell you, though, that there's one important way in which we MUST differ from the protesters and from the debater that you perceive me to be.  Instead of using hate and words to convince others that their way of thinking is wrong, we must use love.  However cliche, it is true that our actions speak louder than our words. Jesus taught through love and example.  He did not stand outside and protest against those with differing beliefs.  He did not argue and debate.  But He also did not mock those who did.  He lived and loved in such a way that people became drawn to him and his way of life.  We must do the same.

 I want to tell you that there are times in your life (perhaps you have already come across these times) when you will have questions.  You will wonder if the things you've always felt to be true really are true.  There will be times when people you love and respect in positions of authority will say things that you aren't sure about.  I want to tell you that that's ok.  I can't say that strongly enough.  It's ok to have questions.  It's alright to wonder.  Never forget that we are where we are today because a boy had questions.  The important thing to remember is that you need to ask those questions of the One who has all the answers.  Go to your Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, with your concerns.  I promise you He will answer.  There has never been a question that I have taken to the Lord with a sincere heart that has not been answered to my satisfaction.  He loves us more than we can comprehend, and He doesn't want to see us hurt or confused.  He WILL answer.

Lastly, I want to tell you how much I love you and how proud I am of you.  You are so strong and loving.  I hope that it's not too late to change the direction of my footsteps.

Love,
Mom

Look at my Eyes

"Travis, look at my eyes."
For 15 years, my husband and I have used this phrase to capture the undivided attention of our autistic son.  We learned that, unlike most children, eye contact does not come easily for Travis and other children with autism.  So, in order to be sure that he is listening, we give him this prompt almost daily and sometimes many times a day.  It comes so naturally to us now that we often use the phrase with our other children when we need them to focus on something of particular importance.
"Look at my eyes."

I read a news story this morning about a young boy who had been kidnapped by his father and taken to another country.  For nearly two years, he lived in fear as his father attempted to "change him to a Muslim".  For nearly two years, he lived without seeing his mother.  One day, as he was getting off the school bus, a woman in a burqa grabbed him by the arm and put him in the back of a waiting car.  "My first reaction was [to wonder] if that was my mom or not, and then I saw her eyes," the boy said.  Her eyes.  The ones he hadn't seen for nearly two years.

In reading the scriptures, the phrase "and thus we see" is used whenever the writer wishes to convey a message of importance.
"Look at my eyes."

Of all the gifts bestowed upon me by my Creator, today I am most grateful for my eyes.  They aren't anything special to look at - I have fairly short eyelashes, bushy eyebrows and they are just an average shade of blue - but oh, how special they are to look through.  Through these eyes, I witness miracles.  Every single day.  I see a daughter, usually apprehensive about getting hit on the soccer field, stand her ground against a much bigger girl and save her team from being scored upon.  I see a son, who should be "too cool", bring up coloring pages on his iPod so that the neighbor's toddler will sit still in Sacrament Meeting.  I see the flowers fighting their way to beautiful blooms in this colder-than-usual Utah spring.  I see so many things.

Look at my eyes.

Glad Tidings

Copyright Darrell J. Wyatt

It never ceases to amaze me that each time I read the Book of Mormon, I can come away with a completely different thought than I did the last time.

I've mentioned before how much I love these few chapters in the Book of Mormon (Alma 36-42) because of the great example that Alma sets for me as a parent.  He talks to each of his sons in a very personalized manner - holding back neither candor nor unconditional love.  He praises Helaman and Shiblon for their straightness in following the commandments and he chastises Corianton for his rebelliousness.  He talks to them individually and pointedly, but lovingly.  Usually, this is the focus of my thoughts when I'm reading these chapters, but this time my mind took me in a different direction.

I have been, on occasion, questioned about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon by close friends and even family members.  They quote verses from the Bible that they interpret to mean that there can be no other scripture apart from that great Book, which invalidates any Word beyond the New and Old Testaments.  I have always maintained that it is impossible that Christ would only speak to a portion of the people on the earth, that there were "other sheep" who were surely awaiting his birth and that it only makes sense that they would have kept a record of such.  Reading Alma 39:15-19 this morning reinforced this thinking.  Corianton must have been questioning the need to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and his impending coming, thinking it to be in vain.  His wise father said:


 15 And now, my son, I would say somewhat unto you concerning the coming of Christ. Behold, I say unto you, that it is he that surely shall come to take away the sins of the world; yea, he cometh to declare glad tidings of salvation unto his people.

 16 And now, my son, this was the ministry unto which ye were called, to declare these glad tidings unto this people, to prepare their minds; or rather that salvation might come unto them, that they may prepare the minds of their children to hear the word at the time of his coming.

 17 And now I will ease your mind somewhat on this subject. Behold, you marvel why these things should be known so long beforehand. Behold, I say unto you, is not a soul at this time as precious unto God as a soul will be at the time of his coming?

 18 Is it not as necessary that the plan of redemption should be made known unto this people as well as unto their children?

 19 Is it not as easy at this time for the Lord to send his angel to declare these glad tidings unto us as unto our children, or as after the time of his coming?

All souls are precious to the Lord.  Why would He ignore an entire continent?  He would not.  He could not.    I also thought, as I was reading, that these verses really are applicable to today.  Missionary work is so important!  Heavenly Father needs all of his children to know that Christ is coming, that they may prepare for that great day.  The work is going forth as never before.  The time is near.

I love scriptures like this which seem to serve the purpose of buoying me up and building my testimony.

Time Out for Tears

Copyright Darrell J. Wyatt - All Rights Reserved

I pulled into the parking stall at the grocery store, put the car in park and leaned my head against the headrest.  Without warning, my eyes welled with tears.  The people walking from their cars to the store and from the store to their cars became a blur.  I was so tired.  I had stopped to grab a few groceries after dropping my son at football practice and my daughter at volleyball, and before running another daughter to soccer and then starting the pick-up round.  I decided to sit until I got my emotions under control, and I sent a text to my husband.  "I just need a day of nothing," I said.  "Sunday can't get here soon enough."  He replied that he was sorry and asked what was wrong.  Through tears, I typed that it was just the normal running around and that I was just probably exhausted.  I knew that I was being silly and that it was just the four hours of sleep I got the night before that was taking its toll, but I couldn't seem to stop the waterworks.

"Heavenly Father," I silently prayed, "I don't think I can do this anymore.  I'm trying so hard, but I am SO tired.  I want to keep up our morning scripture study, but I really don't know if I can."  I opened my eyes and  was almost ready to venture in to grab a few things, but I still needed a moment to compose myself.  By habit, and for the hundredth time that day, I checked my email.  Normal junk - coupons, ads, newsletters - greeted me, but there was one from an unfamiliar sender.  I opened the file and began to read, and whatever composure I had regained disappeared in an instant.  The email was in response to a contest I had entered more than a month before.  I had sent in a blog post detailing our early-morning scripture reading adventure, and I had won!  My prize was two front row seats at an upcoming inspirational women's conference and lunch with the conference presenters.  A two-day break from my hectic life to be uplifted and inspired.

I realized that, had I given up on our morning routine, I would not have this amazing opportunity.  Even more than that, though, I realized that my Heavenly Father knows ME.  He knew what I needed at that exact moment.  He heard my cry.  He knows my name.  What a profound and instant realization.  What an incredible blessing.

Of Waffles and Willpower

I am not a morning person.  I know that.  My kids know that.  My husband knows that.  My neighbors even know it.  Maybe it's not even that I'm not a morning person - it's just that I'm so much a night person.  I need some time to decompress after the day.  I love the stillness of the house after everyone has gone to bed.  It finally feels like I can turn my brain off and just....be.  Sure, I have quiet during the day while the kids are at school, but I'm supposed to be doing stuff.  Even if I'm not doing anything, I know in my mind that I should be, so I have this constant battle going on in my head.  At night, though, when all is quiet and my family has drifted off, I feel like I can allow myself a few hours of nothingness.  After all, I can't really vacuum or do dishes or get the grocery shopping done late at night.  It can all wait until tomorrow.  And so I just sit.  I might play a word game.  I might catch up on an episode or two of my favorite show.  Or, I might just sit and do nothing.  To me, those few hours of silence are magical.

This habit of mine, however, has made it nearly impossible for me to wake up at any sort of respectable hour in the mornings.  Especially during the summer, there were many times that the kids would wake up before I did.  I told myself that it was fine.  It was summer after all!  But deep down, I knew I could do better - that I could be so much more productive if I could just drag myself out of bed.  Every other week or so, I would promise my husband that I'd do better.  That I would be better.  I would tell him that I just needed his help to get me out of bed.  That he wasn't really being kind by letting me sleep (as if it were all his fault), and that he needed to wake me up as he left for work.  And so he would.  And I would grumpily beg for a few more minutes.  I had a hard night.  The kids woke up.  The wind kept me awake.  I just needed a little more sleep and then I would get up.  I promised.  Of course, those few minutes turned into an hour or more, and my husband would stop trying to "help" me out of my snuggly cocoon.

So, when I decided to sit my family down on the eve of the first day of school to make a ginormous (that means REALLY big) promise, I wasn't sure what to expect.  Would they laugh me out of the room?  Would they roll their eyes in disbelief that their sleepy mom could pull off such a feat?  I was a little anxious about the whole thing.  Turns out, my kids have more faith in me than I have faith in myself.  I told them that I had a deal to make with them.  I promised that I would make breakfast - a hot, homemade breakfast - every morning for them.  Immediately, I was greeted - not with laughter, not with eye-rolling disbelief - but with little cheers and smiles.  Mission accomplished - almost.  I hadn't yet told them what their part of the bargain would be.  "All I want in return", I said, "is for you guys to read scriptures with me before school."  I cringed.  Would the excitement from moments before fade into mumbles and grumbles and murmuring?  To my pleasant surprise, all five of the school-age kids readily agreed.  I was ecstatic!

As the kids left our little family council and scattered to finish last-minute preparations for the next day, I glanced over at my husband.  He had a look on his face that said to me, "oh honey, here we go again."  I knew what he was thinking.  It had been a few weeks since my last attempt at perfection, and I was due for a little self-improvement sprint.  I gave him a hug and thanked him for not laughing at me in front of the kids.  He hugged me back and said in his most convincing voice, "Well, it should be interesting."

And so it began.  I set my alarm for 5:30 a.m., and when it rang, I rolled out of bed...even though I had only climbed into it a few short hours before.  I heated up the waffle-maker, mixed the batter and started waking the kids.  They got up and got dressed with very little nagging (which probably had more to do with the excitement of starting a new school year than the smell of my sub-par waffles) and we were sitting together on the sofa, scriptures open, by 6:15.  We took turns reading a few verses at a time until we finished the first chapter of 1 Nephi.  We had done it!

Not a grumpy face in sight!

We have had five scripture-reading mornings since that first day, and every one has been better than the last.  The kids wake up, curious to know what I'm fixing.  We've had french toast and breakfast burritos and sausage and eggs and hashbrowns.  We've had scrambled egg sandwiches and waffles.  I find myself scouring the internet for new and fun breakfast ideas.  Not once have the kids grumbled about having to be up earlier than usual.  In fact, during our post-reading prayer, each child has thanked Heavenly Father for the opportunity to read scriptures before school.  They thank me for making them breakfast, but it is them I am grateful for.  I am thankful that I have the kind of kids who will humor the wishes of a far from perfect mom. I am grateful for God's tender mercies, for I know that it is with His help that I am able to make this change.  I don't know how long this will last.  I try not to look too far ahead, because then feelings of doubt start to creep in to my thoughts.  Consistency and perseverance are not the strongest of my qualities.  But I do know one thing.  Tomorrow's breakfast is going to be marvelous.

I Have a Wonderful Calling!

Tonight is our annual Primary Worker Appreciation Dinner, where we get to say thanks to all of our leaders for making Primary such a WONDERFUL place to be.  These are the cute favors!

Hold On, Lean, JUMP!!

There are some moments in life that one doesn't forget - moments that have a hand in shaping ideas and principles and maybe even entire lives.  I think Sacrament Meeting today might have been one of those times.

I knew it would be a great one - Elder Paul V. Johnson of the Seventy was speaking, visiting because his nephew had just returned home from his mission to Albania.  I had been looking forward to hearing him all week. It's not often that we get the blessing of hearing from a General Authority in our own church building.  Though his talk was truly inspired and amazing, it was actually a different talk that hit me the hardest. 

Brother Davis, the High Councilman assigned to our ward this month, spoke first. I hadn't ever seen Brother Davis before today. He is an older man, with a warm, grandfatherly way about him.  I liked him the instant he started to speak.  I will probably not do his talk justice and may get a few of the details wrong, but I hope to effectively convey the spirit of his message.

He spoke of a high countertop in his home.  'It is my duty as a grandfather,' he said, 'to get my grandchildren to jump from that counter into my arms.'  I knew I liked him!  I remember my own dad and grandfather doing the same thing.  'One, two, three!' And I would jump from whatever perch they had placed me on, right into their waiting arms.  Brother Davis relayed to the congregation the familiar steps that lead up to such an act of trust.  First, his grandchildren would hang onto his neck tightly, little feet firmly on the countertop, afraid that they may fall if he moved away.  After some coaxing, he would move just a step away from the countertop.  Still, the little one would not let go.  Instead, still holding on, but now leaning forward, the child would take a little jump away from the counter and onto grandpa.  With encouragement and reassurance from other family members in the room, the grandchild would let go of his grandfather, allowing him to step back out of reach and standing on his own.  'One, two, three!', everyone would yell.  Finally, in one giant leap, a bond of trust was forged.  That child just knew that grandpa would always be there to catch him.

Brother Davis compared this process to the building of our testimonies.  When we are young, we hold on to the testimonies of our parents and teachers.  We haven't yet learned and grown enough to have a testimony of our own.  As we mature in the gospel and gain life experience, we start to only lean - rather than hold on - to the testimonies around us, all the while being encouraged and reassured by those for whom a testimony has been firmly planted in their hearts.  Finally, there comes a time when we know that we can finally allow ourselves to take that giant leap of faith.  When we know that our relationship with God is strong enough.  When we can finally jump, knowing beyond any doubt that He will be there to catch us.

I found this analogy to be incredibly powerful and accurate.  Perhaps it is because of my calling as Primary President, and surely because of my calling as a mother, that I was so touched by Brother Davis' message.  I know that there are many children with whom I interact on a regular basis that are still in the 'holding on' phase of their lives, looking to me for support.  There are also many in the 'leaning' phase.  In my humble opinion, this stage is the most precarious of them all.  It is at this point that true trust is being built.  One wrong step can cause a child who is teetering on the edge of that proverbial countertop to lose their balance and, as a result, their trust. 

This thought weighs heavily on my mind.  I have been given the task of helping these little 'hangers on' and 'leaners' become jumpers.  In order to complete this important calling, I must be sure that I have built a sufficiently strong testimony.   I bear witness that I do know, with every part of my being, that He is there to catch me.  He has always been there, even when I didn't feel brave enough to jump.  He waited for me, and He will wait for you, too.

Judgment Day

Sometimes life's lessons come in very unexpected - and even unwelcome - ways. 

I am with three of the kids at an out-of-town soccer tournament for one of the girls.  As we arrived this morning, we did our usual routine of emptying the trunk and divvying up water bottles, chairs, balls and umbrella parts.  We were a little early, so we made our way to a shady spot and half-heartedly watched one of the games in progress.  It was an exciting game, but our attention was quickly drawn to one of the moms on the sideline.  I started wondering if I looked like she did when I'm cheering for my kids.  Whenever her child's team would near the goal, her arms would fly into the air and stay there until the goal was scored (or not).  She would lean back in her chair to the point of nearly falling, and let out a scream that would either express her joy at the point or her frustration at the miss.  It was obvious that she was pretty immersed in the action on the field.

Soon, my youngest discovered the snack stand, and our focus was taken from the game and the excited mom.  I had left my money in the car, so I made a deal with the two non soccer playing kids...if they would run to the car and get the cash, I would let them buy a treat.  So, off they ran, only to return a few minutes later with shock on their faces and panic in their voices.  'Mom!', my daughter exclaimed, 'some truck hit our car and there is glass everywhere and our car is crooked!'   In disbelief, I followed them back to the parking lot, where I was met with a scene that immediately brought anger into my heart.  I had parked my small car neatly in a parking stall when I arrived.  Now, in the stall where my car had been, there was a mid-sized Toyota truck.  It appeared to have backed into the stall and right into the bumper of my car, pushing the car nearly all the way out of its original stall and crookedly into the one in front.  The only part of the car that was still in the stall where it started was the rear end that was wedged underneath the bumper of the truck.The impact was such that the red plastic from the tail light had flown through the air and come to a rest at near the driver's side door.  I could not fathom that someone could go through a collision like this and then just get out of the car and go watch a soccer game like nothing happened.  Had they been drinking?  How could he or she be so irresponsible?

By this time, the rest of my daughter's team was arriving in the parking lot.  The crash became the center of activity.  Parents sent their children with the coach to begin warming up for the game, and a few moms stayed behind to lend me some moral support.  They were nearly as angry as I was at the nerve of someone causing so much damage and just walking away.  They encouraged me to call the police, which I did after having an inner dialogue that went something like this:  I hate to call the police and cause trouble for someone.  I'm sure it was just an accident.  But even if it WAS an accident, this guy had to have been off his rocker to just walk away like that.  What if he's in an altered state of mind and is a danger to society?

Minutes later the police officer on his motorcycle arrived.  I explained that my car had once been where the truck now was.  I showed him the broken plastic near the driver's side door.  I used my children as witnesses to emphasize that this was in fact where we had parked.  As we were talking, the owner of the truck and his family walked up and asked, incredulously, what had happened to their truck.  I couldn't believe the audacity that this man had to be able to pretend he didn't know what happened.  My level of disgust was rising exponentially with each word that came out of his mouth.  He said that he was positive that he had parked there, and that my silver car was nowhere around when he did.  The police officer was thoroughly confused.  In all of his years investigating accidents, he told us, this one had him stumped.  Both of our stories seemed plausible, and he could not decide who was at fault. 

It seemed that the mess would go unsolved, and that my anger would remain.  And then, walking towards us, there she was.  The mom from the sidelines at the game we had been watching earlier.  The one that we couldn't help but notice.  And also, the wife of the man whose truck was wedged onto my car.  In that instant, the realization that the accident could not be their fault flooded over me.  They could not have backed into my car because they had arrived before me.  I brought this to the attention of the investigating officer, and suddenly, the direction of the investigation changed course.  With no skid marks from my tires, it soon became apparent that my car was the one that had been in motion.  But what happened?  The officer looked over the body of my car to see if an impact from another vehicle had pushed my car into the truck.  Nothing.  The officer asked if he could look inside my car, and I obliged.  It only took seconds for this mystery to be solved.  The emergency brake was off.  The car was in neutral.  The parking stall that I was positive that I had parked in was an entire row away from where I had actually parked.  This disaster was 100% completely and utterly MY fault.

The owner of the truck graciously told me that my car didn't do any damage that wasn't already there, and that he wasn't upset at all.  He didn't feel it necessary to complete a police report, and he wished me well.  He was an incredibly nice man.  So nice, in fact, that I felt it necessary to stop him before he left the parking lot.  'I'm so SO sorry for the anger I felt towards you.'  I explained that I spent more than a few minutes actually hating him.  'No worries', he said.  'It wouldn't be the first time someone hated me.' 

Turns out, I learned more than one lesson from the debacle this morning.  First, I learned that I might need to tone down the sideline antics during my kids' sporting events, lest I should draw some unwanted attention.  Next, I learned that people are good.  What was already a mess could have turned into a disaster of Herculean proportion had the owner of the truck not been so understanding.  And the final, and most important, lesson was that I should never EVER judge without knowing all the facts.  This probably wasn't the first time that I've passed blame that belonged to me onto someone else.

Long after the tail light has been replaced and the dents repaired, I will carry the lessons of this day close to my heart.  What a blessing it turned out to be.

The Talk

My little guy, a deacon of only two weeks, gave his first Sacrament Meeting talk on Sunday.  I think I was more nervous than he was!  He barely looked up from the page as he was speaking, but he did a great job.  As we were practicing on Saturday, he stopped and said, "I think I should pause here, because people are going to laugh."  And he was right.  His comedic timing couldn't have been better.  I sure love this kid.  Anyway, I thought I'd share his talk.  Maybe somebody out there in cyber-land can benefit from it. 

Brother Wiser asked me to speak on repentance.  I’m not sure why, since the only thing I’ve ever done wrong in the last 12 years is say yes to giving this talk.  We all have to pay the consequences for our mistakes, but for this mistake, you guys will suffer much more than me!

Seriously, though, I’m glad to be able to give this talk today.  I’m going to change the subject just a tiny bit.  I wanted to talk about the Atonement, which is actually what makes repentance possible.

Yesterday, I watched a video with my family, and I thought the story would go really well with my talk.  I’m sure most of you have heard the story of Dick and Ricky Hoyt, but in case some of you haven’t, I’d like to tell it.

Ricky Hoyt was born almost fifty years ago.  The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck, which caused some brain damage.  The doctors told his parents that they should just give him to a home for children with special needs because he would never walk or talk or do any of the things that other children would be able to do.  The Hoyts decided right away that they could never give up on their son.  They loved him and treated him as normally as possible.  His brothers would even push his wheel chair around with a hockey stick attached so that he could play street hockey with the neighborhood kids.  His mom and dad would take him swimming and to the park.  When he was about ten years old, he was given a machine as part of an experiment that would help him to talk.  He would use his head to put pressure on a metal bar to spell out the words that he wanted to say.  When he got very good at using it, he told his dad that he wanted to run in a race that his town was having to raise money for a boy who had become paralyzed.  He said that he wanted people to see that nothing could hold him back.  So, his dad pushed his old wheelchair in the race.  They came in last.  After they got home, Ricky told his dad that when he was being pushed in the race, it was the first time that he didn’t feel handicapped.  So, Ricky’s dad, Dick, decided that they would become runners.  He began training right away.  In the past thirty years, they have run over one thousand races, including 25 Boston Marathons and six Iron Man triathalons.

In the video that I watched, I saw Dick Hoyt pulling his son on a raft through the water during their last Iron Man.  For 2 and a half miles, with a rope around his waist, he swam.  Then he lifted his 44 year old son from the raft and ran to the transition area where he lifted him into the seat on the front of his specially made bicycle.  He biked for 112 miles, with Ricky on the front of the bike smiling and waving his arms.  Then, he put Ricky into the special running stroller and ran 26.2 miles.  He pushed Ricky up hills and down hills, sometimes barely able to run.  As they crossed the Iron Man finish line, both men had tears running down their faces.  (And so did my mom, by the way).  It was amazing to me to see this kind of love.  The things that Dick Hoyt put himself through for his son, Ricky.  He went through a lot of sweat and pain.  He was 66 years old when they finished this last Iron Man.

After my family watched the video, we talked about how we’re kind of the same as Ricky Hoyt.  Most of us are not handicapped like Ricky, but we all have special needs.  We all need someone to push us through our own race, to help us get to the finish line.  

That person is our Savior, Jesus Christ.  He suffered so much for us.  His pain, his agony, his sweat is what has made it possible for me to finish my own race and make it back to my Father in Heaven.  When I can’t swim, he pulls me.  When I can’t run, he pushes me. 

I know that Jesus Christ is my Savior.  I am grateful for the sacrifice that he made for me.  I am grateful for the Atonement.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Here's the video that we watched as a family: