Paper Post from Dad March 7, 2016

This is a copy of the talk Dave gave for Ward Conference in February this year.

Angels speak by the power of the Holy Ghost; wherefore, they speak the words of Christ. Wherefore, I said unto you,feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do. (2 Nephi 32:3)

Thirty three years ago, long before the internet, years before the term “home computer” had any meaning, mail order catalogs were still a popular way of enticing consumers to make purchases.  Magazines frequently had a section of ads at the back for a multitude of items specifically tailored to captivate the reader’s imagination and convince him or her to part with their hard-earned cash.  

One such ad caught the eye of a 14 year old boy.  This was a small picture of a large sheath survival knife.  I still remember the heading…”Over 12” long and Razor Sharp”…  There was a rather long list of features and associated benefits that could be yours for the astoundingly low price of $5 + S&H.  In its handle was a small kit containing items deemed useful in a survival situation.  One such item was a small compass.  In addition to desiring one of these for myself, I was convinced these would also make great gifts for siblings and purchased four of these innovative marvels.

Following what seemed like an eternity, the greatly anticipated package finally arrived in the mail.  However, upon opening it quickly became apparent that what I had purchased was a mere shadow of what I had envisioned.  Aside from the obvious inferior quality of the knife, closer inspection of the survival items in its handle revealed that they were also nearly useless.  One particular item which made a particular deep impression on me was the compass which proved to be so entirely inconsistent so as to remove all confidence in relying on it for anything.  In my heart I knew that if I wanted the quality and consistency I had anticipated, I would need to invest more.

Four years later, I found myself as the chosen leader of a group of six individuals comprised of both boys and girls, dropped off somewhere in the desert west of  Utah Lake.  We were equipped with food, water, first aid supplies, suitable clothing for any likely contingency, skills and training in survival essentials and, perhaps most importantly, maps and a compass.  This time I had wisely invested in more reliable equipment suitable for the circumstances and, comprehending the potential consequences of failure, had given great heed and diligence to the prior training I had undergone.  

Our group’s task was to successfully navigate to a known destination 8 miles away using our equipment and acquired knowledge.  The first order of business was to figure out where we were on the map.  Keep in mind that GPS navigation was not anything readily available to the public, so we were obliged to rely on the map, our powers of observation and the ability to identify landmarks by something called contour lines on a map, and the ability to determine where they were on the map by using the compass to “triangulate.”  The terrain was such that simply hiking in a straight line was out of the question.  Additionally, we had been given the task of demonstrating our ability to find water along the way using the map and compass to navigate to a source of water and filling a provided container.  It therefore became necessary to regularly check our orientation and progress using the map and compass.  

As the day played out, our confidence in our equipment and training grew as we began to anticipate landmarks before we came to them.  It was a challenging day which left us spent both physically and mentally.  Imagine the feeling of accomplishment we felt as we arrived at our destination late in the afternoon where food, comfort, refreshment, and transportation awaited us.  Imagine what it did for one’s faith in and gratitude for heed and diligence to proper instruction and reliable equipment.

This experience forever changed how I consider the account of another group of people over 2 ½ thousand years ago who ventured into the wilderness headed for a land of promise.  They also were provided with a compass of sorts as well as the means to regularly check their orientation with the commandments of God…

10 And it came to pass that as my father arose in the morning, and went forth to the tent door, to his great astonishment he beheld upon the ground a round ball of curious workmanship; and it was of fine brass. And within the ball were two spindles; and the one pointed the way whither we should go into the wilderness. (1 Nephi 16:10)

28 And it came to pass that I, Nephi, beheld the pointers which were in the ball, that they did work according to the faith and diligence and heed which we did give unto them.

29 And there was also written upon them a new writing, which was plain to be read, which did give us understanding concerning the ways of the Lord; and it was written and changed from time to time, according to the faith and diligence which we gave unto it.And thus we see that by small means the Lord can bring about great things.

(1 Nephi 16:28-29)

We are told that this ball or director led them in the more fertile parts of the land in the course of their journey.

The prophet Alma spoke to his son Helaman and expounded on the nature and significance of this "director":

    

And now, my son, I have somewhat to say concerning the thing which our fathers call a ball, or director—or our fathers called it Liahona, which is, being interpreted, a compass; and the Lord prepared it.

39 And behold, there cannot any man work after the manner of so curious a workmanship. And behold, it was prepared to show unto our fathers the course which they should travel in the wilderness.

40 And it did work for them according to their faith in God; therefore, if they had faith to believe that God could cause that those spindles should point the way they should go, behold, it was done; therefore they had this miracle, and also many other miracles wrought by the power of God, day by day.

41 Nevertheless, because those miracles were worked by small means it did show unto them marvelous works. They were slothful, and forgot to exercise their faith and diligence and then those marvelous works ceased, and they did not progress in their journey;  (Alma 37:38)

43 And now, my son, I would that ye should understand that these things are not without a shadow; for as our fathers were slothful to give heed to this compass (now these things were temporal) they did not prosper; even so it is with things which are spiritual.

44 For behold, it is as easy to give heed to the word of Christ, which will point to you a straight course to eternal bliss, as it was for our fathers to give heed to this compass, which would point unto them a straight course to the promised land.

45 And now I say, is there not a type in this thing? For just as surely as this director did bring our fathers, by following its course, to the promised land, shall the words of Christ, if we follow their course, carry us beyond this vale of sorrow into a far better land of promise.

46 O my son, do not let us be slothful because of the easiness of the way; for so was it with our fathers; for so was it prepared for them, that if they would look they might live; even so it is with us. The way is prepared, and if we will look we may live forever. (Alma 37:43-45)

• Our Heavenly Father in His love has provided us a means whereby we can return to His presence.
• We must regularly feast on the words of Christ and check our personal spiritual orientation against them.  (Not nibbling from sample plates at the store.)
• There are landmarks or indicators which help us maintain the proper course and which, if we will look, demonstrate the reliability and consistent nature of the words of Christ and the wisdom of heeding them.

o   Do we have greater peace, happiness, contentment in our lives?

o   Do we feel confident in approaching our Heavenly Father through regular prayer?

o   Do we find substantial spiritual nourishment through the daily study of His word?

o   Do we have increased strength and capacity to resist evil and keep God’s commandments?

o   Are we able to Recognize God’s hand in our lives manifest miraculously in small and simple ways?

o   Are the promised spiritual and temporal blessings of obedience evident in our lives?

I bear witness that these things are true.  In contrast, I further witness that what the world offers is neither reliable in direction nor consistent in function and will never lead us back to God.  However, if we will simply invest our faith, heed, and diligence in the Words of Christ they will with a surety “tell [us] all things what ye should do” and carry us beyond this vale of sorrow into a far better land of promise.”

Paper Post from Aleah November 23, 2015

So two weeks ago I had a neat experience.  It was almost the end of the term and I was so busy getting all my assignments in and I had an essay to write.  I didn’t finish it and I felt like I was going to get a terrible grade.  I said several prayers and felt like he has not answered any.  I felt frustrated and was not happy.  (especially because I wanted to get on student council and you need good grades to get on. Elise also wanted me to.)  I was crying while I brushed my teeth and felt like Jesus Christ was not real and that He does not answer prayers.  I really thought that I could do it, but I felt like all the hope was gone.  I didn’t feel like I should say a prayer because He wouldn’t answer them.  I thought again and just said to myself, “Just try one more time.”  I said another prayer.  I asked if I could understand why none of my prayers were answered and why.  By the end of the prayer I remembered my blessing before school and it said that when I have struggles that I will read the scriptures.  I opened up to where I was and when I read the scripture said that He will always be there and that He answers prayers!  I started to cry.  I knew this church was true and that he lives!  I know this church is true and that Jesus Christ lives.  That is my neat experience.  --Aleah

Paper post from Cambry October 7, 2015

Mom decided this week to go back through her journal and look at her and Dad’s story. She was impressed to do so by the Spirit because she feels like it’s important to have their story written down. I came home from school during the week to Mom sitting on the couch with her journal open. She was saying that rereading hers was a little embarrassing, and that made me curious for what my reaction to my past journals would be.

The one I ended up reading was from my freshman year at BYU. I found an entry from January 14, 2013 that I want to remind you of:

“Riley is such an incredible example to me! He goes to the temple every week (at 4:30 in the morning!) without fail. He can be pretty hard to wake up sometimes, but he always wakes up for the temple.

“He told me a story the other day. He was in P.E. and they were bowling. It was their last time they were going to be at the bowling alley, so Riley decided to treat himself to ice cream.

“There was a girl in his class sitting at the counter. She started raving about the apple beer there and how she loved it so much. She’s handicapped and didn’t really have the social grace that told her when to stop something like that. She finally got to the point and asked my brother if he would buy her an apple beer. Slightly irritated, my brother said, ‘No,’ and walked off.

“He was sitting at a table with his friends when he looked back to that counter where the girl was still sitting, hoping someone would love her enough to buy her an apple beer. Riley then decided that—you know what?—he wouldn’t miss the two dollars it would take to make this girl happy.

“He walked back up to the counter and asked the cashier how much the apple beer was. The man responded with the sizes and prices, and Riley asked the girl which size she wanted. She told him she’d been hoping for a medium.

“Riley ordered her a medium apple beer and the girl’s face lit up. When he went to pay the cashier, the man looked at him and said, ‘You know what? Don’t worry about it. I got it.’

“People are so good! I am so proud of my little brother and honestly wonder (and hope) that I would do the same had I been put in his position. I am so grateful that I get to learn from Riley.”

I had forgotten that story, but reading it again made me cry. I hope you remember that story and that you still live your life that way. Throughout my life I’m learning that being generous is always worth it. I’m grateful again that I keep a journal because it means I can find nuggets like this story that bless me and teach me years later. I love you, bud. Thank you for your goodness.

Love,
Cambry

Paper Post from Elise September 12, 2015

My pattern since deciding to write paper posts to Riley which are sent with the prints of our family picutre is to pray about what should I write.  This time I got a new answer:  it's someone else's story to tell this week.

I had Elise and Aleah with me when that impression came and shared it, asking if one of them hadn't told me a spiritual experience this past week.  Elise lit up and said, "I did...  about prayer and the fighting."  I asked her if she was willing to write that experience out for me.  And she came right home and did.

As I read her story, I remembered the impact of peer teaching I'd seen in our family home evenings when the children were little and I relinquished my ideal of perfectly prepared and presented parent-taught lessons for little children sharing simple principles they understood.  I never stop being amazed by these spiritual giants we are entrusted to raise.

From Elise:

Dear Riley,

I had a really neat experience this week that I would like to share with you  I'm sure you've heard of the constant fighting problem in our home.  I had grown sick of it and became upset with Aleah and Parker.  I didn't like the way I felt, but I didn't think about how to change it.  I felt like I had no control over my actions or feelings anymore.

I finally couldn't take it any longer.  I felt so terrible that on Friday I knelt down and prayed harder than any other time I have prayed.  I prayed that I would be forgiven for my mistakes, that I would be guided when a fight came around, that I would be able to reach Aleah and Parker in an appropriate way, and that I wouldn't be as reactive to insults.

The next morning I felt different.  I no longer felt weighed down by the mistakes I'd made.  Aleah was having a bad morning and was looking for a fight.  She of course tried to attack me by insults.  The insults really stung.  She knew the things that would usually set me off.  I was about to say something horrid back, but instead blurted out, "Okay."  She seemed suprised, but tried to dig deeper.  The same thing happened again and again.  Every insult was swatted down by an "Okay or "You're right, I could work on that". Suddenly she stopped and I walked away even though I still wanted to get her back for what she had said.

She took a minute to cool down, then came downstairs with tears in her eyes and apologized for how she had behaved.  She said that I had handled it in the exact way that she needed.  It was exactly what I had prayed for.

I am so thankful that I knew I could get help through prayer and that I knew I didn't have to do it alone.  I love you and know that you are doing the right thing.

Love,
Elise

Paper Post from Mom September 5, 2015

Growing up in an active LDS family, fasting has always been a part of my life, even when I just observed my parents and older sister participate.  My dad has a unique ability to teach complex concepts in a few simple, powerful words.  I remember when he taught us about fasting.  I understood that there should be a purpose, something I take to the Lord.  I knew the fast constituted refraining from food and water for 24 hours or two meals.  I understood that the money I could have spent on food would give relief to the hungry and the needy when I gave that, plus more to the bishop. I recognized that this time of putting the Spirit above the body was refining and opened me up to greater spiritual gifts.  It all made complete sense intellectually.  But as I matured and had to put the flesh to the principle, the practice of a fast to relieve the poor and increase my own spirituality was not so simple.  In fact, it just felt like hunger for a long time. The flesh was indeed weak.

Later in my teen years, as my physical growth slowed and my spiritual reservoir was little deeper, I started to appreciate the fast rather than dread it.  As I entered my adult years, slowly I began to feel some of the beauty of the fast.  When it was time to decided if I should marry Dad, I welcomed the fast, placing all of my energy into faith that I could know God’s will for me at that important point in my life.  

Then just as I was getting good at it, when I looked forward to monthly prescribed fasts, I entered the era of child-bearing.  During pregnancy and nursing babies, I could not fast.  And I missed it!  I tried it even against good counsel reasoning that especially in the early weeks, it couldn’t hurt much.  But of course I had to relent and answer the larger duty I held as a mother.  

I remember one RS lesson on fasting when I was nursing Cambry a woman shared that her diabetic husband cannot fast.  But he decided to adapt the fast for his body.  So he eats to maintain his body, but so that he has the natural break from the body fasting allows, he eats bland foods or foods he doesn’t like.  I felt that this was just for me so that I could find a way to adapt my fast for the coming years.

A good deal of my adult life I have been pregnant or nursing.  I bore children through 17 years and nursed children at least a year and often longer.  There was one stretch where I never had a break: I went from carrying you to nursing you to carrying Parker without ever weaning.  So there was a very long stretch, perhaps three years, with only adapted fasts.

When I was finally through nursing Parker, I was so excited to make a complete fast.  We were meeting in our current ward and I remember marveling during fast and testimony meeting starting with the sacrament.  The Spirit was so strong, it was almost tangible, electric.  I started peeking around at ward members wondering if they were feeling this intense opening of spirit I felt.  Tears filled my eyes and wet my cheeks the entire meeting.  I felt so much love for my family and my ward members.  And I felt awed that God recognized my yearning, my reaching.  This was a singular event and I didn’t seek or create it, but I treasure it.

In recent years, Isaiah 58:6-12 articulates some of what I felt in that hour:  

6 Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?

7 Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?

8 ¶Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily: and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of the Lord shall be thy rearward.

9 Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall answer; thou shalt cry, and he shall say, Here I am. If thou take away from the midst of thee the yoke, the putting forth of the finger, and speaking vanity;

10 And if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noonday:

11 And the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not.

12 And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places: thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations; and thou shalt be called, The repairer of the breach, The restorer of paths to dwell in.

Dad has used these verses as bishop when counseling people.  What blessings could we need that aren’t granted here?  Dad himself is counting on this blessing as he prepares for this fast as he needs the gift of the repairer the the breach this Sunday as he meets with a struggling ward member.

When we received a declaration against the Church from a loved one, Elise suggested we all fast.  And we did immediately.  During this time, Grandma P searched fasting and found this gem in the Bible Dictionary:  It was regarded as a natural way of showing sorrow.

My understanding of fasting grows.  I don’t know everything.  But I acknowledge what I have been given.

Paper Post from Mom August 21, 2015 The Miracle of Conversion

You have seen the miracle of conversion in Thailand.  You have watched people change and witnessed a light brought into a willing soul and shining through his countenance.  But I wonder if you remember witnessing my conversion in your youth.

I was raised a member of the church.  I have good parents who lived well the precepts and teaching of our faith.  They served and listened to the Spirit and taught in word and deed what it is to be a disciple of Christ.  I followed their lead and stepped on milestones of faith throughout my youth.

More than this, I desired to believe.  I read and received confirmation of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon at an early age.  I continued to read it daily from that point on.  I attended seminary and read the scriptures, I went to church, I served in callings, I married Dad in the temple.  And my faith in all the good things I had been taught and had been given was confirmed and added upon and there was no reason to suspect that there were corners of my heart which had not yet yielded to the enlightenment of Jesus Christ.  But I was to come to that understanding through some painful searching.

A dear sister confided in me her brokenness in dealing with an episode in her past.  This was debilitating to her and was causing a faith crisis.  I suppose that I finally felt safe and strong enough to simultaneously open and conquer a similar moment in my own history.  Whatever the trigger, indeed I was made to confront a moment of abuse in my childhood.  I finally told Dad and my parents and verbalizing released a wave of pain that had been walled up in my heart.  I was overcome by the sorrow and the loss I could understand as an adult which I had not the maturity to grasp as a child.  

But understanding that moment overwhelmed my current self.  I was depressed and broken and uncertain.  I wanted pain and justice called down upon the perpetrator.  I felt wicked and ugly and coupable.  Kind of crazy, huh?  Yet, that’s what I felt.

I got some counseling which was a great boon.  I did a sand play and the moral of my scene was that in fearing things that were mostly imagined, I was ignoring the faith which makes everything right.  My spirit knew the truth I had filled my being with.  I had only to choose to believe it.

I poured over scriptures.  I prayed constantly, but on my knees three times a day, tears streaming down grateful cheeks.  I cried through all the hymns in church as I understood doctrine personally.  I attended the temple and participated in all the ordinances there as proxy.  And my broken heart was finally able to yield entirely to the influence of the Spirit, holding no corners in reserve.

And that Spirit healed me. My nature changed.  I wanted to cry with the trump of angels.  I wished I could yell from the rooftops to share with everyone a message of hope and redemption.  I wanted everyone to know that their pain and their suffering could be wiped out of their lives and their hearts.  I had tasted living waters and I wanted to be a well others could draw from.  I abounded in faith, hope, and charity.  For weeks I was soft as putty (Dad even recalls feeling a little irritated with me because I could not be offended for anything.)  I apologized sincerely and often.  I saw the good in others and felt no condemnation for my fellowmen who were equally important to my Savior.  I saw them all in a state of potential redemption, believing that there was not one thing that made Christ’s Atonement less accessible to them than it had become to me.

This was a Pentecostal time in my life.  It is a treasure I carry in my heart still.  I marvel that this painful snippet which once felt so dreary is now a bright ornament (1 Nephi 21:18), a sparkling souvenir of the moment that precipitated the miracle of conversion.

Aren’t you happy that you have this time set aside to share this joy with brothers and sisters in Thailand?  I surely am.

Paper Post from Mom August 6, 2015 -- This Do in Remembrance of Me

When I was in seminary I remember being read a story written from the perspective of a young deacon who marveled at the tears and sincere contemplation of an older gentleman while he partook the emblems of the sacrament.  I knew it was desirable to be so connected to Christ through this ordinance, but I just couldn’t see my way to it at that point in my life.

Close to this time, my Dad was bishop in our ward.  I remember him seeking, and receiving permission to administer the sacrament on the Sunday’s of General Conference so that we would not be without the sacrament that week.  Obviously, this ordinance was important to my Dad.  But though I thought this good, I didn’t know if it was really necessary.

As I matured I began to reflect on the incomprehensible power of the atonement of Christ which could wash me clean each week.  There were tender times as I reflected on my specific wrongs being remitted and my desire to have the Holy Ghost more abundantly in my life in the coming week.  I started to feel gratitude more deeply as I made missteps in my relationships with those I care most for.  Knowing that I could be forgiven and made fresh gave me the hope to keep going week to week, in my weakness.

One period of my life, I couldn’t stop the tears each week as I relied on the redemptive power of Christ to heal me of both my own weakness and imperfections, but most especially from the same manifest in others.  I reached for that power.  I wanted to be clean and whole.  I wanted only the power of Christ in my life.

I think if you had asked me at this point if I understood the significance of the sacrament, I would have had an abundant answer.  Yet there was more to be learned.

I don’t remember the circumstance playing out in my life at the time.  I know I was in our current chapel and I know it was fast Sunday because I bore testimony of this.  I know that I was going to church every week and serving in my calling.  But somehow, likely for the needs of a baby, I was unable to partake of the sacrament for 11 weeks straight.  I suppose I was always either out feeding the baby or attending to the needs of other children.  I yearned to take the sacrament.  I determined to accomplish it this particular week.

I didn’t seek this experience, but I certainly treasure it now.  After the prayers were said and the bread distributed, the emblems made their way to me.  I know I was grateful to partake.  As I swallowed the bread, I felt a warm burning in my chest, a little personal fire.  This was unique and immediately held my attention.  Why was I having a physical experience?  That little fire within started to intensify and expand through my bosom, gaining strength as it filled me up, literally, to my shoulders, my neck, and my head.  I cried as I understood that I was in deed being cleansed.  I can’t tell you how.  I can’t even tell you why.  But I can tell you what.  I felt clean and loved, and most especially, known.  Also I came to know that the sacrament has power beyond the commonality it may become to us.

One other time I remember watching as the priests tore into the bread and again, though I wasn’t seeking this, found tears on my cheeks.  I don’t know exactly how to put words to this moment.  I only know that I was deeply touched as I reached to understand this simple, powerful ordinance.

I don’t really understand.  But I have been given to sense the power of it.  When Christ was in the America’s with the Nephites, after witnessing of His divine work, instructing, and healing them, He instigated the sacrament.  Though we have only 15 chapters or so of scripture recorded while He ministered here, two different times, it is recorded that He issued the sacrament.  And He spent a good deal of time instructing about how it is to be conducted in His absence, instructing that it should happen frequently.

From my experience I sensed that we are quite literally cleansed when we take the sacrament.  Our being is a better vessel to hold the Holy Ghost and He is able direct and instruct us more intensely.  The more we have the Spirit in us, the less we are tempted by the philosophies and appetites of the world.  

We really must partake worthily frequently to keep ourselves unspotted from the world.  I think this is why the adversary strives to keep us from church.  As sin and doubt crowd out our hearts, the Spirit has less sway there, His voice is dulled.  And though it’s not necessarily our intention or our desire, we have lessened the power of Christ in our lives.

Though I can’t tell you how it’s accomplished more than the general power of the atonement, I can testify of the power of the ordinance of the sacrament.  We need it. We need the Priesthood which administers it.  I cherish it.

Love,
Mom

Paper Post from Mom July 22, 2015

Yesterday as I was running errands, a BYU devotional came on as it always does on Tuesdays at 11.  The one being broadcast was from January 20, 2015 by Todd Parker.  It caught my attention so that though I was unable to finish listening at the moment, I came home and listened to it while I did other chores.  Then I listened to it again.  And again.  And I shared it.

I can add my testimony to the power of the word of God.  It strengthens me.  It really is as is Lehi saw in his dream, the guiding rod which leads to God.  And only those who cling to it are able to stay on the path that leads to eternal life.

We live in times of quick-shifting ideals and percetptions.  But we have many assessable witnesses to Jesus Christ. He is constant and quick to save.

I printed off the talk and sent it this week to Riley.

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Paper Post from Mom July 18, 2015 -- Steadfast and Immoveable

We’ve had some trouble with our new refrigerator of late.  I’ve been pretty frustrated as I’ve pulled out delicate garden lettuce frozen solid, thrown out once perfect eggs now cracked and frozen, and been unable to use solid sour cream.  Ugh!  My new fridge?  

I started pulling things in from the edges of shelves in an attempt to improve circulation.  I tried to figure how to change the air filter which doesn’t seem intuitive to me.  Dad kept asking if we couldn’t just raise the temperature.  I would if I could see easily how to do so.  I tried to find safe corners and drawers.  But mostly, I just started keeping fragile things in the old garage fridge.  Irony?

Well yesterday, I looked at the control panel on the door to see if there were any discernable fixes to my problem.  The number 33 caught my attention above the number 0.  People had been leaving the panel unlocked because they like to get frequent drinks of cold, filtered water from the fridge dispenser and with that opening, a little button-pusher had inadvertently set the fridge to cool to one degree above freezing.  And my nice, new refrigerator is vindicated: it was only doing what it was told to do!

I’ve thought about this in terms of persistence.  I can honestly say that I wish my fridge had been smart enough to realize that I have plenty of freezer space and I really wanted it to be a refridgerator.  But on the other hand, I also have to admire the persistent compliance to a difficult task.

TC, in his talk Sunday about making weak things become strong, mentioned his part in that process.  He mentioned faith, humility, obedience, and work.  We’ve also been discussing obedience as it pertains to strengthening faith in primary this month.  Sis S was so enthusiastic after one sharing time with us leaders.  She said, “Don’t you just love the power of this principle?  I always used to wonder if I was stifling my children with the principle of obedience.  But I was giving them the power to have faith!”  We are singing Faith in primary and the last phrase says, “Faith is strengthened, I feel it grow whenever I obey.”

Obedience is faith in action.  But steadfast obedience brings a select few to mind.  I think of the people of Anti-Nephi Lehi who when they were converted were zealous (Alma 27:30) in their adherence to the principles missionaries taught them.  So unyielding were they in the practice of their beliefs that they would suffer death without resistance, trusting that their death was no tragedy and being unwilling to risk offending God in the least bit.

That steadfastness one generation later produced a miraculous battalion of soldiers.  Helaman, in speaking of these youth who had not entered into a covenant to never shed blood again, but had been taught faith, courage, and valiance from their infancy from the most converted of people, described them as men of truth and soberness, faithful in all things (Alma 53).

This young group, raised in a non-violent society, came to the aid of the Nephites in defending their freedoms from the Lamanites who were warring to destroy liberty (especially freedom of religion). The war-plan was to keep these young “Sons of Helaman” safe, utilize them as decoys, but not really to employ them in battle.  But God had other designs for this valiant group.  They were able to testify and encourage Helaman - one of their teachers! - that they were not afraid to fight as their mothers had taught them that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them. (Alma 56:47).

Over the battles this company fought, and they were in fierce fighting, every one of them received injury, 10% of them in one battle to the point of fainting for the loss of blood.  Yet in the end they all came home.  Helaman reconciles this remarkable fact with the loss of many who fought beside them to their exactness in their obedience to every word of command and their exceeding faith (Alma 57:20-1, 26).  Also in Alma 58: 40, Helaman says they stand fast in their liberty and they are strict to remember.

Faithful Latter-day Saints are commanded in many things.  We have standards for eating, dress, media, dating… think for the Strength of Youth.  And yet we know that we are not fruitful if we must be commanded in all things.  There are more ways than the ways we are commanded to be obedient and steadfast.  

It seems that the key to being steadfast is in the heart: the steadfast have a desire to obey, to witness with their works in every regard their faith and acceptance of Jesus Christ.  The desire for sin is removed from their hearts, they are changed beings.  They are the stuff miracles come through.  I trail a legacy of faithfulness.  I want to be cool like that.  I want my kids to be clear and right like the Sons of Helaman.  I can’t wait to see what my grandchildren will do in this world.

Be strong, be immovable in righteousness, depend on God for deliverance, and be obedient in every command, especially those from the Spirit.  We pray continually for you in this.

I love you,

Mom

Paper Post from Mom July 9, 2015 -- Fully In

Dear Riley,

We’ve spent some time in the water this summer.  Only a little.  But it reminds me of a talk DK gave once in sacrament meeting.  He said he’s spent a good of time swimming especially as he got older as his preferred form of exercise.  He said that he had an epiphany once that helped his form dramatically.

Before he understood this simple principle, he spent a good deal of effort fighting the water, struggling against it to get across from side to side.  And then one day, he found himself really in the water, surrendered to it and at the same time supported by it.  He learned that letting himself work in the water was much more comfortable and enjoyable.

One of the images Bishop W used in working with members who weren’t fully in was that of a swimming pool.  He suggested people not wade into the water or sit on the edge with feet dangling in, but jump out into the deep end so far they’d have to swim to get back out.  

You see, the hope is that by swimming, they feel that simultaneous surrender and support.

The restored gospel of Jesus Christ requires a lot: three hours of Sunday worship, volunteer work in the week and on Sundays not in a position of election but appointment, significant financial donations, personal worship in the form of prayer, study, temple attendance, family worship in the form of scripture and prayer and FHE, family history research and recording, visiting teaching and home teaching each month, a monthly fast, Priesthood assignments like fast offerings and sacrament preparation and administration, and let’s not forget rule-bound missions.  Even sitting mostly in water but hanging onto the edge of the world, a member has much to learn and do, much exposure to good fruits.  But it seems to me that the jump out into the deep end, the immersion factor of membership, is the point when the struggle leaves and the support of the gospel lifts us on the water as we move through life.

I think you see many members struggling to fully jump in.  They have tasted enough to know the goodness and desirability of the promised fruit of the gospel.  But the firm terra cotta they have become accustomed to entices with familiarity and the promise of ease.  Yet we are God-designed for the struggle.

I have found this principle applies in almost any setting, not just the gospel.  Jumping fully in, not milling around the edges and fringes of life and activity, brings the most satisfaction.  I hope you’re stroking long, full strokes in your mission work.  It seems you are.

Love your companion, serve your people.  Find your swing.  And give yourself over to the work you are called to perform.

I love you,

Mom

Paper Post from Mom June 18, 2015

June 18, 2015

Dear Riley,

Do you remember that cute board book we used to have about opposites where you would slide out or up the contrast to the page?  Up/down, big/small, in/out, full/empty, long/short… I’ve been thinking about this concept in our world that is so simple a child can learn and so complex we can continue discovering our whole lives through.

There is not power or element in this life that I can think of that has no opposite.  The description of the creation is a series of dividing into opposites: light/dark, earth/sea, male/female, two trees that bring life or death.  But even if you didn’t accept creation as laid out in Genesis, we all experience cold and hot, wet and dry, hunger and satiety, weary and rested, tropical and arid, mountain and plain. There are still male and female (usually pretty easily determined ;), life and death, sickness and health all of the time everywhere.  You cannot live without experiencing opposites in many ways each day and countless ways through the seasons and years we are given on earth.

In 2 Nephi, Lehi explains to his sons that there must be opposition in all things so that we can be enticed by one or the other.  It came to my mind this week as I pondered this truth that all things do denote that there is a God.  We certainly know the power of evil in our world.  We see it portrayed across nations and in communities.  We also know there is great mercy and generosity in humankind.  It doesn’t make sense for there to not be an orderer, a divider in God.  And thereby, there must be a force of evil in opposition.  I believe we are given all of these contrasts to draw our minds to the precision creation requires.  I believe it is to draw us to God.

We too are being divided in this life. We are given a sense in our hearts of the correctness of decisions that bring us closer to God as well as a warning when we are leaving safe ground.  We either let the mostly temporary trials of life deepen our faith and dependence upon God or we decide He isn’t real.

And there will come a perfect day when we are either cleansed through our faith and reliance on the atonement of Christ or we find ourselves unworthy to dwell with that God who gave us a sense of Himself in countless ways and through many witnesses in this life through a veil of forgetfulness.

We always have choice and we are always choosing.  Some of the hardest realizations come when we are not honestly squaring with ourselves about those choices. 

It’s something to think about, isn’t it?

I love you,

Mom

Paper post from Mom April 29, 2015 Things I Know

April 29, 2015

  

A month or two ago I discovered the power of super washing soda.  Though it’s been on my shelf and in my laundry loads for years, and the box clearly proclaims its other useful applications, I just hadn’t ever used but for laundry.  Something in me suggested that it would help cut the grease in my kitchen as I wiped out the ovens I had “self-cleaned” over night.  I filled the sink with water, Dawn dish soap, and a little bit of washing soda.  It worked so well, I moved from the interior of the oven to the stovetop, to the microwave, to the ceiling.  As I wiped away years of build up and watch the surface sparkle, I played music and sang to myself, “I got the power!” 

For several years I have made my own cleaning solution for tub, tile, toilets, anything not glass. It is half vinegar, half Dawn dish detergent in a spray bottle.  It works well.

The girls and Parker have been pretty lax at cleaning the bathrooms.  Tonight when I went to bathe Josie, I saw that one of the girls at least intended to start the cleaning I’ve been barking about for two days: the shampoos and assorted other items littered the floor rather than the shower area.  I made a mental note of the almost empty blue cleaning solution bottle.  So after putting Josie down, I decided to take the bottle with me on my way downstairs and fill it, hoping that would increase the chances of the job getting FINISHED.

A few more runs down and up additional flights of stairs and all the ingredients were assembled in the kitchen for the chemistry experiment, er, the solution production: vinegar, Dawn, and washing soda.  Now before you start thinking I completely failed organic chemistry, let me head you off.  I was a star student in organic chemistry.  My professor encouraged me to study beyond my 200 level courses.  And yes, I recognize that baking soda and vinegar are how you make your elementary science volcano erupt. 

But I had this little experiment of my own under my belt.  Back when I fell in love with super washing soda, I considered that it would make an excellent addition to my vinegar/Dawn cleaning solution, kicking the last element which made me scrub when I cleaned.  Knowing the ingredients had the potential for explosive reaction; I added just a little bit of soda to my solution and waited.  Nothing.  No foam or froth or problem of any kind.  But it did clean all the better for the addition.  So I added more.  Again, there was no noticeable reaction.  I concluded that the base of the detergent neutralized the acid of the vinegar and made for an effective neutral cleaner.  I did not test my theory further, but went confidently forward mixing a full bottle of enhanced cleaning solution.

First I added the vinegar, then the Dawn dish detergent.  Without agitating them at all, I added the washing soda.  Here is where the fun started.   The headspace of the bottle was quickly filled and exceeded with foam.  Though I had expected less reaction, I decided this made sense since I hadn’t mixed the vinegar and detergent before adding the soda. 

In an attempt to contain the solution, I screwed the spray nozzle on the bottle.  But the foam kept coming, bulging out the bottom of the bottle until it was a hard bulbous dish and foam started spraying out the spray nozzle.  This was more reaction than I expected, but I figured it would settle down any minute.  So I unscrewed the top releasing some pressure with a pop which scared me enough to screw the top back on.  Clearly, this was getting worse.  I thought next that I needed to slow the reaction down and decided cold water might help.  Foam streamed out the spray nozzle and the bottom of the bottle looked ready to burst from pressure. 

I considered the pipe bomb I held in my hands under the tap of my kitchen sink and decided if the bottle ruptured, containment would best be accomplished where the solution would eventually be applied: the bathtub.  So I rinsed out the plastic green bowl which had held our dinner’s coleslaw, and thought to carry this spewing, pressurized cannon upstairs to the dirty tub.  Like it was connected to a compressor with a switch opened up, frothy liquid spewed out the spray nozzle.  I directed the nozzle to the walls of the shower and tub, drawing full squiggly lines of foamy solution.  When the tub was coated, I moved to the sink and then the toilet bowl.  When all the dirty surfaces were coated, I set the bottle back in the tub while I started scrubbing the bubbles around.  I cleaned and rinsed and rinsed and rinsed the surfaces.  Then I rinsed some more.  The bottle continued to ooze, but with less enthusiasm. 

With more cleanser coming out, and no new places to apply the solution, I moved, green bowl in hand, to the master bath.  Exiting the main bathroom, I realized for the first time that I had left the kitchen sink on full blast in my haste to contain.  I laughed to admit things were a bit crazy. 

I have to consider what was really accomplished here.  My intention was to make it easier for my children to complete their house chores in the bathrooms.  No doubt, the bathrooms are cleaner.  Certainly, I gained some useful knowledge.  And I have a story.  But I don’t have much solution in the bottle.  Having never pulled the trigger, the bottle is ¾ empty.

Sometimes life is just like that isn’t it?  You know something.  But then you think you have more information which puts your old ideas in conflict with new knowledge.  When crisis hits, though, what you know is what sits at the very core of your being: pure knowledge.

I have never been in crisis where I have not come to know that God knows where I am and is reaching to me.  One time I prayed for help instantly, confessing that I didn’t have the strength to react to a conflict constructively.  The doorbell rang and an angel pulled me from my knees to save the moment.   Another time a phone call interrupted solitary grief.  Someone showed up in the very moment I needed them, though minutes before I could not have arranged for their assistance because I didn’t know I would require it.  My Relief Society president stopped me on my way into the church, not knowing from me that I had poured out my heart to God that morning that I needed visiting teachers who came every month and whose love could help me carry my burdens.  But here she stood telling me that she had just made a change and she knew these new teachers would be just what I needed.  A song played with lyrics which assured me that I did have the faith I needed to walk on the water I was bidden to walk upon.  A childhood friend called from a faraway hometown only once, but in the very moment I stepped into the house broken-hearted that my newest friend didn’t want to be my friend anymore and would make sure no one else did either.

These are the tender mercies of God.  These are the things which whisper to my core that I am a known, loved, worthy daughter of God.  These are the things I know when other things don’t make sense.  The feeling I get when I think on them is consistent with the feelings that come as I ponder the principles of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.  It is true and it blesses lives.  Thank you for dedicating your time and energy to sharing it.

Love,

Paper post from Mom April 22, 2015 Choose to See

April 22, 2015

Dear Riley,

I’ve been thinking.  I told you that Josie hiked the Y on her own two feet the entire way.  Her three year old legs had to have taken twice, if not three times, as many steps as our adult legs.  It’s a steep hike too.   She was tiring, I was pretty sure she would whine to be carried any minute.  But then we turned the second to last time and she could see exactly how much further she had to go to land on the Y and that vision, that definability carried her to the finish.  I’ve been thinking about the power of sight in the journey.

President W, in an adult session of Stake Conference, placed this thought in my head years ago.  He told us that he had concluded that Satan didn’t really care how far off target he got us, or whether it was sins of omission or commission that distracted us, only that we did get off target.  President W proposed that one tool the devil uses in this pursuit is obscuring sight.  He distorts our vision of God and our relationship to Him.  Satan distorts our vision of this life and what matters.  I know personally that in times of trial or grief, the devil will attempt to convince us that seeing past this life is self-deception.

I also know from personal experience that the very peace we seek in times of trial and grief (and times of joy and contentment) comes from steadying our gaze upon the Savior and His teachings.  When we are in the hands of God, though the ripples of mortality may rock us, there is no other power or influence which can penetrate and harm us.

While I was pondering these points, I decided to search this last general conference for “see”  “sight” and “vision.”  I didn’t get very far.  I read and re-read and listened to Elder Clayton’s talk.  The phrase that stuck with me in relation to my pondering is “choose to believe.”  Perhaps a substitution can work as well:  choose to see.

Choose to see Christ as a God who loves you and desires to save you.  Choose to see set-backs as opportunities to be brought closer to understanding God’s plan for you.  Choose to see commandments as blessings.  Choose to see your call as a direct stroke in your life from the Hand of God.  Choose to see every person placed in your path as equally loveable and save-able as yourself.  Choose to see all these through a veil of forgetfulness by the power of faith.  See with an eye of faith until that perfect day when you will see with your natural eye all these things.

I love you,

Mom

Paper Post from Mom, March 4, 2015

Wednesday March 4, 2015

Sit with me for a minute as I replay my interactions and contemplations after spending a little time with Josie on a 100 piece “Sleigh Ride” puzzle after lunch today. 

J:  (spreading the puzzle pieces around on the coffee table she cleared herself for the project) Ok.  Now what do we do first.

M: (picking through the pieces, laying edge pieces to my right) First we sort out the edge pieces.  So when they have a flat edge like this, they go over here.  They help us put the picture together inside of the edge.

We worked for awhile getting the pieces placed.  Josie occasionally would get impatient and grab a piece from the middle section and try to fit it in.  I explained again to her the purpose of the edge and helped her work to place the pieces.  Once we had the frame completed, there was a little celebratory dance on her part.

J: (collecting pieces she recognized as the horse and sleigh) I want to put the horse together. 

Even though she had the majority of the pieces, this took her a little bit of effort.  And there were pieces that only had a shred of the horse’s nose, or were majority snow with part of the lower legs, which weren’t as easily picked out.  Still she diligently sorted, oriented, and placed the pieces together.  Meanwhile, while looking for horse pieces, I put the pieces that I initially thought might fit with hers together, revealing a snowman’s broom.  We’ve done the puzzle enough that I know where the horse section fits into the frame.  As the five-piece long section snapped into place, Josie let out a big, “Wahoo!” and a fist pump.

Still there were a lot of pieces sitting waiting to play their part in the picture. My instructions were this: it has to snap in easily and it has to fit both picture and shape.  That’s kind of abstract.  But your little sister is kind of amazing.  Sometimes she’d hold a piece, certain it fit where she wanted to progress on the picture.  Occasionally I had to assure that though the piece had a place, we just didn’t yet have the pieces it fits into placed.  She trustingly laid that piece aside and picked up a new one.

Josie and I spent about 30 minutes putting this puzzle together.  There was a little frustration, but there was a lot of celebration in high-fives, fist bumps, and “Good job!” and “you did it!” exclamations.

I realized that this puzzle project was a metaphor to our search for truth.  The gospel is our frame, the edge pieces that border our understanding.  We have some elements of the puzzle which are easy for us to put together, even our favorite parts of picture.  The Book of Mormon and the temple come to mind, I know how to make a picture snapping these pieces together.  Most of the time, I even know where they connect to the frame.  Sometimes we think we have pieces that fit with one element, but we find they actually belong with another. Then there are other beautiful elements that challenge us; pieces we have to try again and again, even where we’re certain we’ve already tried them.  And at the end of the puzzle, when there are two pieces left to manipulate, they go in right where we had tried and tried before.  We don’t have to see the big picture to know it will be beautiful and complete.  We don’t have to know where every piece fits right now, only that we are making progress. 

This is how my faith sits today:  Mosiah 4:9 Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.

I love you, Riley.  I love that you are helping people in a distant land put some pieces of life together.  You are blessed to know what you know.

Love,

Mom

Paper post from Mom February 25, 2015

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Dear Riley,

You may remember Bro T at the pulpit either in a sacrament meeting talk or during testimony meeting sharing a personal experience.  He was with either family or friends who were not church-going and he had a thought to invite them to Christ.  That thought was mixed almost immediately with fear that the invitation would be rejected and perhaps even place a strain in their relationship.

Then the Spirit placed a question in his mind:  If I do and they don’t, then what.  But if I don’t, and they would have, then what? 

You are in a unique situation right now in that you are called to invite the people God places in your path to come to Christ.  All day.  Everyone.  Day after day.

I imagine you get many times more no’s than you get yeses.  And from what I understand, those yeses even less often turn into lessons taught and from there a smaller percentage turn into a brother in the gospel.

Were I functioning in a system with those odds, I might wonder if I am doing any good.

But the bottom line is that you are blessed for you efforts.  Your ability to hear and follow the Spirit increases.  And most importantly, if you do and they do… How great shall be your joy with them.

Paper Post from Mom February 18, 2015

February 18, 2015

Dear Riley,

Much will have happened in both of our lives in the two weeks it takes this letter to reach you.  I am writing days after receiving a declaration someone I love no longer believes the Church to be true or even that God exists.  Since reeling with this, other people who are connected with us and who have left recently as well, have come to our attention.  One father, confused how this could make sense to his struggling child got this answer:  We are a different generation; we want answers. GP quantifies this with, we want answers immediately.  That statement brought me back to the subject line of the declaration which started it all, within which I saw irony:  “I Have Something Important to Share with You: My Journey of Faith.”

I know you’re a good missionary who just left the MTC, so if the scriptural definition of faith doesn’t pop into your head, I’m shocked: faith is things which are hoped for and not seen, Ether 12:6.  There will be things we’d maybe like to tie up into a tidy little bundle, but we just can’t in this life.  Yet we still hope that our faith will be rewarded and we will one day see things in their proper place with proper perspective and call it beautiful and good.

My thoughts were tender as I read the Book of Mormon Sunday, Alma 12: 10: And therefore, he that will harden his heart, the same receiveth the lesser portion of the word; and he that will not harden his heart, to him is given the greater portion of the word, until it is given unto him to know the mysteries of God until he know them in full. 

President Uchtdorf rings in my ears: Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith (Oct 2013).  There are ample doubts on this side of the veil.  And I don’t know at what point our vision will be full, but I know enough to hold to the things I do know, even when I don’t know enough to answer all the questions.  Another great conference talk comes to my ears (Niel L. Anderson, Oct 2008)You Know Enough.

There is another frailty in man, one I think is connected to the loss of faith, in that we tend to rewrite our past according to our current lense.  For example, a couple going through a divorce will say they never really loved the other.  Come on, really?  You just took that leap for fun? Or you’re tired and hurt and can’t remember how this decision that is making you miserable now ever made sense.  So the only way to really stay honest in life is to record frequently as we’re going through things.

I found in my writings some of that honesty recently.  It was recorded while Eric was in the hospital in 2006/2007 and the doctors told us his death was imminent.  I had written emails to the family updating them daily.  I still wanted to believe that Eric could posses the miracle GB and then most recently Dad had blessed him with.  But I can see now that my faith was weak.  And then when he did die last year, I really expected him to leap off of the hospital bed and chastise us for giving up so easily.  It wasn’t so, but one day he will rise, completely healed by the miracle of resurrection, and he will embrace us and we will see with our eyes what we have seen with the eye of faith.

I hope my writings will always be honest in the truth that I have been given.  I delight in my God.  I praise my Savior.  I have tasted living waters and I know the power of the atonement of Christ to heal broken hearts and cleanse sin.  I love the temple.  I know the Spirit works through me, in my weakness, and that I am able to bless others that way.

Nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things.

I will live in faith in a sphere of doubt.

“I will not doubt, I will not fear;

God’s love and strength are always near,

His promised gift helps me to find

An inner strength and peace of mind.

I give the Father willingly

My trust, my prayers, humility,

His Spirit guides; His love assures

That fear departs when faith endures.”   Hymn 128

I love you,

Mom

Paper post from Mom February 4, 2015

Dear Riley,

Feet are very much on my mind.  Last night Cambry came home from school with agony in her eyes.   She’s been working in bulk at the will call office lately and she’s the manliest woman on her shift.  So she’s been lifting and standing and on her feet her entire shift.  Then she drives down to BYU where she walks from the parking lot by the Marriot Center down to campus.  Her feet have been bothering her for the last little bit, but yesterday the pain reached a fever pitch.  She needs shoes that can support her feet.  Her scary, sturdy, meaty, high-instep, double-wide feet needed better shoes.  She and I were able to find two pair of shoes last night.  She was so hopeful, if not bouncy, this morning that she would find relief.

The week you left Provo for Thailand, I was reading in Mosiah 12 where Abinadi is being questioned by the wicked priests of King Noah.  They ask him, quoting Isaiah 52:7, in verse 20 “What meaneth the words which are written, and which have been taught by our fathers, saying:  How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings; that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good; that publisheth salvation;”.   Then the next day I read in Mosiah 15, Abinadi’s answer to the priests.  And in verse 13, he explains that this verse referred to the prophets who preach of Christ.  Then in verse 16 it expands to those who are/will preach Christ.  Immediately the Spirit touched my heart, whispering to me that your feet are beautiful right now; publishing salvation is all you are doing in your missionary work.

Then in case I hadn’t captured the need to ponder this truth, the next morning the family was reading 1 Nephi 13 and verse 37 jumped out at me:  And blessed are they who shall seek to bring forth my Zion at that day, for they shall have the gift and the power of the Holy Ghost; and if they endure unto the end they shall be lifted up at the last day, and shall be saved in the everlasting kingdom of the Lamb; and whoso shall publish peace, yea, tidings of great joy, how beautiful upon the mountains shall they be. 

While feet are not mentioned in 1 Nephi 13, the verse very much harkens back to the previous Isaiah reference.  So why the image of beautiful feet on the mountains?  I did a little research and the simple answer seems to be that messages in Isaiah’s time were delivered by the feet of messengers.  No cars, airplanes, bicycles, tv’s or internet waves.  Simple feet.

So while this was on my mind, Josie asked me to read the Jesus book.  It’s from when I was little and I don’t know that you’d recognize it.  The cover is the pencil sketch of children around Jesus and He has one child’s face in His hands.  Each page of that book tells a different chapter of Jesus’ life.  One of the chapters is about Jesus washing the feet of His disciples.  I looked at the sketch and considered the love and lowliness of heart that service would take.  Aleah and Parker have feet aversion: they do not want to massage someone else’s feet.  And that’s in a day were we walk paved parking lots in shoes and socks to and from our car.  And our feet are washed daily in fresh, clean water.  I’m thinking the disciple’s feet must have been much more repulsive.

Riley, your feet are going to get dirty.  They are going to show wear.  Your feet will largely get you where you want to go.  And because of what you’re doing right now, your feet are beautiful upon the mountains.  This thought is beautiful to your mother.

I love you, son.

Love,

Mom

Paper Post from Mom January 21, 2015

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Dear Riley,

By the time you get this we will have emailed back and forth perhaps even more than once.  So the purpose of this paper letter is not to acquaint you with the happenings back home.  A while back I decided to try to write a mid-week epistle.  By the time you read this letter, I estimate you’ll have been in Thailand two weeks, depending on where you are placed and how long the forwarding takes from the mission office.  The thoughts I’ve had today were first recorded in a letter to WM June 24, 2012.

I'm no globe-trotter, but I have seen places I never imagined to desire to visit. The first time I left the country, Dave and I visited Switzerland. They had four official languages. Relief washed over me like a comfortable shower when I came back to the States and heard only English over the PA. I think my brain was trying to order all the other things it had been hearing. It's fascinating to me that instead of coming home to familiarity, you'll become familiar with your new world. What a miracle.

I just wanted to wish you well in your training. I've been thinking about things that are new. We just remodeled our bathrooms - so all three work all the way again! So after every shower we squeegee down the walls and we wipe down the fixtures. I'm old enough to have had new things grow old. It would be such a blessing if you could tuck this "new" feeling in your pocket like a little puffy pom-pom and pull it out later when you need it.

So here's your scripture and conclusion: 2 Corinthians 5:17 Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. I guess we can all be as new as the day we became converted. Another miracle.

Love, Leadelle

I recognize that cultural changes cause us to become quite observant.  Different doesn’t have to be good or bad.  It can just be different.  Don’t think I’m converting to moral relativism; it holds no attraction for me.  But I have come to understand that we meet the same needs in different ways.  We eat our meals with silverware, our Indian friends use their hands and Saerome prefers chopsticks.  None is right or wrong, just different.  Enjoy learning how your new friends do things.  And be grateful for their gracious patience as you invariably fumble a few social proprieties along the way.

We’re so excited for you and all that is new in your world right now.

We love you,

Mom