Ah yes.
A rainy Friday. It begs to begin with a grilled cheese on rye. I realize my penance will be more time on the treadmill and with the ever-smiling Denise Austin.
But for now, the grilled cheese is going down with Kenny playing in the background. His mellow voice assures me that I have made a good choice for the day.
Days like this remind me of why everyone needs a personal library of favorite books to curl up with and savor.
I have always enjoyed reading. Although, I confess, I have not always enjoyed WHAT I have read. Sometimes, the assignments from school were more an exercise in attempting to survive the moment and grab a decent grade on the way to snatching my diploma. But now that I am adult, I can honestly say that I do read for pleasure.
Whether music or books, a great deal of both are now defined by what brings me a sense of joy, peace or whatever emotion I need at that moment. I confess that I am also a big fan of well-written murder-mystery books.
Having said that, I issue the disclaimer that I DO NOT care for books where the overplayed sense of gory turns the story itself into an afterthought. Nor do I care for books that glorify and exalt bedroom antics as if the information was all new. Like the line from a movie once said, "I don't know, they wrote 'Fanny Hill' in 1742 [sic] and they haven't found anything new since."
I like books about the efforts of men and women in the military who serve a greater purpose than self. I listen to music that makes the same statement about becoming more than we are at a given point in time. And I listen to it for the same reason that I read the books.
I want to show up at the pearly gates with something in between my ears besides dust.
Well, it's time to get the chicken into the crockpot for dinner and the laundry beckons. I'll put Kenny on hold and bow to the need to move muscles I seldom use while the perky voice of Denise Austin soothingly reminds me I only have 12 million sets to go.
Ah, rainy days and Fridays...
October 24, 2008
October 19, 2008
What if it was time . . .
Thanks to borrowing a book (actually more than one, but I digress) and conversation after the 5k yesterday, I have spent the night thinking and dreaming about the coming gathering of Israel. If the time came, would I indeed join in the host of Israel, or would I turn my back on the calling and resist the word of the Lord for whatever justifications I could create?
Would I let family circumstances and choices dictate my own?
Would I have the courage to come 'out from the world' and hear the voice of the prophet even if others whom I had once trusted chose differently?
I can't say what the future holds for any of us. I am not foretelling gloom and doom, but I do wonder about my own personal understanding of just what it means to come out from the world and be gathered home unto God in the New Jerusalem.
Everyone I know, with rare exception, is trying to live a good life as best as they can. Sometimes, we fall short in our striving, but we get up and keep trying to make progress.
I can truly liken it to the progress of making my way through the 5k yesterday. It was an up and down route that was a bit tougher than I expected or was prepared for. Of course, I had no way of knowing just what it would be like until I got there.
A lot like our mortal journey, the 5k is a physical representation of the emotional and spiritual efforts which must be applied to be able to prepare to be counted worthy among the house of Israel when the time comes.
Not wishing to be 'salt which has lost its savor', I need all the help I can get. Sometimes, the balky child in me doesn't want to be told what to do, but the occasionally humble adult in me realizes that this isn't something I can do or claim on my own. I NEED the help, the support and the guidance of others and most of all, of my Father in Heaven, in order to make it home.
Rick and I had an interesting discussion related to it all. We decided we would need another trailer in order to bring what we had to share in the temporal preparations to help in our poor way to build the New Jerusalem.
It was sort of tongue in cheek at first, then it became rather animated as we contrasted the idea of gathering from our relative prosperity to the gathering of the early pioneers who gathered, by and large, from their want. They had little, yet those who believed that they were indeed following the Lord gathered what they had and pointed their wagons west to an unknown future guided only by faith.
We have a great deal of the blessings of life. We don't often assess our position in regards to the past generations who would look upon even the most humble of circumstances in our day and age and find themselves astonished to see the luxury that is so taken for granted.
Would those blessings of ease and prosperity keep me from being able to hear and obey?
Just thinking through the keyboard this Sunday morning. . .
Would I let family circumstances and choices dictate my own?
Would I have the courage to come 'out from the world' and hear the voice of the prophet even if others whom I had once trusted chose differently?
I can't say what the future holds for any of us. I am not foretelling gloom and doom, but I do wonder about my own personal understanding of just what it means to come out from the world and be gathered home unto God in the New Jerusalem.
Everyone I know, with rare exception, is trying to live a good life as best as they can. Sometimes, we fall short in our striving, but we get up and keep trying to make progress.
I can truly liken it to the progress of making my way through the 5k yesterday. It was an up and down route that was a bit tougher than I expected or was prepared for. Of course, I had no way of knowing just what it would be like until I got there.
A lot like our mortal journey, the 5k is a physical representation of the emotional and spiritual efforts which must be applied to be able to prepare to be counted worthy among the house of Israel when the time comes.
Not wishing to be 'salt which has lost its savor', I need all the help I can get. Sometimes, the balky child in me doesn't want to be told what to do, but the occasionally humble adult in me realizes that this isn't something I can do or claim on my own. I NEED the help, the support and the guidance of others and most of all, of my Father in Heaven, in order to make it home.
Rick and I had an interesting discussion related to it all. We decided we would need another trailer in order to bring what we had to share in the temporal preparations to help in our poor way to build the New Jerusalem.
It was sort of tongue in cheek at first, then it became rather animated as we contrasted the idea of gathering from our relative prosperity to the gathering of the early pioneers who gathered, by and large, from their want. They had little, yet those who believed that they were indeed following the Lord gathered what they had and pointed their wagons west to an unknown future guided only by faith.
We have a great deal of the blessings of life. We don't often assess our position in regards to the past generations who would look upon even the most humble of circumstances in our day and age and find themselves astonished to see the luxury that is so taken for granted.
Would those blessings of ease and prosperity keep me from being able to hear and obey?
Just thinking through the keyboard this Sunday morning. . .
October 15, 2008
More Righteous
While reading some random passages in the scriptures, I came across one again that always give me a little pause...
And because they did cast them all out, that there were none righteous among them, I did send down fire and destroy them, that their wickedness and abominations might be hid from before my face, that the blood of the prophets and the saints whom I sent among them might not cry unto me from the ground against them. And many great destructions have I caused to come upon this land, and upon this people, because of their wickedness and their abominations. O all ye that are spared because ye were more righteous than they, will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?
(Book of Mormon 3 Nephi 9:11 - 13)
With startling clarity it comes to me again and again. Jesus was not speaking to them because they were totally righteous, he was speaking to them because they were more righteous than the people who were destroyed!
They were just the best of the worst.
Which made me think about my own spiritual commitments.
Am I the best of the worst? The worst of the worst? Lukewarm in my covenants and commitments, am I fit only to be spewed out as being 'neither hot nor cold'?
I have been reading some apocalyptic books of late which are set in a spiritual perspective that reminds me that even good people will not be spared the difficulties which most certainly are coming. But the 'more righteous' will have an opportunity to 'return and repent' and, if we prove worthy, be healed by the Lord of all that troubles us.
There was a hymn I learned a while back called "More Holiness Give Me". The lyrics are compelling to me because it is a pleading prayer to become more than we are on our own, specifically, more than I am in my sinful and polluted state.
Our society has accepted a wide variety of perversion in the name of being tolerant. That isn't tolerance - it's sin.
We can't expect our Father to take us as we are and just hope for the best with no preparation to BE the best.
Momma told me one time that if we didn't repent of our sins, we would be as out of place in the holy, pure and clean kingdom of God as a pair of brown shoes with a tuxedo. It just doesn't work.
The intent is there, but like the 5 foolish virgins who had prepared only part of the way, we won't get into the kingdom on the good deeds and sacrifice of another.
Scary thoughts.
But necessary.
Without the proper preparation both temporally and spiritually, we have no hope at all.
Jesus Christ stands with His arms outstretched and tenderly pleads with us to turn to Him.
We want all sorts of substitutes for what is right. I know anytime I justify my own lack of good choices by making it seem all 'reasonable', I have opened the door and kicked the Holy Spirit right out. Then, I wonder later on why things seem so dark and foreboding.
One of the books I was reading had an interesting passage in it that talked about the self-justifying behaviors that we allow ourselves to wallow in while still believing that it doesn't matter and that those who are wiser heads simple 'are out of touch'.
Funny thing is, those wiser heads are the very people we run to when the house of cards collapses and our world of lies burns us up in the flames we lit.
I want to be better - tomorrow. But I want the benefits of good choices today.
Like the 5 foolish virgins who took no thought for preparation and would have bankrupted others of spiritual light if it were possible, I fear that our tether to the principles of the Gospel are only as tightly wound as our testimony that the leadership of the Church is truly inspired of God.
When we say we sustain them, do we? Do I? Or is it a matter of personal convenience instead of being a matter of personal righteousness?
Voices cry and clamor for change. And change they will get. But it won't be the kind of change they hoped for long-term. The suffering will be great and damage will be done.
But there is One who has already paid the price for the arrogance, the pride and the short-sightedness and who will take all of us back - if only we will be gathered.
Just something to chew on while watching the world revolve...
And because they did cast them all out, that there were none righteous among them, I did send down fire and destroy them, that their wickedness and abominations might be hid from before my face, that the blood of the prophets and the saints whom I sent among them might not cry unto me from the ground against them. And many great destructions have I caused to come upon this land, and upon this people, because of their wickedness and their abominations. O all ye that are spared because ye were more righteous than they, will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?
(Book of Mormon 3 Nephi 9:11 - 13)
With startling clarity it comes to me again and again. Jesus was not speaking to them because they were totally righteous, he was speaking to them because they were more righteous than the people who were destroyed!
They were just the best of the worst.
Which made me think about my own spiritual commitments.
Am I the best of the worst? The worst of the worst? Lukewarm in my covenants and commitments, am I fit only to be spewed out as being 'neither hot nor cold'?
I have been reading some apocalyptic books of late which are set in a spiritual perspective that reminds me that even good people will not be spared the difficulties which most certainly are coming. But the 'more righteous' will have an opportunity to 'return and repent' and, if we prove worthy, be healed by the Lord of all that troubles us.
There was a hymn I learned a while back called "More Holiness Give Me". The lyrics are compelling to me because it is a pleading prayer to become more than we are on our own, specifically, more than I am in my sinful and polluted state.
Our society has accepted a wide variety of perversion in the name of being tolerant. That isn't tolerance - it's sin.
We can't expect our Father to take us as we are and just hope for the best with no preparation to BE the best.
Momma told me one time that if we didn't repent of our sins, we would be as out of place in the holy, pure and clean kingdom of God as a pair of brown shoes with a tuxedo. It just doesn't work.
The intent is there, but like the 5 foolish virgins who had prepared only part of the way, we won't get into the kingdom on the good deeds and sacrifice of another.
Scary thoughts.
But necessary.
Without the proper preparation both temporally and spiritually, we have no hope at all.
Jesus Christ stands with His arms outstretched and tenderly pleads with us to turn to Him.
We want all sorts of substitutes for what is right. I know anytime I justify my own lack of good choices by making it seem all 'reasonable', I have opened the door and kicked the Holy Spirit right out. Then, I wonder later on why things seem so dark and foreboding.
One of the books I was reading had an interesting passage in it that talked about the self-justifying behaviors that we allow ourselves to wallow in while still believing that it doesn't matter and that those who are wiser heads simple 'are out of touch'.
Funny thing is, those wiser heads are the very people we run to when the house of cards collapses and our world of lies burns us up in the flames we lit.
I want to be better - tomorrow. But I want the benefits of good choices today.
Like the 5 foolish virgins who took no thought for preparation and would have bankrupted others of spiritual light if it were possible, I fear that our tether to the principles of the Gospel are only as tightly wound as our testimony that the leadership of the Church is truly inspired of God.
When we say we sustain them, do we? Do I? Or is it a matter of personal convenience instead of being a matter of personal righteousness?
Voices cry and clamor for change. And change they will get. But it won't be the kind of change they hoped for long-term. The suffering will be great and damage will be done.
But there is One who has already paid the price for the arrogance, the pride and the short-sightedness and who will take all of us back - if only we will be gathered.
Just something to chew on while watching the world revolve...
October 11, 2008
Saturday
When I was a child, the very mention of the word 'Saturday' was like a carnival ride or a trip to another reality.
Bestowing a trip to Courthouse Square and a stop at the soda fountain, Saturday meant that we could go out on an adventure with Daddy to do new things and meet new people.
As an adult, my Saturday has a slightly different meaning. Generally meant to be a day filled with catch-up work, forgotten laundry and the household chores that require more than just a few moments of time.
The lyrics to the Primary song about Saturday being a 'special day, it's the day we get ready for Sunday' float through my thoughts.
Sometimes, it does feel like we are getting ready for Sunday and sometimes it feels more like brute survival of the week.
This time of year, Saturday adds the dimension of also being college football day. With good planning, I can catch the action beginning about 11 am and work my way through my chores with the drone of the various ballgames in the background for virtually the entire day.
Sadly, my beloved Tide are off today. Perhaps that is a fortunate thing, though. They need to 'tighten up' in preparation for the last half of their season.
Then, we add the time spent reading through the lessons that will be presented in Sunday School and the auxilliary meetings we each have. Mostly, that happens after dinnertime, since that can be a quiet time, depending upon activity for the day.
But Saturday just doesn't have the ice cream, soda pop and cheese crackers flavor of childhood anymore.
Sure, I can go to the drug store and sit at the soda fountain and order all of those things again. But the appeal isn't quite the same. The reality of this is that the memory of those days isn't so much the menu but the time and season of my life to that point.
Daddy would hold our tiny hands in his large hands gently and help us up to our counter stools while we placed our orders. We talked about everything and anything. We spent the time getting to know each other in the tender talk of family.
Now, our time together with Daddy is generally over dinners. I have him join us as often as his schedule allows. It's nice just to sit and enjoy the company.
Saturday is a special day.
It has a meaning that transcends a single memory or a moment in time.
It is a day to be family.
Bestowing a trip to Courthouse Square and a stop at the soda fountain, Saturday meant that we could go out on an adventure with Daddy to do new things and meet new people.
As an adult, my Saturday has a slightly different meaning. Generally meant to be a day filled with catch-up work, forgotten laundry and the household chores that require more than just a few moments of time.
The lyrics to the Primary song about Saturday being a 'special day, it's the day we get ready for Sunday' float through my thoughts.
Sometimes, it does feel like we are getting ready for Sunday and sometimes it feels more like brute survival of the week.
This time of year, Saturday adds the dimension of also being college football day. With good planning, I can catch the action beginning about 11 am and work my way through my chores with the drone of the various ballgames in the background for virtually the entire day.
Sadly, my beloved Tide are off today. Perhaps that is a fortunate thing, though. They need to 'tighten up' in preparation for the last half of their season.
Then, we add the time spent reading through the lessons that will be presented in Sunday School and the auxilliary meetings we each have. Mostly, that happens after dinnertime, since that can be a quiet time, depending upon activity for the day.
But Saturday just doesn't have the ice cream, soda pop and cheese crackers flavor of childhood anymore.
Sure, I can go to the drug store and sit at the soda fountain and order all of those things again. But the appeal isn't quite the same. The reality of this is that the memory of those days isn't so much the menu but the time and season of my life to that point.
Daddy would hold our tiny hands in his large hands gently and help us up to our counter stools while we placed our orders. We talked about everything and anything. We spent the time getting to know each other in the tender talk of family.
Now, our time together with Daddy is generally over dinners. I have him join us as often as his schedule allows. It's nice just to sit and enjoy the company.
Saturday is a special day.
It has a meaning that transcends a single memory or a moment in time.
It is a day to be family.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)