Winter weather in the lands below the Mason-Dixon line is a mixed bag. We have everything from heat waves that rival Boca Raton to frigid snaps that make North Dakota seem balmy by comparison. When that Arctic blast happens, there isn't much between us and the North Pole but a bobware fence (that's barbed wire to you Damnyankees).
The favorite hobby of the allegedly educated meteorologists at these crucial moments is to see how much frenetic activity they can generate down to the local Wal-Mart or Piggly Wiggly.
The game is to mention the S-word and watch the panic ensue.
Snow in the South is a spectator sport. Since we don't see it that often, it's a chance to watch Bubba and Buford try out the new power winch they installed on their 4x4's over the Christmas break pull some over-confident Massachusetts driver out of the ditch on Newby Chapel Road.
Damnyankees feel like 'they know how to drive in the snow' and they overestimate both the speed and the road conditions that are in the South and wind up with their new Mercedes piled into Farmer Jones fence post and mailbox.
We who are the denizens of the Southland know that the appropriate response to the S-word is to run to the store and stock up on the "approved" shopping list and go home, hunker down and wait out the blizzard that Dan, Dan the Weatherman has predicted to befall us all.
I honestly believe weathermen own stock in dairies, poultry operations and bakeries because they encourage us to buy milk, bread and eggs to weather out the storm.
Who knew French Toast was survival food?
Southerners know that snow in any amount from a dusting to a fully measurable couple of inches means schools will be closed, businesses will reduce their hours and idiots will be out in full force to see just how much insurance is enough as they smash up their vehicles because "they didn't have the sense that God gave a piss ant to stay home like decent folks".
Southern snow is NOTHING like the blanket of Rocky Mountain snow that beckons skiers to the slopes of delight, wonder and broken bones. Southern snow is a hodgepodge of hard crystals, snowflakes and wet driblets that create a slick veneer on the roadside that makes used car salesmen appear grease free.
The combination of this mess and the natural decaying oils and tars on the roadway added to the joys of the now hidden potholes and divots that just never seem to get repaired means you'll have to get an alignment once it's declared safe to drive again.
Buses that normally transport children to school are declared unsafe on the roadways because the county school budget doesn't have enough money for the lawsuits that would ensue if Junior got bounced out of his seat when the bus went into a full skid at Tanner Crossroads.
So school is cancelled long before the first flake even forms in the sky, much less hits the ground.
There is nothing so satisfying as seeing a Damnyankee turn into an instantaneous tobacco chewing, overall wearing, cousin marrying redneck after a mishap in Alabama snow. It usually goes something like this: "Well, dang it if that ain't the slickest stuff I ever droved on in my life. I dee-clare it is slicker out there than snot on a doorknob and that cold just runs right through you. My Mercedes just slid all and the hell over Blackburn road and I like to have hit that tore up old target deer in Old Man Meredith's farmyard!"
Well, most certainly. The erudite among us TRIED to warn you. We made every attempt to tell you to keep your ass at home. But you knew best. Damnyankees always do.
We have a slight break in the great blizzard of 2010. Take this opportunity to run to "The Pig" and get your staples before the real storm hits later today.
And if by some chance, however slight, that the down home boys in the weather office made the weensy mistake of overestimating the effects of the storm, at least you know what you can make for dinner.
French toast is pretty good while you stand by the window holding your plate eating while you watch the snowflakes drift past and think about Alabama football.
Come to think of it, that sounds like a perfect winter day.
January 7, 2010
January 6, 2010
Well, that didn't work out according to Hoyle
The temple trip was a nice opportunity to get in an oddly drowsy endowment session. I don't know why I was so sleepy, that isn't my norm at all. Generally speaking, I am trying my best to 'represent' for the person whom I am acting as proxy for during the session.
Today, I believe the person I was taking through was narcoleptic. It's the only explanation that made sense. I could have cheerfully snoozed my way through the entire proceeding somnambulating my way around with helpful shoves in proper directions from those who were blissfully awake.
When Beth and I got finished up and collected our cards to take off back to the north, we happily had visions of a 5-star restaurant experience to sate our hunger. Not so fast, kimosabe.
The truck was gasping out its last breath. Quite literally, I'm sorry to say. It would start up but when it was left to idle, it died like a fish out of water.
There was something wrong with either (A) the alternator, (B) the fuel pump, (C) the fuel line or (D) the ambiguously named Frammis on the Upper B-flat Ginalolabridgelator. (thanks to the late, great Louis Grizzard for that name!)
Beth called their military sponsored help line for automobile distress of every kind and my stomach cheerfully growled in protest.
Since my phone was the 'designated call back number' for the towing company selected by the kindly people in Bangladesh who directed the tow truck to our location in the temple's parking lot, I stayed bravely inside the warm truck while Beth fought uphill both ways in cold weather dodging alligators and grizzly bears to bring back provisions from the gas station at the corner intersection about a 500-yard distance from the now immovable truck.
They called just after she returned to tell us it would be another 15 minutes before the promised help would arrive.
Well-stocked with pretzels coated in way too much salt, fig newtons (which are essential on ANY road trip even if you aren't leaving the parking lot), bottled drinks and some protein bars 'just in case'... she returned in time to get the second phone call to make sure the driver found us in our moments of distress.
Although we weren't particularly teary eyed in our distress, we did laugh a lot about how we can't manage to do much of anything 'normally' when we go off post for some activity or another. It's always some kind of minor adventure.
The driver finally arrived with a whacking great big sled type tow truck that pulled the car up onto a moving bed with a come-along and then cinched everything down with chains for the ride to the Ford dealer for help.
When we got there and were ushered into the slightly greasy counter area that smelled of machine oil and Lemon Pledge, we waited for the nice driver named Mason who had most of his teeth and had made sure we didn't have to spend the night in the bathroom of the nearby service station eating peanuts from the vending machine and drinking water from the rusted out chipped porcelain sink.
The time came to thank Mason and pay, and Beth discovered that credit cards didn't exist in the world of Liberty Wrecker and Towing Company. Mason cheerfully indicated that he took cash and checks. A three day wonder that ANYONE takes personal checks with debit and credit swamping the nation. Even newborns have debit cards now!
But then, calamity! (Or so Beth thought) She didn't have cash or her checkbook.
Good thing she takes me on these little adventures that both avoid the laundry overflowing the hampers and gets me out of the house from time to time. I actually had my checkbook with me and was able to pay the nice man with several teeth for his good service in bringing us from a parking lot to the service department at the Ford dealership.
We went to drool over the new cars and trucks while the minions in the service department rolled the dice to determine just which of the lettered choices of car troubles got the call for the bucks today.
Well, after he departed, the service counter clerk came in and announced brusquely in her smoker's husky voice that they had determined the cause of the problem.
I'll give you a clue - the letters A through C don't come into play.
Letter D!! Woo hoo!! The hundred dollar 'were just gonna blow the junk out of the fuel line but call it something else because there are two stupid women out there who are in this truck and won't know the difference between a flutter valve and a butterfly' option.
I've never felt so hosed.
I knew it was coming and we even discussed it with the nice tow truck driver before we ever arrived at the dealership. And sure enough, they looked at us and decided we were blond enough to believe the old "Frammis on the Upper B-flat Ginalolabridgelator" gig.
Oddly, Beth isn't blond and mine is out of a bottle... but I digress.
Beth was able to employ the plastic option at this point and get us the heck out of there before they managed to sell her a new F-150 or me a new handicap equipped van. While both WERE extremely tempting, I can't imagine surviving the night when Rick found out that I had purchased at 65k vehicle without even consulting him on so much as the color.
Pete may or may not have been thrilled if Beth rolled up in a new truck, but I'm quite sure the thrill would be gone when he saw her hauling the other truck home behind it. The garage simply won't hold it, and as I understand it, their very backwards thinking home owners association has some retarded policy about not putting old vehicles up on blocks in the back yard as a centerpiece for the geraniums. I'm sure Beth would make it look really nice...
Truck firmly back onto the road and us headed north again, this time on the power of the Ford itself, we made it back to town.
We laughed that these little adventures need their own diary at this point. The only problem is that no one will believe that our excursions are this crammed full of meeting new 'friends' and paying for services rendered that were unplanned hiccups on the road to or from the temple.
This is the kicker to the story, though.
Pete told Beth while we were enjoying the event that he had been possessed of a bad feeling about this trip before we departed this morning.
Do tell?
Why wasn't that information relayed to us?
We would have listened. Even freewheeling, toothless mechanic seeking women like us would have stayed our trip to another day if only he had said it wasn't a good idea.
I'm sure of it.
We listen to him all of the time...
Or practically all of the time... when it doesn't interfere with the music that just got downloaded...
Oh well. Hoyle and Murphy are brothers and they both have laws that are invisible to the naked eye until you violate them. Then it means you get to ride down the highway of life with a dude named Mason wondering just how this all happened.
Today, I believe the person I was taking through was narcoleptic. It's the only explanation that made sense. I could have cheerfully snoozed my way through the entire proceeding somnambulating my way around with helpful shoves in proper directions from those who were blissfully awake.
When Beth and I got finished up and collected our cards to take off back to the north, we happily had visions of a 5-star restaurant experience to sate our hunger. Not so fast, kimosabe.
The truck was gasping out its last breath. Quite literally, I'm sorry to say. It would start up but when it was left to idle, it died like a fish out of water.
There was something wrong with either (A) the alternator, (B) the fuel pump, (C) the fuel line or (D) the ambiguously named Frammis on the Upper B-flat Ginalolabridgelator. (thanks to the late, great Louis Grizzard for that name!)
Beth called their military sponsored help line for automobile distress of every kind and my stomach cheerfully growled in protest.
Since my phone was the 'designated call back number' for the towing company selected by the kindly people in Bangladesh who directed the tow truck to our location in the temple's parking lot, I stayed bravely inside the warm truck while Beth fought uphill both ways in cold weather dodging alligators and grizzly bears to bring back provisions from the gas station at the corner intersection about a 500-yard distance from the now immovable truck.
They called just after she returned to tell us it would be another 15 minutes before the promised help would arrive.
Well-stocked with pretzels coated in way too much salt, fig newtons (which are essential on ANY road trip even if you aren't leaving the parking lot), bottled drinks and some protein bars 'just in case'... she returned in time to get the second phone call to make sure the driver found us in our moments of distress.
Although we weren't particularly teary eyed in our distress, we did laugh a lot about how we can't manage to do much of anything 'normally' when we go off post for some activity or another. It's always some kind of minor adventure.
The driver finally arrived with a whacking great big sled type tow truck that pulled the car up onto a moving bed with a come-along and then cinched everything down with chains for the ride to the Ford dealer for help.
When we got there and were ushered into the slightly greasy counter area that smelled of machine oil and Lemon Pledge, we waited for the nice driver named Mason who had most of his teeth and had made sure we didn't have to spend the night in the bathroom of the nearby service station eating peanuts from the vending machine and drinking water from the rusted out chipped porcelain sink.
The time came to thank Mason and pay, and Beth discovered that credit cards didn't exist in the world of Liberty Wrecker and Towing Company. Mason cheerfully indicated that he took cash and checks. A three day wonder that ANYONE takes personal checks with debit and credit swamping the nation. Even newborns have debit cards now!
But then, calamity! (Or so Beth thought) She didn't have cash or her checkbook.
Good thing she takes me on these little adventures that both avoid the laundry overflowing the hampers and gets me out of the house from time to time. I actually had my checkbook with me and was able to pay the nice man with several teeth for his good service in bringing us from a parking lot to the service department at the Ford dealership.
We went to drool over the new cars and trucks while the minions in the service department rolled the dice to determine just which of the lettered choices of car troubles got the call for the bucks today.
Well, after he departed, the service counter clerk came in and announced brusquely in her smoker's husky voice that they had determined the cause of the problem.
I'll give you a clue - the letters A through C don't come into play.
Letter D!! Woo hoo!! The hundred dollar 'were just gonna blow the junk out of the fuel line but call it something else because there are two stupid women out there who are in this truck and won't know the difference between a flutter valve and a butterfly' option.
I've never felt so hosed.
I knew it was coming and we even discussed it with the nice tow truck driver before we ever arrived at the dealership. And sure enough, they looked at us and decided we were blond enough to believe the old "Frammis on the Upper B-flat Ginalolabridgelator" gig.
Oddly, Beth isn't blond and mine is out of a bottle... but I digress.
Beth was able to employ the plastic option at this point and get us the heck out of there before they managed to sell her a new F-150 or me a new handicap equipped van. While both WERE extremely tempting, I can't imagine surviving the night when Rick found out that I had purchased at 65k vehicle without even consulting him on so much as the color.
Pete may or may not have been thrilled if Beth rolled up in a new truck, but I'm quite sure the thrill would be gone when he saw her hauling the other truck home behind it. The garage simply won't hold it, and as I understand it, their very backwards thinking home owners association has some retarded policy about not putting old vehicles up on blocks in the back yard as a centerpiece for the geraniums. I'm sure Beth would make it look really nice...
Truck firmly back onto the road and us headed north again, this time on the power of the Ford itself, we made it back to town.
We laughed that these little adventures need their own diary at this point. The only problem is that no one will believe that our excursions are this crammed full of meeting new 'friends' and paying for services rendered that were unplanned hiccups on the road to or from the temple.
This is the kicker to the story, though.
Pete told Beth while we were enjoying the event that he had been possessed of a bad feeling about this trip before we departed this morning.
Do tell?
Why wasn't that information relayed to us?
We would have listened. Even freewheeling, toothless mechanic seeking women like us would have stayed our trip to another day if only he had said it wasn't a good idea.
I'm sure of it.
We listen to him all of the time...
Or practically all of the time... when it doesn't interfere with the music that just got downloaded...
Oh well. Hoyle and Murphy are brothers and they both have laws that are invisible to the naked eye until you violate them. Then it means you get to ride down the highway of life with a dude named Mason wondering just how this all happened.
Under a consciousness of your guilt
1 AND now, I speak also concerning those who do not believe in Christ.
2 Behold, will ye believe in the day of your visitation—behold, when the Lord shall come, yea, even that great day when the earth shall be rolled together as a scroll, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, yea, in that great day when ye shall be brought to stand before the Lamb of God—then will ye say that there is no God?
3 Then will ye longer deny the Christ, or can ye behold the Lamb of God? Do ye suppose that ye shall dwell with him under a consciousness of your guilt? Do ye suppose that ye could be happy to dwell with that holy Being, when your souls are racked with a consciousness of guilt that ye have ever abused his laws?
4 Behold, I say unto you that ye would be more miserable to dwell with a holy and just God, under a consciousness of your filthiness before him, than ye would to dwell with the damned souls in hell.
5 For behold, when ye shall be brought to see your nakedness before God, and also the glory of God, and the holiness of Jesus Christ, it will kindle a flame of unquenchable fire upon you.
6 O then ye unbelieving, turn ye unto the Lord; cry mightily unto the Father in the name of Jesus, that perhaps ye may be found spotless, pure, fair, and white, having been cleansed by the blood of the Lamb, at that great and last day.
(Book of Mormon | Mormon 9:1 - 6)
I have been reading from the passages of the Book of Mormon that talk about the condition of our souls at the time when we will be brought before our Maker to give an accounting of ourselves during our mortal probation.
As mortal beings, we each suffer from what is a uniquely human event, namely, the ability to magnify the sins and shortcomings of the other fellow while turning our own peccadilloes into minute specks of dust not worthy of attention.
Some of us have a harder time with this visual adjustment than others based upon the spiritual character of our own heart and soul.
Every time I have the opportunity to attend the temple, be it one of the "home" temples or one while I am traveling, I am struck deeply at the privilege it is to be allowed to enter into God's Holy House at all.
Being an imperfect person who struggles on a seemingly hourly basis with the conditions of my own mortality, the idea that I have qualified myself by the choices I have made to walk through those doors is staggering. For I know that it is not by my own skill set alone that I am allowed through for this opportunity to be in the presence of the Divine. Without the redeeming blood of Him who suffered in my behalf in ways I cannot comprehend, there would be no admittance at all. Trying diligently to avoid the trap of self-delusion, my reflection in the mirror each day is a barometer of personal progress.
Am I able to look myself in the eyes or do I avoid my own gaze in a hang-dog guilty fashion, ashamed of what I know lies behind the blueish green of my eyes?
Is there some shadow of feeling that lurks nearby speaking softly to my heart decrying my guilt and remorse for all those ways in which I have failed to follow Christ, or have I deftly silenced that consciousness under a blanket of quiet desperation and delusion?
To answer that question, I reflect on a different Book of Mormon scripture:
16 Behold, my soul delighteth in the things of the Lord; and my heart pondereth continually upon the things which I have seen and heard.
17 Nevertheless, notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities.
18 I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
19 And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.
20 My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.
21 He hath filled me with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh.
22 He hath confounded mine enemies, unto the causing of them to quake before me.
23 Behold, he hath heard my cry by day, and he hath given me knowledge by visions in the night–time.
24 And by day have I waxed bold in mighty prayer before him; yea, my voice have I sent up on high; and angels came down and ministered unto me.
25 And upon the wings of his Spirit hath my body been carried away upon exceedingly high mountains. And mine eyes have beheld great things, yea, even too great for man; therefore I was bidden that I should not write them.
26 O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?
27 And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul? Why am I angry because of mine enemy?
28 Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.
29 Do not anger again because of mine enemies. Do not slacken my strength because of mine afflictions.
30 Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.
31 O Lord, wilt thou redeem my soul? Wilt thou deliver me out of the hands of mine enemies? Wilt thou make me that I may shake at the appearance of sin?
32 May the gates of hell be shut continually before me, because that my heart is broken and my spirit is contrite! O Lord, wilt thou not shut the gates of thy righteousness before me, that I may walk in the path of the low valley, that I may be strict in the plain road!
33 O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness! O Lord, wilt thou make a way for mine escape before mine enemies! Wilt thou make my path straight before me! Wilt thou not place a stumbling block in my way—but that thou wouldst clear my way before me, and hedge not up my way, but the ways of mine enemy.
34 O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh; for I know that cursed is he that putteth his trust in the arm of flesh. Yea, cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm.
35 Yea, I know that God will give liberally to him that asketh. Yea, my God will give me, if I ask not amiss; therefore I will lift up my voice unto thee; yea, I will cry unto thee, my God, the rock of my righteousness. Behold, my voice shall forever ascend up unto thee, my rock and mine everlasting God. Amen.
(Book of Mormon | 2 Nephi 4:16 - 35)
There is a hope for salvation beyond the ability I possess to save myself. Though my choices and my effort to rise above the common and do more than average does weigh into the equation, I need and I desire so much more than just to skid through to the back pew of the Kingdom of God. I need to be welcomed home by my Father in Heaven and His Son Jesus Christ.
The only way I know to do anything to prepare for that moment is to go to the House of the Lord bearing my imperfections and guilt and pray for them both to be swept away by Him who is Mighty to Save.
This is one activity that brings a sense of peace and contentment which cannot be matched by anything in the outside world. It is the opportunity to place my all at the very foot of the cross and approach the throne of God and importune Him for the opportunity to be more than saved... to be made ready to become exalted.
And there is a huge difference.
To be saved from the effects of sin and mortality is a huge blessing, but to have the opportunity to literally dwell in the very presence of God the Father and Jesus Christ requires more - it requires that I become like them. Not just close, for that is not enough.
I must become like them in my every action and deed. I must choose as they would choose because it is my deepest desire, not because I am guilty and afraid of what might come if I don't.
I must desire to do what is right under all circumstances because it is right and not count the cost.
In order to have all that the Father offers, I must want to receive it, for truly it is the mortal side of the equation that stumbles at the gift and not the hand of the Divine Giver.
A wise Bishop once told me that guilt can be a powerful motivator to do the right thing and that our memories of struggling to overcome our weaknesses can be a powerful tool to advance the needed changes in our personal life. Then, he said the most important part of all - to forgive OURSELVES for our sins and shortcomings is also part of the job.
Without the forgiveness of ourselves for those things which we have truly repented of and for, the process is incomplete - it is, in essence, holding the restoring mercy and love of the Atonement of Jesus Christ at arm's length from our own soul.
Having guilt about a past moment of regret over sin is good if we allow it to lead us to the Light. Wallowing in that guilt as a marinating moment that prevents movement toward a course correction is just a waste of our time.
It neither removes the guilt nor changes our heart. Instead, it can actually cause us to begin to justify our actions by use of a very myopic mortal scale. Our chains, much like Scrooge saw in his dreams, are very real. We begin with those things that are small and continue until the Devil has us bound in his chains and we fear there is no redemption for us. He wants us to believe that, because the Devil has no power over us that we do not yeild to him.
But Jesus Christ can break the chains FOR US. He already has done it! Now, the only thing standing between us and freedom is the recognition of what price His pure blood has paid for our sins and filth and accept His offer to make us whole.
I want to be free to accept the offer and return home.
The only way I know to make that possible is by returning frequently to the House of the Lord where the undiluted spirit of God can give me the insight I need to make it through the obstacle course of life and into the promised land of Eternity. Only there can I feel the worth of my soul in His sight. And only there can I remove myself from the earthly trappings that can seem so important and obscure my view of God.
Today I'm going to the temple...
2 Behold, will ye believe in the day of your visitation—behold, when the Lord shall come, yea, even that great day when the earth shall be rolled together as a scroll, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, yea, in that great day when ye shall be brought to stand before the Lamb of God—then will ye say that there is no God?
3 Then will ye longer deny the Christ, or can ye behold the Lamb of God? Do ye suppose that ye shall dwell with him under a consciousness of your guilt? Do ye suppose that ye could be happy to dwell with that holy Being, when your souls are racked with a consciousness of guilt that ye have ever abused his laws?
4 Behold, I say unto you that ye would be more miserable to dwell with a holy and just God, under a consciousness of your filthiness before him, than ye would to dwell with the damned souls in hell.
5 For behold, when ye shall be brought to see your nakedness before God, and also the glory of God, and the holiness of Jesus Christ, it will kindle a flame of unquenchable fire upon you.
6 O then ye unbelieving, turn ye unto the Lord; cry mightily unto the Father in the name of Jesus, that perhaps ye may be found spotless, pure, fair, and white, having been cleansed by the blood of the Lamb, at that great and last day.
(Book of Mormon | Mormon 9:1 - 6)
I have been reading from the passages of the Book of Mormon that talk about the condition of our souls at the time when we will be brought before our Maker to give an accounting of ourselves during our mortal probation.
As mortal beings, we each suffer from what is a uniquely human event, namely, the ability to magnify the sins and shortcomings of the other fellow while turning our own peccadilloes into minute specks of dust not worthy of attention.
Some of us have a harder time with this visual adjustment than others based upon the spiritual character of our own heart and soul.
Every time I have the opportunity to attend the temple, be it one of the "home" temples or one while I am traveling, I am struck deeply at the privilege it is to be allowed to enter into God's Holy House at all.
Being an imperfect person who struggles on a seemingly hourly basis with the conditions of my own mortality, the idea that I have qualified myself by the choices I have made to walk through those doors is staggering. For I know that it is not by my own skill set alone that I am allowed through for this opportunity to be in the presence of the Divine. Without the redeeming blood of Him who suffered in my behalf in ways I cannot comprehend, there would be no admittance at all. Trying diligently to avoid the trap of self-delusion, my reflection in the mirror each day is a barometer of personal progress.
Am I able to look myself in the eyes or do I avoid my own gaze in a hang-dog guilty fashion, ashamed of what I know lies behind the blueish green of my eyes?
Is there some shadow of feeling that lurks nearby speaking softly to my heart decrying my guilt and remorse for all those ways in which I have failed to follow Christ, or have I deftly silenced that consciousness under a blanket of quiet desperation and delusion?
To answer that question, I reflect on a different Book of Mormon scripture:
16 Behold, my soul delighteth in the things of the Lord; and my heart pondereth continually upon the things which I have seen and heard.
17 Nevertheless, notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities.
18 I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
19 And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.
20 My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.
21 He hath filled me with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh.
22 He hath confounded mine enemies, unto the causing of them to quake before me.
23 Behold, he hath heard my cry by day, and he hath given me knowledge by visions in the night–time.
24 And by day have I waxed bold in mighty prayer before him; yea, my voice have I sent up on high; and angels came down and ministered unto me.
25 And upon the wings of his Spirit hath my body been carried away upon exceedingly high mountains. And mine eyes have beheld great things, yea, even too great for man; therefore I was bidden that I should not write them.
26 O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?
27 And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul? Why am I angry because of mine enemy?
28 Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.
29 Do not anger again because of mine enemies. Do not slacken my strength because of mine afflictions.
30 Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.
31 O Lord, wilt thou redeem my soul? Wilt thou deliver me out of the hands of mine enemies? Wilt thou make me that I may shake at the appearance of sin?
32 May the gates of hell be shut continually before me, because that my heart is broken and my spirit is contrite! O Lord, wilt thou not shut the gates of thy righteousness before me, that I may walk in the path of the low valley, that I may be strict in the plain road!
33 O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness! O Lord, wilt thou make a way for mine escape before mine enemies! Wilt thou make my path straight before me! Wilt thou not place a stumbling block in my way—but that thou wouldst clear my way before me, and hedge not up my way, but the ways of mine enemy.
34 O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh; for I know that cursed is he that putteth his trust in the arm of flesh. Yea, cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm.
35 Yea, I know that God will give liberally to him that asketh. Yea, my God will give me, if I ask not amiss; therefore I will lift up my voice unto thee; yea, I will cry unto thee, my God, the rock of my righteousness. Behold, my voice shall forever ascend up unto thee, my rock and mine everlasting God. Amen.
(Book of Mormon | 2 Nephi 4:16 - 35)
There is a hope for salvation beyond the ability I possess to save myself. Though my choices and my effort to rise above the common and do more than average does weigh into the equation, I need and I desire so much more than just to skid through to the back pew of the Kingdom of God. I need to be welcomed home by my Father in Heaven and His Son Jesus Christ.
The only way I know to do anything to prepare for that moment is to go to the House of the Lord bearing my imperfections and guilt and pray for them both to be swept away by Him who is Mighty to Save.
This is one activity that brings a sense of peace and contentment which cannot be matched by anything in the outside world. It is the opportunity to place my all at the very foot of the cross and approach the throne of God and importune Him for the opportunity to be more than saved... to be made ready to become exalted.
And there is a huge difference.
To be saved from the effects of sin and mortality is a huge blessing, but to have the opportunity to literally dwell in the very presence of God the Father and Jesus Christ requires more - it requires that I become like them. Not just close, for that is not enough.
I must become like them in my every action and deed. I must choose as they would choose because it is my deepest desire, not because I am guilty and afraid of what might come if I don't.
I must desire to do what is right under all circumstances because it is right and not count the cost.
In order to have all that the Father offers, I must want to receive it, for truly it is the mortal side of the equation that stumbles at the gift and not the hand of the Divine Giver.
A wise Bishop once told me that guilt can be a powerful motivator to do the right thing and that our memories of struggling to overcome our weaknesses can be a powerful tool to advance the needed changes in our personal life. Then, he said the most important part of all - to forgive OURSELVES for our sins and shortcomings is also part of the job.
Without the forgiveness of ourselves for those things which we have truly repented of and for, the process is incomplete - it is, in essence, holding the restoring mercy and love of the Atonement of Jesus Christ at arm's length from our own soul.
Having guilt about a past moment of regret over sin is good if we allow it to lead us to the Light. Wallowing in that guilt as a marinating moment that prevents movement toward a course correction is just a waste of our time.
It neither removes the guilt nor changes our heart. Instead, it can actually cause us to begin to justify our actions by use of a very myopic mortal scale. Our chains, much like Scrooge saw in his dreams, are very real. We begin with those things that are small and continue until the Devil has us bound in his chains and we fear there is no redemption for us. He wants us to believe that, because the Devil has no power over us that we do not yeild to him.
But Jesus Christ can break the chains FOR US. He already has done it! Now, the only thing standing between us and freedom is the recognition of what price His pure blood has paid for our sins and filth and accept His offer to make us whole.
I want to be free to accept the offer and return home.
The only way I know to make that possible is by returning frequently to the House of the Lord where the undiluted spirit of God can give me the insight I need to make it through the obstacle course of life and into the promised land of Eternity. Only there can I feel the worth of my soul in His sight. And only there can I remove myself from the earthly trappings that can seem so important and obscure my view of God.
Today I'm going to the temple...
December 31, 2009
It just makes me wonder...
By and large the media informs and gives us perspective on the world events and local color that shapes our daily life.
Sometimes, the people delivering the news become the news themselves. I don't know that I like that trend, where the person giving me THEIR slant on what happened drives off the road of objectivity and right into the town of Personal Opinion.
Everyone has an opinion and we will never see every issue the same way. It's part of the endearing quality of being human that makes the journey appealing.
But celebrity news or as I like to call it SENSATIONALIST PROSTITUTION...
Well, that is another realm entirely.
The 'news' about celebrities isn't news in the traditional sense. It is, to be precise, tattle tale material offered up to the salacious and greedy who seek to have a front row view of the rise and fall of someone who doesn't do business at Mae's Quick Mart and Charm School.
Celebrities are only famous because they are rich, do something that the rest of us can't or won't or have been arrested doing something that even they know is wrong, but from which they will seek public absolution because they are playing the 'famous' card.
They are people who burp, pass gas and have armpit stains on their clothing.
They wake up with morning breath or in many cases, morning AFTER breath.
They have crusty eyes, matted hair and a small wad of dried spit on the left corner of their mouth.
They have to go to the bathroom exactly the same way the rest of us do and have to call out to someone to bring them more toilet paper when they sit down and take care of business only to discover that the roll is empty.
They parallel park like baboons.
They cheat on the Times crossword because they only speak erudite words and clever phrases that are written for them.
Chances are, they have paid more for uplifts, updo's, redo's and dental whitening that we pay for our mortgage.
The fact is, they need a team of people to turn them out fabulously and we, the great unwashed, are left to our own devices each day. If we forget mascara on one eye, there isn't a specialist on hand to patch us up before we are seen again in public.
So, it just makes me wonder, why are we fascinated with THEM?
The burden of our daily lives would stagger a celebrity.
They don't have to juggle the appointment with the cable installer, the orthodontist and the vet which are all inexplicably at exactly the same time even though you distinctly remember making them for different days and times.
They seldom have to decide which pair of sweats has few enough holes to still be usable for the trip to the hardware store for a new doorstop after the dog chewed the other one off.
Celebrities don't have the burden of anonymity. To be absent while present and ignored though you are the only one in the store.
The problem is that they mixed up a pitcher of special Kool-Aid and we all took a big old whacking drink of it because they said to.
Now, we hang onto their lives as if they don't have smelly feet or eat the last of the lunch meat and put the empty bag back into the bin for you to find when you are running late and have no cash to spare for lunch out.
We gasp at their happenings as if their world of spin is true. It is nothing like finding a library book in a box of yard sale holdings and making the sickening discovery that it was NOT bought at the library sale that day, but that you had checked it out that day and just mixed it into the pile of 5 cent specials.
I doubt that they would gasp at owing $11.47 in overdue fines. Their accountant would be dispatched to 'deal with it' and a photo op would be arranged of the celebrity reading to children from a closed book that was upside down and backward.
Celebrity news is indeed a respite from our own boring lives, but a dose of perspective is in order.
While we goo and gah over the happenings in the tabloids, we forget that our own lives are awe inspiring from time to time.
Like the day we got the kids to church both on time and still fully dressed! Let's see Paris Hilton try that with 5 kids under the age of 12 and no help because hubby had to be there early for a priesthood meeting.
Or the time that the dinner was so good that everyone was actually sad that there wouldn't be any leftovers for lunch the next day.
Then there is the thrilling moment of finding money we didn't know we had! It's a perpetual feeling of cheer!
Celebrities can't feel these things because they have chose to focus everything in their lives through the brilliant view of themselves.
Even those with families are willing to throw them under the bus for time in the news, be it positive or negative.
We in the ranks of the underwhelmed are not able or willing to throw our loved ones under the bus because we need them and they need us. And frankly, even if we did do that, it would just come back to bite us in the butt because they wouldn't be wearing clean underwear and everyone knows what that means!
I guess the main reason I wonder about celebrity information is to gauge some personal behaviors. If I have remembered to take both my car keys and my undies when I leave the house, then my day will be reasonably successful.
If I have remembered the hugs and kisses which I love to give and most certainly owe to those who help me through life, then I will be missed when I am gone and joyously greeted upon my return but BOTH the family and our slavishly spitty canine who washes us down with her tongue.
We need to see that we are worthy of the front page - not because of our sins and omissions but because of our kindness and fun.
We should be featured in the paper because we remembered the cookies for the party and took them into the classroom in the nick of time.
There should be a tickertape parade because there is clean, fragrant laundry and a bubbling pot of beef stew waiting for tired, hungry and cold family members.
It makes me wonder where our priorities have been.
News and newsmakers should be more in harmony with the 'flyover' portions of America instead of the wacky people who inhabit the coasts of Hollyweird and Broadway.
Take time today to plan to do New Year's a little differently - try this one:
We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives... not looking for flaws, but for potential. ~ Ellen Goodman ~
Happy New Year! And remember to wonder about the famous less and think about the every day moments of wonder a whole lot more...
Sometimes, the people delivering the news become the news themselves. I don't know that I like that trend, where the person giving me THEIR slant on what happened drives off the road of objectivity and right into the town of Personal Opinion.
Everyone has an opinion and we will never see every issue the same way. It's part of the endearing quality of being human that makes the journey appealing.
But celebrity news or as I like to call it SENSATIONALIST PROSTITUTION...
Well, that is another realm entirely.
The 'news' about celebrities isn't news in the traditional sense. It is, to be precise, tattle tale material offered up to the salacious and greedy who seek to have a front row view of the rise and fall of someone who doesn't do business at Mae's Quick Mart and Charm School.
Celebrities are only famous because they are rich, do something that the rest of us can't or won't or have been arrested doing something that even they know is wrong, but from which they will seek public absolution because they are playing the 'famous' card.
They are people who burp, pass gas and have armpit stains on their clothing.
They wake up with morning breath or in many cases, morning AFTER breath.
They have crusty eyes, matted hair and a small wad of dried spit on the left corner of their mouth.
They have to go to the bathroom exactly the same way the rest of us do and have to call out to someone to bring them more toilet paper when they sit down and take care of business only to discover that the roll is empty.
They parallel park like baboons.
They cheat on the Times crossword because they only speak erudite words and clever phrases that are written for them.
Chances are, they have paid more for uplifts, updo's, redo's and dental whitening that we pay for our mortgage.
The fact is, they need a team of people to turn them out fabulously and we, the great unwashed, are left to our own devices each day. If we forget mascara on one eye, there isn't a specialist on hand to patch us up before we are seen again in public.
So, it just makes me wonder, why are we fascinated with THEM?
The burden of our daily lives would stagger a celebrity.
They don't have to juggle the appointment with the cable installer, the orthodontist and the vet which are all inexplicably at exactly the same time even though you distinctly remember making them for different days and times.
They seldom have to decide which pair of sweats has few enough holes to still be usable for the trip to the hardware store for a new doorstop after the dog chewed the other one off.
Celebrities don't have the burden of anonymity. To be absent while present and ignored though you are the only one in the store.
The problem is that they mixed up a pitcher of special Kool-Aid and we all took a big old whacking drink of it because they said to.
Now, we hang onto their lives as if they don't have smelly feet or eat the last of the lunch meat and put the empty bag back into the bin for you to find when you are running late and have no cash to spare for lunch out.
We gasp at their happenings as if their world of spin is true. It is nothing like finding a library book in a box of yard sale holdings and making the sickening discovery that it was NOT bought at the library sale that day, but that you had checked it out that day and just mixed it into the pile of 5 cent specials.
I doubt that they would gasp at owing $11.47 in overdue fines. Their accountant would be dispatched to 'deal with it' and a photo op would be arranged of the celebrity reading to children from a closed book that was upside down and backward.
Celebrity news is indeed a respite from our own boring lives, but a dose of perspective is in order.
While we goo and gah over the happenings in the tabloids, we forget that our own lives are awe inspiring from time to time.
Like the day we got the kids to church both on time and still fully dressed! Let's see Paris Hilton try that with 5 kids under the age of 12 and no help because hubby had to be there early for a priesthood meeting.
Or the time that the dinner was so good that everyone was actually sad that there wouldn't be any leftovers for lunch the next day.
Then there is the thrilling moment of finding money we didn't know we had! It's a perpetual feeling of cheer!
Celebrities can't feel these things because they have chose to focus everything in their lives through the brilliant view of themselves.
Even those with families are willing to throw them under the bus for time in the news, be it positive or negative.
We in the ranks of the underwhelmed are not able or willing to throw our loved ones under the bus because we need them and they need us. And frankly, even if we did do that, it would just come back to bite us in the butt because they wouldn't be wearing clean underwear and everyone knows what that means!
I guess the main reason I wonder about celebrity information is to gauge some personal behaviors. If I have remembered to take both my car keys and my undies when I leave the house, then my day will be reasonably successful.
If I have remembered the hugs and kisses which I love to give and most certainly owe to those who help me through life, then I will be missed when I am gone and joyously greeted upon my return but BOTH the family and our slavishly spitty canine who washes us down with her tongue.
We need to see that we are worthy of the front page - not because of our sins and omissions but because of our kindness and fun.
We should be featured in the paper because we remembered the cookies for the party and took them into the classroom in the nick of time.
There should be a tickertape parade because there is clean, fragrant laundry and a bubbling pot of beef stew waiting for tired, hungry and cold family members.
It makes me wonder where our priorities have been.
News and newsmakers should be more in harmony with the 'flyover' portions of America instead of the wacky people who inhabit the coasts of Hollyweird and Broadway.
Take time today to plan to do New Year's a little differently - try this one:
We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives... not looking for flaws, but for potential. ~ Ellen Goodman ~
Happy New Year! And remember to wonder about the famous less and think about the every day moments of wonder a whole lot more...
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