God has a Sense of Humor

I like this quote from Heber C. Kimball:

I am perfectly satisfied that my Father and my God is a cheerful, pleasant, lively, and good-natured Being. Why? Because I am cheerful, pleasant, lively, and good-natured when I have His Spirit. That is one reason why I know; and another is—the Lord said, through Joseph Smith, "I delight in a glad heart and a cheerful countenance" [D&C 59:15]. That arises from the perfection of His attributes; He is a jovial, lively person.

I don't mean this to be irreverent in any way, but I want to share a few experiences I remember that I think show God's sense of humor.

1.) Someone I know was not religious. While doing some schoolwork in the library, she was simultaneously pondering life and thinking about where she wanted hers to go. The Holy Ghost said, "You should read the Book of Mormon." She was surprised at the prompting and thought, I don't even have a Book of Mormon. The Holy Ghost said, "You are in a library."

2.) Someone else I know needed an answer to prayer, and it was the kind of circumstance where he needed it soon. He felt inspired to start reading the Book of Mormon. After 7 pages, he knelt down to pray, "I'm still not getting anything." The Holy Ghost said, "There are 524 pages left." My friend had to look to see how long the Book of Mormon was. Sure enough.

3.) From my journal when I was dating my future husband, Mr. R:
"I was having a bad day, stressing about my upcoming date, so in the cafeteria line I said jokingly in my mind, Heavenly Father, give me a little sign if everything is meant to turn out with Mr. R. Let me get my frozen yogurt for free. I was totally kidding because I would never sign-seek that blatantly, and what does frozen yogurt have to do with Mr. R anyway? (I hope it’s not too irreverent to joke with the Lord.) Every Friday, the Church Office Building cafeteria lets you guess the price of your yogurt, sold by weight, and I’ve NEVER gotten it right in 3+ years of guessing. I guess Heavenly Father was in the mood to humor me. Getting free yogurt made my day."

People Believe Whatever They Want

According to Reuters, Mormons are leaving the Church in greater numbers than usual. And if you believe the New York Times, Mormons who stay are oppressed and out of touch. In a day when long-deluded Mormons have access to all the truth the Internet has to offer, why would anyone still believe?

Responding to this idea could take a couple of years’ worth of blog posts. But if I could boil it down to one reason why I, a fairly educated and intellectual person, believe that God lives, He speaks to His children, and His words are found in the Book of Mormon, it would be this: I choose to.

I have weighed the evidence of personal experience, my most treasured values, opposing viewpoints, and plenty of harmonious ones to arrive at my belief system. Ultimately, after the weighing and the sifting, the contemplating and the praying, I am a Mormon because I choose to interpret the positive—at times miraculous—experiences I’ve had in this religion as coming from God. Likewise, I choose to interpret the few negative experiences I’ve had in the Church as coming from imperfect humans who have as much of a right to make mistakes as I do. Could I just as easily choose to believe I must have been deceived regarding the source of spiritual epiphanies that have convinced me Mormonism is true? Sure. But that’s the beauty of it. I get to choose.

Sometimes I think the value of faith (which the Book of Mormon says starts with a desire to believe) gets overlooked in our secular, scientific, show-me-the-proof kind of society. Believing in something mainly because I want to doesn’t seem like a very valid approach to life. Except we all do it—atheists and faithful alike. As Rabbi Shmuley Boteach pointed out, “Even men of science can believe things that can be construed as highly irrational.”

Whether you believe in the Book of Mormon or the big bang theory (or both), those beliefs are chosen in the midst of competing theories and criticisms. And there will never be enough evidence to force someone to believe or to prohibit him or her from believing. Why? Because it’s important to God that we participate in selecting our beliefs and that we choose them willingly. What we choose to believe reveals who we are—our most cherished values and our character.

But the choice itself is not the only important part. It’s also the motive behind the choice that truly defines me.

For example, do I choose to believe in LDS doctrine because I can skew it in such a way to congratulate myself, sit assured in self-righteousness, and look down on everyone who isn’t as enlightened as I am? Do I choose to believe because my position in Mormon culture, social life, and family tradition is comfortable enough—whether or not I’ve ever seriously studied the Book of Mormon or partaken of the deep spiritual experiences the Church has to offer? Do I stay because prayer, experience, and study have produced both evidence and happiness in my life that I could never discount?

As for those who leave the Church, do they choose to do so because they want to draw closer to God and they feel that their leaving is His will? Do they leave because they cannot muster the desire to have faith, and to stay would be dishonest? Do they leave because the lifestyle is inconvenient and they’d rather gain approval from mainstream society? Or do they leave because their position in Mormon culture, social life, and family tradition is uncomfortable enough—whether or not they’ve ever seriously studied the Book of Mormon or partaken of the deep spiritual experiences the Church has to offer?

Only God knows. 

I hope I have enough self-awareness to truly recognize which category I fall into.

Quotes I Like about Using Talents

The good, from Church member and National-Book-Award nominee Martine Leavitt (from an article that used to be on her website before she took it down):

My faith, my family and my friends make me happy. I’ll tell you: life makes me happy. But writing is my way of being alive. It is my way of being in the world, my way of experiencing it and understanding it. . . . [I have] a sense of obligation to develop a gift that the universe has given me. That way, I am able to give it my heart and my time, without feeling that I am taking anything away from my family.

The bad, from BYU dance professor Pat Debenham (and apologies to my friends who are tired of me sharing this article wherever I go):

We must be careful not to infer that our artistic gift, though divinely given, is a divine appointment. When we suggest that we are called or in some way appointed to use our gift, we precariously position ourselves as official representatives of God. In so doing we are presumptuous, I believe, and in danger of blasphemy. Of course we feel a responsibility to magnify our gift, but to represent it to either the public or ourselves as a calling possibly perverts the original intent and certainly distorts the source of the gift. A Church calling is directly from God as an appointment with all the pertinent rights and blessings bestowed upon us, but viewing our gift as a calling is a self-appointment.

Just as we can be seduced into believing that our gift is our calling, we can also be lured into thinking that our proclivities are equivalent to gifts given to us by the Holy Ghost or by the Spirit of God. When we interpret scriptural and prophetic references about gifts to mean our God-given proclivities, we confuse our talent with the actual gifts that God enumerates in the scriptures. . . . Nowhere do [the scriptures] mention the gift of dance, song, music, or painting. Nor do [they] mention the gift for building or troubleshooting machines, the gift of public speaking, the gift of medicine, or the myriad of other gifts that we often refer to. . . . What we label this proclivity that Heavenly Father has bestowed upon us can produce an exaggerated sense of what our abilities are for. . . .

We need to consider our professional involvement in the arts as a job. Pure, simple, and pointed. It is a job. Our work in our art form is a vehicle that allows us to accomplish other things in life. It is not . . .  a "calling." As much as I, the artist, the choreographer, the dancer-performer, have in the past reveled in perhaps even been self-congratulatory for my status in life, . . . discipline-related talents are not the spiritual gifts that God bestows upon us to assist in the redemption of mankind.

The ugly, from C.S. Lewis in The Great Divorce, wherein a heavenly spirit and a ghost from hell are talking:

“You’re forgetting,” said the Spirit. “That was not how you began. Light itself was your first love: you loved to paint only as a means of telling about light.”

“Oh, that’s ages ago,” said the Ghost. “One grows out of that. Of course, you haven’t seen my later works. One becomes more and more interested in paint for its own sake.”

“One does, indeed. I also have had to recover from that. It was all a snare. Ink and catgut and paint were necessary down there, but they are also dangerous stimulants. Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from the love of the thing he tells, to love of the telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about Him. For it doesn’t stop at being interested in paint, you know. They sink lower—becoming interested in their own personalities and then in nothing but their own reputations.”

That's all I have to say about that for now.

Why I Was Gone and Why I'm Back (For Now)

I had a false start at keeping this blog. After I posted my last entry---a dissertation on a controversial conference talk---I took the blog down. Some people asked me if it's because I got too much traffic or because I received too much criticism for what I should or shouldn't have said or because too many stickybeaks told me offline what I should or shouldn't believe.

Not really. It's more that I had a pretty long to-do list, and blogging wasn't making the cut, no matter how hard I tried.

It's difficult to keep a steady blog schedule going when you eat as much ice cream as I do. And I hate having a blog and the last post being several months old. Looking at a stale date on the blog gives me the same feeling as finding expired milk in the fridge. *Cringe*

Today I decided to give it another go. Here's why.

It's fast Sunday. For those readers who may not know, fasting is a practice Mormons love and hate. We skip two meals on the first Sunday of every month (hate---especially when the Lucky Charms are already poured into the bowl and spoon raised to the mouth when I look at the calendar). We give the money we would have spent on Lucky Charms to the poor. We also see it as a time to think about spiritual things with more clarity (LOVE!) since we're not busy stuffing ourselves with leftover Halloween candy. We are taught to "fast with a purpose"---in other words, to pray about something that is troubling us or to pray for someone in special need, and the sacrifice of the two meals along with our willingness to go hungry for a higher purpose bolsters our faith and helps us receive answers to prayer.

Today I decided to fast about my attempts at balancing motherhood and freelance work. Anyone who knows me well realizes I am not a hard worker when it comes to career. If I don't happen to have a job, I'm not the kind of person to get bored or have an identity crisis. So why, after I had a baby, was I suddenly feeling lost because I didn't have much time to work for pay anymore?

The absolute consuming nature of motherhood surprised me. Maybe it's because I've read too many blogs about moms who can do tons of crazy stuff, like play with colored gems on a light panel with their kids all day, and seek wool and flax and work with her hands and stuff, and, you know, cook dinner sometimes. But I was having a hard time fitting in a shower regularly, let alone editing other people's manuscripts and writing my own---partly because one of my hands is holding a bottle eight hours a day. (A baby bottle, duh.) How can I type much with only one hand? 

I've noticed lately that on days when I decide I don't have to do editing work and that I'm only going to play with TallyBug and keep her fed, I feel content. REALLY content. So content I started wondering if writing shouldn't be on my to-do list ever again. The best people who ever lived probably weren't writers. They probably spent their lives feeding the poor and changing their babies' diapers.

A few days ago I complained to a friend that at writing conferences and classes, the teachers treat writing as a moral issue. I've never been to a conference where I didn't hear this advice: "WRITE EVERY SINGLE DAY." (Subtext: "If you don't prioritize writing above drinking water and eating food, you are not and never will be a REAL writer.") Maybe it was bothering me because I don't like being told what to do. :P Or maybe it's because there are already so many things we really should do every day: Pray. Read our scriptures. Exercise. Floss our teeth. But write? Will I go to hell or get cavities if I miss one day of writing fiction? No, but I won't publish a book ever, either. Is that such a bad thing? That's what I was trying to decide when I began my fast.

While fasting about if I should take writing less seriously . . . (I hope my agent doesn't read this. She might fall over dead to think I could take it any less seriously) . . . I went in for my temple recommend interview. Again, for those who don't know, a temple recommend interview is when Mormons meet with their ecclesiastical leaders to talk about if they are beating their kids or any other serious sins that would revoke their privilege of worshiping in the temple. A temple is different than a church and its use is reserved for the spiritually committed so the sacred atmosphere can be preserved. Basically, a temple recommend interview is a chance to evaluate if you're living the morals you believe in and to show some accountability.

Mr. R and I are fairly new to the area, and I'd never met this particular ecclesiastical leader yet. I sat down across from his desk, and he rattled off the usual questions. Then, out of the blue, he asked me what I studied in college. When I said English, he asked if I knew Chris Crowe, and I said of course, he was like my favorite professor ever because I love to write for children and teens.

And then my ecclesiastical leader---whose job it is to teach morals---looked me in the eyes and said this: "You know, you really should be writing every day."

Is this the answer to my prayers? It sorta seemed like it.

I guess, for me, it's okay to write every. single. day. Even if I let the floors go unvacuumed for another month. *cough* I mean week. Writing is a gift God has given me to develop, a creative outlet that's better than paying for therapy, and I don't want to die not having tried because I was too lazy to type one-handed.

But also, I don't want to write anything on Sunday I might potentially be paid for someday. That feels like work, and work feels like Sabbath-breaking to me, so I dusted off the ol' blog and wrote my drivel of the day. That's why I'm back. I'll stay as long as TallyBug keeps sleeping now and then, which she did not do for the first eight weeks of her life.

I'm curious to hear about balance from anyone who's been there. How do you pursue excellence in whatever talents make you happy while making sure the family stays clean, fed, safe, and sane? I'm new to this motherhood thing.

What I Believe About President Packer's Conference Talk

I haven't blogged for a while because I've been tweaking this post, debating if I should make it public. Like I've mentioned before, this blog is mainly a journal for me. For that reason, I dislike posting things that may cause ill feelings among people I love and trolls who don't even know me. But the complex issues regarding gay rights and the Church's moral stance have been thought provoking and troubling to me for some time, and President Packer's talk stirred the pot again. I've decided to touch on these issues and pray I will not be misunderstood.

Last week I read an article regarding the public's response to President Packer's talk on Meridian Magazine's site. Maurine Proctor writes:

The case is capsulized by Elder Dallin H. Oaks: “The New Testament affirms that God has given us commandments that are difficult to keep.” Among the ways people respond to that difficulty is by stoning the messenger or reforming their idea of God and what he expects to something more palatable for them. But petition God as we might, he doesn’t change the nature of the universe for us, nor the eternal, moral laws on which it rests. Some might suppose it is more compassionate for God’s laws to be amendable to our weakest inclinations—whatever they may be—but it is from his love and his infinite justice and mercy that he is clear with us. Some choices and behaviors will ultimately bring us pain and hamper our eternal destiny. The Church cannot surrender to any demand that would have it reject biblical truth and revelation given by modern prophets. It cannot lie to sinners about their sin, no matter how strong the insistence is.

The author goes on to note that many see God as a butler, therapist, or guidance counselor, reminding me of what C. S. Lewis said in Mere Christianity—that we often see God as a senile grandfather who likes nothing better than to see the children having a good time.

It is difficult doctrine that God asks us to do hard things. As I've read many times on a Christian webzine, I believe that God's objective is not to make us "happy," according to our modern society's definition of the word, but to make us holy. I don't blame anyone who doesn't believe this. I certainly don't claim to understand what it would be like to be told that the lifestyle that feels most natural and comfortable to me—the way I feel the most me—is a sin in God's eyes.

All I have is my own experience.

At times, my preferences and God's revealed will for my life have clashed. The most excruciating times have been when I've had to wrestle in prayer before God, wanting to submit to Him on some level, but not-so-secretly wishing He'd submit to me. The end result of such struggles are always more beautiful than I could have imagined, miraculously bringing the peace I never thought I'd have. While none of us asks for suffering, I believe there is something majestic in experiencing pain for a cause—the way Christ suffered for us.

In my life, the noblest cause is to know God better. I am overwhelmed with admiration for Latter-day Saints who choose to live the celibate life because they believe it will achieve spiritual strength and closeness with God. I believe that no heterosexual can fully understand the weight of what God is truly asking when He, through His prophets, asks His children to lay feelings of same-gender attraction on the altar and walk away. Those who accomplish this must have faith that their Heavenly Father will compensate them in some way, but they also know they may never experience the companionship and romantic love in this life that so many take for granted. I can't imagine what this must feel like.

Yet in a smaller degree, I do know the peace of surrendering my personal agenda, even my personal identity, to the God who knows the real me and not the flimsy image I've constructed for myself. Submitting to God and His laws in order to find happiness is certainly counterintuitive, but in my limited experience, I know His promises are real. I've tasted the peace.

I say all this to point out that I believe in the pure motives of Mormon leaders. I believe they want to invite everyone who is willing to seek that peace.

I had the opportunity at times to work with some of the Apostles and Seventy at close range for six years, so I'm not speaking out of mere respect for their position or admiration from afar but also from the experiences I gained interacting with them. I felt their love for God and their love for mankind as I sat in meetings with them and heard them discuss their concerns. While their words and policies are frustrating to those who disagree, I believe wholeheartedly that Mormon leaders have benevolent objectives: a desire to invite people to find lasting happiness and avoid tragedy. I believe they feel a weighty sense of responsibility to speak truth for the benefit of all who will listen, much like a beach lifeguard who spies sharks in the water and must warn the swimmers. To those who do not believe LDS leaders have any prophetic insight, this claim can seem condescending. Nevertheless, I hope it's clear that—whether there are, in reality, "sharks" threatening our society—Mormon leaders respond to what they see out of love. Suggestions that they mind their own business may sound to Mormon prophets much like swimmers who want to be left alone to enjoy their beach day, sharks or not. How could a conscientious lifeguard keep silent?

I believe Mormon prophets invite those who are willing to tread on the narrow path of self-denial because they know that ultimately other paths have even more painful pitfalls. I believe they speak clearly to give strength to those who truly want to adhere to biblical teachings but may lose courage in the face of mass secularization in the wider culture without the moral support of a large body of believers.

I do not believe that the leaders of my church speak boldly about the immorality of same-sex relationships in an attempt to change or control those who do not have any interest in changing. Mormon doctrine emphasizes that God's will cannot be forced on His children. The reason God gives us commandments is so the individual can be transformed through grace and obedience to those commands, but there is little transformative power in choices made out of coercion.

At the same time, I understand that many, many people feel that Mormons alone coerced gays out of getting married in California. The issue of whether marriage is a civil right will continue to be disagreed upon and debated, and I don't have the time or space to dissect that issue here today. I only want to say that I'm adamant in my belief that Mormon leaders do not wish to marginalize, demonize, or harm anyone.

For those who feel marginalized, demonized, and harmed, I express my sadness. I can't help but wonder if maybe there is no way around the pain for both groups when two of God's children disagree on something so fundamental. I hope that isn't true. I hope the future yields a more ideal solution. In the meantime, I echo what President Obama said back in May: "We can't expect to solve our problems if all we do is tear each other down. You can disagree with a certain policy without demonizing the person who espouses it. You can question somebody's views and their judgment without questioning their motives."

Even as I defend the Mormon Apostles I respect and uphold, and ask for a little empathy from those who don't understand where they are coming from, I admit it is sometimes difficult for me to avoid questioning the motives of some who promote gay rights.

Maurine Proctor relates a perspective that I have never encountered in my community, but, if true, worries me:

Laurie Higgins, the president of Illinois Family Council said, “I asked a prominent homosexual activist and blogger if he would accept enumerated anti-bullying resources [in schools] that made clear the distinction between moral disapproval and bullying. In other words, would he accept anti-bullying resources that explicitly stated that bullying refers to homosexual epithets and physical harassment, and that bullying does not refer to the belief or the expression of the belief that homosexual practice is immoral? He adamantly rejected such resources. . . .

According to the homosexual agenda, you don’t have to physically harass someone or fling an epithet at them to be considered a homophobe. Being friendly or tolerant isn’t enough to escape this label. If you believe that homosexuality is immoral, you are by their definition hateful. If you are a member of a church that stands by the long-held Christian tradition, you are hateful.

To rob a faithful person of the right to legally express belief in a well defined moral code, without negative repercussions, seems like dismantling religion itself. I hope outlawing one's right to publicly believe and interpret scripture is not at the heart of most gay-rights defenders' agendas or activities. I can understand the annoyance at hearing public appeals to the Bible among people who do not believe in the Bible, but at the same time, there is no original thought or opinion on the face of the earth. Some may draw their conclusions from scripture, others from rabid radio commentators, family, friends, authors, television, Internet articles, cultural norms, college professors, or any other number of influences. I don't believe scripture should be ruled as an invalid resource in the formation of opinion while all other influences are fair game.

I also don't understand why some promoters of gay rights seem to want to reduce freedom of choice for other gays. Those who want to explore the possibility of reducing their feelings of same-gender attraction have a difficult road ahead of them. Doctor S. Brent Scharman writes:

Professionals willing to assist individuals in their attempts to change are under tremendous pressure not to do so—both from individuals and organizations. Some state and national organizations have even talked of taking away the licenses of those who participate in this work.

I feel that stripping the license of psychologists who allow their clients to determine the direction of their therapy is wrong. Reorientation therapy may lead to disappointment for the majority, but this is no reason to rule out the individual's right to try whatever he or she wants to try in the search for greater peace.

Now a final p.s. on the whole situation. This is the part of the post where I actually talk about President Packer's October conference talk wherein he originally stated that Heavenly Father would never make one of His children gay but later deleted that sentence. I agree with one of the comments left on Proctor's Meridian article by a reader:

I think your article is a little melodramatic on what actually took place. Based upon the corrected version [of President Packer's talk] posted on LDS.org it seems to be that Elder Packer's wording in conference was not the best for articulating what he was attempting to convey. The way it read was out of tune with the official church position of differentiating between sexual orientation and sexual behaviour. As a gay Latter-day Saint living the law of celibacy as directed by our prophet, President Monson, I offer my testimony that there is a big difference between condemning sexual orientation (which is not a chosen trait) and condemning sexual behaviour. There is much pain experienced needlessly when we don't separate the two.

Amen.

President Packer changed the printed wording of his talk. What he said at the pulpit that has since been omitted is not, therefore, Mormon doctrine.

Ever notice how the spoken and printed versions of conference talks don't always match—especially when President Monson is telling stories and jokes in priesthood session? There is a difference between the spoken and published versions because the speaker approves what he wants to be, for lack of a better word, "canonized" in print. Often the speaker prepares a printed version, strays from it while at the pulpit, and requests that the original version be published. What happened to President Packer's talk occurs every single general conference. It's just that clarification rarely occurs on such volatile issues, and changes go largely unnoticed.

I understand why some of President Packer's listeners found his words insensitive. I'm grateful for the clarification that quickly came. And I pray for the day when all of us with opposing viewpoints can cease to feel threatened by each other because of our increasing ability to love and believe the best about each other, despite what issues may remain impasses. As Orson Scott Card pointed out, "Tolerance implies disagreement—it means that even though we don't agree with or approve of each others beliefs or actions, we can still live together amicably."

My Favorite Mormon Messages Ever!

I like this one:


And this one:


And this one:


See a theme here?

President Dieter Uchtdorf is my favorite speaker since Elder Neal A. Maxwell died. Is it because his messages mean the most to me? Or is it because listening to him reminds me of being here?


I think it's both.

Prioritizing--My Archenemy

I had the awesome chance to go to the General Relief Society meeting in the Conference Center on Saturday with some sisters from my ward. We sat on about the fifteenth or twentieth row. As the First Presidency, their wives, and the general Relief Society Presidency all entered, I thought about how different their lives are from mine. I thought about all the places they have likely traveled in the last year, the people around the world they have met and come to love, the strangers they have smiled and waved at because being in such a visible calling means they get to do a lot of smiling and waving, even if some days they may not especially feel like it.

Seeing the presidencies in person and being reminded of all they do made me want to approach life with more love. Stop fussing over whether or not I'm doing things "right" and take more time to really see others. The thing that always stops me from following through is indecision about the specifics. How to show love, and to whom, and while doing what? There I go, worrying about myself again.

My biggest problem, I'm noticing, is that I hate, hate, hate having to choose a way to spend the time I've been given when it means I am therefore not choosing every other way I could have chosen. Am I mentally ill? Yes, but let's move on.

In 1949, Thomas Griffith from Time magazine said:

All that mattered, I felt, was my inclination; I saw life as a set of free choices. Only later did it occur to me that every road taken is another untaken, every choice a narrowing. A sadder maturity convinces me that, as in a chess game, every move helps commit one to the next, and each person's situation at a given moment is the sum of the moves he has made before.

In 1990, Ardeth Kapp said:

It is only when you are clear in your mind concerning your values that you are free to simplify and reduce without putting at risk what matters most. Until we determine what is of greatest worth, we are caught up in the unrealistic idea that everything is possible.

Just for the record, I'm clear in my values---I value almost EVERYTHING. What my family and friends want me to do. What "the Church" wants me to do. (Ever wonder who this mysterious "Church" person is?) What my body begs me to do---get more sleep, prepare a meal that isn't cereal now and then. I value nature, exercise, good books, good movies, good housekeeping, funny clips on the Internet, friends, planning vacations I'll never take, researching graduate programs I'll never apply to, organizing my closet, organizing it again, painting pictures, painting my house, downloading iTunes songs, visiting teaching, family time, family history work, developing talents, going to my jobs sometimes. Oh, yes. I'm clear in my values.

In 2010, Julie Beck said:

A good woman knows that she does not have enough time, energy, or opportunity to take care of all of the people or do all of the worthy things her heart yearns to do.

This idea from Boundless makes sense to me, too:

The term "overcommitted" is a misnomer. People who have too many "commitments" (jobs, positions, obligations or even classes) are not overcommitted; they are undercommitted. They do not have enough commitment to any of the tasks and activities to which they have pledged themselves to actually do any of them properly.

These truths make sense, and yet I've been fighting them all my life. It's not all possible? Really?

I have a hard time deciding what to do in absence of a mighty revelation, so I avoid thinking about it altogether and sit on my couch blogging instead of going to work on time. (Sorry to my three poor readers. Maybe this is the kind of problem you want to have---a luxury that moms don't get to whine about when kids are busy setting the house on fire and all your time is used up for you.)

This quote from Neal A. Maxwell hits home, and although he is talking about committing to the gospel, I wonder if it applies to smaller decisions as well---how we will use our time to show our commitment to the gospel:

The absence of a decision to commit is a decision. Of course, indecision does not push us immediately into gross sin, but it renders us ineffective and uninfluential in a world that so much needs committed individuals; as a minimum, we have lost time in terms of the impact we might have had.

This image from one of President James E. Faust's sermons has stayed with me, and I think of it as an analogy for faith, magnifying callings by the Spirit, or, of course, prioritizing:

As a small boy, I remember being intrigued by my grandmother’s magnifying glass, which she used in her old age to read and do needlework. When the glass was in focus, everything I looked at was greatly magnified. But I was most intrigued by what happened when the lens concentrated the sunlight on an object. When it passed through the magnifying glass, the sunlight’s power was absolutely amazing.

I want my time and especially my heart to be so focused on Jesus Christ that what I'm capable of accomplishing in a day is greatly magnified. Scattering sunshine all along my way has been fun, but . . . scattered.

As a follower of the Savior, I know HE should be my only priority, my only value, my only factor in decision-making. When I remember Him more often, maybe I'll start feeling more of that love I sensed as I sat in the Conference Center, watching His servants smile and wave to the crowd.

I'm SO glad it's general conference this weekend. I'm ready for another dose of clarity.