Christmas Letter 2013: The Return of Miss M

I totally forgot to post this last year. I meant to do it about five days after I got the cards out and then I didn't do it. Might have been the college and LDS missionary prep along with Christmas, a new job, a five kids. Anyway enjoy. With luck I might get the new one I drafted today out and up here before next year. - Kristen

Dear fellow humans (or aliens, I don’t judge),

I am back again to write this Christmas letter because my mom said everyone thought it was hilarious last time I wrote it (you can tell I love having my ego stroked.) Anyway, let’s get on with this so I can go do something else.

First let’s begin with D. Ah, D. Mr. “I’m so tall and bearded and manly that people think I’m 25 not 17.” Yes, him. He got his Eagle this year. I know because I had to help with his court of honor (Tons of work, guys) He’s done some stuff in choir (Mom, add something here. I literally don’t know what D did this year.) I have to be nice to him because he drives me to school. I don’t see him a lot, (no joke, he’s either at school where I don’t see him, at work where I also don’t see him, or in his room, or out with friends.) I don’t talk to him much, but I know he loves me because he watches out for me in the parking lot. Just a tip, if you are walking through a high school parking lot, bring someone tall and who will watch the traffic for you or else you might get run over by some speeding teenager.

Ugh, I just read what I’ve written. I sound like your typical teenage girl. Maybe I should write how D would write this. Have you ever read something that kid wrote?

“The Russian Federation was no longer a great player in international politics in the ‘90’s. The country was becoming obsolete. Gone were the times when the Soviet Union dictated the paths of its vassal states and allies. Under Putin, a reorganization took place. The corruption and misuse of government funds by the “oligarchs” was eliminated. The Russian economy has steadily grown at a rate of seven percent (Starobin). Putin’s decisions in consolidating and organizing the Russian Federation have led to great domestic success.”

I grabbed that from some paper he wrote on Vladimir Putin like two years ago! Pretty impressive stuff, eh? Oh well, I’ve always known I’d never be able to write as well as D. Might as well resign myself to that fact.

Next is me, M. Not much to say besides that I’m amazing. I um… this year I… This is awkward. I’m 15 and a freshman in high school now. That’s pretty cray cray. (Cray cray means crazy for those of you out of the loop.) I’m in choir, Spanish, and Key Club (the key club isn’t by personal choice. I kind of got sucked into that by a girl who seems to like D. Not that service groups are bad things!) I’ve been baking lots and I’ve also been playing the piano a lot lately which my mom is happy about. Can I brag real quick? I really want to. I just wanted to mention that I’m in honors Algebra II which is 11^th grade math and I have an A! Woot, Woot! Sorry, I’m just so happy! In case you feel like my bragging was too much, I’ll put in something bad about myself. I’m kind of sucking at taking care of my diabetes. Yeah, I have an A1C of 9.0, or something like that. That’s pretty bad. Now I’m sad. And feel worthless. I think I’ll just tell you about Enow.

E is tall. Taller than me tall. And I know I’m only 5’5”, but he’s still like 5’8-9” and only 13 and in 8^th grade. Wow. He’s taller than me when I’m wearing really tall heels. He’s also playing the clarinet in band. And he’s in FLL, or First Lego League which means he builds robots out of Legos. It sounds boring and difficult to me, but he seems to enjoy it so good for him. I asked him something good he did this year and he said “puppies”. Personally, that sounds pretty cool to me, but I also know he had nothing to do with puppies this year so he’s lying. Liar, liar pants on fiyah! Did you know lying is spelled with a ‘Y’?

C, who is 12, is in 6^th grade. He’s very proud of grades. (Yes C, I know you have A’s, I have A’s too. You don’t need to brag. My A’s are just as high as your A’s. Plus I have an A in art and you don’t because you obviously are far too hard on your self-graded assignments. Learn to relax, it’s art for crying out loud. You could paint a canvas blue and call it art and people would buy it for lots of money, ‘cause that legitimately happened.) He does stuff called percussion, which I did last year in eighth grade, but I’m not bragging. He also is about to do some basketball with B and does FLL with E, so that’s fun for him I guess.

B, recently discovered a love for Doctor Who. He is now a Whovian. I accidently got him started on this path because I am like that. He also likes Minecraft. Actually, they all like Mincraft, except D. Some of their stuff is pretty impressive. B is eleven, no wait he’s nine. No, no he’s 10. He is definitely 10. And I know he’s in 5^th grade because he still gets track break. Lucky duck. He is pretty funny (though not as funny as me) and does stuff. I don’t know what though. (Mom, put something here too!)

I really don’t know what my parents do. Mom got a job as a receptionist at the same place D works,  Journey Mental Health clinic, or as my friend put it so eloquently the other day “The crazy people place”, *sniff* their name just brings tears to my eyes.

My dad works to buy me stuff. No one else, just me (well I guess he works to buy all the stinkin’ food my brothers eat. They eat a lot. And I guess he pays for the stuff mom buys. And the stuff he buys for his bike. Did I mention he rides bikes? All the freaking time! Well, that’s actually a lie. He more rides his bikes sometimes and walks a lot with mi madre because they wanted to walk 1000 miles this year. He also tries to get me to do stuff, but I’m just like “ain’t nobody got time for that!”) He also is pretty annoying sometimes, but I’m working on my anger issues and just ignoring him instead of punching him (but I could totally take him if I wanted to).

So, this is done. And now I get to go do something else. I’m so excited! As a grand finale, I will finish off with some Spanish!

No me gusta escribir ninguna palabra, pero me gusta leer muchas palabras y ver películas. ¿Te gustan las hamburguesas? ¡Adiós señores  y señoritas!

-La familia de Schafers

Optical Obstacles

Glasses. I got them in fourth grade. They were not my favorite thing. But it was nice to be able to see.

I upgraded to contacts as a sophomore in high school. Gas permeable contacts. That was the most painful thing I have ever done to myself. Worse than child birth. Child birth included pain relief. There was no relief from the excruciating pain in my eyes from those two tiny pieces of plastic. 

And then I had to take. them. out.

It has been years and the thought still makes me want to die.

I laid at my grandmother's house in a fetal position, eyes closed for the two hours of the first day. Two hours twice in one day. Three to four hours the next day. Longest four hours ever. (I was at my grandmother's because my home town had rotten eye doctors who missed how blind I was becoming in third grade. The level of medical care in Salt Lake was much higher than in the desolate desert mining community of Rock Springs.)

I kept going back to Salt Lake for my eye appointments for years. I was nearly thirty years old, living in Idaho, and almost pregnant with my second child, the last time I went to Salt Lake for an eye appointment. Or maybe it was a year or two later, everything became a blur after that second child.

After much trial and travail we finally found an eye doctor in the Treasure Valley of Idaho, just down the road in fact. I know that happen before my third child was five. Because that is about when I got my brain back.

And my eyes have gotten older and needed what essential amounts to bi-focals. But thank goodness, I put up with contacts and got totally used to them, because that actually turned out well as I mentioned in this post.

In any case I have had years of visiting the eye doctor. Of the seven people who live, or once lived, in my house six currently need glasses or contacts in order to see. And the other one has some weird disease called Congenital Fourth Nerve Palsy which apparently makes him see double. "But don't worry mom, my brain knows that there really aren't two of everything, so it stitches the double images my eyes sometimes see together." Great to know son...

Correcting my vision has been a blessing in my life. I have thought about the miracle that it is and been intensely grateful for the blessing of sight. So many things are easier to do because I can see them.

But something in life are not see-able or foreseeable. Somethings have to be taken on faith. Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Faith that taking that next step into the darkness is the correct course. 

Quoting several scriptures, James E. Faust once said, "To those who say, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief,” may I suggest that “you look forward with an eye of faith.” To those who do this, the Lord has promised, “I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart.” (October 2003)

The Holy Ghost, the third member of the Godhead, is an interesting spirit. He doesn’t exactly reach out and smack you upside the head. In fact He has never done that to me. For years I kept waiting for a still small voice. Can’t think of that ever happening; at least not as a voice telling me something to do. I have gotten song lyrics running through my head, that I have decided is the Holy Ghost speaking in a way I can understand. But a voice – no.

As for that burning in my bosom promised in the Doctrine and Covenants. Okay that one - I remember, telling me that something was true or right. But usually it is a pretty small burning, one that I can easily ignore, if I am not paying good attention.

I find most of the time I am looking for direction in my life. “Hey I’m lost down here and need to know which way to head. I really, really don’t enjoy stepping off into the dark and hoping I am headed the right way, so could you send something? Please?” That kind of stuff.

I have actually gotten better at being able to say, “One step’s enough for me.” But I still like to know that first step. Over the year I have figured out how to find it. And it does have something to do with the way I started this rambling post.

When I am trying to figure out which way I should head, I find that I tend to ponder over my options. I consider this one and that one, thinking about the pros and cons. Considering the consequences. And as I do this for an extended period (like more than three minutes), it is a lot like going to the eye doctor and having them flip back an forth between the lenses on the big optical machine hanging from the ceiling. “Is number one better. Or two?”

At some point in my pondering, it as if the Spirit flips the correct lens into my sight and suddenly everything is clear and sharp, and just like I know that is the right optical power to aid my less than perfect eyes, I know that this clearly is the answer to which path I should pursue.

So now I am better able to step forth, despite the optical obstacle of not seeing the end from the beginning, with faith in my Savior and the guidance He sends through the Holy Spirit, saying "lead thou me on".

Variations on Water II

All of the pictures in this post came from my friend David Andersen, a talented and inspiring photographer. 

 If you want to view more of his work visit his website: http://david-andersen.com/

I imagine the love of God like a river flowing slowly and calmly forward. Ebbing and teeming with power around me as I stand firmly on the river bed.  It is warm and golden, sparkling in the light. 

We are born standing in the river.  Sometimes things happen to pull us out of the river and make it hard for us to feel the love surrounding us.

Sometimes as we grow, we decide that we don't really like the river as much as we think that we would like the grass on the side of the river, or maybe the mountains in the distance. So we decide to climb out of the river. We wander away from the river and wonder why we feel so unsettled, so discontent, even sad.

Often we are afraid to completely leave the river, so we stay where we can trail a foot or toe in it, but not allowing of ourselves to step into the warmth and glow.

Elder Dieter Uchtdorf said at a General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in October 2009:

 "Think of the purest, most all-consuming love you can imagine. Now multiply that love by an infinite amount—that is the measure of God’s love for you.  

God does not look on the outward appearance.  I believe that He doesn’t care one bit if we live in a castle or a cottage, if we are handsome or homely, if we are famous or forgotten. Though we are incomplete, God loves us completely. Though we are imperfect, He loves us perfectly. Though we may feel lost and without compass, God’s love encompasses us completely. 

He loves us because He is filled with an infinite measure of holy, pure, and indescribable love. We are important to God not because of our résumé but because we are His children. He loves every one of us, even those who are flawed, rejected, awkward, sorrowful, or broken. God’s love is so great that He loves even the proud, the selfish, the arrogant, and the wicked.

What this means is that, regardless of our current state, there is hope for us. No matter our distress, no matter our sorrow, no matter our mistakes, our infinitely compassionate Heavenly Father desires that we draw near to Him so that He can draw near to us."

God loves all of us. He loves us when we choose good and when we choose bad. He loves us unconditionally because we are His children. All of us. He wants us to be near Him and feel His infinite love for us.

Back to the river-

If a river is God's love, God wants us to be in the river. His river of love surrounding us, supporting us, giving us the comfort and the blessings we need every day. If we have made poor choices, God wants us to forsake them and return to His river of love. He wants us to step in and allow Him to heal us with His all consuming love.

And more than that, He wants us to trust Him. He wants us to have the courage to lift our firmly planted feet from the rocks and sand below

and allow Him to support and direct our course through life. He has the power. Do we have the courage to trust Him?

Even when we can't see through the fog of life?

Or wonder what direction He is taking us?

Do we relax and let Him support us? Lift and take away our burdens? Do we layback and relax in His love at the beginning, through the middle, and at the end of the day?

Do we have the faith and the hope that he is guiding us somewhere ever more beautiful than we can get to on our own? Even more beautiful than He has already brought us across the ripples of life to?

Do we really trust that He has plans which will take us in the morning to even more beauty than we already see? Do we?

Family History - I am Doing It*

Go to this link in another browser and play this song while you read

Preferably with the music and vocals

At the end of July, my son Camden went with the Deacons Quorum to visit the Family History Library. Sister V was there and taught the young men about Family Search and the Finding Our Cousins program. Sister V and Camden looked for names for him, but had little success. 

The next day, knowing that we had some names reserved on Camden's paternal line, we got on familysearch.org and went looking. While there we printed off the pedigree chart and family group record that Camden needed for the Genealogy merit badge. We also dug around in our paper files and uploaded copies of US Civil War Service Records onto the entry for a man on Camden's maternal line. Finally we printed the names that we had reserved for the temple. There were two female names and five male names.

A week or two later Camden, Marleise, Egan, Dreyton, and I went to the temple on a Tuesday morning with Sister W and her daughters, M & S. Dreyton was able to baptize Camden and Marleise as proxy for the family names. Then I was able to go in and sit as the confirmations were done. During the confirmation for one of the women, May, I felt a warm, almost burning, sensation in my chest. When the officiators finished the confirmations, one of them turned to me and said, "That first female name. That was strong." I felt sure that she had been there.

When we were finished in the baptistry, Sister W took all of the younger kids home. Dreyton and I went upstairs where we continued to do work for those names. We had appointments to do all the initiatories and then we attended an endowment session. I decided to take May's name. Dreyton took her father George.

I didn't really feel anything during the endowment session, but I had a reoccurring thought that I needed to go home and find May's husband.

When Dreyton and I finished, we had mission prep errands to run. It was 4 or 5 o'clock before I got to the computer, but I felt like I really needed to do that so I went in to our office, sat down, and typed in May's father's name. I don't know why I chose him. It was partially because I had no idea what her married name was. But mostly it was because that is what popped into my head/fingers when I sat down.

Immediately a USGenWeb entry written in 1910 came up for George. It was a bio written about him in a book about the families of Grundy County Illinois. The article listed him, his first and second wife, his children and their spouses. May's husband Thomas was there.

I have more to do before we can take Thomas and the other names found in that article to the temple, but this sweet experience was a blessing during a busy time in our lives. It reminded me that God is mindful of all of His children living and dead. He wants us to take those few moments on a Sunday afternoon or a quite evening or even a crazy busy Tuesday afternoon and look at our family history. Maybe we will only find out that our family and our spouse's family crossed the plains in the same wagon company (true experience). Or maybe we can help our children upload the life sketches that came from our grandma's bureau drawer (a project yet to be done - but waiting). But just maybe if we take that few minutes, we will find a cousin who is excitedly waiting for us to find her, print her name, and take her to the temple.

*The title for this post came from and LDS Primary song. If you know your Primary songs or followed the link, you figured that out.

Variations on the Theme of Water

The inspiration that began this musing came from my husband. He spoke of the water cycle. How drops come to earth as rain and snow. They percolate through the earth and rock making their way to small streams and creeks. From there they join in rivers that become larger and larger until they reach the seas. Then the water evaporates and returns ro the heavens.

He commented that we are like the drops of rain or snow coming to earth going through a cycle of our own. The cycle of life.

I have thought about those comments. I see wisdom in that analogy. We could be liken to indivdual flakes and drops coming to the earth. We each have different characteristics and composition, but essentially we are the same. Millions of us have come and likely will come. Each doing many of the same things living and dying, but in our own indivdual ways.

Yet we don't always feel all that individual. As the water drops join a big river or the ocean they seem to lose their individual identity. We often feel that way too in a large school or a job or sometimes as just another random face living in a community doing essentially the same things our neighbors are doing.

We feel as if we have lost our uniqueness. We are just one of the crowd and nobody notices or cares about is. It can be disheartening.

But I am sure that while we see many who seem just like us or perhaps more than us -- more interesting, attention grabbing, sparkly and amazing -- we are known. We are known to the God who created us and placed us here now on this patch of earth or sea. He has a plan and intends us to eventually return individually to report all that we have accomplished here on earth.

Yet for so many it is easy to lose touch with that truth. The truth that we have a purpose on earth. It is easy to join the rushing river or roaring sea and find ourselves tumbling out of control.

It is easy to join the crowd and follow their path. Sometimes that path may create beauty, the Grand Canyon. Sometimes it leaves destruction, the mud and water damage of a flash flood. In either case it affects other things.

We affect other people and things. We affect for good and bad. It behooves us to be mindful and watchful. We are a force that changes other elements. We have power beyond our understanding even when we are wallowing and only making mud to dirty ourselves.

We are children of God. He loves us. He sent us to learn and grow and affect other things. Regardless of where we are in life, whether on our own or part of the crowd, He knows us. He loves us. And He wants us to do good.

Fair and Equitable

I recently read a letter asking why we as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints don't spend an equal amount of money on each member. Why do we spend more on Young Men than Young Women? Why do we spend more on the Relief Society program than we do on the programs for the men? Why can't we spend the same amount on each member.

Other gender issues were raised by the letter, many which made me think deeply about they way things are and what I might do within the sphere of my influence to improve the way I think about and teach my children about their gender specific roles.

But back to what we spend on males and females. For me that is a simple yet complex issue. My first question when thinking about spending is "Why are we currently spending what we spend?"

The answer I see boils down to this. We spend differently because the needs of the children of God are different.

When I look at my children I see that I spend more to outfit my daughter than my sons. She is the only girl. Sometimes friends have given me hand me downs for her, but mostly I have spent more money to cloth her. And to keep her in art and craft supplies. And accessories.

In other areas, two of my children needed glasses or contacts starting at age four. Another got them in sixth grade. The other didn't need them until eighth grade. He had much less spent on his vision needs than the others.

I thought I was off the hook for the last one. Then just the other day my youngest was diagnosed with perfect vision as we usually think of vision, but he still has a problem, a condition called congenital 4th nerve palsy. It might require surgery. It might mean his vision has a really large expensive one time need.

One of my children has Type 1 diabetes. It happens to be my daughter, but the amount I spend on healthcare would be just as disproportionately large if it was one of my sons. Her care uses far more of the healthcare budget than anyone else in the family.

In my mind the less than equal amount of resources per person extends outside of the question of money and across the earth when I look at the children of God around the world. We don't get an equal pile of stuff when we arrive on earth. We don't really get equal attention either. And many continue to not get as much as others throughout our lives.

As a parent I came early to a recognition of the inequalities in the material supplies, and at times parental attention, I give to each child. I only have so much in the way of resources and time, but my children, at the same time, have only so many needs. Sometimes needs of one child are greater than the needs of another.

My only chance as a parent to do what needs to be done with what I have to work with is to be watchful, prayerful, pleading for insight into what I should be addressing today. I try to seek the input of the Holy Ghost. Sometimes I do better than others, but basically it appears that none of what I give is fair or equal mathemathically, but it is mostly what they need and usually when they need it.

I am grateful for this insight in my life. Sometimes I wish life was fair. Sometimes I wish I got more stuff, more accolades, more attention, but it apparently isn't in my lot in life. My lot is to do the best I can with what I do have and more than that to be grateful and happy and continue to serve where I am as a daughter of God.

The Sweet Life

At the final choir concert of the year. Miss M and the Jazz Fusion group that met after school lead off with a four song set. M plays the piano. Dreyton is again in the Premier Jazz group singing for the third year.

I cried when the Premier Jazz choir sang Miss You like they do every year. It is an ending song and endings are worth crying about for a moment or two.

But then the concert moved on to other choirs and more beautiful music and as always time passed and thoughts were diverted.

It was a long concert, filled with good music. When the last song ended I went to help with Booster Club business. People milled around and slowly cleared out. And finally the choir director appeared at our table. We talked for a few moments, I complemented him on the Superman cape that they Premier Jazz choir had given him. Everyone looks good in a Superman cape.

Then I said to him, "So about the trip tomorrow." The two Jazz groups are going to Central Washington University in Ellensburg for a festival. "I just wanted to make sure that you know Miss M is diabetic."

He looked at me quizzically.

"You did know that right?"

He replied, " No, I never look at those health alerts [the nurse sends out]. I just file them."

Now there are lots of ways that I could take what he said. But at that moment I was grateful to hear that he didn't see my daughter's disablity.

Every parent and person with a disability spends a large part of their life dealing with the ever present issues of the disability. Sometimes we are so close to the problem we can't see the person very well. And sometimes in our fluster and bluster to receive the needed care and attention, we cause others to miss seeing that person living with the disability is much more than the disability.

It can be a Catch 22. But some times it isn't, and those days are sweet.

Getting Unstuck

Today I listened to the story shared by Elder David Bednar, an apostle in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, about a man who took his new 4-wheel drive truck into the mountains.  In Elder Bednar's words,  "He [had] decided he would cut and haul a supply of firewood for their home. It was in the autumn of the year, and snow already had fallen in the mountains where he intended to find wood. As he drove up the mountainside, the snow gradually became deeper and deeper. My friend recognized the slick road conditions presented a risk, but with great confidence in the new truck, he kept going.

Sadly, my friend went too far along the snowy road. As he steered the truck off of the road at the place he had determined to cut wood, he got stuck. All four of the wheels on the new truck spun in the snow. He readily recognized that he did not know what to do to extricate himself from this dangerous situation. He was embarrassed and worried."

As I heard this story, I remembered an experience as a teenager.

I grew up in Rock Springs, Wyoming in the Red Desert. The Red Desert is a high altitude steppe, which because of the low amount of rain and snow has little growing on it besides sagebrush and some dry bunch grasses. In this 9,000+ square miles of desert is the largest living dune system in the United States, the Killpecker Sand Dunes.

The Sand Dunes are just north of Rock Springs. I've visited many times over the years. The memory today involved a trip my youth group took out to play on them one evening. A missionary had just returned from the field and was home for the summer. Because they needed more drivers and he was old enough, he was asked to take his parent's 2-wheel drive Suburban and bring a load of youth out. We had several other 4-wheel drive Suburbans and trucks carrying us instead of cars because the dunes are ever moving and shifting and you just never know if one is going to be drifted across the road or encroaching on the parking lot.

This year the sand was fairly deep where we parked. For whatever reason this young man ended up farther into the sand than the other vehicles. At some point, and it seems like it was fairly early in the evening, he decided that he needed to get his vehicle moved. So he proceeded to try and back it up, but only succeeded in spinning the wheels deeper into the sand. Instead of stopping and looking the situation over or asking for help, he continued to spin his wheels until he was buried up to the axels.

Thinking about these two stories, I pondered on the ways
I  deal with problems. Sometimes I find myself in a difficult situation and instead of stepping back to taking an objective look at my options, I go over the edge pouring more energy  into emotional melt down and worry about how this will ever be solved, essentially spinning my wheels and burying my abilities to recover from the situation ever deeper.

Sometimes the best option is to drop everything, get a shovel and cardboard and jump right into digging.

Sometimes it is to follow the already decided plan step by step, day by day, until eventually things become unstuck.

In Elder Bednar's words again, "My friend decided, 'Well, I will not just sit here.' He climbed out of the vehicle and started cutting wood. He completely filled the back of the truck with the heavy load. And then my friend determined he would try driving out of the snow one more time. As he put the pickup into gear and applied power, he started to inch forward. Slowly the truck moved out of the snow and back onto the road. He finally was free to go home, a happy and humbled man."

When chosing to basically ignore the situation or problem, it can become a concern whether the plan we are following is the right plan, but if the plan happens to be the plan of salvation, we can continue with confidence and gratitude knowing it is a trustworthy plan.

Which brings me to the last way to get unstuck. And probably the most important one. Probably the one that we should use every time in conjunction with either of the other two.

It's is known as --- CALL FOR HELP!

Fortunately for the young man stuck in the sand, one of the other Suburban's had both 4-wheel drive and a rope, and probably a little more experience with getting out of a situation like that.

While Elder Bednar doesn't mention it, I'm reasonably sure the whole time the friend was cutting and loading, he was also praying.

Whether we call in others or only the Lord, we can get help to get us out of the mire we feel we have gotten stuck in the form of a blessing, a helping hand, or just the calm assurance of the Holy Spirit who will come as we quietly wait in stillness for the Lord.

So the next time, I find myself in a sticky situation and starting to bury myself, emotionally spinning my wheels, I hope I'll remember to stop, evaluate, pray, and then CALMLY follow my heart and head and hopefully the Spirit to a happy and productive conclusion.

Looking for the Blessings

Today I came home from work with an overwhelming urge to call an individual who had aggreed to help one of my children. This child has been silently struggling.

I had done all I can to fix the struggle, but it was beyond my abilities. I reached out to several people and organizations for ideas on what to try next. I was exploring several options and avenues hoping to find something that would work. During one of those calls a glimmer of a path appeared.

I have often felt the influence of the Holy Ghost in the way I felt it that day last week. For me that influence is like going to the eye doctor. There I sit, peering through the optics trying to make out something as the optician says, "Is one clearer, or two?" Blurry images swim in front of my eyes, until a quiet click opens a clear view and I say, "That one is the one."

Talking with a helpful advisor last week, a person was mentioned, and I thought, "There. She is the one."

So on Monday, I called her and left a message. And waited. And waited. And got distracted by other issues and other children. Today as I drove home I felt a need to call right now. So I came in the house and checked my messages. Nothing.

I got distracted by the things that always distract me when I get home from work, but the urge was still there. So I looked for the number, which fortuitously was right on my bedside table, and Ms. V answered. She was so gracious and kind and willing to help.

I hung up grateful to her and grateful to a loving Heavenly Father who was mindful of my family's need and sent much help this week from many directions, but most especially remembered this important need and sent promptings at the perfect time to remind me to make a call for my child.

Gotta Have Faith

All of the pictures for this post come from here-

Today I finished reading the Book of Mormon. I don't know how many times through this is. I haven't kept track. It isn't that important to me to remember that.

What I want to remember is the feelings I have had over the last week about faith.

Faith is and has been a concept that has jumped out at me for many years since I was in high school. By faith I mean, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and His, our, Eternal Father.

"Faith is knowing the sun will rise, lighting each new day," says a line in a children's song. A simple yet profound thought.

Do I have faith that the sun will rise each day? Yes I do... but, then, maybe I don't. On the dark and hard days do I know that good things will return or that maybe they won't, yet all is still well? Do I really have faith or just an expectation due to something that happens over and over without fail, and then when it doesn't come as expected do I wait upon the Lord or not? What is my reaction in the trial of daily life? Is it one filled with faith and hope?

As I've read the end of the Book of Mormon, my heart has anguished for the pain filled stories of Mormon and Moroni, a father and son living at a time of great turmoil, evil, and war. Their lives were never easy. Mormon began leading armies as a young man. He obviously married and had at least one child. The story of his wife is never told. Did she die in child birth? Did she die later during the never ending war? Did she leave him alone with this son to raise by her own choice? The story doesn't say. I hope that she was a faith filled support for Mormon and Moroni for all of her days, but that history isn't written in the pages we have.

I was born of goodly parents. I was raised with truth and knowledge of a plan of happiness for all mankind in my life. I was taught about having faith in this plan. I remember reading and underlining lots of scriptures about faith. When I first began underlining I used both red and blue for scriptures about faith. There are so many of them.

Today as I read the book of Moroni, I came upon many of those old favorites. They shined forth as beacons of hope amid the depravity and terror of the stories of war and hate. I know that Mormon and Moroni saw God. I know that the Brother of Jared saw Jesus Christ. Those men believed and hoped and worked until they knew. But despite their faith, it still was hard to live through the grief and pain.

The Jaredites were planning to leave their home land. They built - according to the direction of Jehovah, the creator of the earth - eight barges to carry them across the sea. Now one has to wonder how long these builders took in noticing that it was really dark and awfully stuffy in these barges. For whatever reason, they didn't ask until they were finished. It could had something to do with the fact that they seemed to think that the Brother of Jared, their leader, was the only one who could talk to God.

Maybe that wasn't it. Maybe others prayed. Maybe they got direction. Most likely, if they did, the direction was to "be still, and know that I am God." In other words, "Be patient. I have it covered. In due time, I will make known the plan. And in this case it will be to your leader."

So they finally asked through the Brother of Jared. If you have read the story, you know that he was told to make holes in the top and bottom of the boat. I don't understand how that really helped, but I watched a youtube video that made some interesting suggestions. Maybe youtube man, the Brother of Steve, is right. I don't know. I choose to have faith and believe that this really happened regardless of my lack of scientific knowledge in how it actually happened.

I chose to accept that when Mahonri Moriancumer, the Brother of Jared, came in prayer, having worked through the problem of getting light in the barges, that he truly saw the finger and then the actual body in spirit of the Lord Jesus Christ. I have chosen to have faith in this story.

But here is another thing, that I haven't heard anyone ask about in this story.

There were eight barges. From everything we read, they were not hooked together. I know if I had been one of the Jaredites, I would have wondered how they were going to stay together in the time it took to cross the sea.

Maybe the spiritual high of the rocks shining after Mahori's conversation with the Lord got them to shove off, but at sometime during those 344 interminable days, they must have wondered if they would ever reach the promised land. Sometime during those days and hours as they were bashed about in the dimness, because how much light could two stones give off anyway, they must have struggled with doubts and worry? With little or no ability to communicate with their brothers and sisters in the other barges, they must have wrestled to keep their faith in the Lord and His plan.

And isn't that how it is today? We struggle to hold onto to our faith and hope through a world dim and dark. A world of noise and distraction. A world of pain and even evil.

I love Mormon and Moroni's accounts in the Book of Mormon so much because they lived through the awful kinds of things we live through today. The heart of men failed during their lifetimes. Men's affection towards each other became cold. They hardened their hearts toward the spirit and love, and fought until death. They tortured and killed innocent children. They raped innocent daughters and probably sons. They lost their humanity, and through it all Mormon and Moroni watched and prayed and probably cried.

Yet they never lost their faith, their hope, and their charity towards others.

Moroni repeats his father and finishes his book by saying about faith, "And Christ truly said unto our fathers: If ye have faith ye can do all things which are expedient unto me." Maybe he was talking about the Jaredites. Maybe the Nephites. Maybe his father. Maybe himself. Maybe he was talking to us.

Truly this section of the plan of salvation, the one we are living, is trying. It is hard. Things happen that have no explanation. Things come that we don't want. We lose people. They die. They leave the belief system that we hold dear. They wander and become lost. It is saddening. It is grief and sorrow inducing, but we can not give up our faith and lose hope. We can not allow it to change our hearts toward hate.

We have been born onto this earth and placed in families like unto the barges of the Jaredites. We can't always control where those barges are going because we were also given agency. And as great as agency is, it causes pain too.

But through it, we can chose to have faith, ignoring the logic, and enticing, and pull of Satan and the world. God has a plan. Moroni says, "...he [God] worketh by power, according to the faith of the children of men." 

 God's plan will win in the end. His plan will end in happiness if we have faith. It will. I know this is true.

 

And if you need a few more stirring words to keep you going in the battle like Mormon and Moroni try these from Jeffrey R Holland.
 

Revisiting Babylon

Saturday night I had the opportunity to attend a high school Sweetheart Ball hosted by the local chapter of Job's daughters. Youth from high schools all over the valley were invited to attend. As my husband and I arrived early to learn our duty, I was greeted by one of the mothers who was in charge. She asked if I had been to a high school dance lately.

No.

She said dances now were not what we remembered, and then continued to relate stories of the debauchary of years past. Apparently when the Job's Daughters organization took over a couple of years earlier the dance was mostly an opportunity for lost and worldly youth to exploit each other.

The adults and youth in Job's Daughters worked hard to make this dance a more wholesome experience, and I must say that overall they succeeded last night. Yet it was still not a place that I really wanted to send my children.

I clearly see why most of the youth I know choose to save $30 instead of diving into Babylon for the night. Even when your date has clothes covering her body, instead of  inching up or slipping down, nobody else's date does. And as they happily shake and rub their bodies against each other in a mild form of twerking, your mind and your desires can fight against where your spirit yearns to dwell and sink into filth and carnal emotion.

Throughout the night I had flash backs to my time in high school. The mother at the door was wrong, this was nearly exactly what I remembered parts of high school to be like.

Twenty nine years earlier almost to the day, I went to a Sweetheart Ball in at my high school. It was my first date. Shaun Nielson asked me. We went out with Jim Petrucka and his date, Tracy Noble. We went to Godfather's Pizza for dinner. I don't remember much other than the guys in an effort to be cool did something silly, and I kind of wondered why I had thought this would be so fun.

Being a teenager is fairly hard. You want to be grown up and cool. You want to be special. And sadly, as a teenager, you don't realize that you are special beyond measure.

After dinner we went to the dance. The most vivid memory of my first date occurred as we walked in to door. There before us, in plain sight of anyone, was a besutiful young lady and her date. Her dress back was at least half unzipped and his hands were all over her. We moved into the room and away from them.

We danced. And then we went home. And that was the end of that.

Except that as I stood around being a stogie old adult and breaking up the fun that couples believed they were having on Saturday, I had memories reviving in my mind. The 2014 evening of Dirty Dancing and every third song straight out of the eighties brought memories of Rock Springs High School back to me.

Last night as Thriller and Billie Jean played, I thought of a seminary trip to Utah. Thriller was fairly new and Ricky Lee was playing it on the bus. It was a fun trip. I suppose that something involving the gospel occurred, but mostly I remember some how getting the idea to run around Lagoon with Elaine Mattison and to get random young men to write their names and addresses in a little spiral notebook we found that day.

That was a wholesome memory that zipped through. But plenty of other memories washed in too. Memories of couples groping and making out  in the  school day halls. Clothes thst didn't quite cover bodies. Earrings that were every where. Drug deals going down as you came around a corner. A murder on campus. Class with a future murderer. And kids drinking all the time.

Talking to others who describe dances straight out of Napolean Dynamite, I have concluded  I grew up in Babylon.

As a teenager, I wanted to fit in. I wanted a boyfriend. I wanted to be at parties having fun, but I knew what those parties were like and I didn't want to jump right into that pond of filth. An internal fight was always going on in me.

I kept higher standards and nobody invited me to social occasions. Mostly they really didn't tell me much either, except that one time when my choir dance partner,  Dave, was basically playing three Catholic girlfriends of mine against each other as he dated at least one of them secretly while dumping  another to date the third. I thought he was an idiot. I don't think I told him that though, because desperately I wanted him to ask me out too.

Saturday one of the other male chaperons wondered aloud why the girls  allowed themselves to be used physical by the boys. (Apparently he got why the boys did it. Thst never came up.) He just didn't get the girls. But I did.

Teenage girls want to be loved. They feel awkward  and ugly and they want some one, preferrably a boyfriend, to tell them that they are beautiful, special, and worthwhile.

Sadly most teenage boys are in about the same place and really have little to give towards validation of female worth.

The kids gyrating on the floor Saturday had no clue who they were or the infinite worth they already possesed.

I left the dance more determined to empower my children and others. Looking back, the thing that kept me from diving into Babylon head first was the knowledge that I was a daughter of infinite worth and value to a Supreme Father who had a plan for His children. That gave me the strength to walk away as Babylon lapped my feet. God blessed me beyond measure by saving me from situtions that would have changed my mortal life and made a return to Him less plesant. He didn't take away all the longing and heartbreak of a foolish teenage heart, but He continued ti send prompts and messages of a better relationship on the horizon.

There were kids who came to the dance who seemed to realize their value. You could see them around the edges of the dance. The were recognizable by their dress, their style of dancing and the limited time they spent subjecting themselves to the atmosphere in the ballroom.

Yesterday I told my son I understood why he didn't want to spend $30 for an evening in Babylon. While I feel bad for those girls who don't have a date to the school dances that they long to attend, I recall that I didn't either, and I suspect that I missed very little in the long run.

So after an evening revisiting that borough in Babylon, I am glad to walk away again and not look back.

Moving Beyond the Checklist

In my life, sometimes, I get a load of insight from God. That is what happened on Sunday. To sum up my Sunday experience, I went to church. I saw the back of the man I really don't like. I listened to a hilarious talk on service delivered by my daughter. (She gets it from me. We are funny. And occasionally humble.) I heard an absolutely beautiful rendition of My Shepherd Will Supply My Need. (Funny I didn't get that the Shepherd supplied "my need of the month" until just this second. Tears. Gratitude...)

If you want to  listen while reading the rest of this post click below. 

Listening is what I did while writing this.

I heard two other talks on giving and receiving service. Then I played the piano for young to medium aged children to sing with. I talked to three people on my way out of the building about three totally diverse and enjoyable topics and then I came home and ate a DELICIOUS turkey sandwich. After all of that I got on facebook and found a link that lead me to a profound thought in a post by Glennon Melton at Momastry:

Speaking about herself and her husband, she said,"...we learned to ask each other better questions. We learned that if we really want to know our people, if we really care to know them – we need to ask them better questions and then really listen to their answers. We need to ask questions that carry along with them this message: “I’m not just checking the box here. I really care what you have to say and how you feel. I really want to know you.” If we don’t want throw away answers, we can’t ask throw away questions. A caring question is a key that will unlock a room inside the person you love." http://momastery.com/blog/2014/01/16/save-relationships-ask-right-questions/

Her words touched my heart. That was what I had felt. That is what my anger was about. So I now ask myself what do I do with this knowledge and understand.

Perhaps I should make copies of the quote into paper airplanes and toss it at my man's bald spot.

Yeah, probably not. It would be funny, but he would likely not get the fact that I was writhing in anguish over his lack of caring for a child of God who he by all that he claimed to believe and call holy claimed to know and understand multiple times from that blessed rostrum up front. He and his family would just think that I was weird. Or that my sons were out of control. (Because why would Sister Schafer ever throw an airplane at someone's head?)

So that wasn't the answer to that quandary. I guess I will stick with disengage emotionally, reserve judgement, and breathe deep when necessary until I receive more inspiration on that front.

All kidding aside (And it is really not kidding, because I am still working on figuring out what to do with my enemy, but I only just started Alma, so I am sure the answer will come. There are a plenitude of situations about dealing with enemies in that book. -- yeah that was instant inspiration right there.) BUT I can (certainly go all over the place mentally sometimes, LIKE NOW.) Anyway this is the profound thought I have ---

Ready?

Though I really do care about people and really do try to attend when they are around me, maybe I have more I can do to connect to them.

Maybe I can ask better questions. Maybe I can remember better what they tell me. Maybe I can leave my little happy hole of personal entertainment when my family members return home from the world and engage them in conversation about how they are today, tomorrow, forever....  .. .... (Oh that makes me tired. Let's just start with today, and work from there.)

Yes I am amazing, but I can be a better person than I am today. I have it within me to move beyond the checklist of polite conversation with more than just the people I care about or that I am comfortable with. I can help each of God's children on earth feel His love for them through my actions and kind listening ear.

For Thy Good

Doctrine and Covenants 122:7
"...know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for they good."

The phrase "and shall be for thy good" keeps coming to my mind lately. I think I even mentioned it in my theme of 2014 post. Today it came again during sacrament meeting.

A new woman in our ward was speaking of service, which has nothing and everything to do with my thoughts and feelings, but that is beside the point, the point is she gets credit for helping me think of these next three posts.

The year Tad worked at hp was one of the hardest that we ever experienced as a couple. Tad was hired to take the place of a man we knew. Naively, I expected the man to train Tad and be a mentor and a friendly face, perhaps a resource of information. Traing did occur, but it was done rather quickly, as if the man wanted to check it off his list and move onto his new position in management. He offered to be a resource, but whenever Tad went to ask a question the gentleman was busy or on his way somewhere else. It was a difficult and lonely year for him, which translated to a difficult and frustrating year for me.

Near the end of the summer as the year of hell pain and frustration was coming to an end, it was readily apparent that hp was planning another round of lay offs. We knew, without doubt, that Tad would be laid off. I have to think the man whose place he took knew it too. He was still in the same group. And he is a quite brilliant and talented man. He couldn't have been oblivious. 

On the day the news came out, Tad came home and told me. Again, it was not a surprise, and thanks to a loving Heavenly Father, we some how never felt panic due to it. (Which is another post that I thought I had written here, but can't find...)

As we were speaking together in the kitchen, the doorbell rang. On our doorstep stood this man. He had heard about the lay off, he was a leader for us at church, he wanted to help, he had friends at another company that was hiring, he would set up an interview. And with that he was gone never to be heard of about this matter again.

A call came for the interview within days. It was poorly timed. Tad wasn't ready and it was basically horrible. Not the man's fault, except that if he had spent a little more time thinking about the needs of his church brother and former coworker, than checking off a task that he felt inspired to get done, perhaps the job interview would have been less painful. The job wasn't to be, and it turned out that it wasn't needed, but it ripped open a wound in my heart that I have worked but struggled to heal the last five years.

In the end Tad found another company about six weeks later that offered him a job. Experience from that job lead to another job which currently blesses our family with the filthy lucre necessary to subsist. God was watching out for us then and He is still watching. 

He longs to bless us. And I rarely understand how it will happen.

So back to the speaker of today. She shared this story:

Lorenzo Snow and his family were part of the Latter-day Saints’ initial exodus from Nauvoo, Illinois. With a group of other families, they headed west in the state of Iowa in February 1846. Weather conditions made their trek difficult—day after day they struggled through rain, snow, and mud.

As the Snow family traveled one day, a member of the company asked them for help. Lorenzo Snow wrote in his journal that a man “requested that I would let him put his trunk in my wagon, said he could not get it carried anywhere else.” The wagon was “perfectly crowded and as much as seemed we could possibly get along with,” Lorenzo recalled, but “still I told him to put it in and come along and share with us.”

The next night the family experienced what Lorenzo called “a very unpleasant affair”: an axle on their wagon broke. He recounted: “It was then raining very hard and [was] quite cold. We immediately pitched our tent [and] made a good hickory fire. … The water and mud was very deep and we could not get to the wagon without wading. … We were now about fifteen miles from the camp and nine or ten to the first house, and none of us being mechanics, the prospect of getting our wagon repaired was not very encouraging.”

Unexpectedly, relief came from the man they had helped the day before. “I was lamenting over my misfortune,” said Lorenzo, “when he came up to me and informed me that his trade was wagon making and could very easily repair my wagon. … As soon as the weather would admit, brother Wilson (that being the name of the aforementioned person) went to work and made an axletree much better than the one I broke. Our wagon being repaired, we left this place, having stayed several days on account of rain and mud.”

I testify that God is good. He is mindful of our needs. He fills them in often mysterious and curious ways, but he fills them.

I love Him.

Lead Me, Guide Me

What do all these pictures have in common?

Bad Hair? No --

They were General Presidents of the LDS Young Women's Organization.

The next question that occurs to me is -- Who did their hair and what were they thinking???

I'm kidding. (Sort of.)

I find it interesting that while I was around during the time that several of them served as President, I can only remember one of them.Yet, I can remember all the local leaders that served during my six years of YW.

I can't remember the names of two leaders because they were only there for a few months each, but I remember distinct experiences with both of them. The other three I vividly remember. Sister Wistisen, Sister Clark, and Sister Nate.

They helped me shape myself into the beginnings of the woman that I am now. I love them.

Sister Forgotten Name One loved her husband. She was from England. She had the best accent. She loved the song Three Times a Woman. It was really Three Times a Lady by the Commodores, but she called it Three Times a Woman and it was funny.

Sister Wistisen was excited. She was never on time to anything. All the clocks in her home were ten minutes ahead and it didn't help. In the short time that she was the Beehive leader (she soon became the president) she put together amazing lessons. I still have the picture of my head behind the put your head through this hole and get your picture taken board she created with her wedding gown and veil to teach us that going to the temple was vitally important. I was an amazing lesson.

Sister Forgotten Name Two had a really distinctive car. It was like a square fish bowl. If I knew anything about cars then, I might be able to remember what it was, but I don't. SO I looked it up. It was an AMC Pacer.

She went on a temple trip with us to Ogden. It was my first temple trip. She was planning to be baptize like us, but when they learned that she was newly pregnant, they wouldn't let her. The names she had been assigned were split between a couple of us. I did a lot of names. I actually remember the number 90. I'm not sure if that is true, but it was lots. I was seriously water logged. She felt bad, but it was okay. I knew that she loved me.

Sister Clark was my Mia Maid leader. She was so loving. I remember sitting with her discussing the needs of the other YW and what kinds of activities we might plan to help them want to be involved and feel loved. I knew she cared about all of us and I learned to always consider the needs of others when you are the leader.

Sister Nate was the president and she was amazing. She created incredible handouts. I saved many of them in a shirt box for years before finally deciding to throw them away. Building on the lessons of Sister Clark she taught us to think of the needs of others. One member of our class was hypoglycemic. It was never a problem. Sister Nate had things planned that we could all eat and enjoy. Laura never seemed to feel left out and when we went out after school activities we just naturally made sure to eat things that were okay for her to have.

Sister Nate taught us to plan activities. In presidency planning meetings she taught me nearly everything I know about agendas and running a meeting. She taught us to think outside the box and do new and different things. She helped us understand how to think through and make a plan, then find the resources and execute the plan. She was always there. She was our advocate. She loved us.

I often think about the things that I learned during that time and through that program. I "got my medallion". I completed goals. I developed talents. But it has taken me years to realize how much I was taught about leadership by these good sisters. Even though I have no pictures documenting their hair styles, I am so grateful for them, the time they shared with me, and their examples.