I've been in hiding for about the last week. I have to do it, every once in a while. People are just plain lucky if I answer the phone or even type a few words in an e-mail.
I can say with confidence it's not depression, for I'm a happy little camper. I've even been mighty productive. Two or three years ago one of the maple trees in our front yard died. My hubby chopped it down, and a year later even managed to get the stump dug out. Not to long after that the stump in our back yard was removed as well. I only mention that one because it would explain our need for a giant pile of dirt. Not just any dirt. Oh no. This is awesome dirt given to us freely by our local cemetery. We have a friend who works there. It was he who told us we could get a nice large pile of dirt, no charge.
I'd never thought of where the cemetery's put their extra dirt. Well, I have a bit of an idea now :) The giant hole in the back yard was filled (a significant feat considering the stump was three or four feet across). The hole in the front yard was filled, and then I had an idea to put in a slightly raised flower bed. I didn't think it was going to happen for a while there, as the sheer amount of bricks needed was going to cost a pretty penny. But this Spring I decided if we were to wait for the money to be there, we'd never get it done. So off to Home Depot I went and the first two layers are down.
I'd take pictures and post them but my camera died. Sad day for Laurie.
The first layer sits flush with the grass so my husband doesn't have to worry about how to maneuver the lawn mower around it. The next layer is of a different type of stone set a bit further back. I have a few stones to begin the second row, but it may be a while before I'm able to finish it. I'd like to go up one more set, but that may have to wait even longer.
My boys want to plant vegetables. I'm still debating. I definitely need to find a spot to begin an actual vegetable garden, but I want to wait until I know I can keep up with little things like...weeding (shudder).
I've also put together two picture collages that sit at the doors of a cabinet in our living room. I've talked about doing it for about two years, but finally managed to make it happen. And I must say it looks marvelous! Instead of focusing on pictures of my family, as I've done on the main wall of our living room, I put up more artistic pictures. One side is strictly black and white photos, while the other is color.
A few months ago I was asked to write a story for our ward's Relief Society birthday dinner. It was postponed for a few weeks, which turned out to be a blessing as I could not focus long enough to really get my thoughts together. I knew what needed to be portrayed, but figuring out how to make it happened continued to elude me. The idea of what needed to happen didn't come to me until the day before I was supposed to read it. I wrote frantically, prayed about it hard, and felt as though it was enough. I'll post it in my creativity blog if you decide to read it. It's called 'Nissa's Dream.'
So I've been a happy girl, but I'm tired. My brain has been drained, my emotions are running on low, and I've been pulling away from 'stuff' that keeps me busier than I need to be. I don't handle being too busy for too long very well. I begin to shut down, and need time away from people and things and activities so I might allow myself a chance to recover.
I don't know if I'm ready to come out of hiding just yet. It may take another week or so before I feel confident in my abilities to take on my world again. In the meantime I'm enjoying my family, especially my children and my husband. I'm enjoying some good reading time and music, and times to be creative. Feeding my soul, I guess you could say. Only this time, unlike the last several years due to depression and it's horrible effects, I'm enjoying every minute of it.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
What Kind of Home Will You and Your Family Build?
My hubby and I were chatting about things the other day and decided something needed to be done about how the kids were NOT making home the tidiest and happiest of places. The more we prayerfully considered what was going on and what to do about it, an idea popped into my head.
I didn't want to sit there and dictate to the kids what we were seeing, what was wrong, and what was GOING TO HAPPEN!!! Grumbling would have been heard throughout the land. Instead a story began to form in my mind and, using a talent God gave me, I began to write a funny story to help illustrate to the kids not only what was happening, but would hopefully encourage them to come up with their own ideas on how to make our home a happier place.
A few friends asked me to share my story, and so (with a few changes) I decided to share it with everyone. Some of the main problems we were facing is my daughter's addiction to Facebook, my boys' addiction to video games, and the littlest's need to be shrill and demanding because no one pays any attention to her. So that is what my little Princes and Princesses face in the story.
I would highly encourage you to look for creative ways to positively deal with the problems in your home. Just like in the story, we sat down as a family and came up with some goals to try and make things better here. In a few weeks we will sit down and see how it's going, see what's working and what isn't, and then make any necessary changes.
And now, enjoy the story.
Once upon a time there lived an awesome and royal family in the Kingdom of Best Valley. This family had the following members: Queen Ma and King Pa Balker, their oldest Princess Alec (they thought she was going to be a boy and the name stuck even after she turned out to be a girl), Prince Paulina (who was named after his grandpa but after what happened the first time, and thinking he was also going to be a boy, they opted to try a girl’s name), another Prince Brianne (after two other kids they decided not to break the pattern and gave their next son a girl’s name), and Princess Banana (Queen Ma Locker ate an awful lot of bananas during that pregnancy and thought the name Banana could be for a boy OR a girl).
For many years the royal Balker family lived in mostly love and almost always harmony. They enjoyed going on outings together and worked sorta hard to keep their castle tidy and neat. They enjoyed reading books as a royal family and could often be seen doing works of service for those in their kingdom.
As the Princes and Princesses grew older, however, something sad began to happen. The time the family spent in these wonderful activities became less frequent. King Pa and Queen Ma spent more and more time on errands for the kingdom, trying to keep everything in working order, and when they weren’t working, they were found to be increasingly hidden away in the royal bedchamber, tired from all their efforts.
Princess Alec had found a new and addicting hobby called Flacebooker where she could easily access other princes and princesses in surrounding lands! She could, and often did, spend HOURS conversing with those she rarely had access to before. The Royal family began to see more of the back of her head rather than the front of her Flace, uh, face.
Prince Paulina had long been a huge fan of buttons. Not the sort that keeps your clothes from falling right off you, but rather those that made magical things happen. Some buttons would make the made-up doings of other people in other lands appear on a screen that he could watch and laugh about for hours on end. Which he did. A lot. And if someone dared to tell him it was time to stop there would be great wailings and gnashing of teeth from the young prince until Queen Ma and King Pa would often think about getting rid of his access to these pretend lands.
Both Paulina and Brianne had a great love for the buttons that made other creatures in pretend lands move across the magic screen, doing their every bidding. Prince Brianne especially loved the two devices that let him push these sorts of buttons: the Woo and the PlagueStation. He had also developed a recent love of a food called Poppern, a crunchy and sweetly air popped delight he could live off of if given the opportunity.
Last, but certainly not least, was little Banana. As everyone became intent on doing their own thing she was neglected more and more. Her voice became louder and shriller in the hopes of being heard by those who were too busy to pay her any attention. She began to spend a lot of time in her royal bedchamber playing with toys that felt more her family than the real members. She was also placed frequently in front of movies in the hopes of keeping her entertained so others could do their own thing.
The Royal Balker family could not see that anything was too wrong at the moment, but Someone else did. He was the seventh member of their family, a prince by the name of Dalevid who had all ready gone on to the great Kingdom in the Skye, but who could see what was going on with his family below. And what he saw worried him. He wanted his family to come and live with him in the Kingdom in the Skye, but if they kept going down this path that might not happen. So he began to send down little whisperings and nudges in the hopes his parents would hear.
Happily, they did. The King and Queen began to take a closer look at what was going on and didn’t like much of what they saw. The castle was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere. There was clean laundry that sat in the basket for days before anyone thought to do anything about it. In the royal bedchambers there were dirty clothes all over the floor, even - much to the Queen’s dismay - right next to the royal laundry hamper. The Queen found a dirty sock in a much traveled hallway and wondered what would happen if she did not pick it up. The answer was: nothing. No one else, not even the owner of the sock, picked it up and placed it in a hamper.
There was clutter everywhere. Instead of using something and putting it back in it’s rightful place, things were left wherever they’d been used: on a table, a floor, a couch, a bathtub, a sink, or a bucket. Used up bags, wrappers, containers, and dishes could be found on just about every surface. Crumbs began to make their way into everyone’s socks, until Queen Ma felt ready to send a giant cyclone through the castle in the hopes it would suck all the crumbs away. But cyclones are not meant to be used to clean, and would only have reduced the castle to rubble. So she nixed that idea.
As Queen Ma and King Pa began to take stock of the mess, the two of them agreed to start doing better about picking up after themselves and their children. Their thought was, if they began to do it their children would follow their examples and help right along. Unfortunately this is not what happened. Instead the more they worked to clean and help out and pick up, the lazier and messier their children became. With Ma and Pa doing their work, they had more time to do their own thing.
So now instead of sweeping up once or twice a week, Queen Ma and King Pa would sweep up once or twice a day. The laundry would often pile up so high from improper room cleanings Queen Ma would find herself incredibly overwhelmed with the amount and not want to do it at all. King Pa would come home from a long day at work and visiting with Kingdom members only to find his castle in chaos, and would become so frustrated he would want to do nothing but hide in his room and escape in a good book.
The King and Queen noticed other changes as well. Their beloved Princes and Princesses argued a lot more. They wanted to spend less time together and more time away from each other. The royal children began to care more for other people and pretend places than they did for their own family. And so the King and Queen knelt down to ask their Father in the Kingdom of the Skye what they should do.
Their Father began to send down promptings and ideas to the two distressed parents, and on one particular Sunday after a day of Worshipping at church Queen Ma and King Pa had some answers. They gathered their precious children together one night and asked them a question: What sort of castle should we build? At first the children thought they were going to build a brand new castle.
“One with a giant room filled with magical buttons and loads of Woo’s and PlagueStations!” shouted the Princes.
“And my very own room where I can spend the whole day with my friends on Flacebooker!” yelled Princess Alec.
The King and Queen looked dismayed. This wasn’t going as they had hoped. There was one surprisingly quiet voice among the group. Queen Ma and King Pa noticed little Banana over in the corner looking very sad indeed. “What’s the matter Banana?” they asked.
“I don’t want a new castle. I like this one,” she said.
“What do you like so much about it?” they asked.
“I like the kitchen where we sit down and eat together and talk and laugh. And I like this room where we play games and throw Brianne’s teddy bear back and forth. And I like my room where my sister and I sometimes lay down and giggle together. And I like the Prince’s room where we play and have fun. And I especially like your room where we sometimes laugh together and where you let me sleep when I’ve had a bad dream. I don’t want another castle.”
The room grew quiet. King Pa took Banana in his arms and held her tight, trying to quiet her cries. Queen Ma looked at her other children and said, “I want a castle where we help each other, where we play together, where we work together to make this a beautiful place. I want this to be a place where the spirit of our Father can reside, and He has said He can only be in a clean and orderly place.
“King Pa and I have been trying to make this a cleaner and happier place, but we can’t do it ourselves. We shouldn’t have to do it ourselves. We need your help.”
The Princes and Princesses were surprised. Ma and Pa needed their help? They thought their parents had it all under control. But now that they stopped to look at the King and Queen, they could see how tired the two of them were. And so the family sat down to make some goals on how to make their castle the sort where their Father’s spirit could be.
It took some time, and a lot of work, but eventually the castle in the Kingdom of Best Valley began to be a house of order and cleanliness. Those who entered in could feel the spirit of the Father in that castle, and it made them happy. The Royal family made an effort to spend more time together and less time on other things. Even Queen Ma and King Pa did their best to make time for their children, and to spend that time doing what was right. Even Brianne managed to eat something other than Poppern. Up in the Kingdom in the Skye both Dalevid and Father were happy with what they saw.
I didn't want to sit there and dictate to the kids what we were seeing, what was wrong, and what was GOING TO HAPPEN!!! Grumbling would have been heard throughout the land. Instead a story began to form in my mind and, using a talent God gave me, I began to write a funny story to help illustrate to the kids not only what was happening, but would hopefully encourage them to come up with their own ideas on how to make our home a happier place.
A few friends asked me to share my story, and so (with a few changes) I decided to share it with everyone. Some of the main problems we were facing is my daughter's addiction to Facebook, my boys' addiction to video games, and the littlest's need to be shrill and demanding because no one pays any attention to her. So that is what my little Princes and Princesses face in the story.
I would highly encourage you to look for creative ways to positively deal with the problems in your home. Just like in the story, we sat down as a family and came up with some goals to try and make things better here. In a few weeks we will sit down and see how it's going, see what's working and what isn't, and then make any necessary changes.
And now, enjoy the story.
Once upon a time there lived an awesome and royal family in the Kingdom of Best Valley. This family had the following members: Queen Ma and King Pa Balker, their oldest Princess Alec (they thought she was going to be a boy and the name stuck even after she turned out to be a girl), Prince Paulina (who was named after his grandpa but after what happened the first time, and thinking he was also going to be a boy, they opted to try a girl’s name), another Prince Brianne (after two other kids they decided not to break the pattern and gave their next son a girl’s name), and Princess Banana (Queen Ma Locker ate an awful lot of bananas during that pregnancy and thought the name Banana could be for a boy OR a girl).
For many years the royal Balker family lived in mostly love and almost always harmony. They enjoyed going on outings together and worked sorta hard to keep their castle tidy and neat. They enjoyed reading books as a royal family and could often be seen doing works of service for those in their kingdom.
As the Princes and Princesses grew older, however, something sad began to happen. The time the family spent in these wonderful activities became less frequent. King Pa and Queen Ma spent more and more time on errands for the kingdom, trying to keep everything in working order, and when they weren’t working, they were found to be increasingly hidden away in the royal bedchamber, tired from all their efforts.
Princess Alec had found a new and addicting hobby called Flacebooker where she could easily access other princes and princesses in surrounding lands! She could, and often did, spend HOURS conversing with those she rarely had access to before. The Royal family began to see more of the back of her head rather than the front of her Flace, uh, face.
Prince Paulina had long been a huge fan of buttons. Not the sort that keeps your clothes from falling right off you, but rather those that made magical things happen. Some buttons would make the made-up doings of other people in other lands appear on a screen that he could watch and laugh about for hours on end. Which he did. A lot. And if someone dared to tell him it was time to stop there would be great wailings and gnashing of teeth from the young prince until Queen Ma and King Pa would often think about getting rid of his access to these pretend lands.
Both Paulina and Brianne had a great love for the buttons that made other creatures in pretend lands move across the magic screen, doing their every bidding. Prince Brianne especially loved the two devices that let him push these sorts of buttons: the Woo and the PlagueStation. He had also developed a recent love of a food called Poppern, a crunchy and sweetly air popped delight he could live off of if given the opportunity.
Last, but certainly not least, was little Banana. As everyone became intent on doing their own thing she was neglected more and more. Her voice became louder and shriller in the hopes of being heard by those who were too busy to pay her any attention. She began to spend a lot of time in her royal bedchamber playing with toys that felt more her family than the real members. She was also placed frequently in front of movies in the hopes of keeping her entertained so others could do their own thing.
The Royal Balker family could not see that anything was too wrong at the moment, but Someone else did. He was the seventh member of their family, a prince by the name of Dalevid who had all ready gone on to the great Kingdom in the Skye, but who could see what was going on with his family below. And what he saw worried him. He wanted his family to come and live with him in the Kingdom in the Skye, but if they kept going down this path that might not happen. So he began to send down little whisperings and nudges in the hopes his parents would hear.
Happily, they did. The King and Queen began to take a closer look at what was going on and didn’t like much of what they saw. The castle was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere. There was clean laundry that sat in the basket for days before anyone thought to do anything about it. In the royal bedchambers there were dirty clothes all over the floor, even - much to the Queen’s dismay - right next to the royal laundry hamper. The Queen found a dirty sock in a much traveled hallway and wondered what would happen if she did not pick it up. The answer was: nothing. No one else, not even the owner of the sock, picked it up and placed it in a hamper.
There was clutter everywhere. Instead of using something and putting it back in it’s rightful place, things were left wherever they’d been used: on a table, a floor, a couch, a bathtub, a sink, or a bucket. Used up bags, wrappers, containers, and dishes could be found on just about every surface. Crumbs began to make their way into everyone’s socks, until Queen Ma felt ready to send a giant cyclone through the castle in the hopes it would suck all the crumbs away. But cyclones are not meant to be used to clean, and would only have reduced the castle to rubble. So she nixed that idea.
As Queen Ma and King Pa began to take stock of the mess, the two of them agreed to start doing better about picking up after themselves and their children. Their thought was, if they began to do it their children would follow their examples and help right along. Unfortunately this is not what happened. Instead the more they worked to clean and help out and pick up, the lazier and messier their children became. With Ma and Pa doing their work, they had more time to do their own thing.
So now instead of sweeping up once or twice a week, Queen Ma and King Pa would sweep up once or twice a day. The laundry would often pile up so high from improper room cleanings Queen Ma would find herself incredibly overwhelmed with the amount and not want to do it at all. King Pa would come home from a long day at work and visiting with Kingdom members only to find his castle in chaos, and would become so frustrated he would want to do nothing but hide in his room and escape in a good book.
The King and Queen noticed other changes as well. Their beloved Princes and Princesses argued a lot more. They wanted to spend less time together and more time away from each other. The royal children began to care more for other people and pretend places than they did for their own family. And so the King and Queen knelt down to ask their Father in the Kingdom of the Skye what they should do.
Their Father began to send down promptings and ideas to the two distressed parents, and on one particular Sunday after a day of Worshipping at church Queen Ma and King Pa had some answers. They gathered their precious children together one night and asked them a question: What sort of castle should we build? At first the children thought they were going to build a brand new castle.
“One with a giant room filled with magical buttons and loads of Woo’s and PlagueStations!” shouted the Princes.
“And my very own room where I can spend the whole day with my friends on Flacebooker!” yelled Princess Alec.
The King and Queen looked dismayed. This wasn’t going as they had hoped. There was one surprisingly quiet voice among the group. Queen Ma and King Pa noticed little Banana over in the corner looking very sad indeed. “What’s the matter Banana?” they asked.
“I don’t want a new castle. I like this one,” she said.
“What do you like so much about it?” they asked.
“I like the kitchen where we sit down and eat together and talk and laugh. And I like this room where we play games and throw Brianne’s teddy bear back and forth. And I like my room where my sister and I sometimes lay down and giggle together. And I like the Prince’s room where we play and have fun. And I especially like your room where we sometimes laugh together and where you let me sleep when I’ve had a bad dream. I don’t want another castle.”
The room grew quiet. King Pa took Banana in his arms and held her tight, trying to quiet her cries. Queen Ma looked at her other children and said, “I want a castle where we help each other, where we play together, where we work together to make this a beautiful place. I want this to be a place where the spirit of our Father can reside, and He has said He can only be in a clean and orderly place.
“King Pa and I have been trying to make this a cleaner and happier place, but we can’t do it ourselves. We shouldn’t have to do it ourselves. We need your help.”
The Princes and Princesses were surprised. Ma and Pa needed their help? They thought their parents had it all under control. But now that they stopped to look at the King and Queen, they could see how tired the two of them were. And so the family sat down to make some goals on how to make their castle the sort where their Father’s spirit could be.
It took some time, and a lot of work, but eventually the castle in the Kingdom of Best Valley began to be a house of order and cleanliness. Those who entered in could feel the spirit of the Father in that castle, and it made them happy. The Royal family made an effort to spend more time together and less time on other things. Even Queen Ma and King Pa did their best to make time for their children, and to spend that time doing what was right. Even Brianne managed to eat something other than Poppern. Up in the Kingdom in the Skye both Dalevid and Father were happy with what they saw.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Contemplations
Life has been...intense these last several months. Always something going on, always someone wanting to talk, always somewhere we need to be. I've been trying to take steps to calm things down, lessen the stress, but removing things from the schedule has only presented open slots ready to be filled by something else.
I have become withdrawn, seeking comfort in my own presence and those I hold dearest to my heart. My thoughts have been my greatest and worst companions, depending on what track they choose to run at any given time. I am being prepared - for what only God can say. I find myself drawn to books on the Savior and His apostles of old.
The New Testament has been calling my name for quite some time, though I am sorry to say it's only been recently that I have begun my study. Before this I had picked up some books to help me better understand the conditions surrounding the time of Christ. They have opened my eyes just a bit wider, helping me see a little more of the bigger picture, and how small I am in comparison. Small, yet significant.
I often feel out of place, as though I am reserved to sit just outside of the puzzle, a piece that looks as though it matches in color and shape, but never seems to fit exactly right. Whenever I come to believe at last I've discovered which pieces are supposed to surround me, which are the perfect fit, it turns out there's another puzzle I might be a part of and another puzzle piece that fits in my former spot far better than I could ever have done. I am always sad to leave behind these magnificent puzzles as I have grown to know and love each individual piece so well. It's much like leaving family behind.
Yet I must always move on. The Lord has work for me to do, work that is normally preceded by a time of study and contemplation as is happening now. I do not know what is coming. I know not what it will entail. I do know there would be no hope of me being successful without His help. Maybe, just maybe, I am led to study up on Him so I might come to know Him better, in the hopes I will be able to help others understand Him better.
I have written a story, one I have mentioned before. In my humble opinion it is perhaps the best of my life thus far. It is no literary masterpiece. Grammar and punctuation errors abound. There is no doubt others could have written it with more feeling, more power, and more depth. But this story was not for anyone else to write. My Heavenly Father said to me, "This story was reserved for you to bring forth at this time." There are experiences I have had, people I have been placed with, and times I have been asked to endure that have worked to prepare me for this one beautiful piece.
As we speak this story has been sent to a printer. It will be put together for all the young women of my stake, and next Wednesday I will read it to all who come and with open hearts and ears listen to the words I have to share. This is the beginning of a new stage in my life, something which the Lord and Heavenly Father have been preparing me for over the last several years.
I still have much learning to do, both in life and in writing, but this is what life is all about - taking the opportunities to live and learn and grow. I am grateful for my life, even hard times. Especially the hard times. For I know it is during the hardest times of our lives we are able to learn the most. I can only pray His hand will ever be there to guide me, and that I will remember to hold on tight.
I have become withdrawn, seeking comfort in my own presence and those I hold dearest to my heart. My thoughts have been my greatest and worst companions, depending on what track they choose to run at any given time. I am being prepared - for what only God can say. I find myself drawn to books on the Savior and His apostles of old.
The New Testament has been calling my name for quite some time, though I am sorry to say it's only been recently that I have begun my study. Before this I had picked up some books to help me better understand the conditions surrounding the time of Christ. They have opened my eyes just a bit wider, helping me see a little more of the bigger picture, and how small I am in comparison. Small, yet significant.
I often feel out of place, as though I am reserved to sit just outside of the puzzle, a piece that looks as though it matches in color and shape, but never seems to fit exactly right. Whenever I come to believe at last I've discovered which pieces are supposed to surround me, which are the perfect fit, it turns out there's another puzzle I might be a part of and another puzzle piece that fits in my former spot far better than I could ever have done. I am always sad to leave behind these magnificent puzzles as I have grown to know and love each individual piece so well. It's much like leaving family behind.
Yet I must always move on. The Lord has work for me to do, work that is normally preceded by a time of study and contemplation as is happening now. I do not know what is coming. I know not what it will entail. I do know there would be no hope of me being successful without His help. Maybe, just maybe, I am led to study up on Him so I might come to know Him better, in the hopes I will be able to help others understand Him better.
I have written a story, one I have mentioned before. In my humble opinion it is perhaps the best of my life thus far. It is no literary masterpiece. Grammar and punctuation errors abound. There is no doubt others could have written it with more feeling, more power, and more depth. But this story was not for anyone else to write. My Heavenly Father said to me, "This story was reserved for you to bring forth at this time." There are experiences I have had, people I have been placed with, and times I have been asked to endure that have worked to prepare me for this one beautiful piece.
As we speak this story has been sent to a printer. It will be put together for all the young women of my stake, and next Wednesday I will read it to all who come and with open hearts and ears listen to the words I have to share. This is the beginning of a new stage in my life, something which the Lord and Heavenly Father have been preparing me for over the last several years.
I still have much learning to do, both in life and in writing, but this is what life is all about - taking the opportunities to live and learn and grow. I am grateful for my life, even hard times. Especially the hard times. For I know it is during the hardest times of our lives we are able to learn the most. I can only pray His hand will ever be there to guide me, and that I will remember to hold on tight.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Calling All Prayer Warriors
Several years ago I was a part of a marvelous online group dedicated to the author Jan Karon, who penned the books known as "The Mitford Series." For anyone who may not know much of these books, I highly recommend them. They revolve around a certain Father Tim Kavanaugh, who is the spiritual leader over a parish of very unusual, funny, and downright lovable characters.
As an online community I grew to love the women I'd met there. Every once in a while we'd get the trouble maker who loved to stir things up for the sheer intent of creating discord, yet on the whole I enjoyed the friendships made.
One of the most beautiful parts of this site were the needs being met in the area of prayer. Prayer is a powerful tool, especially when a group of people are brought together for a single purpose. Eventually those who chose to participate in the prayer threads of the site were referred to as the Prayer Warriors. It seemed particularly fitting as there is always a battle to be fought on spiritual levels, and the combined efforts given had proven to be a powerful force on more than one occasion.
It's been many years since I was last on that site. Things in it had changed a little too much when it came to the general aura of the site - at least for me it had. I didn't enjoy it as much. However, the term "Prayer Warrior" still makes my spine tingle. I was thinking of this term earlier in the week when the need for serious prayer in great numbers came to me.
About six weeks ago I was asked to be a part of a very small group of women who would work on a special spiritual activity for our stake girl's camp this year. Our leader had an idea of what this needed to be about. As a group we filled in the details and then, due to the special talent for writing my Heavenly Father has given me, I took the assignment home and began.
For almost two straight weeks every spare minute (and even some not so spare) was dedicated to writing. I felt the words and ideas flow through me as they had not for almost a year. I could tell the Holy Spirit was with me during this journey. The beginning was at first tough to pin down as I wasn't sure how to begin what had to match the already blossoming middle. Little inspirations struck, helping me understand which ideas our little group had come up with would or would not work, and before I knew it about twelve pages had been put together. I was ecstatic, elated, and other exciting words starting with the letter e. Mostly I was humbled with the incredible project the Lord was helping me to create.
Then Thursday hit. From the moment I awoke everything felt...wrong. I was tired, grumpy, down, depressed. The weather that day dawned dark and rainy. No matter how hard I tried I could not get myself to sit down and work on my beloved piece. I couldn't seem to wrap my mind around anything except for one fact - for I was overcome with a nauseating "truth" - that everything I'd written was simply no good. It was so off course. It was horrible. It was far too long. There was no possible way the others in my group would like it.
I was in absolute despair.
Everything in me said, "Just erase it. Start over. Don't let anyone know how you failed." It is difficult for me to help you understand what it means for a writer to be threatened with the thought of needing to get rid of something we once thought of as brilliant. I'd put my heart and soul into these wonderful combinations of words and ideas. To erase it all felt so much like erasing a part of myself.
In despair I retreated into my mind and pleaded, as a child of God, "Father, what do I do?"
As though He'd been waiting for me to ask the words of the ladies at our first meeting came to my mind. They'd talked about how difficult this entire camp had been to put together, not like the last one which seemed to come about with ease. This time around they found themselves constantly finding one stumbling block after another. They would get one block out of the way only to find another even bigger one needing to be moved. They began to despair, wondering if they were completely off track, until the thought to stop and pray came. Once their plea to have Satan's hindering hand removed from their efforts, things began to flow smoothly.
I clutched on to those words, to the hope they offered, as a frightened child might grasp tight to the hand of a parent. My thoughts and actions went to the very place I knew I could find my own group of Prayer Warriors, and to the computer I went. "Help me," I implored to my friends and family on Facebook, for that was the place I could reach the greatest number of people immediately. "I think Satan is attacking me this morning, tempting me to destroy something important. Please pray that his hand will be removed from me."
The responses were immediate. Within minutes the sun literally broke through the clouds, lighting the world outside my front window. From my mind a giant pressure was lifted. I could even breathe easier. Throughout the entire day my Warriors helped to stay Satan's hand, and my own hand as well. To my mind came the thought, "Leave it alone." And so I did. That night my wonderful husband gave me a very special priesthood blessing where it was confirmed that not only was I meant to write for this project, but that Satan was indeed trying to bring me down so it would not happen.
Throughout the entire next day I was still told to leave it alone, and so I filled the hours with laundry, a bit of cleaning, my family, and as I was told, did not touch the project. This did not mean my mind wasn't constantly on it. I kept thinking, "If I just read it, that wouldn't matter right?" But no, came the instant impression to my mind, leave it alone. And so I did.
Not until late Saturday morning was the restriction lifted. I only made it through a few pages when I realized what it was I might have destroyed. As though the sun broke out in my own head I knew that what my very own fingers had typed was not only good, but greatly inspired of God. Later that afternoon I read it to my three ladies and they confirmed what the Spirit had told me, and I was grateful.
There is no doubt in my mind that if I had not gone to ask my friends to pray in my behalf, every word I'd lovingly put to paper (figuratively speaking) would have been lost. There is no doubt in my mind my Warriors, and indeed I think of them as my heroes, who came together in prayer when my soul was in need saved me that day from doing something I would forever regret. I am here to offer them my intense gratitude and love.
And so I leave you with this thought: the next time you are in need of prayers offered in your behalf, don't be afraid to ask. The more people you ask the more you will be blessed. Just as important is the opportunity to be a Prayer Warrior for someone else in need, even if you barely know that person.
I will end with the request that those who read this will continue to pray. My project is not done, but with Satan trying to keep from writing it I need all the prayers I can get. When it is complete, and offered to the young women for whom it is being written later this summer, I hope to share it here with all of you.
As an online community I grew to love the women I'd met there. Every once in a while we'd get the trouble maker who loved to stir things up for the sheer intent of creating discord, yet on the whole I enjoyed the friendships made.
One of the most beautiful parts of this site were the needs being met in the area of prayer. Prayer is a powerful tool, especially when a group of people are brought together for a single purpose. Eventually those who chose to participate in the prayer threads of the site were referred to as the Prayer Warriors. It seemed particularly fitting as there is always a battle to be fought on spiritual levels, and the combined efforts given had proven to be a powerful force on more than one occasion.
It's been many years since I was last on that site. Things in it had changed a little too much when it came to the general aura of the site - at least for me it had. I didn't enjoy it as much. However, the term "Prayer Warrior" still makes my spine tingle. I was thinking of this term earlier in the week when the need for serious prayer in great numbers came to me.
About six weeks ago I was asked to be a part of a very small group of women who would work on a special spiritual activity for our stake girl's camp this year. Our leader had an idea of what this needed to be about. As a group we filled in the details and then, due to the special talent for writing my Heavenly Father has given me, I took the assignment home and began.
For almost two straight weeks every spare minute (and even some not so spare) was dedicated to writing. I felt the words and ideas flow through me as they had not for almost a year. I could tell the Holy Spirit was with me during this journey. The beginning was at first tough to pin down as I wasn't sure how to begin what had to match the already blossoming middle. Little inspirations struck, helping me understand which ideas our little group had come up with would or would not work, and before I knew it about twelve pages had been put together. I was ecstatic, elated, and other exciting words starting with the letter e. Mostly I was humbled with the incredible project the Lord was helping me to create.
Then Thursday hit. From the moment I awoke everything felt...wrong. I was tired, grumpy, down, depressed. The weather that day dawned dark and rainy. No matter how hard I tried I could not get myself to sit down and work on my beloved piece. I couldn't seem to wrap my mind around anything except for one fact - for I was overcome with a nauseating "truth" - that everything I'd written was simply no good. It was so off course. It was horrible. It was far too long. There was no possible way the others in my group would like it.
I was in absolute despair.
Everything in me said, "Just erase it. Start over. Don't let anyone know how you failed." It is difficult for me to help you understand what it means for a writer to be threatened with the thought of needing to get rid of something we once thought of as brilliant. I'd put my heart and soul into these wonderful combinations of words and ideas. To erase it all felt so much like erasing a part of myself.
In despair I retreated into my mind and pleaded, as a child of God, "Father, what do I do?"
As though He'd been waiting for me to ask the words of the ladies at our first meeting came to my mind. They'd talked about how difficult this entire camp had been to put together, not like the last one which seemed to come about with ease. This time around they found themselves constantly finding one stumbling block after another. They would get one block out of the way only to find another even bigger one needing to be moved. They began to despair, wondering if they were completely off track, until the thought to stop and pray came. Once their plea to have Satan's hindering hand removed from their efforts, things began to flow smoothly.
I clutched on to those words, to the hope they offered, as a frightened child might grasp tight to the hand of a parent. My thoughts and actions went to the very place I knew I could find my own group of Prayer Warriors, and to the computer I went. "Help me," I implored to my friends and family on Facebook, for that was the place I could reach the greatest number of people immediately. "I think Satan is attacking me this morning, tempting me to destroy something important. Please pray that his hand will be removed from me."
The responses were immediate. Within minutes the sun literally broke through the clouds, lighting the world outside my front window. From my mind a giant pressure was lifted. I could even breathe easier. Throughout the entire day my Warriors helped to stay Satan's hand, and my own hand as well. To my mind came the thought, "Leave it alone." And so I did. That night my wonderful husband gave me a very special priesthood blessing where it was confirmed that not only was I meant to write for this project, but that Satan was indeed trying to bring me down so it would not happen.
Throughout the entire next day I was still told to leave it alone, and so I filled the hours with laundry, a bit of cleaning, my family, and as I was told, did not touch the project. This did not mean my mind wasn't constantly on it. I kept thinking, "If I just read it, that wouldn't matter right?" But no, came the instant impression to my mind, leave it alone. And so I did.
Not until late Saturday morning was the restriction lifted. I only made it through a few pages when I realized what it was I might have destroyed. As though the sun broke out in my own head I knew that what my very own fingers had typed was not only good, but greatly inspired of God. Later that afternoon I read it to my three ladies and they confirmed what the Spirit had told me, and I was grateful.
There is no doubt in my mind that if I had not gone to ask my friends to pray in my behalf, every word I'd lovingly put to paper (figuratively speaking) would have been lost. There is no doubt in my mind my Warriors, and indeed I think of them as my heroes, who came together in prayer when my soul was in need saved me that day from doing something I would forever regret. I am here to offer them my intense gratitude and love.
And so I leave you with this thought: the next time you are in need of prayers offered in your behalf, don't be afraid to ask. The more people you ask the more you will be blessed. Just as important is the opportunity to be a Prayer Warrior for someone else in need, even if you barely know that person.
I will end with the request that those who read this will continue to pray. My project is not done, but with Satan trying to keep from writing it I need all the prayers I can get. When it is complete, and offered to the young women for whom it is being written later this summer, I hope to share it here with all of you.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
A Step in a New Direction
We're in debt. I realize this is nothing new, especially when one considers the life and times in which we live, but this is not a style of living with which my husband and I are comfortable.
Beyond the house and car payments we work our best to spend only the money my husband brings in through his job. For most of our married life he has had to work two different jobs (one full-time, one part-time) in order for us to scrape by. About two years ago the higher-ups of his full time job were able to square things away to enable my husband to at last quit his part-time job, which was especially needful as he had been asked to take on the role of a bishop (or leader of a congregation) in our church. This particular role requires much of his time.
Though he was finally able to quit his part-time job, it meant a pay decrease - something we did not mind as it meant he would get to be home a bit more. We tightened our belts even more when necessary and found other ways to keep ourselves living within our means. This year, however, life simply took it's toll.
We have just one credit card. It is pulled out primarily to make online purchases (like medications) or in case of an emergency when our savings cannot cover it. I don't know what it was about this particular year, but emergencies seemed to pop up from a lot more sources than usual. Our savings has been almost depleted, and the last time we needed to pay this much on a credit card was several years ago when our car had been stolen and required much in the way of money to be fixed.
I keep waiting for that "long lost great-uncle twenty times removed" I never knew to somehow discover I'm here and leave me a fantastic legacy! Either that or for Publisher's Clearing House to at least give me that million dollars they keep promising.
I'm not complaining...well, not much. But it's sent within me a drive I've never really experienced before to sit down and get serious about writing. A sweet friend hooked me up with a few sites to look into when it comes to freelance writing. I actually had to sit down and put together a rather pitiful looking resume. This morning I sent in said resume to a professional freelance writing site in the hopes they'll overlook my lack of experience and give me an honest chance at working for them.
It's scary, especially for someone who's never tried this online before. Yet I'm hopeful. There's this little bubble of excitement that's rolling around inside my head wondering if this could be what gets me started. I've long wanted to create a name for myself - a name that goes beyond my sweet, wonderful, and supportive circle of family and friends. I've been told by my Heavenly Father that this is what I'm meant to do (after the whole mom and wife thing, of course) with my life. It can be difficult, though, to let go of the hesitations, fears, and uncertainties. It can be difficult to believe in myself!!! Anyone out there know what I'm saying? I'm sure you do.
Perhaps today is the beginning of good things, both for myself and for our family. Perhaps today is the beginning of taking control and working towards something new and wonderful and exciting. Perhaps this is the unseen purpose behind all our little emergencies this year. Who knows but that this has been the Lord's way of getting me moving in a new direction.
Beyond the house and car payments we work our best to spend only the money my husband brings in through his job. For most of our married life he has had to work two different jobs (one full-time, one part-time) in order for us to scrape by. About two years ago the higher-ups of his full time job were able to square things away to enable my husband to at last quit his part-time job, which was especially needful as he had been asked to take on the role of a bishop (or leader of a congregation) in our church. This particular role requires much of his time.
Though he was finally able to quit his part-time job, it meant a pay decrease - something we did not mind as it meant he would get to be home a bit more. We tightened our belts even more when necessary and found other ways to keep ourselves living within our means. This year, however, life simply took it's toll.
We have just one credit card. It is pulled out primarily to make online purchases (like medications) or in case of an emergency when our savings cannot cover it. I don't know what it was about this particular year, but emergencies seemed to pop up from a lot more sources than usual. Our savings has been almost depleted, and the last time we needed to pay this much on a credit card was several years ago when our car had been stolen and required much in the way of money to be fixed.
I keep waiting for that "long lost great-uncle twenty times removed" I never knew to somehow discover I'm here and leave me a fantastic legacy! Either that or for Publisher's Clearing House to at least give me that million dollars they keep promising.
I'm not complaining...well, not much. But it's sent within me a drive I've never really experienced before to sit down and get serious about writing. A sweet friend hooked me up with a few sites to look into when it comes to freelance writing. I actually had to sit down and put together a rather pitiful looking resume. This morning I sent in said resume to a professional freelance writing site in the hopes they'll overlook my lack of experience and give me an honest chance at working for them.
It's scary, especially for someone who's never tried this online before. Yet I'm hopeful. There's this little bubble of excitement that's rolling around inside my head wondering if this could be what gets me started. I've long wanted to create a name for myself - a name that goes beyond my sweet, wonderful, and supportive circle of family and friends. I've been told by my Heavenly Father that this is what I'm meant to do (after the whole mom and wife thing, of course) with my life. It can be difficult, though, to let go of the hesitations, fears, and uncertainties. It can be difficult to believe in myself!!! Anyone out there know what I'm saying? I'm sure you do.
Perhaps today is the beginning of good things, both for myself and for our family. Perhaps today is the beginning of taking control and working towards something new and wonderful and exciting. Perhaps this is the unseen purpose behind all our little emergencies this year. Who knows but that this has been the Lord's way of getting me moving in a new direction.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Sunday Inspirations July 11, 2010
I spent most of this week at our church's Girl's Camp participating as one of the leaders. It was hard, it was dirty, it was buggy, it was wet, and above all it was beyond awesome!
I was in charge of one of the projects, and decided to do up a little charm bracelet involving the colors which represent the values the young women of our church are given to help guide them through this crazy life.
Not until the last week did I also begin to feel there was a story that needed to go along with the bracelet, something to help make the meaning behind each stone more than just being something pretty to look at. The Lord gifted me with a story I feel needs to be shared far and wide, and so I invite you to pass it on to those you feel might benefit.
The Greatest Treasure
Once upon a time in a land so very far away there are few who even recall it’s name, there lived a King and his beloved daughter, Bethia. At only twelve years old Bethia was all ready considered a great beauty: flawless fair skin, eyes bluer than the sea, hair as dark as night. But more than this, one only had to look into her eyes to see there was a spirit of great strength residing there.
The King worried over the welfare of his daughter, as any father should. He knew the man who would wed her one day needed to be something more than wealthy, of royal birth, or flattering. No, for his precious girl there needed to be a man who knew the value of the gift he had to give.
And so he sent out a decree intended for anyone hopeful to wed the princess.
Let it be known the hand of princess bethia
Is not to be easily won.
Only he who is able present before the king
The greatest treasure to be found
Shall win her hand.
News spread quickly, even in lands so distant they were not known to the King. In only a few months men old and young began to show up, carrying with them jewels and gold and silver, fine silks and linens, even animals so rare some had never been seen before, all in the hopes of pleasing the King. Some brought everything they owned, thinking more wealth would surely buy them the prize of the most beautiful girl known to man – not to mention becoming heir to one of the richest kingdoms.
Yet each eager suitor was turned away. None of them understood what the king meant when he sadly said, “What you have brought is wonderful, but it is not what I am looking for.”
In the meantime Bethia was given a tutor to help her grow in knowledge and understanding. Much of what the King hoped she would learn seemed to come naturally to the young princess. Under the care and gentle teaching of the tutor Bethia grew to be almost as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.
To the surprise of the kingdom years passed quickly by, hope waxing and waning with every hopeful prince, king, nobleman and even commoner who strutted into the castle grounds, only to leave puzzled, embarrassed, and angry. It wasn’t long before words were passed like vipers, striking at the name of the king whose daughter was too good for the richest and most handsome of men.
As time moved along fewer came calling for the hand of the princess. After all, she couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as the rumors said, thought those who were mildly tempted to try their hand. Why, thought others, should anyone try so hard for a mere woman? It was the king’s decree that got everyone so excited to try. In fact, when one stopped to think about it, king’s daughters were really quite common. There can’t possibly be anything extra special about this one. Such a fuss over nothing.
And so the King and his daughter were forgotten by most who did not live close by. The King mourned for himself and his daughter. Once his hope for a good man who knew what a treasure existed in his girl was thought, by him, to be a good thing. Now he wondered if he’d done them both a disservice. It gave him a lot to think about.
Shortly after the princess’s 18th birthday he noticed Bethia fingering a lovely bracelet on her wrist. It didn’t look familiar. He asked who had given it to her.
“Ben-Ad,” she said, speaking of her tutor. “Aren’t the stones lovely? Each one has a special meaning. He says they remind him of me.”
The King watched as his daughter continued on her way, toying with her new gift.
“Ben-Ad,” he said, wondering if…
What could the meanings behind the gems be? It was unusual for the quiet tutor to honor his charge with a gift, which only served to increase the King’s curiosity, and so he sent for his daughter’s teacher.
Ben-Ad came quickly, bowing his dark head low in reverence of his Master. “Sire, you called for me?”
For several seconds the King scrutinized his servant, trying to really see him for perhaps the first time. He had a pleasing countenance. His dark eyes radiated intelligence, indeed, but there was something more. There was laughter, also in evidence behind a mouth that looked ready to break into a smile. His form was fit, positioned in a stance to show respect, yet he also appeared relaxed, comfortable with himself and his surroundings. Even being inspected by the King didn’t appear to unsettle him.
“You gave my daughter a gift,” he said, and no more. Over his long years of ruling he’d learned you could tell a great deal of the measure of a man by putting him in an uncomfortable position. He was pleased when Ben-Ad at last let the smile escape.
“Yes Sire, I did. I hope it didn’t upset you.”
The King smiled in return. “Not at all. I was simply curious. Bethia said each of the gems had a meaning. I would like you to tell me about them.”
At that moment a door opened and in walked his daughter. She paused at the sight of her teacher standing before the King. Was that a blush suddenly coloring her face? At the same time he saw the tutor’s face briefly flush, and had to stifle his pleasure. Something told him here was a man who might be able to answer his prayers.
Ben-Ad reached a hand into his pocket, grabbed something, and pulled it out. His fingers stretched open just a bit so only his eyes could behold the object. The King watched the young man’s features soften for a brief moment, before he raised his head and asked to approach. A quick glance showed his daughter had not moved an inch.
“I have in my hand eight precious stones,” he began. “Ones your daughter and I have been studying the last few months. The princess asked me one day what I thought the stones meant. I didn’t understand until she began to tell me how the blue ones reminded her of you, and the gold ones of her mother. She even said the green ones make her think of me, her teacher.”
He smiled at his student, and the King watched her face light up.
“I began to think on her question, even then coming up with the idea of making her a gift of the stones. It was my hope that she could be constantly reminded of the beautiful things in her life and in herself.”
Ben-Ad pulled out a small, white stone, almost perfect in its color. He placed it in the hand of the King, who marveled at the beauty of something so tiny. “Your daughter watches you, Sire, and her mother. She sees daily your examples of unending faith and perseverance. Though she may not always understand why you do the things you do, she trusts you implicitly. Her faith in her parents, and others around her, is not to be taken lightly.”
The next stone placed in his hand was blue, the color his daughter said reminded her of him. In their land blue was a sign of royalty, a color he always wore. “This is to help Bethia remember she is the daughter of a king. There are things passed on from father to daughter that connect them in a relationship more precious than all the riches in the world. This father loves her more than she will ever know. At times he asks difficult things of her, like waiting to marry a man who will appreciate who she truly is, even if it means waiting for years. But these things are asked out of love. For she truly deserves someone who is just as willing to wait for her.”
It was extraordinary, the insight this young man had. His own daughter had never gleaned the truth, as the puzzled look on her face showed. Before he could ponder further the next stone was placed in his hand. It was just as small as the others, a shade somewhere between pink and red. It wasn’t very smooth, a bit ragged here and there, but no less beautiful. In fact, the individuality of the stone almost demanded his attention. Certainly there was no other like it here in the kingdom.
“I believe this stone is most like your daughter. It is unique, special, distinctive. Even though she is the daughter of a king, she is not like every other daughter of a king. She has her own irreplaceable gifts, talents, and abilities, her own individual experiences that have worked over the years to make her rare. As we all are rare. There is not one person who is like another, and I believe this is something she should celebrate.”
Ben-Ad smiled as he next placed the light, green gem in the hand of the King. “I have dubbed this one knowledge. Not for myself, Sire, but rather for the knowledge your daughter has gained. She has a teachable spirit and a love for learning. There is no doubt she will continue to educate herself, as she should. I believe we should all strive to learn everything we can in these short, mortal lives of ours. Some of the most beautiful minds on this earth are those open to discovering new things.
“I had to laugh a bit when the princess saw this gem.” Ben-Ad dropped two interlinked, perfectly round orange balls onto the King’s palm. The King laughed out loud, then beckoned for his daughter to come near. Her laughter mingled with his as she caught sight of the gem. Though he’d never understood why, Bethia had never liked the color orange. Seeing it on her lovely bracelet must have been upsetting. She nodded to Ben-Ad to explain.
“Just as the princess might not choose to include this color in anything, we are sometimes asked to make choices that may seem unfair, hurtful, or mean. Sometimes the choices we make are wrong, and we must face the consequences of those wrong choices. Even if she is a princess, she is not perfect. But that’s okay, so long as she learns from her mistakes, and makes the better choice next time.
“Then there are those choices that are hard because others will complain, mock, or cry unjust. Well, that is the choice of others. Yet she must decide how she will act in face of adversity. Will she cave under the pressure and take back her choice? Or will she stick with what she knows is right?”
It didn’t seem real, everything the King was being taught in this simple interview. Not only was he gaining a new insight into his daughter, but also into the incredible mind that had been teaching her for several years. Why had he not paid more attention to this young man?
Next into his hand was placed a yellow stone. It shone bright as the sun.
“This one makes me think of service,” said Ben-Ad. “I cannot help but think of the joy brought to the people we serve. And I cannot help but think of the joy we bring to ourselves when we serve others. I have seen your daughter bring about good works without being asked. I have witnessed the faces of those she serves. They light up. They shine. They glow with happiness. In the process her own countenance shines.”
The next gem to find it’s way onto his hand was violet. It instantly made him think of solemn and sacred things, though he could not say why. What could this gem mean in the eyes of a learned man?
“In this I think of the Lord,” said Ben-Ad in almost a whisper. “I think of how well he stood up for that which is right, even in the face of evil. I think of all the times he quietly went about doing good, teaching good things, and living his life as though he knew those around him were watching.
“Yes there were those who loved and followed him, but there were also those who hated him. Time after time they tried to trick and trap him. Even Satan tempted him when he was at his weakest physically. Yet the Lord never backed down from doing what he knew to be right. He never went back on the things he taught. He is truly our greatest example of courage and integrity.”
All three remained silent for several seconds, pondering on the sacred words just spoken. The King could not hold back the flood of emotion pouring through him. It was as if he was just given a special look at the Lord through someone else’s eyes, and he felt humbled. So lost in his thoughts was the King it took a moment to register the last stone placed in his hand.
It sat atop the others, shining with pure intensity. For this stone men throughout the ages had fought with one another, valued it even over the life of their loved ones, and sought to gain more and more. Over the years the King had begun to hate the sight of this stone, as hopeful suitors brought mounds of it with them, asking to trade them for his daughter.
It was gold. What could gold mean to him other than greed? He looked to the teacher, his teacher, for answers.
“I can see what you are thinking, Sire, and cannot say that I blame you. Let me see if I can’t help change your mind. It’s true gold has often been given away without a thought by those who don’t care to recognize its value. It is hunted by evil men who believe having more will make them happier.
“But I believe in something different. You see, Sire, I believe it is something precious, to be guarded and cherished. I believe it needs to be protected from the evils of the world, and ever cared for so it does not tarnish. I believe this gold represents everything else we’ve been talking about. It is the goodness and virtue within all of us.
“When we keep ourselves pure, unstained, and protected from the evil influences around us, we are more able to shine in the light of the Son, so that others who see us will want to know what makes us glow. However, I also believe this is a lifelong process. Every time we find ourselves discolored, we must work to clean ourselves up and glow again. But one day, if we follow what all the other stones represent, our golden selves will be fit to stand before the Lord.”
For several minutes the King pondered the brightly colored stones in his hand, awed at the gift presented to his daughter. “May I keep these?” he asked in a soft voice, looking up long enough to see the tutor nod before placing them into his robe. When at last he trusted his voice, the King stood and turned to face the two young people. He stepped forward and took his daughter’s face in his hands.
“Ben-Ad has given you a gift like no other,” he whispered, “and me as well. I am looking at you now and can hardly believe my eyes. How is it I have not seen the young woman who stands before me today? You are truly remarkable.”
He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I have always wanted to give you a husband who would see you to be the greatest treasure. Would it please you, my daughter, if Ben-Ad were to be that husband?”
She trembled, barely able to contain her joy. “Yes, Father.”
He turned to Ben-Ad, whose wide eyes and tight lips expressed wonder, hope, and excitement. The King took his daughter’s hand and placed it in that of her teacher, her friend, her love. The elation shared between the two could hardly match that of his own. At last he’d found a man worthy to wed a princess.
I was in charge of one of the projects, and decided to do up a little charm bracelet involving the colors which represent the values the young women of our church are given to help guide them through this crazy life.
Not until the last week did I also begin to feel there was a story that needed to go along with the bracelet, something to help make the meaning behind each stone more than just being something pretty to look at. The Lord gifted me with a story I feel needs to be shared far and wide, and so I invite you to pass it on to those you feel might benefit.
The Greatest Treasure
Once upon a time in a land so very far away there are few who even recall it’s name, there lived a King and his beloved daughter, Bethia. At only twelve years old Bethia was all ready considered a great beauty: flawless fair skin, eyes bluer than the sea, hair as dark as night. But more than this, one only had to look into her eyes to see there was a spirit of great strength residing there.
The King worried over the welfare of his daughter, as any father should. He knew the man who would wed her one day needed to be something more than wealthy, of royal birth, or flattering. No, for his precious girl there needed to be a man who knew the value of the gift he had to give.
And so he sent out a decree intended for anyone hopeful to wed the princess.
Let it be known the hand of princess bethia
Is not to be easily won.
Only he who is able present before the king
The greatest treasure to be found
Shall win her hand.
News spread quickly, even in lands so distant they were not known to the King. In only a few months men old and young began to show up, carrying with them jewels and gold and silver, fine silks and linens, even animals so rare some had never been seen before, all in the hopes of pleasing the King. Some brought everything they owned, thinking more wealth would surely buy them the prize of the most beautiful girl known to man – not to mention becoming heir to one of the richest kingdoms.
Yet each eager suitor was turned away. None of them understood what the king meant when he sadly said, “What you have brought is wonderful, but it is not what I am looking for.”
In the meantime Bethia was given a tutor to help her grow in knowledge and understanding. Much of what the King hoped she would learn seemed to come naturally to the young princess. Under the care and gentle teaching of the tutor Bethia grew to be almost as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.
To the surprise of the kingdom years passed quickly by, hope waxing and waning with every hopeful prince, king, nobleman and even commoner who strutted into the castle grounds, only to leave puzzled, embarrassed, and angry. It wasn’t long before words were passed like vipers, striking at the name of the king whose daughter was too good for the richest and most handsome of men.
As time moved along fewer came calling for the hand of the princess. After all, she couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as the rumors said, thought those who were mildly tempted to try their hand. Why, thought others, should anyone try so hard for a mere woman? It was the king’s decree that got everyone so excited to try. In fact, when one stopped to think about it, king’s daughters were really quite common. There can’t possibly be anything extra special about this one. Such a fuss over nothing.
And so the King and his daughter were forgotten by most who did not live close by. The King mourned for himself and his daughter. Once his hope for a good man who knew what a treasure existed in his girl was thought, by him, to be a good thing. Now he wondered if he’d done them both a disservice. It gave him a lot to think about.
Shortly after the princess’s 18th birthday he noticed Bethia fingering a lovely bracelet on her wrist. It didn’t look familiar. He asked who had given it to her.
“Ben-Ad,” she said, speaking of her tutor. “Aren’t the stones lovely? Each one has a special meaning. He says they remind him of me.”
The King watched as his daughter continued on her way, toying with her new gift.
“Ben-Ad,” he said, wondering if…
What could the meanings behind the gems be? It was unusual for the quiet tutor to honor his charge with a gift, which only served to increase the King’s curiosity, and so he sent for his daughter’s teacher.
Ben-Ad came quickly, bowing his dark head low in reverence of his Master. “Sire, you called for me?”
For several seconds the King scrutinized his servant, trying to really see him for perhaps the first time. He had a pleasing countenance. His dark eyes radiated intelligence, indeed, but there was something more. There was laughter, also in evidence behind a mouth that looked ready to break into a smile. His form was fit, positioned in a stance to show respect, yet he also appeared relaxed, comfortable with himself and his surroundings. Even being inspected by the King didn’t appear to unsettle him.
“You gave my daughter a gift,” he said, and no more. Over his long years of ruling he’d learned you could tell a great deal of the measure of a man by putting him in an uncomfortable position. He was pleased when Ben-Ad at last let the smile escape.
“Yes Sire, I did. I hope it didn’t upset you.”
The King smiled in return. “Not at all. I was simply curious. Bethia said each of the gems had a meaning. I would like you to tell me about them.”
At that moment a door opened and in walked his daughter. She paused at the sight of her teacher standing before the King. Was that a blush suddenly coloring her face? At the same time he saw the tutor’s face briefly flush, and had to stifle his pleasure. Something told him here was a man who might be able to answer his prayers.
Ben-Ad reached a hand into his pocket, grabbed something, and pulled it out. His fingers stretched open just a bit so only his eyes could behold the object. The King watched the young man’s features soften for a brief moment, before he raised his head and asked to approach. A quick glance showed his daughter had not moved an inch.
“I have in my hand eight precious stones,” he began. “Ones your daughter and I have been studying the last few months. The princess asked me one day what I thought the stones meant. I didn’t understand until she began to tell me how the blue ones reminded her of you, and the gold ones of her mother. She even said the green ones make her think of me, her teacher.”
He smiled at his student, and the King watched her face light up.
“I began to think on her question, even then coming up with the idea of making her a gift of the stones. It was my hope that she could be constantly reminded of the beautiful things in her life and in herself.”
Ben-Ad pulled out a small, white stone, almost perfect in its color. He placed it in the hand of the King, who marveled at the beauty of something so tiny. “Your daughter watches you, Sire, and her mother. She sees daily your examples of unending faith and perseverance. Though she may not always understand why you do the things you do, she trusts you implicitly. Her faith in her parents, and others around her, is not to be taken lightly.”
The next stone placed in his hand was blue, the color his daughter said reminded her of him. In their land blue was a sign of royalty, a color he always wore. “This is to help Bethia remember she is the daughter of a king. There are things passed on from father to daughter that connect them in a relationship more precious than all the riches in the world. This father loves her more than she will ever know. At times he asks difficult things of her, like waiting to marry a man who will appreciate who she truly is, even if it means waiting for years. But these things are asked out of love. For she truly deserves someone who is just as willing to wait for her.”
It was extraordinary, the insight this young man had. His own daughter had never gleaned the truth, as the puzzled look on her face showed. Before he could ponder further the next stone was placed in his hand. It was just as small as the others, a shade somewhere between pink and red. It wasn’t very smooth, a bit ragged here and there, but no less beautiful. In fact, the individuality of the stone almost demanded his attention. Certainly there was no other like it here in the kingdom.
“I believe this stone is most like your daughter. It is unique, special, distinctive. Even though she is the daughter of a king, she is not like every other daughter of a king. She has her own irreplaceable gifts, talents, and abilities, her own individual experiences that have worked over the years to make her rare. As we all are rare. There is not one person who is like another, and I believe this is something she should celebrate.”
Ben-Ad smiled as he next placed the light, green gem in the hand of the King. “I have dubbed this one knowledge. Not for myself, Sire, but rather for the knowledge your daughter has gained. She has a teachable spirit and a love for learning. There is no doubt she will continue to educate herself, as she should. I believe we should all strive to learn everything we can in these short, mortal lives of ours. Some of the most beautiful minds on this earth are those open to discovering new things.
“I had to laugh a bit when the princess saw this gem.” Ben-Ad dropped two interlinked, perfectly round orange balls onto the King’s palm. The King laughed out loud, then beckoned for his daughter to come near. Her laughter mingled with his as she caught sight of the gem. Though he’d never understood why, Bethia had never liked the color orange. Seeing it on her lovely bracelet must have been upsetting. She nodded to Ben-Ad to explain.
“Just as the princess might not choose to include this color in anything, we are sometimes asked to make choices that may seem unfair, hurtful, or mean. Sometimes the choices we make are wrong, and we must face the consequences of those wrong choices. Even if she is a princess, she is not perfect. But that’s okay, so long as she learns from her mistakes, and makes the better choice next time.
“Then there are those choices that are hard because others will complain, mock, or cry unjust. Well, that is the choice of others. Yet she must decide how she will act in face of adversity. Will she cave under the pressure and take back her choice? Or will she stick with what she knows is right?”
It didn’t seem real, everything the King was being taught in this simple interview. Not only was he gaining a new insight into his daughter, but also into the incredible mind that had been teaching her for several years. Why had he not paid more attention to this young man?
Next into his hand was placed a yellow stone. It shone bright as the sun.
“This one makes me think of service,” said Ben-Ad. “I cannot help but think of the joy brought to the people we serve. And I cannot help but think of the joy we bring to ourselves when we serve others. I have seen your daughter bring about good works without being asked. I have witnessed the faces of those she serves. They light up. They shine. They glow with happiness. In the process her own countenance shines.”
The next gem to find it’s way onto his hand was violet. It instantly made him think of solemn and sacred things, though he could not say why. What could this gem mean in the eyes of a learned man?
“In this I think of the Lord,” said Ben-Ad in almost a whisper. “I think of how well he stood up for that which is right, even in the face of evil. I think of all the times he quietly went about doing good, teaching good things, and living his life as though he knew those around him were watching.
“Yes there were those who loved and followed him, but there were also those who hated him. Time after time they tried to trick and trap him. Even Satan tempted him when he was at his weakest physically. Yet the Lord never backed down from doing what he knew to be right. He never went back on the things he taught. He is truly our greatest example of courage and integrity.”
All three remained silent for several seconds, pondering on the sacred words just spoken. The King could not hold back the flood of emotion pouring through him. It was as if he was just given a special look at the Lord through someone else’s eyes, and he felt humbled. So lost in his thoughts was the King it took a moment to register the last stone placed in his hand.
It sat atop the others, shining with pure intensity. For this stone men throughout the ages had fought with one another, valued it even over the life of their loved ones, and sought to gain more and more. Over the years the King had begun to hate the sight of this stone, as hopeful suitors brought mounds of it with them, asking to trade them for his daughter.
It was gold. What could gold mean to him other than greed? He looked to the teacher, his teacher, for answers.
“I can see what you are thinking, Sire, and cannot say that I blame you. Let me see if I can’t help change your mind. It’s true gold has often been given away without a thought by those who don’t care to recognize its value. It is hunted by evil men who believe having more will make them happier.
“But I believe in something different. You see, Sire, I believe it is something precious, to be guarded and cherished. I believe it needs to be protected from the evils of the world, and ever cared for so it does not tarnish. I believe this gold represents everything else we’ve been talking about. It is the goodness and virtue within all of us.
“When we keep ourselves pure, unstained, and protected from the evil influences around us, we are more able to shine in the light of the Son, so that others who see us will want to know what makes us glow. However, I also believe this is a lifelong process. Every time we find ourselves discolored, we must work to clean ourselves up and glow again. But one day, if we follow what all the other stones represent, our golden selves will be fit to stand before the Lord.”
For several minutes the King pondered the brightly colored stones in his hand, awed at the gift presented to his daughter. “May I keep these?” he asked in a soft voice, looking up long enough to see the tutor nod before placing them into his robe. When at last he trusted his voice, the King stood and turned to face the two young people. He stepped forward and took his daughter’s face in his hands.
“Ben-Ad has given you a gift like no other,” he whispered, “and me as well. I am looking at you now and can hardly believe my eyes. How is it I have not seen the young woman who stands before me today? You are truly remarkable.”
He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I have always wanted to give you a husband who would see you to be the greatest treasure. Would it please you, my daughter, if Ben-Ad were to be that husband?”
She trembled, barely able to contain her joy. “Yes, Father.”
He turned to Ben-Ad, whose wide eyes and tight lips expressed wonder, hope, and excitement. The King took his daughter’s hand and placed it in that of her teacher, her friend, her love. The elation shared between the two could hardly match that of his own. At last he’d found a man worthy to wed a princess.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Sunday Inspirations November 15, 2009
I love it when a post comes ready-made.
Back near the end of 2007 I received a call from Church Magazines (those printed by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) saying they wanted to publish one of the articles they'd purchased from me some time ago. It would be printed in the New Era, a magazine geared towards teens within our church.
I was beyond delighted, and subsequently crushed when only a month before it was to be published the beloved president of our worldwide church passed away. He had been such an inspiration to me over many years' time, and the article was forgotten in heartache and change.
After a very bad week, and feeling as though nothing could possibly lift my mood, my Heavenly Father gave me a sweet, sweet blessing: my article on modesty was published in the November New Era (link will be provided later).
I'm a big proponent of modesty, as I have seen how the way we dress can affect the personna we portray. In other words, we act the way we dress. If our clothing is full of holes, wrinkles and has an overall appearance of shabbiness, our attitudes will easily turn to laziness, uncouth behaviors, and can come off as simply not caring.
If our clothes look as though they've come off the most expensive rack, our jewelry comes off gaudy and overdone, and we put more care into what's on our outside than our inside, this will seep into our behavior as well. How many times have we been warned through scripture how the love of fine silks and gold been involved in the downfall of entire nations?
One thing we have to worry about the most, in particular with our pre-teens and youth, is the issue of modesty. This was brought foremost to my mind - and that of other youth leaders I was working with - a few years ago when we began to have a problem with certain teen girls dressing in ways that were simply not appropriate.
At that same time there was a special get-together put on for teens on how to check one's clothes for modesty, and how to help fix those clothes that were not so modest. The couple who were asked to speak were both LDS, though the husband - a fashion designer - had been converted. With his conversion came a desire to make modest and stylish clothes.
After this talk the president of our young women began taking many of them "shopping" for modesty. She would have them pick out a few outfits, would have them stand in front of the provided mirrors and played a game of "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes." You'll hear more about this in the article.
It opened the eyes of a lot of our young teens, not to mention the leaders as well. I was so inspired by the influence this one little act had on many of our girls, and have strived to teach my children the same principles.
If we want to have the Holy Spirit close to us, we need to follow the guidelines the Father has set up for us, and this includes dressing modestly.
So follow me over to read what playing one simple game can do help us remember to dress in a way that will please our Heavenly Father.
Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes
Back near the end of 2007 I received a call from Church Magazines (those printed by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) saying they wanted to publish one of the articles they'd purchased from me some time ago. It would be printed in the New Era, a magazine geared towards teens within our church.
I was beyond delighted, and subsequently crushed when only a month before it was to be published the beloved president of our worldwide church passed away. He had been such an inspiration to me over many years' time, and the article was forgotten in heartache and change.
After a very bad week, and feeling as though nothing could possibly lift my mood, my Heavenly Father gave me a sweet, sweet blessing: my article on modesty was published in the November New Era (link will be provided later).
I'm a big proponent of modesty, as I have seen how the way we dress can affect the personna we portray. In other words, we act the way we dress. If our clothing is full of holes, wrinkles and has an overall appearance of shabbiness, our attitudes will easily turn to laziness, uncouth behaviors, and can come off as simply not caring.
If our clothes look as though they've come off the most expensive rack, our jewelry comes off gaudy and overdone, and we put more care into what's on our outside than our inside, this will seep into our behavior as well. How many times have we been warned through scripture how the love of fine silks and gold been involved in the downfall of entire nations?
One thing we have to worry about the most, in particular with our pre-teens and youth, is the issue of modesty. This was brought foremost to my mind - and that of other youth leaders I was working with - a few years ago when we began to have a problem with certain teen girls dressing in ways that were simply not appropriate.
At that same time there was a special get-together put on for teens on how to check one's clothes for modesty, and how to help fix those clothes that were not so modest. The couple who were asked to speak were both LDS, though the husband - a fashion designer - had been converted. With his conversion came a desire to make modest and stylish clothes.
After this talk the president of our young women began taking many of them "shopping" for modesty. She would have them pick out a few outfits, would have them stand in front of the provided mirrors and played a game of "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes." You'll hear more about this in the article.
It opened the eyes of a lot of our young teens, not to mention the leaders as well. I was so inspired by the influence this one little act had on many of our girls, and have strived to teach my children the same principles.
If we want to have the Holy Spirit close to us, we need to follow the guidelines the Father has set up for us, and this includes dressing modestly.
So follow me over to read what playing one simple game can do help us remember to dress in a way that will please our Heavenly Father.
Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
One Problem with Being a Writer
Obviously I love to write. One can see that from the sheer amount of posts I've managed here on just this one blog. I also love to read. It's a passion I've had since I was young. There were nights I'd stay up reading so very late, even though I knew I had school in the morning.
In recent years, since I've become much more serious about the tone of my writing, I've noticed a rather disturbing trend: I pay a lot more attention to the quality of the books I read. Why should this be disturbing?
Have you ever sat at a concert and noticed the singer/instrument was slightly off key? Or have you sat down to play a game where you know someone is cheating?
Maybe this will make it a little clearer. I could liken it to my first doctor's appointment when I found out I was pregnant with M. They called down for someone to come take my blood. I didn't know until too late he was fairly new, and I have really sneaky veins. They don't like to come out and play. I watched as he started on my right arm, dug around a while, couldn't find anything, and went to my left arm. Same thing happened. I distinctly recall thinking to myself as I watched the needle swivel inside my skin, "Well, that can't be good."
He went from there to my right hand. Those are sure painful. He managed to fill about two vials when the vein pooped out (neither of us realized I just needed to move my hand around until things started flowing again). So he tried the other hand. Eventually we had to call someone else up. In one swift poke she had all the necessary vials filled (I was real pretty when I went to work after that fun experience).
There are times when reading a book is like watching needles swivel around in my arm, or hearing someone sing slightly off-key, or knowing the person with whom you are playing a game is cheating: painful, annoying, irritating, and grating. You know that in the hands of someone more professional, the deed could be done beautifully.
A few years ago someone sent my mom a book, one this woman highly recommended. My mom read it and then passed it on to me with a comment like, "You'll have to tell me what you think." She said this in an uncertain voice. I quickly figured out why.
It was so bitingly awful I've blocked the author and name of the book from my mind. I couldn't help thinking, "And a publisher actually allowed this out of their company????"
Fortunately I don't get books that bad too often, yet neither do I find myself with fantastically written books a lot these days either. I can say the mark of a great book for me is one I'm not mentally rewriting at the same time I'm reading it, nor am I skipping over boring passages in an attempt to further the story along (or if I do, I have to go back and read it anyway because it contained pertinent information!).
This is certainly not to say I'm tooting my own horn. I find myself rewriting everything I put down on a constant basis (you have no idea how many times I've gone back over it before posting, lol). The only reason half my posts are still here is because it takes sooooo long for my ISP to let me post in the first place, lol.
I'm reading a book right now by an author who has some great ideas, and a good bit of talent, but seems to think her readers are idiots! She explains everything that comes naturally to mind. She also spends a lot of time describing clothes, rooms, and scenery that bore me to death, while skimping on her character's feelings and how situations impact the character, something I'd like to know more about. I've figured out "whodunnit" and what the "major" clue was within the first few pages. What truly strikes me as sad is these could have easily been taken care of by a competent editor. This book just needed a little tweaking.
Yes, I'm sighing now.
In recent years, since I've become much more serious about the tone of my writing, I've noticed a rather disturbing trend: I pay a lot more attention to the quality of the books I read. Why should this be disturbing?
Have you ever sat at a concert and noticed the singer/instrument was slightly off key? Or have you sat down to play a game where you know someone is cheating?
Maybe this will make it a little clearer. I could liken it to my first doctor's appointment when I found out I was pregnant with M. They called down for someone to come take my blood. I didn't know until too late he was fairly new, and I have really sneaky veins. They don't like to come out and play. I watched as he started on my right arm, dug around a while, couldn't find anything, and went to my left arm. Same thing happened. I distinctly recall thinking to myself as I watched the needle swivel inside my skin, "Well, that can't be good."
He went from there to my right hand. Those are sure painful. He managed to fill about two vials when the vein pooped out (neither of us realized I just needed to move my hand around until things started flowing again). So he tried the other hand. Eventually we had to call someone else up. In one swift poke she had all the necessary vials filled (I was real pretty when I went to work after that fun experience).
There are times when reading a book is like watching needles swivel around in my arm, or hearing someone sing slightly off-key, or knowing the person with whom you are playing a game is cheating: painful, annoying, irritating, and grating. You know that in the hands of someone more professional, the deed could be done beautifully.
A few years ago someone sent my mom a book, one this woman highly recommended. My mom read it and then passed it on to me with a comment like, "You'll have to tell me what you think." She said this in an uncertain voice. I quickly figured out why.
It was so bitingly awful I've blocked the author and name of the book from my mind. I couldn't help thinking, "And a publisher actually allowed this out of their company????"
Fortunately I don't get books that bad too often, yet neither do I find myself with fantastically written books a lot these days either. I can say the mark of a great book for me is one I'm not mentally rewriting at the same time I'm reading it, nor am I skipping over boring passages in an attempt to further the story along (or if I do, I have to go back and read it anyway because it contained pertinent information!).
This is certainly not to say I'm tooting my own horn. I find myself rewriting everything I put down on a constant basis (you have no idea how many times I've gone back over it before posting, lol). The only reason half my posts are still here is because it takes sooooo long for my ISP to let me post in the first place, lol.
I'm reading a book right now by an author who has some great ideas, and a good bit of talent, but seems to think her readers are idiots! She explains everything that comes naturally to mind. She also spends a lot of time describing clothes, rooms, and scenery that bore me to death, while skimping on her character's feelings and how situations impact the character, something I'd like to know more about. I've figured out "whodunnit" and what the "major" clue was within the first few pages. What truly strikes me as sad is these could have easily been taken care of by a competent editor. This book just needed a little tweaking.
Yes, I'm sighing now.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Woo Hoo!
I logged onto Faith Writer's this morning, all excited but pretending nonchalance (to no one but myself). I kept saying it didn't matter if my most recent entry didn't place at all. And to be honest it didn't.
Until it did!
My story "Shedding the Day" on the topic of 'charades' won second place in the Master's section, as well as second place in the Editor's Choice. I'm WAAAAAAAY happy.
Here's the link if you'd like to read it: Shedding the Day
I've been a little frightened to start writing again, outside of various blog entries. It's been so long since I last did anything for creative purposes (my last FW entry was back in April!). I think this, above all else, was a heavenly reminder that there's a purpose I need to fulfill.
Until it did!
My story "Shedding the Day" on the topic of 'charades' won second place in the Master's section, as well as second place in the Editor's Choice. I'm WAAAAAAAY happy.
Here's the link if you'd like to read it: Shedding the Day
I've been a little frightened to start writing again, outside of various blog entries. It's been so long since I last did anything for creative purposes (my last FW entry was back in April!). I think this, above all else, was a heavenly reminder that there's a purpose I need to fulfill.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Journaling and Family History
Ask anyone near and dear to me and you'll be told, "She's doesn't do genealogy." It's certainly not because I don't think it's valuable. I fully recognize the vast need to tie our family lines as far up as they can possibly go. There is this niggling part of me that's also extremely jealous of those to whom digging up ancient family members seems to come as naturally as breathing.
I am simply not one of these people.
I do, however, have a great love for discovering the story behind the names and dates. Before you start cyber-yelling at me, I am fully aware this is another important part of genealogy. It's just not the first thing I think of when the word is mentioned.
Whether we've thought about it or not, we are the ancestors to be of some budding genealogist down the family line. More than ever before we have untold resources to help us in the effort of providing an accurate picture of who we are. I have found one of the coolest resources in an online site called LDSJournal.com.
I saw an ad for the site on the way down to one of my in-laws. The name jumped out at me in such a way I knew I needed to write it down. My darling hubby was deep into reading a book at the time so I nonchalantly reached down to grab a pen and scribbled the name on the back of my hand. Having done this before I figured it would be washed off before the end of the night and all thoughts on seeing what the site was all about would vanish with the inky lettering. This time it didn't happen.
For those of you who aren't members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, nicknamed the Mormon Church, don't turn away just because this was put together by Church members. If you are an enthusiast of putting together a personal history, this is still a great site to join.
Some of the features I've explored so far:
I am simply not one of these people.
I do, however, have a great love for discovering the story behind the names and dates. Before you start cyber-yelling at me, I am fully aware this is another important part of genealogy. It's just not the first thing I think of when the word is mentioned.
Whether we've thought about it or not, we are the ancestors to be of some budding genealogist down the family line. More than ever before we have untold resources to help us in the effort of providing an accurate picture of who we are. I have found one of the coolest resources in an online site called LDSJournal.com.
I saw an ad for the site on the way down to one of my in-laws. The name jumped out at me in such a way I knew I needed to write it down. My darling hubby was deep into reading a book at the time so I nonchalantly reached down to grab a pen and scribbled the name on the back of my hand. Having done this before I figured it would be washed off before the end of the night and all thoughts on seeing what the site was all about would vanish with the inky lettering. This time it didn't happen.
For those of you who aren't members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, nicknamed the Mormon Church, don't turn away just because this was put together by Church members. If you are an enthusiast of putting together a personal history, this is still a great site to join.
Some of the features I've explored so far:
- They have preset questions you can click and comment on in many different areas such as: "All about me," "Education," "The world around me," "Spiritual," "Family," and others. If any of these questions don't apply to you, just skip them.
- You can go back in and change or add to the answers any time you want.
- You can put in regular journaling posts, which are then saved by date, title, and will give you a little snippet of the beginning of the post in case you want to revisit one.
- If you forget to journal for a week or so, they'll send out an e-mail reminder to start up again.
- One of the coolest things...when you feel you're ready, you can actually pay to print your journal into a book.
- Best of all, keeping this online journal is free!
Monday, June 30, 2008
Help Out a Fellow Writer
I'm all for helping out an aspiring writer, and when that writer happens to be a friend, well, so much the better!
My friend Val just had her very first piece published by the Associated Content website, which allows writers of all ilk to present their wares. The great thing about this site is you can be paid for every thousand people who read it. My dear friend has had a lot of troubles lately, and was even betrayed by a woman who she felt was her writing mentor. Now, however, she's feeling ultra-inspired to write again.
Here's the link to her story: Cloudy Skies Over St. Paul. It's a sweet read, very short, and can only leave you feeling hopeful.
This woman has inspired me. She was the only other Mormon on FaithWriters when I joined, and truly paved the way for me to feel comfortable there. When she started her own blog, The Silver Lining, I began to think about beginning one of my own.
Now she's inspired me to try my own hand at Associated Content. This woman, if you ever get a chance to read her blog, will truly inspire you as well. She has an amazing conversion story and the most remarkable faith. Though we've never met in person, she is one of my heroes.
My friend Val just had her very first piece published by the Associated Content website, which allows writers of all ilk to present their wares. The great thing about this site is you can be paid for every thousand people who read it. My dear friend has had a lot of troubles lately, and was even betrayed by a woman who she felt was her writing mentor. Now, however, she's feeling ultra-inspired to write again.
Here's the link to her story: Cloudy Skies Over St. Paul. It's a sweet read, very short, and can only leave you feeling hopeful.
This woman has inspired me. She was the only other Mormon on FaithWriters when I joined, and truly paved the way for me to feel comfortable there. When she started her own blog, The Silver Lining, I began to think about beginning one of my own.
Now she's inspired me to try my own hand at Associated Content. This woman, if you ever get a chance to read her blog, will truly inspire you as well. She has an amazing conversion story and the most remarkable faith. Though we've never met in person, she is one of my heroes.
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