S e g u l l a h
How Much Is Enough? A Discovery of Acceptable Offerings
My kids and I were visiting my Mom when the call came. Her ashen face rounded the corner while the phone attached to her ear periodically barked information. The barking stopped momentarily, and Mom turned to us. “I think you'd better sit down,” she croaked. “Louie is being life-flighted to University of Utah medical center.” Louie, my 31-year-old sister, had just moved to Denver, Colorado with her husband and 4 young kids to start up their own business [1]. I sat down heavily. “They think she had a stroke,” Mom whispered in disbelief. My three kids glanced at us worriedly. There was a bit more barking from the phone and then I heard a dial tone. We all knelt to pray. Afterward my Mom, still agitated, ran upstairs to call Dad. Peace filled my mind and heart. In recent years many stresses had combined to pound away Louie's naturally bubbly spirit. During the last few months I had prayed that the real, happy, fun-loving Louie would return. Perhaps this would be my answer: her unexpected death could bring her the peace and happiness I prayed for. The emotions were complex and even scary, but I felt peace.
Louie did not die. Through the following year miracle after miracle brought about a full physical recovery. Some memories, organizational and cognitive abilities, language and math skills were gone, though. Louie laughingly explained her new limitations, “I used to be able to put one over on my kids; I had many ways of saying NO. My mind doesn't work that way anymore. Now I only have one way of saying NO!” She posted a reminder list at the garage door of certain essentials before departure, such as Is the oven off? and Do you have the baby? I marveled at her external resilience, courage and adaptations, but I was even more impressed with her internal self-acceptance.
I lacked that self-acceptance. Even though my own path was easier by comparison, I struggled with limitations of my own. Juggling family needs, housework, service, and personal fulfillment always left something undone. Juggling the details was challenging, but it was even harder to feel at peace with what I was able to do. Sundays were regularly the biggest challenge. Often, after putting on a great show at church (never-ending smile, keeping children reverent during Sacrament meeting, signing every sign-up sheet, displaying attractive laminated visuals, and putting out all organizational fires) I found my talents and energies spent and nothing but a grumpy wife and Mom left for the family. The car ride home often set the unhappy tone: tired kids whining or crying, Mom snapping, and everyone wondering what, or if, we would eat once we got home. I knew it was not what the Lord wanted for me or for my family, but no matter how hard I worked, there was always more to do. I wondered, “How will I ever know if I am doing enough?”
Being a list-oriented person, I decided I needed a better list. I reasoned that if I could figure out what mattered most and concentrate my efforts there, I might feel more settled inside. I pondered and prayed, read the counsel of prophets and apostles, and fasted to find my priorities—my balance. Finally, the collection of teachings and inspirations gathered over several months reached critical mass: I knew what my priorities should be, and I realized that they were based upon my talents, my responsibilities and my earthly mission. The priorities commanding my greatest attention were relationships with God, spouse, and children. Homemaking, church callings and relationships with extended family and friends came next. Hobbies such as continuing education, piano, gardening, and reading rounded out my grand list.
But knowing my priorities was just the beginning. I still couldn't accomplish everything. The perfectionist in me required nothing less than 100%. However, if I gave 100% to everything on the list I would implode. And if I didn't give 100%, I would have to endure harsh self-judgment and, perhaps, the equally harsh judgment of others. For example, homemaking was number four on my priority list. Thus, if someone dropped by unannounced they would observe that I suffered from CHAOS (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome).[2] I didn't want to be judged a lazy slob. Likewise, my church calling was number five on the grand list. Church service, like housework, was never done. There were always people to visit, casseroles to make, and lessons and visuals to construct. If I gave 100% to church service, higher priorities such as relationships with God and family would suffer. If I didn't give 100%, someone might criticize my lack of talent or work ethic. I wanted the accolades and recognition of my outward “perfectness” (from ward members, neighbors, and even from the Lord), but inside, I knew I couldn't do it all. And I didn't know any other way to find peacefulness and self-worth.
My search for understanding became more urgent when, a year after the stroke, Louie began to experience petit mal seizures and her hair started falling out. My family puzzled over this apparent downturn. At about the same time, we learned that Louie's husband, struggling with his own heavy burdens, needed to attend a two-month clinic to overcome depression and work-a-holism. Louie was overwhelmed by her many responsibilities and obligations. Extended family tried to help, but I felt powerless being 1000 miles away. As the demands on my sister piled up I imagined myself in her situation and imposed on her my inner doubts, struggles, and questions. I complained, “Can't this ‘refiner's fire’ be tempered? Hasn't Louie given enough? How much more can their precious family endure?” Louie continued to faithfully press on despite the stress and difficulties. I, however, beset by questions and doubts, needed the peace and self-acceptance Louie possessed.
My wonderings reminded me of a thought provoking phone conversation with my Aunt Helen. It had been a difficult Sabbath and I whined about the impossibility of accomplishing all my tasks. “Everything can be a blessing,” she said. I rolled my eyes, perceiving her faith as simple-minded. I queried sarcastically, “And how has your illness of the past 15 years been a blessing?” With complete sincerity and patience Helen answered, “I have learned that I am of worth simply as a child of God. I cannot be a homemaker, I can barely function as a mother, and I am unable to be a proper wife. Yet God loves me and I have worth.” My throat closed painfully as I considered her metamorphosis from prominent author and inspirational speaker to essentially a quadriplegic. “Oh,“ I sheepishly muttered. She understood and lived by a conception of her worth as a child of God that I only grasped cerebrally. I was amazed at her serenity. I wondered how and if I could also arrive at such serenity.
I finally began to understand, paradoxically, as I became even busier. I was thrilled to be the new Seminary teacher—for the first few weeks. Household organization, temple attendance and housework suffered first. As morning sickness, two cranky children, and snapping adult tempers joined the mix, I realized that despite my priority sheet, I was out of balance again. I couldn't keep going, but I didn't want to ask to be released. I cried a lot. I complained a lot. I prayed a little. Then, I prayed some more. I read a compilation of BYU Women's Conference talks and happened upon Robert L. Millet's talk entitled, “After All We Can Do: The Meaning of Grace in Our Lives.” Brother Millet succinctly stated my dilemma, “Instead of praying to know my limits, to know when my offering was acceptable, I prayed for more drive and more willpower.”[3] How often had I prayed for more strength, more energy, or more efficiency? Perhaps, in this instance, I asked amiss?
I contemplated my motivation and purpose. I studied the Topical Guide under “offering” and “acceptable.” I prayed to know my limits and to know when my offering was acceptable. Eventually, I came to understand that giving only 30% of my time and talent to this particularly demanding calling was OK when the Lord said it was acceptable. I realized the Lord had called me knowing my limitations and that what I could offer was enough: He would provide what I could not. The Lord's acceptance of my limited abilities brought knowledge of my worth as a child of God to my soul—knowledge my intellect had been unable to fully assimilate. Through the Spirit I knew that my willingness and desire to serve was the acceptable offering, not how much I achieved.
Reassurances of God's love came as I daily and weekly prayed to know the Lord's expectations. Sometimes the Lord's answer was, “Buck up! Put on a smile and just do it.” At other times, the Lord's answer was, “Slow down, do not try to ‘steady the ark.’ Others can accomplish this work. You need to focus on family or personal growth.” And at still other times the answer was, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant; enter into my rest.” Whatever the answer, I felt his love and knew that my outward achievements were not the offering; my determination to serve the Lord cheerfully in whatever capacity he directed was my acceptable offering.
And then I thought of Helen. What humility and grace. Helen's daily offerings, for years, have included patience, a cheerful heart, assembling family histories and keeping extended family connected. Her life, because of the lack of tangible works, was a far cry from what she and others thought it would be, but what an important and difficult offering. Through the Spirit she knows that her offering is acceptable before the Lord, and thus she has peace.
And Louie? A scripture constantly on my mind suggested an alternative scenario to my hopeless doubting. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord” (Isaiah 55:8). Could this scripture apply to my fears and questions about Louie's situation? A challenging concept filled my mind: though she may not have her old abilities, she has what is essential to raise her children and support her husband. Louie's post-stroke offerings of charity, goodness, devotion to family, and a forgiving heart are enough. I reveled in my newfound certainty that she and her family can have joy in her offering. While I wish her road could be easier, I know by that very wish that my understanding of the Lord's purposes is not complete.
Each of us possesses different talents, abilities, challenges and priorities. God created us to be unique. The Savior's injunction to “Judge not!” resonates with added clarity as I recognize that only the Lord knows when an individual's offering is acceptable. I am humbled by the thought that I have unrighteously judged another's 30% offering. I'm also humbled to realize that my perfectionism is another name for pride. I have learned that only through my relationship with the Father can I obtain needed peace and self-acceptance. God knows my strengths and weaknesses, my talents and limitations and yet he loves and values me. Truly Aunt Helen's statement, “Everything can be a blessing,” reflects the importance of humility and a faith-filled attitude that it took me so long to understand. When I feel overwhelmed, as I do almost daily, I try to remember to seek my Father's will and to ask for his reassurance that my offering is enough, so that I may find peace, rest, and joy to my soul.
[1] Names and places changed
[2] "CHAOS" is a registered trademark of FlyLady and Company, Inc.
[3] May Christ Lift Thee Up (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1999), 60.
FELICIA HANOSEK and her husband Ray reside in Central Point, Oregon with their four children. Felicia received her undergraduate degree from BYU and is currently pursuing (very slowly) a master's degree in humanities through Cal State University's distance learning program. She enjoys volleyball, gardening and reading.
