And then Sis Beck announced that President Uchtdorf would be speaking and I felt like I’d just won a golden ticket. =) Yes, the rest of the meeting had been great but oh, how I love President Uchtdorf. Now, I love listening to Pres. Monson and I feel his prophetic mantle every time he speaks, and I think there are few people on this planet as articulate and gracious and well-spoken as Pres. Eyring. But Pres. Uchtdorf, well, he’s my secret favorite General Authority (and I suspect many women in the Church feel the same) and I always LOVE his talks. His messages are unfailingly astute and timely, and he delivers them in such a personable, kind, and loving way, with that dash of wit and those unforgettable analogies, that it’s impossible not to feel a zing of joy every time he delivers a sermon. And, as one of my Segullah friends so aptly put it on Sunday night, “Wow, does that man understand women, or what!?”

Yes he does, and his talk Saturday night was just what I needed; I’ve been pondering over it ever since. So today I thought we could discuss what we loved about President Uchtdorf’s talk and how it relates to us individually. Each of the five points he covered could be a sermon in itself, and each of them gave me so much to think about that it’s going to take me a while to internalize the whole talk, but here are my initial thoughts on the five “forget nots” (and will you ever be able to look at a forget-me-not again and not think of President Uchtdorf’s talk?):

1. Forget not to be patient with yourself. As someone who often feels discouraged by her weaknesses and who tends to compare herself to other more successful, accomplished, talented, organized, intuitive, loving, and patient LDS women, wives, and mothers (I’m sure you don’t have this problem, however), I really needed to be reminded that turning my weaknesses into strengths is a long-term goal, and that I need to extend the compassion I often give others to myself.

2. Forget not that some sacrifices are better than others. Oh wow. If I had a penny for every time I stayed up all night, cross-stitching the RS lesson’s theme onto pot holders…..okay, I’ve never done that, but I have spent a lot of time (and even stayed up all night on occasion) on relatively unimportant projects, tasks, assignments, and even hobbies while neglecting the better part—my physical health, my spiritual and emotional wellbeing, my family. Figuring out what’s really important and the difference between good, better, and best is an ongoing challenge for me, so I needed this timely reminder.

3. Forget not to be happy now. Especially pertinent to me! Finding peace and contentment during times of stress and trouble has never been my strong suit; I tend to just endure or mope through the present (especially when the present is hard) as I wait for some elusive future joy. But lately I’ve been trying to savor the everyday beauty and sweetness that surrounds me now. President Uchtdorf’s talk reinforced those attempts and motivated me to continue.

4. Forget not the why of the gospel. I loved this. How often do I focus on the what and how instead of the why? About 90% of the time, I’m guessing. But, oh, how I want to live the gospel motivated by the why. And I want to help my children internalize the profound truth that living the gospel gives us purpose and joy. Much easier to teach if I focus on the whys.

5. Forget not that the Lord loves you. Such a simple truth, but one I need reminding of often. I stand with the young women in our ward every Sunday and say, “We are daughters of our Heavenly Father, who loves us, and we love Him”—and yet sometimes—especially when I’m slogging through a trial—I fail to recognize the miracle and reality of this truth in my own life. So let this fact sink deep into our bones, into our souls: God loves us. He loves me. He loves you. He loves each of us with a perfect, infinite, abiding love. He won’t ever overlook us or forsake us.

And that’s something I never want to forget.

And now it’s your turn. What did you enjoy about the RS broadcast? Which talks resonated with you? What did you love about Pres. Uchtdorf’s talk? How does the counsel he gave apply to your life?

Related posts:

1. Slow Down
2. Judge Not–Or Should We?
3. Creation and Compassion

Most people who know me probably wouldn’t use the word “patient” in a description of my characteristics. I have numerous scars on my hands and fingers that are the result of impatient actions—vigorously washing dishes and breaking them; quickly grabbing for some sharp implement and hurting myself; cramming something into place that actually needed gentle coaxing and causing a cut or a slash on my hands. It’s a gene-pool thing according to my husband: he worked with my grandfather and great-uncles. They were usually set on “high,” “fast,” and “zoom”. I know, we aren’t lackadaisical. I used to think my gung-ho style was an asset. (And sometimes it is—don’t get me wrong.) But, in a spiritual, philosophical, metaphysical way, it is a handicap. Let me explain.

The other day in Sunday School, I got a new outlook on an old principle. We were reading from D & C 21: 4-6. It is God telling us how the Church should give heed to His prophet. When the prophet is walking in all holiness before Him, and receives commandments, then we should receive these words from the prophet “as if from mine own mouth, in all patience and faith.”

The last four words were what got my attention. I’ve known about the admonition to regard prophetic statements as “if from mine own mouth”—referring to God’s mouth my entire life. But that day, as we contemplated this scripture, I was struck by the Lord including the need for us to show patience with our faith. I have a lot of experience with faith. I’ve had mine tried over and over. I’ve exercised faith in many situations. Faith is my friend and companion and hero. But patience is an infrequent partner of mine.

We humans are always measuring time. I know that the nine-year-olds with whom I spend my day generally only consider the moment. Their whole life occurs in that day. I can ruin their life or make their life. It is an awesome power I don’t take lightly. As we grow older, into our 20′s and 30′s, we don’t get much more perspective than my fourth graders. Oh, sure, many of us learn to budget our time and plan enough to complete college or some type of vocational training. We learn to be an employee or a parent. We know we have to save up our money, defer gratification, go to work on time, wait for the green light. We learn lots of things that nine-year-olds can’t do well. Those young adults that don’t learn this end up in jail fairly often. But still, we do not really know about patience yet.

Finally, as a woman of A Certain Age, I’m starting to get a teeny-tiny glimpse of my existence as God sees it. I’m a work in progress. I need guidance continually. I need an anchor or a standard to use as a reference. If I listen to the words of God, as spoken by His prophets, I’ll have the anchor. But only if I listen to them using faith and patience. It takes a whole life of listening to the prophets to learn to see things the way God sees them, using the outlook of eternity. I am so often rushing about that I don’t stop and gaze at the long view. God’s words, through His mouthpiece, the prophet, are usually unchanging. They are usually unaffected by fashion or current vogue. These words are focused on my inner qualities and require me to monitor my passions and actions regardless of what others do or say.

In other words, God needs me to be patiently listening, patiently correcting myself over time, patiently doing His will. He doesn’t ask me to rush about accomplishing tasks. He asks me to have faith, to align my desires and goals with His. This is something that can only be done through a slow process of continual, careful, patient work. If I have been seeing my life as series of milestones to achieve, He sees it as a process of refinement. What I do isn’t the goal. What I become is the important thing. Patience.

Related posts:

1. Sustaining in patience and faith
2. And This too Shall Pass
3. An Epistle to my Good Senses

• “Sincerely giving thanks not only helps us recognize our blessings, but it also unlocks the doors of heaven and helps us feel God’s love.”
• Quoting Gordon B. Hinckley, “When you walk with gratitude, you do not walk with arrogance and conceit and egotism, you walk with a spirit of thanksgiving that is becoming to you and will bless your lives.”
• “If ingratitude be numbered among the serious sins, then gratitude takes its place among the noblest of virtues.  Someone has said that ‘gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others.’”

Good stuff, and apropos for this time of year.  However, what struck me most about the talk was the story at the end — a retelling of a story written by Gordon Green over 50 years ago.  He recounts the life of a family who lived on a farm in Canada.  They worked hard, had food stored for the winter, kept careful accounts, and were by all appearances comfortable and happy.  They decided to get electricity to power an electric washing machine, and that was the last good thing that happened to them.  Their crops failed, they had to sell off their livestock, and they lost everything.  On Thanksgiving morning, they had a jackrabbit and turnips for dinner.  And they were thankful.

Really?

Immediately another story came to my mind, that of Corrie Ten Boom.  You may remember the account:  She and her sister Bessie were Christians sent to a concentration camp by the Nazis because she and her family harbored Jews.  They lived in deplorable conditions — barracks that were crowded, filthy, and swarming with fleas.  They daily suffered the abuse of cruel prison guards. Somehow Corrie and Bessie managed to smuggle a Bible into the camp from which they studied and held devotionals with the other women in the camp.  One night they read 1 Thessalonians 5:18, “In everything give thanks:  for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”  Corrie and Bessie were convinced that they needed to give thanks in all things, including the fleas.  They later discovered that their lives were spared because the guards wouldn’t enter their barracks because of the flea infestation.

For fleas?

When we are in the midst of trials and struggles, it’s hard to feel gratitude.  More often the way I feel is, “Why are you doing this to me?” and  the last thing I want to hear is the perky hymn, “Count your blessings, name them one by one…” How can we find gratitude in all things?  It’s not easy.  Sometimes it takes getting through the trial to look back and see the blessings that you received in hindsight.

I have blogged in the past about my son and the blessings and struggles we have had in his short life.  I don’t feel that I am at the point in my eternal progression where I can say that I am grateful for this particular trial.  I would much rather have a normal, healthy 8-year-old son.  I would much rather have planned a baptism than a funeral.  I would much rather not have an understanding of the inner workings of an intrathecal Baclofen pump.  But I do, and I did, and I am grateful.

Yes.

Even though I can’t say that I am filled with gratitude that my son’s medical condition is as severe as it is, I AM grateful for what I have been blessed with as a result of his condition:  Excellent doctors, nurses, therapists, and teachers who know, love, and care for my son.  Doctors who are so familiar with Ethan’s case that they don’t have to look at his immense chart, and who when they walk into his hospital room, fill me with a sense of confidence and peace.  Nurse practitioners who respond to prescription requests immediately, especially on Friday afternoon.  A hospital at which we have spent so much time that it feels like a second home, so when I am there I am comforted rather than afraid.

In the ER, the triage nurses and doctors recognize him.  When we reach the pediatric critical care unit, familiar faces welcome us.  I am grateful for at-home nurses who care for my son as if he were their own child, who give me the assurance that if I leave the house, that all of his medical needs will be taken care of and that he will be loved and watched over. Therapists who massage and manipulate his stiff little body with soft and caring hands, who coo to him in soothing tones, and who have helped him to make real progress.  A special education teacher who is receptive to his particular needs and adapts his education plan with his specific disabilities in mind.  And although I would rather not know how to navigate my way through a labyrinthine medical system that I am convinced is designed by Satan himself, I am grateful that I have been able to be a resource to others who have children with special needs.

There are days when my heart is warm and full with gratitude for all of these blessings, and there are days when I sit in my closet and cry so that my children and the nurses can’t hear me.  There are days when I pray for a stronger back because the burden is too heavy to bear.  I witness God’s hand in my life on a daily basis.  And I am grateful.

One of Thomas S. Monson’s final quotes is most apt:  ”My brothers and sisters, to express gratitude is gracious and honorable, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live with gratitude ever in our hearts is to touch heaven.”

Have you had an experience with being grateful in all things, especially your trials?  Please share with us.

Related posts:

1. “…All These Things Give Thee Experience and Shall Be for Thy Good.” — Doctrine and Covenants 122:7
2. Tolerating the Intolerable
3. Proper Care and Feeding of Turkeys

Prophets and apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have long warned that watching television can have a detrimental impact on our lives.  In 1989, Elder M. Russell Ballard warned about the deleterious effects of watching inappropriate material on television, while also acknowledging that “Philo T. Farnsworth, back in 1927, must surely have been inspired of the Lord to develop this remarkable medium of communication” (Seriously–go check out the link; it’s the most extensive General Conference talk ever given on the subject, and the picture is priceless). So saying that “TV is bad for you” is less than revelatory.

Researchers at the University of Maryland have just released a new study that is a little more nuanced. According to the research of John Robinson and Steven Martin, watching television is an activity best compared to smoking cigarettes or other addictive behaviors. Television viewers almost always feel that the show they are currently watching–or that they just finished watching–provided significant pleasure, but when asked about their viewing habits at a chronological remove, they indicate that watching television is a waste of time and resources.

Robinson explains that “What viewers seem to be saying is that while TV in general is a waste of time and not particularly enjoyable, ‘the shows I saw tonight were pretty good. . . .’ The data suggest to us that the TV habit may offer short-run pleasure at the expense of long-term malaise.” This fleeting burst of pleasure can be addictive. “Addictive activities produce momentary pleasure and long-term misery and regret,” Martin says. “People most vulnerable to addiction tend to be socially or personally disadvantaged. For this kind of person, TV can become a kind of opiate in a way. It’s habitual, and tuning in can be an easy way of tuning out.”

Watching TV, Robinson and Martin argue, does not provide the same satisfaction and happiness that social interactions–or good books–do. Their research shows that happy people spend more time in these two activities (socializing and reading) while unhappy people tend to spend more time watching television. I guess there’s a reason that we’re commanded to “seek . . . out of the best books words of wisdom” (D&C 88:118) and that the commandment to “watch ye the best sitcoms” hasn’t come yet.

Again, I acknowledge that many, many church leaders have expounded on the beneficial aspects of television–it can be used for educational purposes, enjoying the performing arts, and broadening our cultural horizons, among many other purposes. For these reasons, it seems something of a stretch to say that watching television is wicked. But after having been exposed to the research of Robinson and Martin, I feel perfectly comfortable making the assertion that watching television never was happiness.

Alright-y then—has this synopsis pushed your buttons?  How do you channel your satisfaction?  Is there a remote possibility that the discussion surrounding this topic will be a light and humorous drama with a happy ending?

Related posts:

1. How To Be Happy
2. Parenting and Happiness
3. To thine own self be true (but you might be less happy)

But by day I went into hyper drive. I cleaned every room in our house; organized every single drawer; washed cupboards, windows, walls, and floors. I archived all of our family photos and started scrapbooks for each of my children. I threw myself into a couple of major PTA projects and served in not one but two busy church callings. And yes, I eventually landed myself in a clinical depression.

This pattern wasn’t new for me. Years ago when I was a graduate student, I spent one terrible summer while my parents’ marriage unraveled rushing from one activity to the next, keeping myself so busy with school and work and dates and friends that I only came home to my apartment to sleep. I never let myself be alone, never stopped long enough to think—because then the fear would rush back in. And I seem to repeat this pattern during every life crisis. I suppose it has something to do with avoidance—I hurtle through my days in an effort to outrun my fears. It also has something to do with control: when I’m surrounded by chaos, I need to be in command of what little I can. We may lose our house, my thinking goes, but by golly, my underwear drawer will be tidy.

So you can imagine my interest as I listened to President Uchtdorf’s recent Conference talk, “Of Things that Matter Most.” “When stress levels rise, when distress appears, when tragedy strikes,” President Uchtdorf said, “too often we attempt to keep up the same frantic pace or even accelerate, thinking somehow that the more rushed our pace, the better off we’ll be.” Yep, that’s me. In fact, while President Uchtdorf was giving his talk, I believe I was in the kitchen, wiping down the counters after breakfast and mentally adding items to my grocery list. President Uchtdorf went on to say, “We would do well to slow down a little, proceed at the optimum speed for our circumstances, focus on the significant, lift up our eyes, and truly see the things that matter most.”

Slow down. Simplify. Focus on the significant. See the things that matter most. His words flooded my thirsty soul. This past year or so I’ve been going into overdrive again; it’s been a year of change and turmoil, of worry and grief. I find myself rushing through my days again with a heavy heart, preoccupied and harried, and lying awake at night, afraid.

So I’m trying to slow my pace. I’m savoring these intoxicating crisp fall mornings when I walk my dog, leaves crunching under my feet, when I can lose myself in swaths of crimson and gold and green. Last Saturday I took my daughter to the pumpkin patch and we brought home a trunk load of round, fat pumpkins; last night my husband, children, and I carved them into jack-o-lanterns and roasted pumpkin seeds until they sizzled and popped. And a week ago I sat in the temple with my husband and my newly endowed son, soaking up stillness and comfort and peace.

I have a long way to go, I admit—and I doubt I’ll ever fully relinquish my need to accelerate when I’m stressed. But today I’m going to slow down. I’m going to rest, catch my breath, and be still.

How do you react to stress? Do you slow down or speed up? What helps you deal with stress? How can we counter our fast-paced culture and learn to slow down?

Related posts:

1. Forget Not
2. A New Heart
3. Reflections on General Conference: Press Forward with Hope

Interestingly, I’d just prepared a lesson to teach the Beehives the next day, in which I was directed by the Supplemental Materials booklet to refer to the section entitled “Judging Others” in True to the Faith, which says, “Sometimes people feel that it is wrong to judge others in any way. While it is true that you should not condemn others or judge unrighteously, you will need to make judgments of ideas, situations, and people throughout your lifetime. The Lord has given many commandments that you cannot keep without making judgments. You need to make judgments of people in many of your important decisions, such as choosing friends…and choosing an eternal companion” (p.90). The booklet goes on to caution us to use “great care” when making judgments and advises, “All your judgments must be guided by righteous standards.…Approach any judgment with care and compassion. Whenever possible, refrain from making judgments until you have an adequate knowledge of the facts” (90-91). The Supplemental Materials booklet then asked teachers to pose this question: “The world asks me to be tolerant of everyone’s actions and beliefs. In what circumstances does the Lord ask me to make judgments of ideas, situations, and people?” (p. 8).

Hmmm. Before President Monson spoke last Saturday, a friend and I happened to be talking about judging and she said, “Righteous judgment is essential to living a good life. Everyone judges, and to think otherwise is to deny reality. I think nowadays there is such an emphasis placed on tolerance and acceptance that any tiny amount of criticism is immediately pounced on as ‘judgment.’” Because our children sometimes accuse us of being judgmental (usually if we have concerns about the kinds of friends they are hanging out with), she and I have been discussing this topic on and off for some time, struggling to figure out when it’s appropriate to judge and what constitutes being judgmental.

So, I was a little taken aback after Saturday night’s meeting when my friend emailed me and said, “I know I’m going to hell. Not even in a hand basket. Here’s hoping it’s a dry heat.”

I’ve been thinking about her reaction to Pres. Monson’s talk, especially in conjunction with the lesson I taught my Beehives on Sunday, and I’m wondering how the rest of you feel. True, we all need to work on being less judgmental. Like all of you, I’ve been stung by others’ unkind (and incorrect) judgments of me, and I’ve done my share of unrighteous judging of others. I don’t think any of us is exempt from this human weakness. Ironically, I’ve even judged others for being self-righteous and judgmental. Around and around it goes. And it prevents us—all of us—from developing real, Christlike charity. So President Monson’s counsel was much needed and appropriate. But was he saying that we shouldn’t make judgments at all? I don’t think so.

So, here’s what I want to know: How do you define “righteous judgment?” Do you struggle with knowing the difference between exercising righteous judgment and being judgmental? Do you think, as my friend suggested before Pres. Monson’s talk, that sometimes we err too far on the side of tolerance for fear of appearing judgmental? And, finally, how do you interpret Pres. Monson’s counsel?

Related posts:

1. Forget Not
2. The Rain Falls on the Just and the Unjust
3. I’m Trying to Be Like. . .

Troubling, for sure. Is it true that LDS teenagers (and teenagers in general) don’t really date? As I write this, many high school juniors and/or seniors are preparing to go to the prom sometime in the next month. My son went to the prom last year, and he’s been to many high school dances over the last couple of years. That’s dating, right? Well, sort of. I see several problems with the high school dance date, which, btw, is very different from the high school dance dates I had back in the day.

First, nowadays, the high school dance date preparations begin months in advance, starting with the elaborate asking-out ritual. No simple phone call to issue an invitation allowed; the more creative and cutesy the better. I hate these invitations, and so does my son, who feels the pressure to come up with something original and convoluted each time. A girl once asked my son to Sadie Hawkins by giving him a bowl of live goldfish (“You’re not just any fish in the sea, will you go to the dance with me?”) and I spent the next month feeding those fish and changing their water, trying mightily to keep them alive, only to have one fish after another go belly up while my youngest daughter cried. A few months before that, I opened the front door late one night to find a baby doll on the porch with a plastic knife through its chest and ketchup dripping from the wound. Hands shaking, certain that someone was threatening us, I was about to call the police when my son found the note: “I’ll die if you don’t go to morp [another girls’ choice dance] with me.” Turns out the doll was meant for the boy down the street, so we left the doll on his porch so his parents could have heart attacks, too.

And then there’s the elaborate date itself. The boys have to find a group to go with, because everyone goes in groups, and these groups have to be lined up way ahead of time so that the boys can have several planning sessions akin to the Big Three strategy talks of WWII. Because the date itself isn’t just dinner and dancing; it’s a social marathon, with the couples committing to spend the entire day as well as the evening together. The festivities begin with the “day date”—something fun and casual, like bowling or roller-skating or having a paint ball war. And then they go home and change and prepare for phase two, the dinner. After dinner they all go to the dance, mainly to have their picture taken and mill around and promenade—I don’t know if they do any actual dancing or whether they dance as couples. And then, in the final phase of the date, they go to someone’s house to play games or watch a movie and have dessert.

Which all sounds exhausting to me—and intimidating, if you’re an awkward teen. The trouble with these dates is that a lot of teenagers I know put most of their effort into these dance dates and do little other dating. Maybe boys think that they can’t ask someone out unless they decorate a girl’s car with Oreos or put a message in a balloon. Maybe they think a date has to be a big event. And yes, teenagers get together to hang out and they do a lot of group activities, but I can count on one hand the number of times my son has actually planned an informal double date, called a girl, and taken her out. He has a hard time finding friends who will plan a double or group date with him in lieu of just hanging out, and he claims that if he were to ask a girl out by herself—even to just go bowling or see a movie—she would read more into it than there was, and others would assume they were “an item” and he’d be ridiculed for going against the For the Strength of Youth booklet (we live in Provo). So in his mind, he won’t really date until after his mission.

I see several problems with this. If our children don’t do a lot of dating until they’re in college or they’ve served missions, they could skip the casual, one-on-one dating phase so crucial to their social development and jump into a steady dating relationship—and maybe marriage—without having dated much. Also, perhaps our teenagers’ lack of dating experience and skills contributes to the “hanging out” problem we’re seeing amongst the twenty-something crowd living in perpetual singlehood.

After my son gave me back the New Era, I read it cover to cover, trying to figure this whole teenage dating thing out. And there were lots of great articles, which I’m going to keep trying to get my son to read. But I did notice that all of the dating advice advocated only group dating after sixteen and single dating in one’s twenties, when steady dating leading to marriage is appropriate. No mention was made of casual single dating during the teen years. I’m not advocating steady dating for teenagers or pre-mission boys, but I wonder if, in our zealousness in promoting the group-dating-only standard for teens and our kids’ focus on the big dance dates, we’re actually contributing to dating’s demise.

So, tell me what you think. Is dating dead? Has the single dating pendulum swung too far in the group dating direction? How can we help our sons take the initiative and do more casual dating while still upholding the standards in the For the Strength of Youth booklet? And, what is the most outrageous/amusing/clever dance invitation you’ve heard of?

Related posts:

1. Young Love
2. Our mothers knew it
3. Sailing to Manti

I say I’m thankful, but I am also devastated. And now we have found out my teenage son has a porn addiction.

I can’t really tell anyone. And I need support. This is so hard.

As soon as I read your comment it all came back to me. That punched-in-the-gut-so-hard-I-can’t-breathe feeling you get when you discover something painful and devastating like that. I recognized it because a few years ago it happened to me. And I know it is a lonely road. You can’t talk about it. Because it’s one thing to share your own issues, struggles or weaknesses with a friend, but a completely different thing to disclose something that personal about a loved one whose privacy you want to protect. While at the same time you are beating yourself for somehow not having protected this same child from evil and harm.

Here is my story:

Cameron was only 14. I’d just arrived home and walked into his room to see if he was ready to leave for the ward temple trip. “Mom, I can’t go. I’m not worthy.” It was so unexpected. I was devastated. But the full force of it didn’t hit me until later that evening when I was finally able to talk with my husband. He revealed to me that he had found evidence of porn on the computer.

My mind was reeling. How could this have happened? Cameron is a good kid. How had I failed to protect my child? Should we pull the plug on the Internet and remove any sort of technology from our house? What could we do to save him?

I was right to be concerned. We’d already had a RS lesson on the subject, given by someone who worked with a lot of young adults dealing with pornography addictions. The meeting was meant to be a wake-up call and to pull some heads out of the sand. But the facts on the highly addictive nature of pornography had left me feeling completely hopeless and depressed–and that was even before my son became addicted. I had a few friends whom I knew were dealing with such issues at home and I had a mere glimpse of the terrible toll it was taking on their families. The statistics on avoiding it–let alone beating it–are grim at best.

Sure there are safety measures–and you should definitely take every precaution possible–but don’t for a second believe they are foolproof. There are ways around filters and histories that any computer literate teen can manipulate (private browsing, gateway websites, etc.). One of the best things one can do is avoid thinking, “it could never happen to my kid.” When it did happen to our kid, we wondered what to do. I knew at least one of my friends who had canceled her Internet contract when she learned her son had been viewing porn. But realizing that the Internet is everywhere and feeling our son would need to learn to overcome it before moving out into the world, we chose to remain connected, tighten the rules and be ever vigilant.

One thing I learned is that as a people we do have our heads in the sand. I was riding in a car with my friend one day when she announced that the topic was up for discussion again in RS. “Why do they keep talking about this? It doesn’t really apply,” she said. “Wake up!” I wanted to shout. Pornography does affect us. Whether or not we are aware, each of us knows someone–a friend or a family member–who is silently suffering through the painful effects of pornography. Satan is no longer even subtle about this powerful tool he has with which to tear apart families. It is blatant and pervasive and we are not immune. Pornography continues to be one of the top concerns of priesthood leadership throughout the church.

I guess you could say I was lucky. I’d prefer to see it as blessed. It’s been a long and hard road back. But my son was mostly open with us was willing to work with the bishop and see a counselor and keep trying to overcome. I appreciate that he was honest and of a sincere enough heart that he didn’t want to participate in the church unworthily, but stepping back was not without its challenges. Leaders and young men pressured him when he didn’t want to perform priesthood responsibilities (this was since addressed in my ward and I can say it improved over time). But I know that just as with any addiction, staying clean is a never-ending battle and there is always the possibility of recidivism.

The second of our RS lessons on pornography and several mentions of it in ward and stake conference since gave me hope. This time the speaker was less about statistics and pulling our heads out of the sand and more about the immense scope and power of the atonement.That is the only way out of it.

The path is difficult, but through Christ, all addictions–even pornography–can be overcome. I have a testimony of the power of prayer and fasting. I’ve witnessed as the tender mercies of the Lord sent just the right people to influence Cameron for good at the right times of his life. I watched the gift of the atonement work a miracle in my son.

Sure I still remember the gut-punched feeling I had on that day. I am not naive enough to believe it will be the last time my stomach will knot up like that. But I also remember and hold on to this:

On an early Sunday morning years later, I arrived a few minutes late for Sacrament Meeting. As I slid onto the bench where my family was already seated and singing the opening song I wondered why Cameron wasn’t there. My eyes looked out across the congregation. Then they filled with tears as I saw my son sitting at the sacrament table for the very first time, at the age of 18. I wept through the entire sacrament prayer as he offered it, full of depth and feeling that filled my heart.

Even though it feels like it, I know I am not alone in this. Please share (anonymously if you wish) your stories. Was it a child, a spouse, a friend, or even yourself? Where did you turn for help? Have you found hope or peace? How?

Related posts:

1. Using Anonymous
2. Sunbeams, Prostitution, and Footsteps in the Sand.
3. Our mothers knew it

I agreed, and though I haven’t started writing it yet, I’ve been thinking a lot about it since then (pre-writing is an important step in the writing process after all). When did I become converted? Can I record it in a way that others will find interesting to read—a way that accurately reflects my love for and feelings about the gospel? Why did they ask me to do this again?

I come from a long line of Mormons. My mom and dad both have pioneers in their genealogy. I was born in Provo, Utah and spent the bulk of my growing up years in Utah Valley surrounded by other members of the church. I went to BYU, served a mission, and then got married in the temple. If we’re talking about story in the Greek drama sense, I haven’t really got one. But I am converted to this gospel. I know it’s true; I love it; I try to share it and live it. So, how have I become converted? What is my story?

Michelle Lehnardt’s essay, Nauvoo in the Summer 2009 issue of Segullah, shares a piece of her conversion. As a young girl and part of a new convert family she took part in a journey to Nauvoo that helped her discover how she fit in to the heritage of Saints. That childhood experience led her to long for involvement in the events surrounding the rebuilding of the Nauvoo temple. Due to life, a new baby, all the demands of her growing family, she was unable to be there, disappointment and frustration were her companions until the week of the dedication. She writes, “I was doing the usual evening routine of putting the kids to bed. They laughed in the tub, chased each other in the hallway, and fought over the toothpaste. As I sat on the floor drinking in baby’s freshly bathed head on my shoulder and my beautiful boys leap-frogging over my legs, I was struck with profound joy. This is where I was supposed to be—this is what I needed to be doing. . . I laughed out loud in jubilation as every blessing, both spiritual and physical, flickered through my mind. I didn’t have to fight for a place in the kingdom. Christ had opened the gate, and taking His name at baptism secured my divine genealogy. I had enough. I was enough. “

When I re-read this in preparing to write today it helped me remember, dramatic or not, I do have a conversion story. It is made up of moments like this, when the Spirit brings to mind my blessings, the surety of the Gospel, the covenants I’ve made and how God is fully keeping his covenants to me. A couple of years ago, President Eyring spoke in general conference. He said, “’O remember, remember’,” Book of Mormon prophets often implored. My point is to urge you to find ways to recognize and remember God’s kindness.” (Ensign, Nov. 2007, “O Remember, Remember”.) He told us that as he was raising his children he kept a journal and before he would write he would ponder the question, “Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us or our children or our family today?” Then he would write it down. He said, “I wrote it down, so that my children could have the memory someday when they would need it.” As Michelle concludes her essay she says of her children, “I’ll teach them to look for the Spirit, not just in the grand venues, but in the hallways and fields and corners of their lives.” If we all do that, and follow President Eyring’s counsel as well, we will remember. We will know our divine genealogy and God’s kindness and when someone asks us to write our conversion story, we’ll have something to share.

What helps you remember God’s kindness?
If you keep a journal, how do you keep that habit up?
Tell us about your conversion if you like.

Related posts:

1. What about the children?
2. Downright Strange
3. Segullah: Gifts of the Spirit

“I have a big, BIG problem with that quote”, I burst out.

The teacher handled my vehemence well, and maintained composure, but did gently point out that we were talking about words from a prophet (Harold B. Lee) and an apostle (Bruce R. McConkie). I just said, “Well, I have my own issues with Bruce R. McConkie, but that’s another discussion. But doesn’t anybody else have issues with this idea?”

The class rallied to the cause, and we had a good discussion, and the teacher, like I said, took it all in stride and was even able to joke about payback. I’ve just been called as the Gospel Doctrine teacher, and the Institute teacher assured me, with a wink, that he’ll be speaking up the next time I have to teach.

But I went home and called my husband to discuss how I was feeling, trying to pick apart why I was so disturbed. And I realized that one of the reasons I was so bothered is that we WERE talking about words of the prophets. And, my own issues with Bruce R. aside, it would be hubris of the highest caliber to assume that I know more than a man ordained to be an apostle of the Lord.

I don’t like disagreeing with our leaders. I’ve sustained them, I honor them, and I know they are inspired men. But I can’t pretend that I’ve been comfortable with every word that has ever been spoken over the pulpit. And that, in turn, also makes me uncomfortable.

What do you do when you read or hear something from a leader that makes you uncomfortable? How do reconcile yourself to things that seem to rub you the wrong way while still sustaining our leaders?

I would ask that in your response, please remain respectful of our prophets and apostles.

Related posts:

1. Say Something
2. It’s All About Poop
3. Pharoah’s Dream