So What Does Love Have To Do With It? – Step 2 Hope

Recently my brother stopped by for a short visit.  He came from North Carolina where he lives with his family and was accompanied by his son who just returned home from his mission.  Their ultimate destination was Idaho where my brother would help his son get settled for a new year of university education and then return home to North Carolina.

We are a close family, but we don’t see this particular brother/uncle very often.  That’s what makes it so curious that over the past little while my five year old granddaughter, Gracie, comments frequently to her mother, out of the blue, “I really love Uncle Paul.  I really miss him.”  Wondering if Gracie actually has any idea who she’s talking about my daughter finally had Gracie point him out to her the other day.  Dragging a kitchen chair over to the fridge, she climbed up, pointed to the Christmas card photo collage of aunts and uncles and cousins stuck on the refrigerator door and said, “That’s Uncle Paul!  I love him!”

On Sunday night as usual my children and grandchildren gathered at our house for Sunday dinner.  Before leaving home my daughter told Gracie that Uncle Paul was coming to dinner too.  Her response was, “Uncle Paul! (Gasp!) I love Uncle Paul!”  My daughter laughed at her little drama queen who has only seen this uncle a handful of times in her little life and proceeded up the hill to Grandma Nan’s house.

When Paul entered the house Gracie was standing on the staircase and pretended to faint when Paul entered the room.  All evening she was very attentive and as everyone departed she made sure that out of the 22 of us at dinner she said good-bye especially to her Uncle Paul. As he prepared to leave she handed him her own artistic rendering of the two of them together rolled into a scroll.  She gave him a big hug, and as he exited she said with a bit of sorrow in her voice, “Grandma, I’m really gonna to miss him!”

The next day I tended Gracie for a little while and as she chattered I questioned her, “Hey Gracie, how come you love Uncle Paul so much?”

“Cuz he loves me so much,” she responded.

“How do you know he loves you?”

“Well, he always hugs me and he always smiles when he sees me.”

As she scurried off to help her brothers with their Lego creations I thought, “Nannette, you’re being taught a big lesson in love from a five year old.” Her answers to my questions reminded of the very instructive words I discovered one day in 1 John 4:19 that speak of the relationship of a group of people in ancient times with my Eldest Brother, Jesus. “We love him, because he first loved us.”  In other words, their love for the Lord grew out of their knowing and experiencing His love for them.

Before discovering this verse, the only scripture I had memorized on the subject of loving the Lord was John 14:15 where Jesus said, “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).   This verse had always been a spring-board for feelings like, “Nannette, not only don’t you keep His commandments perfectly, but not doing so is actually a sign that you don’t love the Lord.”  That’s a painful thought for a little girl or a grown one.  But the Spirit of the Lord is an expert at cross referencing. When I finally discovered the eight words of scripture in 1 John the Lord linked them to the verse I had memorized as a child, the one I had used to beat myself up.  In fact seeing these two verses side by side—“We love him, because he first loved us” and “If you love me, keep my commandments”—really got me thinking.

I don’t know if you are like me, but I always want to start with the “keep the commandments” part.  Maybe I need to start with the “love.”  I don’t know if you’re like me, but I always want to start with the “love Him” part, but maybe it’s more helpful to start with the “He loves me” part.  Maybe when I am struggling to be obedient the most beneficial thing I can do is pray to be aware of His love for me—to see it all around me and to believe it’s real, that it’s personal and as tender as I can imagine.  Then my keeping His commandments will be the fruit or the result of His love for me—His mercy, His grace, His sacrifice—His hugs and smiles undeserved.  My obedience will be my loving response to His love.

That’s what Gracie was really saying.  “Grandma, when I know I am loved, I love back.”

By Nannette W.

Posted Sunday, April 22, 2012

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

The Circle – Step 12 Carrying the Message

Matthew has escaped once again.  Three-year-old on the soccer field! Out into the middle game he darts.  Dodging the bevy of eight-year-old superstars, his big sister among them, he makes a beeline for his daddy, the coach. I leave my lawn chair behind and make my way on to the field to fetch Matthew and save the game from sudden destruction.  My son gives me the nod.  “It’s OK. I’ve got him!”  With one giant swoop Matthew is sitting on his daddy’s shoulders smiling like he just won the gold cup.  The game goes on with father and son carrying out all coaching duties together. As the game come to an end Matthew follows right behind his daddy giving high fives to the opposing line up of little female soccer stars.  My son takes his whistle and put it around Matt’s neck.  It comes down to his little knobby knees.  I sit in my lawn chair watching the two of them and think, “There is something bigger going on here than simply a dad being patient with his three-year-old at a soccer game.”

Matthew is in training for something wonderful, and I really think that to some degree this little guy knows it.  The other night for their Family Home Evening Matt’s mom and dad told him and his sister Sammy and his baby brother Christopher the story of Lehi’s vision of the “strait” and narrow path. At the end of the lesson Matthew said, “I know—I’m going to follow Father and Christopher is going to follow me.”

In President Eyring’s address to the priesthood last October 2011 he said, “Most of us must wonder to ourselves at times, ‘Am I prepared for this assignment in the priesthood?’ My answer is, ‘Yes, you have been prepared.’…Our Heavenly Father has been preparing us since we were taught at His knee in His kingdom before we were born…Because a veil of forgetfulness was placed over our minds at birth, we have had to find a way to relearn in this life what we once knew and defended.”

Matthew is about the work of remembering, and his daddy is part of the team of men and women placed in Matt’s life to wake up that memory

This call to go before and awaken divine memory in the sons and daughters of God is no small thing, but President Eyring assured us with these words:  “ I promise you if you do all that you can, God will magnify your strength and your wisdom. He will season you. I promise you that those whom you train and set an example for will praise your name…” (Conference Report October 2011)

It’s important to keep in mind that not one of us will make all the difference in the life of someone following down the path—relearning.  And if a trainee is serving time in the mission-field our work is still not completed and if he is serving time in the jail all is not lost. President Eyring simply encourages us to continue to “teach and show…through all our strength in what might appear to be little tasks with small consequences.

Several Saturdays ago Matthew’s sister Sammy was baptized and confirmed.  As the men proceeded to circle up I took my paper and pen from my purse and got ready to record the blessing.  All eyes were closed but mine as her daddy began to pronounce her a member of the church.  That’s how I happened to notice my three year old grandson in training inch his way to the front of the room and squeeze his little pint-sized body between two uncles in the circle, his little hand reaching to touch his sister’s head. Matthew wants to join the circle.  Matthew is remembering.

So if a brother darts out onto your field of influence today, think a minute before shooing him off the green.  Whether he is six or ninety-six, swing him up onto your shoulders and give him a whistle.  He is a coach in training.  He’s remembering.  He’s looking to take your post someday.  Show him how it is done.

By Nannette W. posted Sunday, March 25, 20112

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W.  All rights reserved.  Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

 

The Other Shoe – Step 12 Service

My daughter-in-law and I went together to buy a gift for my son’s birthday.  We bought him a new pair of new running shoes.  They were quite expensive, but he is very much in need of shoes that can take a beating.  I joked with him yesterday that I bought him “a shoe” for his birthday.  We had a good laugh, but come to think of it, that’s how I feel about all my efforts to bless people’s lives these days.  I’m never capable of giving people exactly and completely what they need, just a little part, a little portion, a little token of my love.  Even the pittance I give did not originate with me.  It all comes out of the store I’ve received from the Lord. One of the most important things I can remember as I prayerfully go about today delivering less than a complete pair of shoes to those who are in need,  is that the Lord will complete all my efforts.  One way or another, the Lord always comes along with the other shoe.

By Nannette W. Posted Friday, February 10, 2012

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

“Happy Are We” – Step 3 Trust in God

We live in a time when toys have buttons that awaken magical electronic powers.  As we search the retail shelves for just the right toy, even grownups are taken in by the invitation on packaging that reads, “Try Me.”  One day, just after Christmas, I was waiting while my mother stood in the return line at Kohls and there before my eyes, in the middle of an aisle, was a large display of piggy banks with a “Try Me” invitation on every box.  So I did!   Standing there, looking at them, something came over me and I pushed every piggy’s button in the display.  Then I just stood there, unashamed, in the middle of the isle, with children looking on in dismay, laughing at the cacophony of oinking that erupted.  Something crazy gets into me those first few days after Christmas.

One of my “grands” is a life-size 17 month old dolly.  She’s a tiny little thing.  It’s still surprising to look down at the white feathers starting to grow on her baby head and see her walking about.  She’s learning to talk and has recently started stringing words together.

Hattie doesn’t have a magical button.  This little dolly is more technologically advanced than the dollies on the shelf at Wal-Mart. She’s actually voice activated. If I sing a few words to a song she has heard several times she responds.  For example:   If I sing “Twinkle Twinkle” she sings, “little star.”  This is not really too surprising in the world of raising babies.   What is unusual is that she quickly catches on to difficult songs. We were all a bit flabbergasted the other day when her daddy sang, “We are all enlisted ‘til the conflict it o’er,” and immediately, without hesitation, she looked up at him with those heavenly blue eyes and sang out, “Happy are we, are we, are we!”

Her older cousins love to hear her perform, and she is happy to comply—“Happy are we! Happy are we!” she responds to their prompt, and the air erupts with laughter. (The cousins are as bad as me at Kohls with the piggies.)  I’ve heard the opening words to the song “We Are All Enlisted” countless times now throughout the house.  Each time I hear her sing I think, “What a great reminder!”  These words tell us that we are in this to the end and we can be happy even though life is hard—It’s full of conflict between nations and neighbors, within our communities and families, and within ourselves as we battle it out with Satan or simply wrangle with the hundreds of tough decisions that have to be made every day.  According to the song we can somehow endure happily.

One day as I heard her performing for someone, in my mind I pointed the following thought in the Lord’s direction—“I get the general message Lord, but how?  How am I to be happy throughout and until the end of all the conflict in my daily life?”  I told Him that I knew that a great part of the answer to that question lies in whether or not I pick up and use the magnificent tools of the Gospel that bring the Spirit of the Lord into every situation.   I know that when I have the Spirit with me I do find greater happiness, even in difficult situations, but was there more to be learned here?

Once again I allowed the words to run through my mind, only this time I felt the Spirit invite me to focus on the words we sing to Hattie—“We are all ENLISTED.”  In my mind’s eyes the word ENLISTED was in capital letters.  Was that my clue?  I searched my understanding for some sense of the word.  I remembered that during the Korean War my dad “enlisted” in the army to escape being drafted, and he had a great experience serving in Germany, and most recently, my youngest son has “enlisted” in the United States Air Force.  This is not exactly what I had in mind for my son. From the moment the doctor announces “It’s a boy,” I dread the thought that one day my sons might be drafted. But come to think of it, except for the two years he served the people in Uruguay on an LDS mission, I’ve never seen him more resolute and yes, happy.

Hmmm… “Drafted?”  “Enlisted?”  I got my dictionary.  To be “drafted” is “to be enrolled in the armed forces by compulsion or conscription.” To “enlist” is “to join up or sign on to the armed forces.”

That’s it!—one of the great keys to being happy!  I enlisted – on purpose! I signed up!  I’m not here having earth life, with its huge range of experiences, because I was forced or ill informed about the hard parts.  I was not drafted.  I chose.

Every day I experience some of the pain that comes from frustration, anger, sickness, sadness and disappointments over situations, some of my own making and those I am completely powerless to control. It’s tempting to imagine I’ve been forced into difficult situations by life, by people, and by God Himself!  If I dwell in self-pity, imagining that I am simply a pawn on the chess board of life, then all I want to do is something, anything, to make me feel better, something to dull the little pains and the big ones. And why would I reach out to God for help if I think He sent me into this mess against my will? Drafted! So I turn to something I can trust, something immediate—eat a little food, spend a little money, watch a little TV, take a little pill…Addiction is about doing something to make myself feel better, knowing that God can’t possibly be the answer.  My addiction is anything I turn to habitually, that’s destructive, instead of turning to God.

Today I know that my pain only multiplies with every thought that I was conscripted into this War that started in Heaven. There is actual pain relief and power to endure connected with the recognition that I enlisted in this earth life experience, that I was not compelled against my will. In Lehi’s vision He says he follows a Man in White to a dark and dreary waste.  On some days life is dark and it is dreary, but there is something really important to my ability to get through hard times in acknowledging that following Jesus Christ into this world was a decision I made.  That thought actually hastens my travels on that strait (difficult) and narrow (single file) path to the fruit that ensures joy in the battle zone.

Step 3 of recovery is to “Decide to turn my will and my life over the care of God the Eternal Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.  In essence it is to surrender to an experience in which I chose to participate.  Sometimes during hard seasons I say to myself: “Life just is not going according to my plan.”  Though that may seem true with my limited vision—there is a PLAN and I signed on!

A new recruit has recently been assigned to our family squadron, one of earth life’s newest enlistees.  His tiny feet were not even planted on earth’s soil before life became challenging.  In fact life was a challenge for him the minute he was assigned his body and for his family from the moment the doctors suggested they might be seeing signs of Down Syndrome.

As I hold my nephew in my arms, all hooked up to feeding and breathing apparatus, as I feel the rapid  pulse of his tiny heart that needs mending, I sense that his faith in the truth that he was not compelled, not drafted into this body for his earth-life experience, is very much intact. It’s the rest of us who need to keep this understanding burning in our hearts. Not only did he know what he was getting into, but so did all of us who are blessed to be a part of his life and blessed to participate in all of life.

Thanks for the reminder Hattie.  “We signed on! We chose!  We enlisted!  “Happy are we!”

By Nannette W.

Posted Thursday, February 2, 2012

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

The Holiday Miracle We Pray For That We Will Not Be Given

Holidays and food—they just go together.  This though comes to mind every time I’m invited to a holiday celebration that involves lots of food—and don’t they all?  It’s called “Michael’s Thanksgiving Day Prayer” but it might just as well be called “Everyone’s Christmas Prayer,” or “The Holiday Miracle We Pray For That We Will Not Be Given.”  Enjoy!

“Michael’s Thanksgiving Day Prayer” – Abstinence

It was finally pie time.  So many pies! So many flavors! So many decisions! Pie with whipped cream? Pie with ice cream?  “Maybe just a little of both,” I heard someone say. The turkey and rolls started to make their way back out onto the counter, something to balance out all that pie I suppose. “Hey, who brought the eggnog and 7-Up?” questioned one of the uncles with great excitement!

The Thanksgiving Day sun was setting. The cousins were starting to get a little wound up.  My grown children, the parents, were starting to say things like, “Stop! Remember we don’t run in Grandma’s house!” and “No you may not have a fourth piece of pie!” In our family, generally speaking, the later it gets the more energy the children have. With 17 children and 21 adults we were almost outnumbered and it was time to either mesmerize them by playing The Santa Clause 1, 2, 3, and 4 videos, or for the adults to gather up all the energizer turkeys and head toward home for a long post-pie nap.

I stood at the kitchen sink visiting with my brother. “Before we leave,” he said, “I’ve got a story to tell you: This morning before driving down to your house for dinner, I gathered everyone for family prayer.  I called on Michael (age 14) to pray for the family and this is what he prayed, ‘Please bless us that we will be able to eat as much as possible without getting sick.’”

We had a good laugh.  I’ve prayed that prayer myself a thousand times. I’ve been so certain Heavenly Father would hear my prayer and grant me my wish that I’ve gone ahead and put Him to the test.  Time and time again I have hoped for a negligible outcome as I’ve taken in more food and more calories than my body has the capacity to deal with in a healthy way only to be shocked at the after pains.  Without exception I felt sick not only physically, but also emotionally and spiritually.

I don’t think you have to be a compulsive eater to relate to Michael’s prayer. In many Addiction Recovery Meetings I’ve heard participants say, “Hi, I’m _____ and I’m addicted to MORE.”  It doesn’t seem to matter if our destructive practices center around the computer, the bar, the refrigerator, the mall, or the neighborhood pharmacy, our prayer has been much like Michael’s Thanksgiving Day request.  “Dear Heavenly Father, please, just this time, grant me the miracle of indulging without consequence.”

This year I am happy to be a compulsive eater who is a grateful Thanksgiving dinner survivor, ninety-seven pounds down from my top weight, but I certainly have not finished my course work on the subject of cause and effect.  I had to smile at the Lord’s sense of humor the other night.  I started developing this little piece of writing late in the evening.  Before climbing into the covers and without thought of what I had just finished writing, I knelt at the foot of my bed and said, “Dear Heavenly Father, once again I’ve stayed up much too late. I know I should have been in bed a long time ago, but please bless me with the ability to wake up early, feeling great, and with energy to accomplish good things in the morning.” As I whispered these words Heavenward I could almost see the corners of the Lord’s mouth turn up just a bit, and with a twinkle in his eye, and His brows slightly raised. He seemed to whisper back, “Oh, I see Nannette, might you be asking for the miracle of indulging without consequence? It reminds me a of the Thanksgiving prayer of a little boy I know, ‘Please bless us that we will be able to eat as much as possible without getting sick?’”

By Nannette W.

Posted Monday, December 7, 2009

From Nannette’s Christmas Archives Re-posted December 20, 2011

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

“Falling” Into Christmas – Step 10 – Daily Accountability

Quoting my daughter…“Sometimes I think the most constant thought in the mind of a little boy is, “What should I do next to drive my mother crazy?”

My daughter called and related the following experience to me.  She said she might call it, “Wild Boys on the Loose,” “Irresponsible Mothers,” “Christmas Tree Festival Gone Bad,” or “So There I Was…” but her first thought after it happened, after everyone in an auditorium full of Christmas Tree Charity Cheer was staring at her and her children, was “Here’s Something For Mom To Blog About.”

Today my daughter and her children went with some friends and their children to a charity event where decorated, donated Christmas trees are on display. They remain on exhibit for several days.  Each tree is sold to the highest bidder and the money goes to charity. Things were going great in the beginning. There was a band playing. The children had a great time dancing to the music. They walked up and down all the rows of trees. She reports being pretty impressed at how good the kids were about not touching things.

The moms decided the Princess Tree was the perfect opportunity to take a picture of all their daughters.  They lined all the little ladies up in front of the Disney Christmas creation. Then one of the moms suggested that they take a picture of all the little boys in front of one of the sets of three twenty foot, attached to each other, wooden, lighted trees that stood in multiple places in the hall as decorations for the festival. As the moms focused their attention on their princess daughters their royal sons started crawling in between the wooden trees. They got them to stop, line up, and smile for the camera. My daughter’s friend turned around to tell her she had gotten a very cute picture of my grandson, TJ. My daughter looked up just in time to see that the boys had resumed their play near the wooden trees. She was about to step in and break up the nonsense when catastrophe struck! Too late!

One little fellow pushed another one, who fell against the three wooden trees. Suddenly the trees began to fall down right before their eyes. She said she was amazed by the number of thoughts she could have in the 5 seconds it took her to get over to the trees. She said that the whole thing felt like it was in slow motion.  Her first thought was, “Those trees really aren’t going to fall are they?” She pushed her friend aside and they both ran toward the disaster in progress.  In desperation she thought about running behind the scene but rethought and was glad she hadn’t!  The three wooden twenty-foot trees would have fallen on her.   In the end all they could really do was watch them crash to the ground!

She stood there shocked over what had transpired, with complete embarrassment as the crowds turned and looked on, but feeling much gratitude that no one had been hurt and that there had been no domino effect on the other trees in the building.

Finally she addressed her two-year-old son. “TJ, tell me what happened.”

“I pushed Mowoni ( Moroni ), Mowoni pushed the twees (trees), and the twees fall down.”

As my daughter finished sharing this incident with me Step 10 came to mind—“Continue to take personal inventory and when you are wrong promptly admit it.” I don’t know what it is about the Thanksgiving/Christmas season, but I seem to have more than average opportunity to practice this step at this time of year.  Maybe it has something to do with high expectations, too little money, long to-do lists, hurry, hurry, and more social gatherings than my calendar can handle.  My daughter’s experience caused me to think about the obvious nature of most of my own wrong doings.  Like crashing twenty-foot Christmas trees, my daily errors are not usually hidden out of sight or wrapped in “who’s to blame” confusion.  This season I want to stay ahead of the game and be like TJ.  When “the twee falls down” my confession should be immediate, simple, honest, and without excuse.

By Nannette W.

Posted Friday, November 28, 2008

From Nannette’s Christmas Archives Re-posted December 19, 2011

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sen

Merry Christmas and “Dime Store” Serenity – Step 12 Service

As far back as I can remember the Christmas season seemed to bring with it both excitement and anxiety.  I grew up as the oldest child in a family of nine.  When December 1^st rolled around one of my biggest concerns was how to get enough money to buy each of my siblings and my parents a Christmas present.  As the seven of us were growing up we were each expected to do a weekly household job, without pay, just because we were part of the family. My father was a schoolteacher and my mother was a stay-at-home mom.  There was not much excess.

I think back with gratitude that my mother had a plan to help us take care of our financial age 4-11 Christmas worries.  Without fail, every Saturday morning for several weeks before the Big Day the old 3’ by 4’ piece of blackboard came out from behind the couch. Mom would use the chalk and fill the blackboard with lists of lots of little jobs (vacuuming the edges of a room, cleaning this drawer or that shelf, wiping window sills, cleaning a mirror or a window, shining up the woodwork etc).  The list represented all the extra little things that needed to be accomplished around the house to really spruce the place up for the holidays. Mom took advantage of our need for a little money. Next to each job she chalked in how much money she would pay for that job “well done.” Each job was worth anywhere from five to twenty five cents. There were things on the board for all ages. I remember being very motivated by this system.  As a job was completed we were paid and the completed task was erased.  It was fun to see the little old black board empty by noon on Saturday.

When it was empty it meant we had each moved one Saturday closer to that magnificent yearly family excursion to the local “dime store,” Newberry’s, where we would each purchase eight Christmas treasures.  We split into two groups, each group being manned by one parent.  Each of us got to push around our own cart. We thought that was pretty cool. We were required to bring a coat.  The purpose of the coat was to provide cover over our secrets.  There must have been much less concern over shoplifting back then.  We sleuthed around the store, hiding things behind our backs, whispering in Mom or Dad’s ear, waiting for validation that the choice we had made for someone was “a great idea, honey!”  I don’t think we ever had more that ten or fifteen dollars to spread eight ways. But, we all came home satisfied that we had worked for and secreted away eight “somethings” that were really going to bring smiles on Christmas morning.

Every year our Dad lovingly hand flocked a little tree for our “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas in Los Angeles” mother. Before our shopping spree each year it was bare under the tree. After the shopping was complete there was no pause between entry into the house and our scurrying into some hiding place with paper, tape, and a stack of old Christmas cards we’d cut up to make just the right tag for each gift.  Most times the tag was bigger than the gift.  In one fell swoop we would move from having nothing under that tree to having a carpet of forty little things wrapped as only children can wrap, awaiting Christmas morning.

I don’t remember even one of the things I received as a result of this humble Christmas tradition.  All I remember are feelings—the feeling that my mother cared enough to help us have a good experience giving to each other, a feeling of excitement at finding just the right thing that could be paid for with what was in my pocket, and the feelings of anticipation, of looking forward to the hour when all those little dime store packages would be opened one at a time with lots of “Thanks, that’s just what I wanted!” with hugs all around.

One of the most wide-spread troubles of our day is the problem of debt.  Spending is an activity that has become a compulsive/addictive behavior for many.  Maybe the message of this old Christmas memory is “Keep It Simple.”  Surprises don’t need to be costly. Expressions of our love for each other don’t have to involve money at all.  As kids we couldn’t have had any more fun if we’d each had a hundred dollars to spend.  Although gifts will be given, maybe this Christmas the most important thing I can do for others doesn’t have to involve a tangible wrapped, ribboned and tagged gift at all. Maybe the greatest contribution I can make to others is to live in recovery, with the serenity and sanity that come from living within my means.  Just as our mother helped us as children, the Lord can help us live this way, with JOY!

By Nannette W.

Frist Posted Sunday, November 30, 2008

Re-posted From Nannette’s Christmas Archives, Friday, December 9, 2011

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right reserved.

Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

 

Up, Up, and Away with Christmas!

This year I’m trying to decorate up or back or out! Up with all manger scene pieces, back with the musical snow globe, and outside with the unstable wooden reindeer I usually set on the hearth.  The idea is to somehow keep as many Christmassy things within sight, but out of reach of the twenty little fingers living at our house this Christmas and away from all the small cousins who visit frequently.  This year I am the grandmother of two walking one-year-olds and five children in the three to five category.  I think I’ve done a pretty good job.  So far the only casualty is a broken wing on an angel from a six dollar nativity.  But it’s still early December.  Little birds and gold balls now adorn the Christmas tree. As I write the little ones are still asleep in their wee little beds.  Wish me luck!  We won’t even think of putting the gifts under the tree—not yet.  We thought of fencing in the tree.  Maybe it will still come to that. We’ll see.

I’m not usually the fussy nervous grandma type, but I don’t want to be on decoration alert all season, and I don’t want to put my children in that position either.  It might not be so bad except for Hattie.  You’d never ever guess it by looking at her as she sleeps.  So innocent, so petite, so sweet, with barely enough hair to see that she is going to be blond.  With just one look you might ask if she’s even walking yet.  Oh yes—Hattie not only walks, Hattie climbs.  It’s all we can do to keep her from dancing on the dining room table. We try to keep the kitchen chairs tucked in for her benefit, but she has bumped her little face a hundred times trying to summit the kitchen table to watch the birds outside the window take their breakfast.  I have even caught her trying to scale the bookcase.  Hattie is dangerous! I told my daughter that maybe I should just get Hattie some climbing gear for Christmas, some ropes and a carabineer and some chalk.   Hence, for me it’s up, up, and away with Christmas this year.

As I brought in a particularly delicate box from the garage and stood determining the best  “up” place for safe-keeping of its contents, I could see in my mind’s eye the Lord give me a twinkly smile and say, “Aren’t you glad I don’t place all things Christmassy out of your reach Nannette!”

Standing there alone in the middle of the living room I smiled back and in the spirit of conversing with the Lord in all things I said, “You’ve got a point.  Yes, I am glad, Lord!  Christmas is a celebration of Christ, and all these decorations and gifts I’m trying so hard to protect are reminders of You aren’t they. You have been so generous in placing symbols of Your life and Your work up close and personal and everywhere.  What is it that Paul says?—‘All things denote there is a God.’  You place Your reminders where they can be experienced and picked up and handled.”

“In fact, Nannette, that is what my gospel does, it places all things Christmassy within your reach.  I put all the plain and precious reminders of my mission out where they can be touched and where they can touch you, and change you.  And if I place something up like the stars or the sun or the mountain tops or the birds it’s definitely not for safe keeping.  It’s for inspiration.  It’s to encourage you to climb.  Climb! Climb! Climb! I picked all your names for gift giving this year—every year!  Maybe I should give all My spirit siblings some climbing gear for Christmas—ropes and carbineers and chalk for Christmas and a book filled with maps of great climbs.  Oh wait, I already have.  I’ve given them My words and the words of the prophets and the principles and ordinances of the gospel.  There is no better climbing gear and instructions in all the universe.”

Maybe Hattie is the best symbol in the house of what the Lord wants me to do with Christmas.  He wants me to ascend—to climb a bit higher every new year of my life.  His philosophy isn’t “Up Up and Away” as in put it way away, when it comes to Christmas.  His symbols and gifts are all labeled, “Touch me.” “Try me.”  “To be opened immediately!”  And His call is, “Come, climb up, up, and away with Me—because of Christmas.

By Nannette W.

Posted Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Camouflage! Really? – Scripture Study

Friday night my daughter, who is my designated personal shopper, stopped by with the little gift I had authorized her to purchase for her little man, Carson. Tomorrow was baptism day.  We settled on the same gift I give all the “grands” after they are baptized—a cover for the scriptures they receive from their parents.

I opened the sack—“Camouflage! Really?”

“That’s all they had mom, but I know he’s going to like it.”

I was not convinced.  It seemed a little irreverent to me.

Fast forward to Saturday, late morning, post baptism brunch with the family—Carson lifts his first grown-up, black, dignified volume of scriptures from the gift bag.  “Nice!”  Then he opens the box from Grandpa and me, “Camo! Thanks! That’s just what I wanted!”

Well, it was another big score for my personal shopper, and you know, I wasn’t sold on the choice at first, but the more I think about it, maybe it’s time for us to all get camo covers for our scriptures.  Camo is rugged.  It can take the challenges of last-days living.  It doesn’t come out once a week on Sunday and go back to its spot on the shelf on Monday.  Camo is for every day.  Camo goes everywhere.

That’s exactly where the Lord wants us to take his word—everywhere! Everywhere we go He wants to go too.  Camo is for military maneuvers and in this war in Heaven come down to earth our scriptures contain all the military strategy we need to win every everyday battle.  My little “Saturday’s Warrior” Carson is going to need his scriptures to carry him not just through the nice and tidy things of life but through those experiences that are difficult and wearing and uphill both ways and too cold and too hot and windy and dusty and muddy—through every situation earth-life has to offer.  “We are as the armies of Helaman!”  A camo scripture case is probably just the thing!

By Nannette W.  Posted Friday, November 11, 2011

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

“Nannette, do you know any four year olds?” – Step 5 The Gift of Perspective

We turn to addictive substances and behaviors instead of turning to God, and one of the reasons we do is because we don’t think God likes us very much. Many of us start feeling bad about ourselves when we are very little, at least I did, and it doesn’t take much.  I’ll never forget sitting across from my sponsor, opening up my notebook and beginning to read.  “Age two,” I started, “I resented the little boys who pushed my tricycle into the gutter full of water on irrigation day and who rubbed grapes in my hair.”  “Age four” I continued with trepidation “I regret going into a shed with some little boys who wanted to have a two second peek at my “backside” and then lying to my dad about it.  There, I’d said it!  So embarrassing!

My sponsor’s response– “Nannette, do you know any four year olds?”  Four year olds?  My thirty-eight year old mind scanned through all the little people I knew and loved.  Tears came to my eyes.  In an instant, I came to grips with the fact that this moment of immodesty, the moment that was the beginning of all future certainty that God was disappointed in me occurred when I was only four years into earth life.  New perspective is one of God’s great gifts as we take Step 5, the confession step.  Do you know any four year olds?

By Nannette W. Posted Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Copyright 2011 by Nannette W. All right reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.