The Keepsake Catastrophe – Step 12 Practice these principles in all you do

I’m not a big keeper when it comes to most things, but I have absolutely no judgment when it comes to photos of my children and the paper treasures they’ve generated over a family lifetime. Anything that reminds me of how much I treasure them is a treasure to me—photos, programs, certificates, awards, little pieces of art, and all letters to Santa along with his midnight replies. I’ve kept any little writings that give some insight into their precious personalities. For years when I would come out of my bedroom in the morning there would be a note on the ground saying, “Mom, please make sure I’m up by ___ o’clock. I have a rehearsal (a morning side, a review session) at school!” (We will save discussing my mothering skills for another day.) Every so often, after a family feud, I would find a repentant note saying something like, “I’m sorry I was such a brat. I really do love you!” You guessed it. I saved it.

My tenderness for all things memorable has created a bit of a problem. It’s a problem I’ve kept hidden in a very large upstairs closet for years. Though this closet is out of the way it often cries out to me—“Nannette, you are a treasure saving junkie! Get a grip! Get some sanity! You may be able to hide your neurosis in a closet, but that does not make it any less of a problem.”

Now that I’m living in recovery from compulsive eating the Lord is doing some excavation work on other aspects of my life, and this is one of them. Thankfully, recovery is an ongoing phenomenon. I have heard it shared many times that those struggling with addiction are addicted to “more”—more of anything. My collection of treasures certainly bears this out.

I’m grateful I have not passed my propensity for saving on to my daughters. They seem to have a keen eye for the savable and the expendable. They also have digital cameras and know how to use them, and when the refrigerator door has no more space for one more drawing by one more budding artist they simply take some pictures and send the originals on to a better life, better for moms anyway.

Though I’ve got miles to go, I have come a far piece. I began this cleanup nearly three years ago. One of my daughters and I packed our bags and loaded a car with boxes of photos and took a weekend trip to the home of another daughter and spent a day and a night and a day doing a quick initial sort. When I returned home I kept at it. Every Monday afternoon I take a box of “scraps” down to my daughter’s house, where I can receive all the encouragement and sanity I need. Thanks to her gift for clear minded evaluation, decades of photos are almost in order, by year, in shoe boxes and ready to be scanned. All doubles and photos of trees in forests long forgotten have been thrown away. The digital age of being able to scan the photos and papers and then scrapbook on the computer may bless my life yet. Now I’m going through paper treasures I have saved for one of my sons. I don’t want to pass the mess on to him or his wife. His three boxes are becoming three orderly journals. We’ve actually had a great time skimming over our past. “By littles” my chaos is beginning to take shape. With the help of the Lord and His angels no mess is too big. No mess is too small.

I’ll never forget the first time I shared with someone just how compulsive I was with about saving treasures and what a mess I had created. I also shared with her what a crazy perfectionist I was with the use of my time. I showed her the schedule I had created for myself that frankly six Nannettes couldn’t possibly pull off. I thought my recovery friend was going to simply tell me that I was nuts, but she didn’t. She listened to me and then she said, “Nannette, you must be so precious to the Lord. I can see that you want to please Him with everything that’s in you.” I was really taken back by her comment. She was actually saying that some of my craziness has its roots in my compelling desire to do good—that the Lord knows our hearts. Knowing He loves me and understands me makes me want to “put God first” ahead of other treasures or desires, good as they may be, and allow Him to put all things in their proper place.

There is one thought that has given me courage to throw things away, and this is it. The Lord is a great keeper. All my life I have been taught that the Lord is a good forgetter. If I repent He remembers my sins “no more.” What a blessing! But, as a young mother there have been thousands of moments I wanted to somehow keep, somehow capture and never ever forget. Impossible! There is no way you can possibly capture all the good—I don’t care how good a photographer, videographer, journaler extraordinaire you are! It can’t be done. I have finally had to imagine that Heavenly Father and Jesus are also infinitely tender toward all the good—They are the first ones out with their camera snapping and videoing all the good. In fact they’ve got Heavenly technology we can’t even imagine, love for us we cannot even comprehend, and a great eye for keepsakes. If our Father in Heaven loves all His kids half as much I love the ones He lent to me, He’s chronicling not just our big milestones, but every precious step we take in the right direction. He’s like me. I’m depending on it! Anything that reminds Him of how much He treasures us is a treasure to Him.

By Nannette W. posted Wednesday, February 22, 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.

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.

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The Light at the End of the Tunnel – Steps 10, 11, and 12 The Maintenance Steps

Sunday I attended church with my children and their children. The service closed and before Carson could run off (I mean walk reverently) to Primary I grabbed him and gave him a big hug and asked him how he had enjoyed the Saturday excursion with his family to the zoo.

He reported that it had been fine and fun, “except for the part where I was walking through the prairie dog tunnel and I saw the light and thought I was out of the tunnel and stood up and hit my head on the top of the tunnel!”

Carson ran off to Primary. I thought about how many times in my journey through life I’ve seen the light at the end of the tunnel and thought I’d arrived. And what do I get for my anxious desire to be completely out of the dark? I get a bump on the head and a big reminder that the light I can see up ahead in this tunnel called “mortality” is God’s encouraging invitation for me to press forward in the dark, not a sign that I’ve arrived!

By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, May 18, 2009

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 “Sick Coat” – Maintaining What We Have Obtained – Steps 10-12

If you grew up with me and happened to have the flue, a fever, the measles, the mumps, or an earache you were given some very special attention in the form of two items of clothing. First, the earache hat, a little homemade flannel bonnet mom placed on our heads if we were suffering the pain of an ear infection. It helped us feel cozy. It felt like a little bonnet of loving care tied securely with a bow under the chin. It also secured the soothing warm drops of oil my mother placed in the effected ear using a little teaspoon and the bit of cotton in the tender ear.

The other piece of clothing we affectionately refer to as “the sick coat.” This was a little jacket with a Hawaiian print on the outside and a terrycloth lining. If one of us was feeling under the weather we got to wear the “sick coat.” Like the earache hat, the little jacket felt like instant tender loving care. I was the first child married with children of my own and I inherited both these treasures and carried on the tradition. As a mother I could see that the wearing of the “sick coat” sent more than a message of love. It was a sign to my child that he or she was in a condition where extra care was needed. It helped them resist the temptation to declare themselves “all better” too early.

It requires a great deal of tender care to continue to make progress in our spiritual health. It’s so tempting, especially when we begin to feel a little better, to stop taking care of ourselves spiritually and physically the way we need to. When I neglect my spiritual and physical care, just like the child who goes out to play too soon, my old symptoms return. The memory of the “sick coat” comes to my mind. In a sense living in recovery requires me to put on such a little jacket every day of my life. It reminds me that I am loved and it helps me remain aware that I am in a vulnerable condition diagnosed as mortality, where continuous care is needed.

By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, February 4, 2009

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 Foundation of All Aftercare – Step 1

Last year I accompanied my nephew, Jonathan, to the hospital and waited while he had surgery on the collarbone he broke playing Ultimate Frisbee the first week of the new semester at the university. When the surgery was complete the doctor came in, showed me the x-ray of his mended bone, which was now full of tiny little screws. Ouch! Then he chatted with me about the particulars of his recovery from surgery, his aftercare plan. He gave me detailed information and instructions. While recovering it was important for Jonathan to take seriously the reality of what his body had undergone and the healing that needed to take place.

As the doctor walked out of the room I had some time to think before they released my nephew from the recovery room. While I waited I thought about my own recovery and my own need for aftercare. So often in support meetings I hear people say they are back on Step 1. For me it’s still important to take Step 1 every day and sometimes multiple times a day. Even after 20 years of working to apply the 12 Steps and 97 pounds of recovery from compulsive eating I have to stay in tune with the correct answer to this question. By whose direction and power do you remain in recovery? It’s true that admitting our own powerlessness is the first step we take, but its also true that acknowledging my humble need for divine help continues to be critical to my aftercare.

It is good to remember that I am powerless. It’s OK to feel like I’m at risk, like my recovery isn’t all sewn up, like it’s tender and new, like I’m vulnerable. These feelings help me take seriously the reality of what I have undergone and the healing that needs to take place and continue to take place. These feelings keep me suiting up and showing up, and participating in all the activities that not only speed my progress along but also strengthen and deepen my recovery for the long haul.

I hope I always remember that I’m at risk. When I am in that frame of mind I am more likely to take Peter’s advise: “Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time: Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you” (1 Peter 5:6-7). When I keep in mind that I am in a state of recovering, that I need to heal, and that my condition is fragile I feel the greatest need and willingness to surrender my care to the Primary Care Physician, Jesus Christ.

By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, January 25, 2009

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.

“I Love You Jesus,” said little Nan…

Years ago, in a General Conference talk, President Monson shared the poem, “Which Loved Best?” It was timely for me, in the middle of raising my family. In those days I collected classic poems and helped my children memorize them as part of their home school curriculum. I remember listening to Elder Monson recite this poem, taking particular note of the message, and determining that it would be next up on the “poetry to teach” list.

Which Loved Best?

“I love you, mother,” said little John;
Then, forgetting his work, his cap went on,
And he was off to the garden swing,
Leaving his mother the wood to bring.

“I love you, mother,” said rosy Nell;
“I love you better than tongue can tell”;
Then she teased and pouted full half the day,
Till her mother rejoiced when she went to play.

“I love you, mother,” said little Fan;
“Today I’ll help you all I can.
How glad I am that school doesn’t keep!”
So she rocked the baby till it fell asleep.

Then, stepping softly, she took the broom,
And swept the floor, and dusted the room;
Busy and happy all day was she,
Helpful and cheerful as child could be.

“I love you, mother,” again they said—
Three little children going to bed;
How do you think that mother guessed
Which of them really loved her best?”
(Joy Allison, Highdays and Holidays, 133)

If you have children or if you’ve ever been a child I’m sure you can imagine my motivation in teaching this poem to my five, at home all day, mostly obedient, nearly constant companions. The big manipulation, I mean the big message, in my mind was, “Kids, if you really love me then be kind, be helpful, and be obedient all day long! If you really love me, show me!!!”

I’m not sure the poem proved to be successful manipulation or proper motivation. Later I ran across and studied a verse of scripture that helped me understand why. In D&C 42:29 the Lord said, “If thou lovest me thou shalt serve me and keep all of my commandments.”

I decided to look up the little word “shalt.” According the dictionary the word “shalt” is “used to express what seems inevitable or likely.” The verse might read, “If you love me [it is very likely or inevitable that you will] keep my commandments.” This thought came to my mind: “Nannette, God is not manipulating us here like a whiney mother saying: ‘If you really love me you would do the dishes; you would get up for church, etc.’ No! God is expressing the truth that the natural result of love for Him is obedience.”

Out of lack of patience and understanding am I guilty of putting the cart before the horse? Have I not understood the relationship between love and obedience in my relationship to my children or to the Lord? In both cases I have often focused on the look of love instead of the real thing.

Could it be that serving God and keeping His commandments will flow naturally out of my love for Him? Keeping or not keeping commandments is in fact an outward sign of my feelings for Him. So often I put all my focus and energy toward working on a particular commandment that is difficult for me. Maybe I would make more progress in obedience if I worked on my feelings for the Lord.

The next question is, “What can I do to help my love for God grow?” 1 John 4:19 says, “We love Him, because he first loved us,” John is saying that we love Jesus to the extent that we recognize His love for us. Conscious contact with His love for us yields love for Him, and love for Him yields obedience.

Lesson Learned: As I watch and pray to see the hand of the Lord in my life (evidence of His love for me) I receive the blessing of knowing that God loves me. I in turn feel love for God. The natural result of my love for God is my desire to serve Him and keep His commandments. My motivation becomes more pure. My actions become the expression of authentic love. “I Love You Jesus,” said little Nan…

By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right reserved.
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“Heavenly Father, Please Bless Us To Get Done!”

Our family room closet is the home of the toys that have been left behind by five children who have moved on in life and now have children of their own. The toys in this closet would not impress most of today’s kids. There is nothing electronic. A few toys in the closet included batteries the Christmas they came to live at our house. We weren’t very good about replacing them, especially if the toy was particularly annoying, so these potentially moving speaking playthings have been still and quiet for many years now. It’s easy to tell which decade in which these five children were raised. The Star Wars box only contains memories of the very first adventure ever told. The doll box has and a Strawberry Short Cake and a Blueberry Pie Man. There are baskets full of puzzles, many with a missing piece or two, that kept five children quiet and busy many a Conference Sunday in front of the TV. But, these old things seem to represent some kind of treasure to the “grands.” They must think the very idea that Grandma and Grandpa owned any toys is quite remarkable.

One of the premium toys in the closet is an old wooden box full of Legos. The box was actually built by a neighbor to store the collection of Legos from my childhood with five brothers. Now the box is clear full of Legos collected over 30 years of raising my own kids. There’s nothing special or thematic or up to date about this collection, but when the grandkids arrive, the Lego box is nearly always the first thing to come out. Before the children leave Grandma’s house the deal is that all the toys have to be put away. The big exception to the rule seems to be the ship seven-year-old Ethan has constructed out of Legos last year. After everything else is put away Ethan’s ship still sits on the counter. After he goes home I tuck it behind something so things look all tidied up.

Yesterday morning Ethan was spending time at our house. “I think I’ll work on my ship Grandma.”

“Ethan, I wondered the other day if your ship was done.”

“Oh no, Grandma! I don’t think it will ever be done,” he explained. “You can always change where a Lego goes to make the ship look better!”

Never be done! Now that’s a very gown up concept. It’s one I am still working on myself. It is a great challenge to see myself, and all the aspects of my life, as a work in progress. I have always put great stock in things being finished, over, caught up, complete, done! I tried to pass this bit of compulsion on to my kids too. I’m not too proud of that. When they were little, a prayer they often prayed was, “Heavenly Father, please bless us to get done today.” I have made some progress over the years. I think the first thing I accepted was that I was never going to finish the laundry or the dusting.

Many of us come to the 12 Steps of recovery hoping that we can work to a point of graduation, hoping that we can somehow be finished someday. If you ask anyone with years of experience, years of application, and years of sobriety if they are done, their response will be much like Ethan’s. “Oh no, Grandma! I don’t think it will ever be done. You can always change where a Lego goes to make the ship look better!” In the Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book it speaks of progress being the goal, not perfection. Those living in recovery have accepted the truth that improvement can always be made. No one comes to the end. There is no finish line when it comes to applying these 12 gospel principles to our lives.

In my family room there is also a little cupboard with glass doors where we but “special stuff” like really old books that might be worth something or knickknacks collected on vacations. When Ethan left yesterday I put his ship on a shelf in the glass cupboard. I want to remember the message I got from Ethan about the importance of accepting the incomplete nature of things. I also want to remember the smile on his face and the excitement in his voice. He finds real joy in the fact that a little improvement can always be made. I like that. I want to feel like that too!

By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, October 22, 2008

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.