Struggling? Don’t Abandon Your Resolution—Check Your Motivation!

I can do this!  Do it for the clothes—the skinny jeans, the juniors section of Kohls, shopping on the right side of the Dress Barn.  Do it for the concerned people in my life—my husband, my mother, my kids…think of the kids.  Then there’s my doctor. I could do it for him, for my heart, my knees, my family history of heart attacks and diabetes. Now that’s motivation!  Do it so I’ll look great for my daughter’s wedding, my son’s homecoming, for my class reunion. Do it in time for the holidays, the 4^th year hike, and the four day cruise. I know!—I’ll show Heavenly Father I can do it.  He’ll be so proud of me! Do it to show them—myself, the world, my skinny little neighbor. I’ll show them it can be done and that I’m the one who can do it. Buy a new planner. Turn over a new leaf. This time it’s going to happen. Yes!

As I sit at my computer this wintery morning I remember how many of my New Year’s Day entries in my brand-new journal start out with this kind of bravado—literally decades of bold fresh starts–and tears come to my eyes.  It wasn’t that I lacked motivation before recovery.  What I didn’t have was the right motivation.

Then, one day while studying the scriptures I learned something important. In the Book of Mormon I came to a verse which explained why the repentant, living-in-recovery, Sons of Mosiah adopted the religions practice of fasting.

Alma 17:9 says, “And it came to pass that they journeyed many days in the wilderness, and they fasted much…

“Fasted much!” That got my attention.  I had recently discovered the 12 steps of recovery and had been introduced to the concept of abstinence. Having practiced “first Sunday” and “when in great need” fasting since my childhood, I had already seen some correlation between abstinence and fasting. As a compulsive eater with many years of practice grazing my way through the day I was becoming keenly aware that recovery was going to require some measure of fasting between meals.

I read a little more, hoping to learn something from people who seemed to know how to abstain. I read on but didn’t get too far:

“…and they fasted much and prayed much that…”

The next word to get my attention was the little inconspicuous word “that.”  “…and they fasted much and prayed much that…” This verse was about to help me understand why these folks fasted—and perhaps why I should abstain! I was quite sure that none of the possible reasons mentioned in my first paragraph were going to appear in this scripture.  I read on:

“…and they fasted much and prayed much that the Lord would grant unto them a portion of his Spirit to go with them, and abide with them,…”

These former rebellious fellows were motivated by their desire to have the Spirit with them on the trail—abiding with them—living with them twenty-four seven. Wow! That’s quite the lofty motivation. The verse continues with one more reason to go without:

“…that they might be an instrument in the hands of God to bring, if it were possible, their brethren, the Lamanites, to the knowledge of the truth…”

So, they also fasted because they wanted to help other people understand the true gospel the way they had come to understand it, and they knew they would need help from the Lord.

This verse was their answer to anyone who might ask them why they fasted so much.  Can you imagine giving this same answer to someone who asks you why you aren’t going to go to this or that award winning R rated movie; why you cut up all your credit cards; why you don’t snack between meals; why you refused to leave the doctor’s office with a prescription for pain meds; why there are so many channels blocked on your TV; or if you’re really going to eat that whole salad; or going to refuse just one drink, one cookie, one look?

Imagine saying, “I live this way because I am seeking the abiding presence and communication with the Holy Spirit and the power and direction to help others find and understand the truth.”

Now that’s motivation!  It’s the kind of desire that invites the enabling power of God to bless our fast, our abstinence. Whether others question why or not, and whether I ever answer aloud or not, today I know in my heart that the desire of these young men must become my desire.  Continual or what we call “back to back abstinence” is “much fasting.” The power to fast requires powerful motivation. Powerful motivation brings us to the One with the power.

Even knowing this, I sometimes lose sight of my reason for abstaining from harmful addictive substances and behaviors.  I frankly forget. I know I’m not the only one with a broken “rememberer.”  Over the years I have heard many people in relapse share that in the moment just before they “picked up,” they couldn’t think of one good reason to stay clean.

Lesser motivations seem to always be waiting in the wings. It’s so easy to slip back into being motivated by good people and pretty good things—even inspiring things—things however that are never powerful enough to inspire me toward steady day-in and day-out sober thinking and sober eating. My experience is that lesser motivations bring temporary results.

Addiction is a powerful force.  There is not an event important enough, a new outfit darling enough, the smiling approval from family members encouraging enough, or a pat on the back from my doctor affirming enough to empower me to fight off tremendous cravings, unyielding social pressure, and the temptations of the devil.

When I dedicate my abstinence, my sacrifice, to my desire to live in company with the Lord and my need for His powerful assistance, He truly does do for me what I have never been able to do for myself.  He blesses me with the ability to “fast much.” When my motives are right, my Savior responds.

So did you make some resolutions this year? Are you struggling on this midwinter day? Is your commitment to abstinence wavering? Don’t abandon your resolution. Check your motivation.

By Nannette W.

Posted Saturday, January 26, 2013

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.

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.

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.

Point of Choice – Step 11 Personal Revelation

I want to wake up early and spend time with the Lord before I spend the day with His siblings.  I’ve struggled with this desire my whole adult life.  I like the idea of “early up” when I’m “up,” but many a morning I battle against “early up” ‘because I’m “down” snuggled in my covers.  This morning my internal alarm went off just before the “early up” alarm on the dresser, the one I often ignore except for the few seconds it takes to turn it off and return to my pillow.

This time was different though—“This is the Point of Choice, Nannette”—In the haze between sleep and wake these words lit up my mind and could not be ignored—The Point of Choice.

So here I am in the wee hours of the morning with time to spend with God.  My pen, my notebook,  a little “Jenny Oaks Baker” playing ever so quietly, and my Book of Mormon and a few other things I like to study, all smiling at me like children knowing they are going to receive a little quality time today.

Point of choice—I bet there’s a point of choice when it comes to any good the Lord would have us do.  It doesn’t have to be “early up.”  Everyone doesn’t feel the call to rise at the crack of dawn, but I imagine that for all of us there is a call to do something that we have met with resistance.  The point of choice is just that moment in time when we can, if we will, choose to figuratively throw off the covers and put our feet on the floor and switch on the light.  It’s a single choice—something simple that sets in motion some good work the Lord wants to do in us and through us.  It’s the next right thing. It’s a barely measurable point in time when, with a single small act, the Lord can make the most of our time.

There must be hundreds of points of choice every day, and if well cared for these little choices bring a little more health, a little more love, a little more service, or rest, or peace of mind, a little step in the right direction in any area of life.

The Point of Choice—Something worth watching for today!

By Nannette W.  Posted Tuesday, November 15, 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.

Fellowship with a Capital "F"

Today I would like to share about Fellowship, “Association between individuals especially on pleasant or intimate terms. Synonyms: company, companionship, society” (see Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

Fellowship in recovery is critical.Giving individual support, receiving personal support, attending meetings, reaching out on the telephone, giving service, and seeking ecclesiastical and family support; these are all effective ways of building a foundation of fellowship as we strive to abstain from the harmful substances and behaviors that threaten us. Every one of these avenues for fellowship is part of my everyday life in recovery. However, I have found another source of fellowship that is unlike any of the things I just listed.This fellowship is different because I can enjoy it any time, night or day.I can experience it in a crowd or in the quiet of my own solitary company, in my pajamas, my jeans, or my Sunday best, in my car or lying on my pillow.It is fellowship with the Lord through His Holy Spirit. In every recovery meeting I have ever attended one or more participants mention that they come to the meeting to feel the Spirit. I hope they understand that the Spirit they feel is not limited to the meeting they are sitting in, that the same Spirit they are feeling in the rooms of recovery can leave with them, strengthen them against temptation, and give them the comfort they seek all day and all night long. This is Fellowship with a capital “F.”

By Nannette W.

Posted Wednesday, August 10, 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.

Sabbath Dance

It’s one of those chilly gray February mornings. I wake up and look outside and wonder why I was so anxious to take the tree down and get all those cheery lights and decorations into the boxes and back into the garage. During the wee hours of Sunday morning new snow has been added to the glacier spread out across the front yard of our home. We face the North Pole and for the first several months of every new year it looks like Narnia, “Where it is always winter and never Christmas.”

I’m a streak of dismal brown as I dash into the church and slide on to one end of a long empty bench: brown skirt, brown sweater, brown boots. I throw my coat down to save a spot for my daughter and her family.

Before the downbeat of the opening song, across the bench scoots my 2 year old granddaughter, Esther. Her daddy slips off her coat. Esther has no idea it’s the bleak midwinter. At her insistence Esther is wearing a butter-cream yellow dress with a pale pink sash, embroidered flowers at the hem, a pink gathered underskirt, and capped sleeves. Her bright blue eyes meet mine (brown, of course, to match my outfit). She shakes her little crown of yellow curls and whispers loudly in my direction, “Grandma, it’s a party dress!”

The next part of the meeting proceeds in a fairly conventional way. Esther sits on daddy’s lap while mommy takes fussy baby sister to the foyer. A library book comes out of the large “Sunday go to church and meet any emergency” bag. Mommy returns. Daddy takes fussy baby sister out. You’ve got the picture. The first speaker concludes. One of the young men checks the tuning on his cello, and the choir and cello perform “I Need Thee Every Hour.”

It was truly beautiful; however the loveliest thing to me was not what was happening in the choir loft in front of me, but what was happening in the little space beside me. At the sound of the music the little “party dress” girl lifts her baby soft ivory arms into the air and with her feet on the ground, in the tiny space between our bench and the next, she dances. Without a sound she sways and she twirls, and at the final “I come unto Thee,” she lowers her ballerina arms and says, not in a polite whisper and to no one inparticular, “That was beautiful!”

That was beautiful, Esther. I don’t suppose we can help growing older and ever so practical. I pull on either my black or my brown boots every Sunday from Thanksgiving to Easter and I don’t know when I last wore my party dress to church. I know I’ve never danced in the chapel and I’m not going to recommend it either. But Esther, on Sunday you reminded me of something wonderful. It was as if you were saying, “Grandma, the Sabbath is a celebration. Think of it as your “New-Birth-Day” party. And Grandma, you may be too old and too big to dance between the benches, but because of Jesus and what he has done and what He is doing in your life and your heart, your spirit can dance and dance and dance for joy from one end of the Sabbath to the other!

By Nannette W., Posted Tuesday, March 7, 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.

The Chocolate Chip Cookie Minus the Chips

Disclaimer: If the struggle that brings you to this Blog is compulsive eating, as mine is, please know that the cookie in the starring role is symbolic and is in no way meant to be a trigger. Please do not use this as an excuse to start baking. If you think this will be a problem read no further.

The Chocolate Chip Cookie Minus the Chips

There’s an old classic movie starring the late President of the USA, Ronald Reagan, called “Bedtime for Bonzo.” Bonzo is an unruly, very bright chimpanzee living with a scientist and a foster mother. Their objective is to use modern child rearing techniques in raising Bonzo and prove that nurture is more powerful than nature.

When I was in the middle of motherhood I used the title of the movie to add a little levity to that time of day when kids seem to wind up and moms want to wind down. At dusk I’d scoop my own little chimp (of the pre-school variety) into my arms and say with authority, “It’s bedtime for Bonzo!” Those were words that conveyed to the child that the awake part of their day was very close to being over and that the bedtime routine was about to begin – the toothbrush, the potty, a little Dr. Seuss, a bit of scripture, a prayer, and the final seal on the deal, a small drink of water.

I have presently worked myself out of a job and my children have worked themselves into one. Enforcing “Bedtime for Bonzo” is no longer my work, but sometimes I get a play by play report from one of my children. The following is a bedtime account with a message.

“Gracie, it’s time to come in!” calls my daughter out the back door.

Gracie walks through the French door with a smile on her face.

“Time to go upstairs and get ready for bed,” says Mommy.

“Can I have a goodnight snack?” counters Gracie hopefully.

“Sure, do you want a cookie?”

Then Gracie gets a bit particular. “I want a chocolate chip cookie,” she says with a “that’s the only thing I’ll accept,” look in her eyes.

“Well, that’s good cuz that’s what we’ve got,” responds Mommy as she reaches her hand into the Ziploc bag, picks up a cookie, and hands it to Gracie.

With the cookie in hand Gracie takes one glance and says with redheaded, three year old intensity, “I want a chocolate chip cookie!!!”

Gracie’s mommy reports, “Just as I was trying to turn the cookie over and show her that 10-15 chocolate chips had settled and were visible from the bottom, she broke the cookie in half and in dramatic frustration threw it across the room crying, “It doesn’t have any chocolate chips!

With that my daughter scooped up her little Bonzo and headed toward bed.

Gracie’s mom and I had a good laugh as she rehearsed this incident. Making chocolate chip cookies is not rocket science and neither is the message in this story. All I have to do is cast the Lord in the parent role and myself as the demanding three year old. I know there have been many times when the Lord has delivered to me just what I requested. But I have to wonder how many times I’ve seen His perfect gift as a chocolate chip cookie minus the chocolate chips and with impatience and suspicion hastily discarded it with an angry flare and the unspoken thought, “I knew He wouldn’t give me what I wanted!”

I’ll never know how many divine gifts I’ve recklessly rejected. Like Gracie, I imagine the Lord picks my belligerent self up in his arms and takes me to my room for a little time out with a “Sorry, no snack for you tonight!”

The Lord knows our tendency to doubt His goodness. He tries to reassure us with these words:

“And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? Or if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?” (Luke 11:9-13)

In recovery we come to know that we have a Savior who can be trusted. His joy is to bless us with exactly the thing we need most. Today I practice trusting that what the Lord sends my way this very hour is for the best, my best. He wants me to take a good hard look at the thing in question until I find the good part, the part that might not be visible at first glance, the part that lies beneath the surface and sometimes well beneath. I’m not perfect at living continually in this frame of mind, but I am making progress. The times when I throw the cookie across the room are getting to be fewer and farther between.

James testified that, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning”(James 1:17).

It’s a powerful, joyful, “Christmas every-day” thing to live in anticipation of the Lord’s generosity. So my friends, turn that cookie over. Pray for eyes to see. Look at it from every angle. The Lord doesn’t want you to miss out on single chocolate chip!

By Nannette W. Posted Tuesday, September 14, 2010

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.

PS This post is a bit of a landmark for me. It’s my 200th post. I want to thank you all for reading and for your kind comments. They fuel the fire that keeps me writing. Some of you I may never have the opportunity to meet. Please know that my prayers are with all of you. I know that the Lord is aware of each of you individually. I know that He loves you and will bless you in whatever challenges you face. My prayer is that the gospel principles that each of these thoughts represent will impact your lives for good.

“Help” – Step 11 and Prayer

At my coxing Esther wiggled out of her mother’s arms and crawled over her daddy’s legs onto my lap. She soon recognized that her Grandma was ill prepared with the standard equipment traditionally used for entertaining toddlers during Sacrament Meeting, ie. Cheerios, Sippy Cup, board books etc.

I quickly inventoried the contents of my empty-nester church bag for anything that might possibly capture her attention. I put a squeeze of lotion onto her baby girl palm and rubbed her hands together. Next I used a few pages in my steno pad/journal and to the best of my pitiful ability drew simple familiar objects for her which she practiced recognizing: tree, flower, house, cat, ice cream, and truck. That was the extent of what my purse had to offer and the benediction was not in sight.

With resources running out and wanting to enjoy her company as long as possible I remembered I was wearing my missionary badge. This badge is attached to my Sunday clothes and held in place with set of magnet. I removed it from my blazer and succeeded in fascinating her with the magic of the two magnets. I placed the badge along with the second magnet in her little hand. For a few minutes she was quite captivated. She pulled the magnets apart and then observed the mystery of having them snap back together. Then the fun came to an end. The magnets snapped together in such a way that it was impossible for her to use her little fingers to pull them apart.

I was sure she would soon break into a toddler tantrum. Time for Grandma to help! She was sitting face forward in my lap, and before I made my move to rescue her from frustration she turned her little head so her blue eyes met mine. “Help” she simply said in the most peaceful trusting voice I have ever heard.

I have many times been taken aback by the over the top response of a child to a simple frustration. The sound of the wining that escalates into an outright inconsolable uncontrollable tantrum (theirs and mine) seems to linger and sometimes cloud the atmosphere of the home long after the problem is resolved. When my grown kids and I sit around on a Sunday night and reminisce, these loud, intense, crazy moments in our past are easily remembered.

Curiously I don’t know if I will ever forget Esther’s pure, trusting, simple request for help that day in church. It made a striking impression on my mind and on my heart. I leaned back on the bench and thought about how difficult it is to help a child who is beyond help. They become so worked up over their need and so very sure they aren’t going to receive help fast enough or maybe not at all, that they couldn’t recognize it if the National Guard showed up to solve their problem.

I’ve been that child at times in relation to my earthly parents and to my Heavenly Father, so over wrought, and so overcharged that I am emotionally, physically, intellectually, and spiritually incapable of receiving assistance.

Esther’s humble and faith-filled rendering of the word “help” still hangs in the air over my conscience. Her calm voice was evidence that she had absolutely no doubt about my willingness and ability to help her.

Now, I recognize that earth life is full of some very serious challenges. I do not fault myself or any one else for feeling the pain and the desperate need and the insecurity that comes naturally with the grave trials and struggles we are called to experience as we walk “through the valley of the shadow of death” so to speak. Crying out to the Lord for help certainly has its place.

On the other hand, I find myself facing countless frustrations, problems, and struggles every day that vary in degree of seriousness. Today I want to keep in mind that the Lord is willing and capable of helping me with anything, and I mean ANYTHING large or small. I want to remember Esther’s blue eyes looking with complete trust into mine. I want to remember how she simply and quietly spoke the word “Help” knowing I was not across the universe or even across the room. I was right there by her. I was holding her. And so it is with God. He hears me and He responds.

Sometimes a simple, trusting “Help” is many times more effective than the cry for “Help” followed by hundreds of exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!………………………….

By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, May 8, 2010.

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.

Phone Mail Treasure, More Than Please and Thank You – Prayer

My mother recorded a prayer I said independent of her prompting when I was two and a half. These were my words, “We thank Thee for this nice family night and for the gospel and for the Holy Spirit with us and for the good in our hearts, the smiles in our hearts, and that I’ll get better, and for my friends. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

One of the earliest things we are introduced to is prayer. We first learn by listening to the prayers offered over the food, family prayer, and the prayers offered each week at church. We also learn about prayer by practicing as our mothers, fathers and teachers whisper prayerful words in our ear, which we repeat as best we can.

It’s important to grow in our ability to communicate with God. By the time I was a teenager I think I had actually digressed. Prayer became something I did because I was supposed to and not because I was really trying to communicate openly and honestly with my Father. My prayers became same-ish, the kind of prayer referred to as a “parrot prayer” in old Family Home Evening Lessons. I was bored and I was sure Heavenly Father was bored. In addition I had not been successful at being “perfect” so I was sure I was not only dull but I was also a disappointment to Him.

My little sister and I shared a double bed until I went to college. I remember some nights lying there in the darkness saying to her with great older sister authority, “Did you say your prayers?” “Oh no,” she would innocently admit. “I forgot.” Then she would kneel up in bed and pray while I stared face up toward the ceiling barrier between God and me, having no intention of “saying my prays”.

In order to survive adulthood of necessity I’ve had to take a good strong look at my prayer life. In the early days of recovery from compulsive addictive behavior I remember having a prayer with a sponsor or support person, a convert to the Church. At the close of my prayer she said, “Oh, you pray like all the rest, like you’re not really talking to someone.” She proceeded to teach me that in order to really connect with the Lord she had to be free to go outside the “thank you” and “please bless” box and express herself openly, honestly, and with great candor to the Lord. Today as I pray I practice believing that He loves me, that it gives Him great joy to hear from me, that He knows me, that He wants to help me, and that He has power to assist me with anything that’s disturbing me, big or small. I try to pray without perfectionism knowing that He is perfect and I am not. And it’s embarrassing to admit, but even today it’s easy for me to slip back into my same old thoughtless prayer patterns.

I’m still learning to pray, and once again the Lord has used the voice of children to instruct me. Over the past few months I’ve received many calls from my grandchildren. Sometimes I’m not at home to receive the calls so they have learned to leave me a phone message. I love these little communications so much that it’s hard for me to erase them. Recently I’ve been saving them so I can listen more than once to their little bits of communication. There are actually getting to be so many of them I’m in danger of running out of space on my answering machine and it won’t be many more day before I have to go through and push the delete button.

One day while I was listening to a new message from one of ‘the grands” I felt instructed by the Lord. “Nannette” the thought came, “Communication with me can and should be more than ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Just as you value all of the varying phone messages your grandchildren choose to leave for you I treasure the great variety of things you might want to communicate to me.”

I immediately pushed the play button on the answering machine and began to listen. This is what I heard and what I learned:

Sammy Age 5 – “Hello Grandma and Grandpa. This is me, Sammy. Were on the mountain right now, walking down it. Were looking at the sunset. It’s so beautiful! And Grandma Bye Bye.” – The Lord wants us to express the joy we find in the view as we hike up and down the mountains of life.

Gracie age 2 – “Grandma, got “poopies.” Then repeating after her mom, she says, “I went poopies on the potty. Yea Gracie! Bye Bye.”– The Lord wants us to fill Him in on our progress no matter how indelicate the subject matter.

TJ Age 4 and Madeline Age 6 – “Hi Grandma. Happy Birthday yesterday,” TJ says enthusiastically. “Ya… Happy Birthday yesterday,” Madeline concurs. “We’re going to sing you a song” The whole family then chimes in together. “Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you etc….” Then came TJ coda: “We love you love you love you. We love you love you thank you.” – The Lord always appreciates it when we celebrate Him.

Carson Age 5 – “Hi! This is Carson. I just wanted to say that I lost my first tooth, so give me a call. Bye.” The Lord wants to hear about all the firsts, all of the milestones in our lives.

Eliza Age 11 – “ Hi Grandma, I’m calling to invite you to a special Activity Day at the church where we’re all inviting our Grandmas. We’re going to have dinner and play a game. Can you come?” – The Lord loves to be invited along wherever we go.

Matthew, Jack and Esther Age 1 – These little one’s leave messages with the aid of their mothers that sound like this one:
“Say, ‘Hello, Hello.’”
“Say, ‘Hi, I love you Grandma.”
“Say, ‘Grandma.’”
“Say, ‘Hello.’”
“Say, ‘I love you.’”
“Say, ‘Miss you.’”
“Say, ‘Bye.’”
“Say, ‘Happy, sleepy, doggy, bird, tree.’”
“Say, ‘Bye Love you.’”
Following each prompt from the mom came the sweet voice of a baby learning to put sounds and meaning together for communication. I love to hear the sound of their voices. I think the Lord loves the sound of our individual voices. I believe He loves to hear from us even when all we can manage to voice is His name.

Carson Age 5 – For Carson’s Birthday I bought him two new big puzzles with themes I thought he would enjoy (Cars and Curious George). I’m not sure what he was expecting, but to his mother’s dismay his response to the gift was less that enthusiastic. Later I received this message on my machine. “Sorry Grandma that I was being such a twit and I did that puzzle and it’s really big but not bigger than me. Thank you. Bye. Give me a call.” – The Lord needs to hear that we recognize it when we’ve been less than appreciative.

Ethan Age 8 – After Church and before the Sunday family dinner I pushed the play button and heard, “Grandma, this is Ethan. We’re going to tithing settlement and choir practice at 4:00 and then my mom will come home and turn the beans on to heat so I don’t know what time we’ll be there. We might be there at 5:30 and not 5:00…just so if there’s a problem call my dad’s cell phone.” – The Lord loves to hear what we have planned.

Carson Age 5 – “Hi Grandma. This is Carson. I just wanted to read you a story and its really funny…so bye…give me a call.” – The Lord has a sense of humor. He likes to have us share things in life that bring a smile and a chuckle, the things that bring us joy.

My mother tells another story about my early prayer life. I was not quite three years old. She was kneeling next to me listening as I prayed before jumping into bed. We had just moved into a very small house my parents affectionately referred to as “the Chalet.” Apparently we were not quite settled in. Perhaps I had heard my parents discussing the “how to’s” of moving their family of four, with a third baby on the way, into such small quarters. In the middle of the prayer mother says I started sharing with Heavenly Father in great detail exactly how we were going to arrange various pieces of furniture and household items in the tiny space so that everything would fit.

As I went on and on my mother, who had her eyes closed, says that the way I was speaking to Heavenly Father was so real, so authentic, that she knew if she opened up her eyes she would see Him standing in the room, taking in with great interest all that I was sharing. She remembers that at the conclusion of the prayer I said with great expectation, “Good idea Heavenly Father?” There was apparently no doubt in my mind that He was there and that He was interested in the details of my little girl life.

Tonight when I kneel to pray I want to be as real with my Heavenly Father as I was back then. I think I’ll imagine that my communications to Him are so precious that they are filling up all the endless space in His phone mail and He just can stand the idea of pushing the delete button and never will.

By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, March 7, 2010.

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