A Parent's Worst Nightmare

I've never done this before, but I want to repost a blog that I read tonight. It really touched me and gave me a different perspective.

~Brandi

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A Parent's Worst Nightmare: "

Recently, I had an experience that made my heart pound like it did at my first dance. I sweated icy-cold buckets and my stomach cold have earned the knot-tying merit badge.

My three-year old was lost.

It was Sunday after our stake conference. It had been a busy weekend full of meetings--inspirational but tiring. Our visiting authority from the Quorum of the Seventy had emphasized missionary work. An apostle visiting our stake the week before had emphasized the same thing. I listened and promised myself that I would do better at sharing the gospel.

But for the moment, we were having a relaxing lunch with friends at the stake center. While the adults talked, the children ran through the stake center and played hide-and-seek (reverently, of course).

After a pleasant afternoon, we decided it was time to leave. We called the kids and they came: one, two, three, four....wait. Where's the three-year old?

I began to feel uneasy. We started to look for him. A quick canvass of the irregular halls of our very large stake center yielded nothing. I began to worry. The doors of the building were all unlocked and we're not far away from a major thoroughfare. We've also been warned that there is a registered sex offender living in the neighborhood.

I started running from room to room, and the rest of the family joined me. We yelled and yelled but there was no answer.

I started to panic. I was terrified that my son was gone, that he would not return to me. The primal fear and anguish that gripped me is beyond words, but if you're a parent you understand.

We finally found him. He had hidden under the piano in the Relief Society Room and fallen asleep. I said grateful prayers on the way home.

This got me thinking about missionary work. I've never been very good at it. I served a mission and worked hard, but I haven't been valiant or even mediocre in sharing it with my friends and neighbors since then.

In those distressing moments I had an epiphany. I've known my child for only three years. but I love him to the full extent of my flawed mortal capacity. If, heaven forbid, anything should ever happen to him, our temple covenants promise an eternity together.

So, if the thought of him not returning distressed me, what kind of grief must that same thought cause our Father--a being who has loved us perfectly for longer than we can comprehend? How must he feel when he considers the thought of His children being lost and not returning--being separated forever?

I have a lot of work to do.

Braden Bell and his wife have five children. Braden's book, The Road Show was released in June. He blogs at bradenbell.com.

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Random Musings

Today’s Random Musings

š  If you ever vow to have a more positive attitude, be prepared. Your resolve will soon be greatly tested.

š  My daughter (as with all little children) has an amazing gift. After being away from me for a few minutes or perhaps a few hours, when I enter the room, acts as though she has waited for that moment her entire little life. She is so excited to see me that I can’t keep from smiling, and the room seems suddenly lighter. It chases away the rain clouds and makes me feel truly special and loved. What happens to that gift? Can we get it back? What a wonderful gift to share with someone you love. I want to be able to make people feel as happy as she makes me feel in that moment—as though I have been reunited with a part of myself that was missing.

š  “When it rains, it pours.” “Bad things come in threes.” “It’s Murphy’s Law.” “Wish in one hand and . . . (nevermind).” These are all terrible clichés that passed through my mind today. But what makes them cliché? Do they indicate a lack of creativity, or are they just so true that they have become timeless? Are they overused, or could it be that life really DOES give you lemons THAT often?

š  I truly love technology—except when it doesn’t work. Am I too reliant on technology? Am I pointing and clicking my life away? I get teased about my gadgets and how I spend so much time playing with my phone. But to my credit, I saw a man today at a buffet with a Blackberry in one hand and his salad plate in the other. He would set the plate down on the buffet table and put food on it. Never letting go of his Crackberry. As he moved from item to item, he would read the Crackberry screen. I am completely capable of putting my phone down in order to focus on food, so I think I am still safe. . . On the other hand, maybe I need to focus on putting the food down…..Naaaaah. That’s a topic for a different blog!

š  I truly am grateful for my trials. They help me grow. And when I mess it all up and get it all wrong, it’s okay. I know there’s another trial right around the corner, and I’ll get another chance to do better.

Terrible Twos?

I went shopping the other day at Kohl's. I need back to work clothes because mine are all worn out, and I have gained more weight, depressingly enough.
So I took Grace on a rainy morning at 9:00am thinking she would do well because it was WAY before nap time. She did okay in the kiddie seat in the cart, and then I let her out of the seat in the big dressing room where she threw all of the clothes on the floor one by one. It's okay. I expected it, and at least she was happy.

When I put her BACK in the kiddie seat in the cart, however, everything changed. She was so angry. She started screaming and crying because she did NOT want to be in that seat. However, there is no way I can let her walk in that store. The clothing racks are way too crowded. I would lose her in a heartbeat.

So, I trudged back through the clothing section getting different sizes of the items that I liked and headed back to try them on one more time. All the while she is crying and arching her back.

When I got in the dressing room and took her out, she was fine again (of course).

When I put her back in the seat, same story as the last time.

I hurried to the shoe section because she needs some new shoes. Her one pair of tennis shoes is falling apart. She was screaming and crying the whole way. All along the way I got "those" looks from people. Most women looked at me with understanding and pity in their eyes with the "I've been there" look. However, there were some who looked at me like, "What are you doing to that kid? Can't you get her to shut up??" I just smiled apologetically at them and bit my tongue. One day though---one day--I'm not going to be able to bite my tongue. I'm going to look them straight in their accusing eyes and ask them, "What do you want? Would you rather me let her out of the cart and let her run around and tear everything off the shelves and disappear so you can shake your head and accuse me of not watching my kids? OR would you rather I keep her in the cart where she is safe and let her cry? What is your problem?"

Of course, I'll probably never have the guts to say that to someone out loud in real life, but the thought of it gives me great satisfaction. Who knows, maybe they'll catch me on a particularly sleep-deprived day, and then maybe things will get interesting.

The icing on the cake was upon exiting the store. (Or trying to at least.) Here I have a ginormous bag of clothes hanging on one arm and cutting off the circulation. In that hand I have a gold umbrella because it is raining pretty steadily now. With the other hand I'm trying to grab my 20 month old as she runs away from me to go on a "shopping" spree. I finally grab her hand, and then it happens. You know when all of their bones suddenly turn to jello and they have no muscle tone at all to hold their body up? She is a huddled mass on the floor screaming and crying big crocodile tears. Well, I couldn't figure out how to pick her up and hold everything else without dropping her, so I displayed my excellent parenting skills. I reached down and grabbed her arm right by her armpit and pulled her rubbery body up and began to drag her out the door with her kicking her feet for all she was worth.

Just then a lady walked up behind me to exit the building. "Aw. Poor thing. How old is she?" And she just stood there and looked at us. Me with a load too wide to make it through the door and no free hand to open it. Did she offer to open the door for me? No. Just stood there shaking her head piteously.

"Well, if you OPEN THE DOOR for me than I might tell you!!" I screamed.

Okay, I didn't really scream that. Out loud. I did scream it in my head though. Instead, I kicked the door open, dragged my bag, umbrella, and kicking-screaming-limp-noodle daughter through the opening, and said through clenched teeth, "20 months."

The lady followed me through the door I had opened for her.

We were now standing in the foyer between the two sets of doors, and she continued to talk to me. "Oh, I remember when my daughter was that age. She started behaving like that too. Poor baby. Or should I say, poor mommy!" She was chuckling.

I on the other hand was struggling to keep the huge bag of clothes on my arm, to not drop the umbrella, and to humanely drag my screaming daughter out the door. The closed door.

The lady stood there. Again. Not even hinting at opening the door for me. So, again. I kick the door open, and through the door we struggle--into the rain. Now I have to get the umbrella open one-handed and get all of us to the car without getting completely soaked.

Finally I reached down, put Grace under my arm and "carried" her all the way to the car kicking and screaming.

Once we were at the car I set her down, and guess what? The screaming and crying stopped. Just. Like. That. She stood there in the rain waiting patiently for me to open the door and put her in her seat.

I have to say that we went straight home for lunch and a NAP--for both of us! Ha!

And if I am ever out in public and see a parent struggling with a screaming kid, I think that I will at least open the door for them.

A spider's thread

Trust,

a spider’s thread

spun from petal’s edge.

Hope,

the dew that lingers there.

And with the heat of morning’s sun

leaves naught but

dissolution.

Photo source: http://goo.gl/H3Z7

Teaching the Little Ones

I'm grateful today for visiting teachers who teach by the Spirit. When they shared the monthly message with me and encouraged me to read scriptures and pray with my 16 month old and teach her the Gospel, I wasn't sure she was old enough to understand. We talked about the teachings that children are never too young to feel the Spirit and learn of Christ's love for them.

I kept it in the back of my mind but was a little lazy in changing my before-bed routine. Adding scripture and prayers with a 16 month old seemed like it would be adding quite a bit of time to the process, and I still wasn't convinced it was going to work.

One of the main reasons I procrastinated was that I didn't know how to go about it. I know it sounds silly, but something so simple seemed mysterious to me. I have seen families pray with their children, but they kids were always older (at least some of them), and I have experience teaching children 3 years old and up. I felt unprepared. How would I begin? How would I keep her in one place?

Well, I finally decided to just start a new routine. I consoled myself by thinking that at least she is too little to remember if I am awkward and don't know what I am doing. After bath and p.j. time, we headed to her room with scriptures in hand. I don't have any of the cutesy-fruitsy books with kid-friendly Book of Mormon stories and pictures of Jesus like the super-moms at church. (Note to self: You need to get more cutesy-fruitsy stuff!--But first you gotta figure out where in the world they get it from!)

I thought a picture of Christ would help a little, so I grabbed a missionary pamphlet about the restoration with a portrait of Christ on it. (I felt ill prepared. Can it be that I don't have a picture of Christ for my daughter? Ugh!) We sat in the floor of her room, and I sat her in my lap. I opened the scriptures to a random verse and just read it. I don't even remember which one it was. I didn't know what to do after that. What should I say? I knocked on strangers' doors for a year and a half for goodness sakes! I got chased away from people's houses. What is so scary about teaching a little baby? Why is this so hard?

 As I searched my heart, I decided that the most important message that anyone could hear is the love that Christ has for them. So I told her that Jesus loves her so much He sent her to me and her daddy to take care of her and teach her about Him. That's about all her attention span could take. Then I folded her arms and "we" said a very short prayer. We thanked Heavenly Father for each family member and for Christ's love. Amen.

She was wiggly. She was distracted. I don't know how to talk about the Gospel with a toddler. I felt inadequate  and clumsy, but I knew it was what I was supposed to do, so we kept it up.

Two short weeks later...

After bath and pajamas, I sit in her floor and she crawls into my lap. I choose one verse that's highlighted in my scriptures. She points to the pages as I read. I turn her around and tell her that Heavenly Father loves her so much he gave her eyes to see, ears to hear, nose, mouth, etc. We point to each one as we say them and giggle. I tell her that Jesus loves her so much He sent her to me to love and teach. She is quiet. She looks into my eyes as I speak. I ask her if she wants to pray, and she nods. She sits down and folds her arms. When we are done, the sweetest word falls from her lips--"amen".

I was crying as I closed her door, and I guess I gained the beginning of a testimony of the importance of teaching our little ones. After only two short weeks he looks forward to what has become my most special moments of the day. I know she won't remember this night. She's too young. But her spirit isn't. That's what I learned tonight. I have no idea how much our spirits remember, but I got a glimpse tonight of our eternal nature. She wasn't a little baby who doesn't understand what I'm reading. She was a daughter of God who learned of Him long before she was entrusted to my care, and I am blessed at this time with a knowledge of the Gospel and of the Lord's love for her. She may not understand all my words, but she can truly feel the love of the Lord and the peace the Spirit brings.

I thought I wouldn't be good at raising children in the restored Gospel because I didn't grow up with that myself. It's scary. I feel like a pioneer of sorts...like I'm making it up as I go along. It's a new kind of anxiety for me, but I was reminded tonight that I'm not ever truly alone. Even if the delivery of the message is clumsy, it's the Spirit who teaches, and I know with certainty that the Spirit was teaching both of us tonight.

I'm grateful for visiting teachers who listen to the Spirit, and I'm grateful that I listened to them. I've got a long way to go, but it's all about the baby steps.

I Know That My Redeemer Lives

He Lives: Testimonies of Jesus Christ

I love this video. As we strive to be in the world but not of the world, we can withstand all the trials, tribulations and temptations. We can fight the good fight with peace and strength when we can declare with conviction, "I know my redeemer lives." I am grateful for this knowledge and the blessings it brings.




"I Know That My Redeemer Lives" Hymn online

Drive Thru Racism--Would you like fries with that?

My husband and I decided to go on a family date for some good Mexican food. Unfortunately, our one-year-old hasn't developed a taste for it yet, so like the good parents we are, we decided to get her some healthy food before we arrived at the restaurant--McDonald's. Nothing like a a good Mickey D's cheeseburger and some apple slices for dinner.

We pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center in Manassas that houses the McDonald's. It's an awkward setup. You have to drive through the "road" of the parking lot and turn left into the drive thru. There isn't a long lane, so if there are cars there, you will have to wait with your blinker on. Well, as we approached and began to turn left out of the "road" into the drive thru lane, a woman who was driving behind us decided to hit the gas and pass us to get in the drive thru lane. If my husband hadn't been so quick on the brakes, we would have collided.

Remember as I tell you this story, that we are halfway through a left turn and are now blocking the main road through the parking lot.

She backs up away from the speaker to stop beside us, rolls down the window, and says, "I'm sorry. I didn't see you!" Here is the basic conversation that followed:

My husband:  "REALLY?? You didn't SEE us?
Lady: "What wrong with YOU?"
My husband: "What's wrong with me? You almost hit us!"
Lady: "I SAID I was SORRY!"

(A car pulls up behind us at this point...remember we are both blocking traffic now.)

My husband: "Just go! [pointing to the drive thru speaker]
Lady: "You don't talk to ME like that! I know you don't talk to your wife like that!"
My husband: "Look, you almost hit us trying to get in the drive thru. If you are going to get something to eat, just GO please!"
Lady: "You don't talk to me like that! This is not a white man's world anymore!" [Driving away and up to the speaker] We have a BLACK president now!"

That came out of left field. We sat there in stunned silence, looked at each other, and both asked, "Did she really just say that?" Slowly we pulled into the drive thru lane to be considerate of the person who had to sit there during our little exchange. I experienced a wide range of emotions all at once. Anger. Fury. Disbelief. Shock. Confusion. Frustration. Pity.


The irony of it is that I never even ONCE in the "discussion" consciously registered that she was a black woman. At least, I assume she is black. Living around here, you can't really judge someone's ethnicity by their skin color. However, it was obvious that the first thing she noticed about us was that we were white. And I am the racist? The only prejudice I extended to her was that against crappy drivers (which are abundant around here).

My inner redneck wanted to get out of the car, walk up to her car and really let her know what I think. I wanted to tell her that I don't see people's color. That I chose my profession of an ESOL teacher (and teacher in general) because I love people of all cultures, and one of my greatest joys in my job is learning about students' heritage. I wanted to call her out on her obvious racism towards me when I never threw any at her. What did the President have to do with the fact that she can't drive? Why in the world did you BACK UP and block traffic anyway?  I wanted to rage and rage about the injustice of her statements.

But I didn't.

That's redneck in me....not the me who is trying to put off the natural man and follow Christ.

I remembered that we should pray for those who hurt us. I considered praying that she would choke on her burger...but then I guess that's not exactly what praying for your enemies means.

So I swallowed my outrage (and nearly choked) and really prayed for her. I prayed for me that I wouldn't be so quick to anger--that I would teach my daughter by my example to love my enemy--even though I didn't choose to be enemies. She chose ME as HER enemy. I prayed that she could stop judging people by the color of their skin and instead judge them by the content of their character.

I thought of Christ. I thought of how he endured unimaginable injustices at his enemies' hands. Yet amidst the greatest torture that any man has ever endured, he prayed for his enemies. He extended love to them to the very end of his mortal ministry and will continue to do so throughout eternity. If he set this example, how can I harbor anger in my heart for a stranger in a drive thru?

I worked all of this out in my mind and heart as we drove to the restaurant. Eventually I felt a sense of peace replace the anger and frustration. To forgive truly is sublime.

Then, with a sly smile, I turned to my husband and said, "You know, she was talking to you, not me. It never has been a woman's world!" We both had a good laugh at that and decided to put the anger behind us and enjoy our time together.

The LDS Church is Combating Pornography

Combating Pornography

I am so glad that the church has put together this resource. Satan is so subtle and so powerful. He has really been attacking people through the temptation of pornography. It brings such heartache to people's lives and destroys families. I hope people who are struggling with pornography and their families will turn to this resource as a support and a starting point for help.