Getting "UNdiscouraged": 6 things you can do when discouragement hits

Check out my Hi Five Live video this was based on HERE!!

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Discouragement comes to all of us.

I know I've had my share over the past year. 

Most of the discouragement has come from not-so-good things. 

Like getting a cracked tooth pulled and having my face swell up.

And then a week later getting bitten by a cat I was trying to save, getting an infection, and spending a few days in the hospital fighting it.

Some discouragement comes from good things too. In December I was called as an early morning seminary teacher. It was wonderful but challenging.

Then my mom got sick this spring and passed away this summer.

Oh yes, and we can't forget the Covid-19 world-wide pandemic and riots and the election year.

It's safe to say this has been a trying 11 months for me.

Discouragement has become an unwanted friend of mine.

But, I've learned a few things that have helped me when it comes, a few things that I've learned that help me become "undiscouraged." And, assuming you're human and you experience discouragement too, I thought I'd share.

#1 Take care of yourself

Often times when I'm discouraged it's because my bucket is dry--I am totally worn out. Sometimes it's due to my choices. I often put the needs of others first and forget my own. I will also eat things that aren't the best, stay up too late, or waste time during the day then berate myself for it. 

Other times I don't have a choice because circumstances demand my attention, energy, and efforts at a pace I can't keep up with.

Regardless of the why, when I neglect myself, discouragement easily follows.

Yet, it's hard to stop and give myself what I need.

This is why I love the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19. It's where I get the "juniper" name in my blog from.

See, Elijah was a powerful prophet. He showed up on the scene, sealed the heavens, performed miracles, had the sealing power (the last one to hold the sealing keys before Jesus Christ came), and made royalty really mad. In fact, they wanted to kill him.

So he ran an entire day for his life. He wore himself out. That night he laid under a juniper tree and "requested for himself that he might die; and said, It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life.

That's some deep, deep discouragement.

He falls asleep, presumably hoping to not wake up. An angel woke him up. He didn't lecture him, give him advice, power, or even a pep talk. He simply said, "Arise and eat."  Then he showed Elijah a cake that was baking on the fire. Read that again: THE ANGEL MADE ELIJAH A CAKE!!!  Cake is LITERALLY Heaven's answer to feeling bad.

Elijah ate the cake (like a good man) and drank some water, then went back to sleep. The angel came to him a second time and said, "Arise and eat; because the journey is too great for thee." 

Elijah had a long way to go and the angel knew (which means God knew) that what he needed to feel better and accomplish his tasks was to take care of himself. 

This is not a singular event. When Alma met Amulek, he tarried at his house and rested before going back out to preach. The Lord let Lehi and his family rest in Bountiful for years before they continued their journey. 

Taking care of ourselves is not only important and even necessary, but it is divinely suggested and condoned.

I find that when I'm feeling discouraged, I can often become undiscouraged by doing something that fills my bucket. It's usually something like taking a nap, resting better at night, eating healthier, getting outside, reading my scriptures, serving someone else, writing for fun, and yes, totally eating cake. Especially free cake. And especially angel cake. (Come on, I couldn't pass that up.)

#2  Release emotions

My mom had a few strokes and heart "episodes" in May, so when things took a turn for the worse in July, we knew we weren't going to have her much longer.

I flew down to California to be with her. She passed away five days later. Those five days were hard. Covid restrictions kept us from her until she moved into the ICU. Then, after an initial wave of small groups saying goodbye, we weren't allowed to be with her until they moved her downstairs to comfort/hospice care. And even then it was only one visitor at a time.

Mom rallied those first few days. I said a final heartwrenching goodbye, then she'd improve. Then she'd decline and I'd go and say goodbye again. After the third "final goodbye" the disappointment and grief had nearly consumed me.

I had kept everything in as I was one of the supports for my dad and my brothers. I wanted to be strong. So, I pushed it all down. Until my discouragement grew too large.

In this instant, cake wouldn't help. Heaven knew I'd been eating a steady diet of cookies for days.

What I needed was to release the emotions.

After a family meeting where my dad discussed the next steps, I ducked out of the house, got in my rental car, and drove to an empty parking lot. And I cried. I screamed. I hit the steering wheel. I let it all out for over an hour.

Then the tears dried up and I felt a sense of strength and peace return.

I went home to my dad. Not more than five minutes later we got the call that it was time again to say goodbye. I was able to be there in the background as my nieces and nephews said goodbye to their grandma. And because I'd released that emotion--not the sorrow or grief, but the weight and force of the emotion I'd kept inside--I was able to lovingly smile and support them in those very tender and hard moments.

Then, the next night, I said my final final goodbye. And she was gone, off to a family reunion of epic proportion.

Sometimes our emotions can build up and we become human pressure cookers and we need to release the pressure before we explode.

That might come in tears and screams, hitting inanimate objects, running hard, writing it out, or spilling your guts to a friend. Whatever works, do it. Because it does work, and you'll feel better.

 

#3 Remind yourself what you know

Discouragement is a suffocater. It takes hold of what we know, squeezes it, and pushes it aside to make room for all the things that make us sad, tired, and afraid.

It also loves to feed lies. Maybe we aren't worthy of happiness or love. Things will never work out. I won't ever get head. If God loved me, He wouldn't let me hurt this way or allow this to happen to me. Life is fair for everyone else, but mt.

When discouragement comes, it will do us good to remind us what we know.

I love the example of this in the Book of Mormon. The prophet Nephi had seen and done amazing things, and yet, he experienced discouragement too. In fact, he recorded on such time in 2 Nephi chapter 4.

He laments: "Why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken because of my afflictions? And why should I yield to sin because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations?  Why am I angry because of my enemy?"

That is some major discouragement there.

But I love what he does next. He doesn't allow himself to stay there. He doesn't feed those thoughts.  "Awake my soul!" he says. Basically, snap out of it!

Then he reminds himself of what he knows is true: Lord, I have trusted you, and I will forever. I know that you give to your children, and you will give good things to me.

When discouragement starts discoloring the good things in your life or feeding you lies, stop and remind yourself what you know. 

God is real. 

He loves you. 

He is with you. 

This will pass, and if it doesn't He will help you. 

The Atonement is real and can work in your life. 

Things WILL get better.

You will smile again.

#4 Keep discouragement with its owner

I have a friend with a bunch of kids. They throw the clean laundry in a pile and the kids pull out their own clothes. Often they will grab a brother's pair of pants or a sister's shorts because it either looks like theirs or happens to be next to what they are grabbing. What ends up happening then is clothes belonging to one person living in the dresser of another--where it doesn't belong.

Discouragement loves to spread its wings. When one thing discourages you, it's easy for it to spill into other areas--to go where it doesn't belong.

You get a demotion at work and come home to a house that's messy. The disappointment from your work now widens and you're disappointed in your home. Next it might be your family, your appearance, God, or yourself.

When you feel discouraged and you see it spreading across your life, take some time to pinpoint where the discouragement started. Then try to compartmentalize it there. Remind yourself that it's okay to be disappointed in one are and happy in others at the same time. :)

#5 Give it to the Lord so He can give you what you need

Sometimes feelings of disappointment can drive us away from God. That is the worst thing we can allow it to do.

The Lord loves. He wants to help us, and if we let Him, He will give us the individual care and assistance we need to deal with our disappointment.

When Jesus received the news of the death of His dear friend Lazarus, He traveled to his home and was met with one of Lazarus' sisters, Martha. (as found in John 11)

She ran to meet Him saying, "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died."

Jesus responded with the assurance that her brother will rise again. Then He spent a few moments teaching Martha of eternal things.

Then the other sister, Mary, came to Jesus and greeted Him the same way: "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died."

Except, the Savior didn't respond to Mary the same way. As Mary wept, Jesus wept with her.

To one sister He gave hope and learning, to other He gave love and empathy.

Both sisters were experiencing the same thing--the death of their brother. And yet, both had different needs. And the Savior gave each one what they needed. 

This is what God and Jesus do--they give us what They know we need. They know us intimately and want to give us hope and learning and love and empathy and companionship and strength and ALLLLL the things we need to deal with or overcome our discouragement. 

But, as the sister did, we need to bring our sorrow, worry, fears, and frustrations to Them.

So, when you're feeling discouragement in all its forms, give it to the Lord, and let Him give you what you need.

#6 Wait it out in faith

Sometimes we can do all of the above things and the discouragement is still there. Sometimes immediate relief simply isn't possible. 

So, what do we do then??

We wait in faith.

I love the movie "Cast Away" with Tom Hanks. Hank's character is on a Fed X plan that crashes on a deserted island in the ocean. He's alone for four years, with only a small photo of his fiance and one still-unopened package to deliver to give him hope. Finally, the wind brings him something he can use as a sail, and he's able to get his man-made boat over the currents surrounding the island and floats out to sea where he's picked up and rescued.

He returns home to find his fiance married to another man because she thought he had died. The world is different. He is different. 

As he tries to grapple with the adjustment and diminishing hope, a friend asks Hanks what he will do now.

This is his response: 

(on the island) "I had power over nothing* And that's when this feeling came over me like a warm blanket. I knew, somehow, that I had to stay alive. Somehow. I had to keep breathing. Even though there was no reason to hope. And all my logic said that I would never see this place again. So that's what I did. I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am. I'm back. In Memphis, talking to you. I have ice in my glass... And I've lost her all over again. I'm so sad that I don't have Kelly. But I'm so grateful that she was with me on that island. And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?”

Sometimes, when we have to wait for things to get better, to feel better, all we can do is keep breathing. And hold onto the hope that the tide will bring something in.

This, to me, is what Sariah, Lehi's wife, did in the Book of Mormon.

She left her extended family, the home she'd created, her friends, and followed her husband, a prophet, into the wilderness. After three weeks of traveling, they stopped to camp, and the Lord sent her sons back to Jerusalem on a dangerous mission.

When they hadn't returned, Sariah began to feel very discouraged. She feared her sons were dead, and (because discouragement doesn't like to be alone) she began to doubt.

Lehi did his best to console her. Sariah chose to wait in hope. And her sons did return!

And when they did, her discouragement was replaced with stronger faith and gratitude.

Still, it must have been hard for her to wait.

I know waiting in hope is hard for me.

It might be for you.

We want to feel better now, for things to get better and. Sometimes they can and do, and sometimes, we simply have to be patient and wait in hope until they do. Keep breathing in and out. Because we never know what the tide will bring in tomorrow.

So, those are six of the things I do to get undiscouraged.

What do you do the help you fight discouragement when it comes knocking at your door?

Mountains to Climb

Today was a rough day. Most of it was fine, even good. But, then, something happened. It was unexpected and it was hard. Really, really hard.

I've spent the afternoon making dinner, reading Come Follow Me with my family, and having family home evening. I was calm and could even smile, but there was a storm beneath the seemingly placid surface. Inside I was crying out. I was scared. I was tired. And my hope was waning.

Then, I watched this video as I prepared my seminary lesson tomorrow morning. It reached below the depth of my pain and lifted it up to a place I could reach it and hand it, or part of it at least, to God.

I will be okay. This is just a moment in time, and this particular part of the trial will pass.

And perhaps the situation might never completely resolve and perhaps this is simply my lot in life. Perhaps this trial will be one that will never leave.

But, I know that with His help, I can have the power to rise above this trial, to look down on it on my life and see it for what it is. I can walk a higher road and learn. I can be supported. I can trust Him.

I love this Elder Eyring. I love God's timing.

I'm not ready to say I love my trial yet, but I love that I know I can be okay now, even in the midst of it.


This can't be true for only me. I believe this is an eternal truth for all of us.

So, if you are having a rough day, if you feel you are climbing a mountain and you're tired and weak and slipping down a rocky slope, or if you feel like me--like a giant boulder has been thrown at your head--watch this video.

You can climb this mountain. God can help you make it through.

You can and will be okay.

Meet 1989 Michelle. 

This is my senior portrait. Back in the 80's, this is what we did. No leaning on brick walls or posing in the middle of a field. We went to a studio with a pull-down background and hot lights where we were posed by strangers while our mothers coached from behind.

Do you see the pain in her eyes?

It's not because she was holding the rental cap at a strange height ("That's too high," one argued. "That's too low," said another. It finally landed in a position that made it look like she should be serving that someone tea on it.) And it's not because of the orange-toned makeup job that made her look like a chipper Oompa Loompa, either. It definitely wasn't because of her hair.She'd had short hair the first three years of high school, so her chin-length mane of hair was my glory. 

The pain in this senior portrait came from somewhere else.

In fact, this isn't even her, or my, senior portrait. This is my the "proof" from which I would have chosen to order my official senior portraits from . . . if I would have graduated.

But I didn't graduate. And there is the source of her pain.

Actually, not graduating is a painful regret, but the pain started long before then.

I had a good life and was raised in a typical, loving home. My pain came from within. I believed lies the adversary told me, my peers told me, Hollywood told me, and I added to them my own.

I held onto these barbed lies firmly during my teenage years.

I was stupid.

I was ugly.

I was annoying.

I wasn't likable.

I wasn't lovable.

I wasn't important.

I was invisible.

I didn't matter.

These lies acted as rudders that steered my steps, the very steps that led me away from people and opportunities that could have blessed me, to a sad place inside myself.

No, it was not total misery. People I ask now tell me I was vivacious and outgoing, cute and funny, and well-liked. But the lenses through which I viewed myself and my life then, and perhaps the way I look back on it now, are tinted very darkly. Yes, I had joy and friends and fun. The pain wasn't apparent  or constant, but it was real and deep. 

I am sad for 1989 Michelle. I can see how she got in her own way. I can see how her fear of believing she could be something special only to be proven wrong kept hope at bay.

I wish I could go back and hug 1989 Michelle, and tell her she's okay. No, not just okay. That she is awesome. I wish I could tell her to not care what others think. I wish I could tell her to claim the power she had to decide her value, rather than giving it to other broken people who were just trying to figure themselves out. I wish I could tell her she was smart and college would be a wonderful and reachable goal. I wish I could tell her to trust God more, and to trust in herself more. I wish I could tell her to open her eyes and see the love that's around her.

1991 Michelle began to figure it out as she prepared for her mission.

1999 Michelle, married with two small kids, was strong on the path towards healing.

2009 Michelle, about to welcome a third child by adoption and just discovering a love of writing, was ever further along that path.

And now, 2019 Michelle has got a good grasp on things. I, now 48-years old, feel settled and happy in who I am. I am smart and kind and loving. I am confident and assured. I find joy in serving and don't seek approval for being. I like how I look and how I act. I love me, and because of that, I can love others more freely.

Life is difficult in other ways. I'm not perfect at all. But I have the ability now to recognize when I get in my own way and have the strength (thanks to God) to step aside.

I can't go back and take 1989 Michelle's pain away, but I can make sure I don't hold onto it. 

For her, I'll take all the good she didn't see in herself and see it in me and others now. 

For her, I'll find another girl, teen, or woman that can't seem to get out of her own way, and gently take her by the hand and help her step aside.

For her, I can love me now and her then.

For her, I can dismiss regret and thank her for being brave in the darkness.

For her, I can be happy.

Messpirational

Way-too-long-vulnerable post warning ahead:

I have a new term: messpiration. 

I discovered it this weekend when I thought I broke. 

As many of you know, one of the things I do is write and speak on inspirational topics for women. I am all about perspective and choice laughter and the power of will and resilience and God. 

This can be a tricky thing, for teaching about inspiration and empowerment means I know a lot about it. And in my mind, I equate knowledge with performance. If I know these things, then I shouldn’t struggle with them. 

But I do. 

Not all the time. But I sometimes I do. 

Sometimes I wonder if I am enough. I wonder if I’ve failed my kids. I wonder what people think of me. I hurt and doubt and am afraid.

Then I beret myself because I feel like I should know better, and this means I should do better. I should think and feel better. 

I do. But sometimes I don’t. 

So then I feel like a fraud. How can I advocate and inspire when I feel like this way? How can I have anything to offer when I have moments of struggle myself? Why can’t I keep it all together all the time?

I was talking to a friend the other day and I said, “You know, after all this time studying and writing and speaking, I’ve realized something. I’m a mess.”

I love a perfect God and His perfect plan and principles. But, man do I trip all over them. I love hope but sometimes I lose it. I hate fear but sometimes I cling to it. I trust Him but sometimes I get frustrated and impatient. I understand I have control over my reactions, but sometimes I want to ram my car into the guy in front of me who cut me off (just a tap, really.) Damn slips from my lips too often and I love sleeping in and eating ice cream for breakfast. I think waaaay to much and over analyze everything-except the dumb things I do and say without thinking at all. I’m complicated and messy. 

Circumstances were a bit challenging and I dipped pretty low this past weekend. The weight of fear and pain pushed my thoughts down. I began to doubt my contribution to my family, my church, my writing and speaking. How can I help anyone when I feel so broken? (I have soooo many thoughts on “broken”, but that’s for another long-winded post.)

I was bemoaning my state of messiness to my daughter who, after listening to me whine and cry said, “So, you’re human then?”

I suppose I am. Very much so. 

You won’t find anything close to perfection here. I’m no example.

But, I believe in God and what He can do for and with me. I get excited when I think about progression and problem-solving and who we really are and second and third and thousandths chances. I love that the Savior gets me and has the power to ease my pain and strengthen me if I let Him. I love laughter and cookie dough and organizing. I love to make people happy. And I love real. 

So often we see people trying to inspire us with perfect appearances and programs (for a small price). They post their best as proof their answers will solve all your problems too. 

But here’s what I’ve discovered. We are all a mess. Even them. And anyone who tells you differently is trying to sell you something. Sometimes literally. 

We buy into the idea that happiness and joy are the “right” places and if we feel anything other than complete faith and serenity somehow it’s wrong and we are deficient. Pain and struggle have turned into sources of shame. We see them as weaknesses, proof we can’t cut it. Proof we aren’t enough. 

Look, life sometimes is really hard. It’s messy. And we struggle. This is part of our experience. We don’t wallow in it, glorify it, or use it for attention. But we shouldn’t be ashamed of it either. Pain is pain. It’s not our enemy or our friend. What we do with it is.

I’m almost always happy, but when I’m not, I’m really not. 

In my lowest moment this weekend after I had cried on the shoulder of my 21-year-old daughter, I looked at her and said, “I want you to remember this moment- the moment your mom broke.” 

She nodded. 

Then I said, “And I want you to remember what I’m going to do next.”

She nodded. 

“I’m going I let you help me today. I’m going to wipe my tears. I’m going to seek God’s help because there is some pain that only He can lessen and some strength only He can give. And I’m going to chose to be okay.” Then I smiled and got up. 

Even though I’m a mess, I’m going to continue to teach and write inspirational stuff because I believe in Who I’m teaching and writing about. I’m not an inspirational person. I’m messpirational. And I like it. And I love Him. 

So, why share all this? And why post this pic of me that’s not smiling and joyous? Why not keep such personal matters to myself?

Because I hurt still. It’s getting better- but there’s still a struggle to be had. And maybe you’re hurt or are struggling too. And because I hope we can still believe that we all have something to give even when we feel like we are small and broken. 

I don’t think we need to be happy and perfect all the time to contribute or inspire. I just think we just need to be real about it all. Life is hard and wonderful and painful and lovely and scary and fantastic. 

We don’t need to bask in the low times, allowing our struggle to define our capacity or value. Acknowledge it. Accept it. And move on with it. Wipe our tears. Let others help. And choose to keep going. 

I choose to believe we all have something to offer, in happiness and pain, in joy and sorrow. 

I believe we are all messpirational.

Five lessons writing taught me about life.

A few months ago, I received a strong impression to write a booklet on a specific topic. It was a welcome revelation because as far as my writing has gone it has seemed that God has had no real strong feelings that past few years. I know He cares, of course. But as I’ve prayed about what to write in recent years, passing ideas by Him or asking for direction, it’s almost been as though His answer has been, “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. You could do that. Whatever you feel you want to do is fine with me.”

Not always the answer I want, because honestly, sometimes I want God to tell me what to do. I want Him to give me an idea, who me a direction.  Not because I can’t think of my own ideas. I can. But because there’s a part of me that is perpetually checking and rechecking that I am doing His will, not mine. I want to write what He wants me to write, not what I want to write.

When specific impressions regarding what to write didn’t come, I was concerned and talked with my husband about it. Was I praying wrong? Not being specific enough? Did God not want me to write?

He reminded me of a truth I knew, but somehow had forgotten it applied to me. He said something like, “Maybe God really is okay with whatever you write. Or even write at all.” I have always been a firm believer that God is extremely invested in our lives, that we have a collective purpose and an individual purpose, that all we do is important to Him. So, it had not really occurred to me that there were some things in this life that He could go either way on.

And it was . . . scary. What do you mean, I could write or not write? It’s a huge part of my life. Why wouldn’t He care?

We had many conversations after this one where I’ve come to realize a few things.

First, He does care. But God does not want to, nor intend to, script every moment of our lives. He gave us agency and expects us to use it.

Secondly, He trusts me more than I allowed myself to believe. I think often times the heavens quiet down not because God is far from us, but because we are closer to Him. We don’t need to be told to turn right or left, to wear the purple shirt or blue, to write or not write. We can think and pray and consider and choose what we feel is right for us. Then we can take it to Him for confirmation.

Thirdly, God wants me to be happy. Sometimes we are asked to do hard things because they are the right thing. Because of this, it can be easy to equate righteousness and His will with suffering. Sometimes the right thing is simply choosing what brings us joy.

Fourth, as I considered all of these things, I came to believe that God wasn’t going to tell me what to do in every facet of my life—that I could and should choose for myself, that He did have faith in me, that if writing made me happy, I should do it, and if it didn’t, He’d be okay if I stopped.

But—and this is a really big but—these things only worked if I kept my communication with heaven wide and open and often. Rather than asking Him for constant direction and validation, I realized that if I focused on staying close to Him through obedience and prayer, and I strived to become like Him, that, by default, much of what I wanted was already what He wanted for me. He could give me the space to learn and grow because, even though I stumble, I was stumbling in the right direction.

If I turn my back on Him and fly solely by my own gauges, and decide that God doesn’t care if I keep the commandments or dive off the deep end and leave my family to follow my dream of being a parade dancer in Disneyland, then I could very well get into dangerous territory. I could easily learn to (and love) the quest of “finding my own truth” and “doing whatever I want as long as it isn’t hurting others.” 

The difference is the direction we are facing. It might seem like a spiritual nuance to you, but it is so much more. When we are facing God and moving towards Him, our desire for and ability to choose the life that is best for us grows. We can make choices—even really important ones—without His constant handholding. We can be spiritual grownups as we begin to walk by His side, not in His shadow. And it can bring us joy because we—He and us—are a team, working for the same purpose, the same intention, the same goal. Facing any other direction takes us away from His side and His goal.

I am not saying we don’t need to pray for direction. We should pray to Him in all that we do, everything. But we do not need to be immobilized when specific revelation doesn’t come. It doesn’t mean He is ignoring us, or can’t even hear us. It doesn’t mean He doesn’t care.  Sometimes, it simply means that He knows we can choose for ourselves what He would have chosen for us, and He wants to give us that chance—that freedom to do it.

So, I sat down and had a serious talk with myself about what I wanted to write. I checked my desires and decisions against what I thought He would want for me, then I did it.  And guess what, it brought me joy. And not only that but eventually I received confirmation that He was truly pleased with me and my direction.  I learned my life wasn’t a scripted path I had to follow. Yes, the way to heaven is straight and narrow. But the path can be colorful and filled with things that bring me joy. And He’s okay with that. As long as they accompany me on the path and not lead me from it.

This brings me back to the impression I received a few months ago, and the fifth lesson I learned from writing.

I was plugging along, writing what brought me joy, when, as I mentioned, I received an impression to write something very specific. I welcomed it and begin writing at once. The words came to me easily and joyfully. I knew I was writing what He wanted me to write, and I was happy. I submitted it promptly to my publisher, knowing they would offer to publish it on sight. After all, it was God’s idea and He approved. Why wouldn’t they?

It took them weeks and weeks to discuss the project. Waiting was easy because I knew they’d pick it up.

But they didn’t.

They rejected it, and I was left to ponder about the entire thing. Did I not feel impressed to write it? Was this not the home it was destined for?

After some internal deliberations, I came to realize my fifth lesson: Just because we feel the Spirit guide us to do things, it does not mean the way we hope or think it will end is how it’s going to end up. I’ve been guilty of this in the past, thinking that if I feel impressed to do something, then that confirmation is the same thing as a promise of the outcome. But it’s not a guarantee.

When things don’t turn out according to our expectations, we might question God or doubts ourselves. But the truth is, sometimes He has other plans and needs us to take two steps towards one thing so He can lead us to another. And, sometimes, things just simply don’t work out.

And it’s okay.

That’s what I’ve learned through all of this. Trust God. Keep close to Him and try to be like Him. Choose the best I can what I feel is right and what will bring me joy. Communicate with God every day. And accept what happens.

So, I keep writing. I am prayerful and doing what I can to stay close to God and seeking His guidance. But when it doesn’t seem to come, I step ahead in the confidence I feel He has in me, and keep moving forward towards Him and the things that bring me joy. And it is not only okay. It’s good. Really good.

A real anything

This has been my view for the last three days. I'm here at my annual writers retreat in the beautiful Northwest.

The ocean, the people, the creativity. . . they are the balm for my soul and the sugar for my muse.

The great and wonderful Kaylee Baldwin was the special guest. She is kind and witty and wise. She was also my roommate. And I have to tell you, she is authentic--the same person when she is "on" in front of a crowd as she is in her pajamas at midnight chatting away.


Kaylee gave three presentations for our lucky group. The first was a brilliant class on editing. Seriously. I will never edit the same. Her second presentation, which she called "Writing for Such a Time as This" not only changed my writing but how I see myself. Her last presentation was on hope--which we all need--and how it begins in the darkness.

She is a lovely person and a fantastic writer. You should go by her books now. Like, right now.  HERE.

In her presentation last night she talked about something that resonated with me, not just as a writer, but as a person.

She talked about the word "real'. Especially when we attach it to our worth.

She said, "I wish we'd all stop using the phrase 'real writers.'  It has too much baggage. It doesn't matter if you have a dozen published novels or write poetry no one will see beyond yourself. Real writers write. It doesn't matter how much or when. If you write, put words on a paper or screen, you are a writer."

I stopped and thought about how often I have used that phrase myself. I wanted to be a "real writer". And I never felt like I was. 

In my true spirit of self-analysis (flirting with a healthy dose of borderline neuroses), I tried to figure out why, why didn't I feel like a real writer and would I ever be a real writer.

At this time, I had been writing blogs and books for a while. I had "proof" I was a writer, but I still didn't feel like it. Why?

Kaylee's words last night echoed and confirmed my conclusion.

The problem wasn't in my goal or desire of being a real writer, but it was my definition of what a real writer was.

I took the beautiful word "writer", opened it, and packed it with all my own things: my interpretations, my definitions, my perceptions. My baggage.

And that baggage changed as changed. It got heavier as I achieved more.

In the beginning, I had decided being a "real writer" meant to have people read my words.

When people began to read my words, the definition changed to putting my words into a book.

When I put my words into a book, the meaning changed to publishing a book.

When I published a book, the definition changed again to publish multiple books.

And when I published multiple books, it changed again.

Being a "real" writer became a goal I feared was unreachable.

What I couldn't see was why it was unreachable. I couldn't see that I was one the who was pushing it back farther and farther. I was the one who kept opening the words "real writer" and packing it with more and heavier expectations.

I was the antagonist in my own story.

It was a shocking realization. But empowering.

I put the baggage there, and I had the power to unpack the word.

I pulled out my expectations--which many were false--and changed the definitions. Until all that was left were seven words:  "I am a real writer because I am." No qualifiers. No goals. No benchmarks.

It wasn't about what I did, but who I was.

Who I am.

Most of you reading this aren't writers. But many of you struggle with being a "real" something.

A real:

mother
friend
artist
woman
daughter of God
ministering sister
baker
wife
person
________ (Insert your "real_____" here)


I am guilty of having packed doubt and fear and false expectations of perfection and success into a lot of these words on a time or two or hundred. It never works out well. The only "real" thing I feel like is a failure.

How sad I am what this happens.

I also know it affects the people around me. And I'm pretty sure it makes Heavenly Father sad. He celebrates with us when we celebrate, and He mourns with us when we mourn. Even if it's mourning our perceived failures. But, I believe He mourns not because we've failed, but because we are causing ourselves so much pain.

Women are that they might have joy.  But ladies, we often don't allow us to have joy. It's almost as though when euphoria and success permeate our lives, we must irradicate them, like pest exterminators, with lethal--but almost imperceptible--spray of doubt, fear, guilt, new definitions, harder goals, and unhealthy expectations.

You are real.

Let me repeat. YOU ARE REAL.

If you breathe, you are automatically a real person, a valid person--a daughter of God who is deserving of ALL of His love. All of it.  No qualifiers.

You have many roles who play. Some are similar to mine and some are different. I hope you can look at each of these roles through God's eyes, packing the word "real" with His definitions and expectations.

I hope you and I can strengthen our ability to allow ourselves to feel good about who we are and what we do. Imperfection is our expected mortal state. Growth is our goal.

Our job isn't to reach perfection here. If that's what we are striving for, we are missing the mark.

Our job is to trade our will for His and love others. It's a simple as that.

That included loving ourselves, and trading our definition of success, "real" anything, achievement, and expectations for His.

If we do this, I think we will find that we are more real than we ever knew.  And then we need to allow ourselves to claim that. To feel joy in that. Yes- WE CAN FEEL JOY IN WHO WE ARE AND WHAT WE DO.

Seeing ourselves through His perspective, coupled with our determination to learn grown and our efforts to seek His will and trade it for ours will lead to greater peace in our lives, a more accurate understanding of ourselves and God, and joy in our imperfect state.

This applies to any role in our lives.

For me, this weekend, it applied to me being a "real" writer.

I've allowed publishers to tell me I am the next big thing and believe them.

I've allowed publishers to tell me I'm gimmicky and believe them.

I've allowed the success of other writers to define my success.

I've allowed my definition of what God's expectations were for me to feed my sense of failure.

I've allowed so many things to be packed into that "real" word that there was no possible way to ever be a real writer.

But I am.

I write words. I am a writer.

And God doesn't expect me to get published. Not even once. He gave me a gift and He wants me to find joy in it. That's it.

And if I take this gift of a love of words coupled with righteous effort and healthy goals and expectations, topped with gratitude, I know I can have joy in saying "I am a real writer" now and always.

Thank you, Kaylee, for the real reminder.

Now I'm going to go write some more words. Because I am a writer. :)

Yoda lied. But not really.

Yoda lied.

My father is going to disown me for saying that.

He loves Yoda and thinks he's brilliant. Probably because he is. He is a master of emotion and force, knowledge and will. Aside from the Clone Wars where he, uncharacteristically and in poor CGI form, fought from a place of rage, he was typically spot on with the nuggets of wisdom he handed out.

I've heard one of his most famous quotes tossed around for years:"Do or do not. There is no try."

It's usually accompanied by a motivational speech about never giving up, putting forth your full effort, or succeeding at all cost. Here's a hard thing. Now do it. Don't try. Don't fail. Just do it.

That's a lot of pressure.

I really don't like these interpretations of this quote. I get the whole, "do or do not". Indecisiveness is not a strength. Do it or don't. Hot or cold. Make up your mind. God doesn't like it either. "So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold or hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth" (Revelation 3:16)

So yeah, I get the "do or do not part."

The part that I cringe at is the "there is no try." What the wha?

Of course there is a try.

MY ENTIRE LIFE IS ONE BIG TRY.

Even when I do or do not, my TRY matters.

Don't believe me? Take Elder Holland's word for it:

"With the gift of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the strength of heaven to help us, we can improve, and the great thing about the gospel is we get credit for trying, even if we don't always succeed."

Oh, sweet relief. Because I don't always succeed or do. In fact, if I'm being honest, I unsucceed more than I succeed. (Failure is such a negative word. I've decided to nix it from my vocabulary. That and kale.)


I understand that Yoda most likely meant that you should go into a scenario with confidence, with the intent of succeeding. That it was probably more about the mindset rather than the outcome. I'm sure he was trying to teach whiny Luke that our attitude can determine our altitude (that sounds like an Elder Uchtdorf analogy...)


Still. I wish Yoda would have had said something different Why couldn't he have said,  "Try or try not. You, it's up to."

That's what it boils down to, for me. Am I willing to try? And try? And try?

Because IF I am, then it counts.

I want my tries to count.


Perhaps Yoda wasn't lying, but was simply misunderstood. I think a new meme should clear things up. Because if it's in a meme, then it's true.

I love that I get credit for trying.

Yoda and Elder Holland are on same page as the Amulek. (It's a good page to be on.) When teaching the Zoramites, a rebellious and prideful bunch, he said, "I would that ye would come forth and not harden your hearts any longer. . . therefore, if ye will repent and harden not your hearts, immediately shall the great plan of redemption be brought about unto you."

There are so many things I love about this verse. I love that Amulek let's them know that

1- It's their responsibility. It's up to them to come forth and harden their hearts.

2- Just by trying, IMMEDIATELY the Atonements begins to work in their lives.

He didn't say, "after three weeks of perfect performance, you'll be blessed." No, he said immediately.

The Zoramites got credit for simply trying to have a softer heart and repent allows the great plan of redemption to affect them.

And so do we.

The theory that we get credit for trying (and do I really need to specify that it is trying to do GOOD things with GOOD and HONEST intent?) is pleasing to me.

If perfections was achieved by perfect performance, I'd be in petrouble.

I'm the first to admit that I am faaaaaaaaaaar from perfect and never will be perfect, not in this life. I will never do that. If my only choice was to "do" perfect I would epically fail. But, I don't have to give up and "do not" perfect. I simply have to try.

And not even try to be perfect. According to Amulek, I simply have to try to have a soft heart and repent. That's what trying is.

Trying is the direction we face, a step we take, a choice of light over darkness, and the getting up after we fall down.

Trying is hope and kindness and love.

Trying is choosing to grow rather than wilt.

Trying is choosing is casting your eyes on Him.

Trying is our perfect desire in imperfect action.

Trying is the reflection of the contents of our hear.

Trying is the way we get to and become like God.

Trying is everything.

I love that we can try and try again. And then try and try again.

As long as I try to keep on trying, I'm going to make it, if we want to.

So, Yoda, I get what you're sayin. I'm gonna do. I won't do not. But, in the mean time, there have been and will be about a million tries to get me there.

And every single one of them counts.