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.

Part of Enough is Enough

I’ve said it before: With God, you are enough.

But maybe that’s not true. At least, not in the way I used to think about it.

I’ve had a few experiences of late where I have, for lack of better words, not been enough.

Someone invited me to participate in something, and I did. But it didn’t yield the results they were hoping for. I didn’t meet their expectations. I wasn’t enough.

It’s been a rough parenting few weeks and one nigh recently I found myself in tears because, once again, I don’t know how to help my child. I don’t know the answers. And the answers I offer aren’t received well.  I am not enough.

I have a strong understanding of and firm belief in certain spiritual truths, such as casting out fear with faith and not allowing external validation or criticism to sway my feelings about myself and the world around me, yet I sway. I am not strong enough to stand in complete confident serenity. I am not enough.

Like Paul, I know that with God all things are possible.

But I am still not enough.

I used to think (as early as this afternoon) that God could make me enough. That He could take all weaknesses and make them strengths. That with His help I could be exactly what my children need them to be, what the world needs to me be. . . what He needs me to be. That with Him, I could somehow be enough.

But I don’t believe that anymore.

This is not a siren sounding from the depths of a depressive epiphany. In fact, it is quite the opposite.

You see, I had clung to the fact that with God I could be enough for everything and everyone in my life. I wasn’t okay not being enough on my own, but I accepted it because I know that with Him I could be enough. I could be the mother my kids need me to be. I could be the speaker and writer publishers and readers need me to be. I could be (insert calling or label here) that others need me to be.

But that night, as my daughter walked out of the room taking my heart with her, I realized I wasn’t enough for her. The following thought was that with God I could be so I need to pray to be more.

Then a new reached into my mind like sunlight peeking through newly ripped blinds.

I am not enough for her. I nor will God make me enough. Because she needs more than just me. She needs Him.

I let that sink in, then began down that mental road.

I am not supposed to be enough for her.

I don’t know all the answers, and though God can and has blessed me with inspiration regarding my children, He won’t give me all the answers each of my children needs, because I am not the only source He wants them to turn to. If I were enough for my daughter, for instance, would she need Him? Would she seek Him? Would she need others in her life?

I have put so much pressure on myself to be enough—which, translated in woman-speak means everything—that I haven’t left space in my mind for the idea that I’m not supposed to be enough.

I can’t be enough

I will fail people.

I will make mistakes.

I will not know all the answers.

I will not connect with every viewer or reader.

I will have weaknesses and faults as long as I live.

I will disappoint people.

I will not be perfect at everything.

I will not be everything everyone needs—or even everything one person needs.

I will fall short.

I will not be enough.

And God, as good and capable as He is, won’t make me.

He won’t make me able to never fail people.

He won’t make me mistake-free.

He won’t make every viewer or reader love me.

He won’t take away my weaknesses and faults completely.

He won’t magically turn me into someone who won’t disappoint anyone.

He won’t make me everything everyone needs—or even everything one person needs.

He won’t make me succeed every time.

He won’t make me enough, even if He could.

Because it’s not about me. 

The moment I try to be enough for others—meaning, to meet all their needs and make them happy, I do a few things. I take away some of their personal responsibility to think and do for themselves. I take away their privilege to grow through struggle. I also leave little room for others to meet their needs as well.

I am not supposed to be enough for them because God has put other people in their lives to help them, support them, and love them too. People who think differently than me, who can reach others in a way that I can’t. Even my own children.

As my daughter and I shared tears that night, I realized I wasn’t enough for her. I wasn’t enough to give her all the answers or to take her pain away. I wasn’t enough to respond to her in the perfect way. I wasn’t enough.  And I’m not going to be enough because being enough for her isn’t my job. It isn’t the way God has set things up. She needs Him. She needs others. She needs me. She needs herself.

It’s not that with God I am enough, in the context of Him making me enough. But rather, when I stand with God, I am part of enough. When I stand with others who can help my children, we are part of enough. And when I help my children stand for themselves, they become part of enough.

I am not supposed to be enough. I am supposed to be a part of enough.  My part of enough, then, is to love and serve and teach the best I can.

I won’t be enough in my speaking and writing, simply put, because there are some people who simply don’t connect with me. I don’t resonate with them. Some even don’t like me very much. God isn’t going to make me enough for them because it’s not about me. They don’t like me. And I have to be okay with that. My part of enough, then, is to do my part—to speak and write the good things I love the best I can.

I won’t be enough for those in my larger circles of friends and acquaintances. I’m not meant to me. I’m not the friend you see in the movies that says the perfect things in three lines and all the world is better. I can’t be what everybody needs. I am not enough. My part of enough is to be a good person and try to improve a little every day, to love and be loved, to get up after I fall, and to be real.

I used to think I could be enough with His help, meaning, He would make up for my mistakes and faults and fill in the holes I’d left—like holy armor or a divine clean-up crew—so my efforts would, then, be enough.

But now I see it as me standing next to Him. I fall short and He smiles lovingly at my effort. Then He goes to work through the Spirit, through divine choreography, through others, to help meet the needs and righteous wants of those I love. I am a part of His plan. Not the whole plan. He is not the backup plan for when I fail. He is the coordinator of the plan I am a part of.

I am part of enough. He knows the whole enough.

In this new light, I am no longer afraid of not being enough for my children or anyone. There is no failure in not meeting everyone’s needs because that’s not God’s expectation. That’s not my job. I can trust that God knows my children and His children well enough that He has plans to give them all they need—to give them enough—if they let Him. (Because in all of this, others still have their agency and can choose to reject all their enoughs if they want to.)

With God, I am still not enough. But, with God, I am part of enough. I am a part of their enough, and I am a part of your enough. My part is different sizes in the lives of those around me, but it’s still just a part.

My mind turns to the people in my life, how they fill their parts of my enough. And I love them. I love the different colors and beats they bring into my life. I love that my needs are met through many of them—some needs I didn’t even know I had. Some play bigger parts in my enough—like my husband, children my parents, and close friends. Some play smaller, but vital parts of my enough—like the friend who sends what they think is a random message but actually the answer to a prayer I’d whispered that morning. Like a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes swirling together, I can see God bringing people into my life that all play parts in my enough.

And I can see, now, that I am just a part of theirs.

I don’t have to enough for everyone. Even my kids. I just have try to do my part of enough well. And that is something, I think, God will help me make possible.

So, now, I have a new motto. Rather than, “I am not enough” I am going to say “I am part of enough”. In fact, I’m going to cross-stitch it on a pillow.  That’s how much I like it.

I am part of enough. And that's enough.

Jesus not detected

A couple of weeks ago a friend and I visited my favorite statue- the Christus. I’ve spent many hours at the foot of this statue over the years. I’ve shed tears of pain and tears of joy. I’ve silently plead and silently thanked. And in all times, I’ve looked at this and seen my Savior.

I have a new phone which has the ability to detect faces before it enters “portrait mode”, a mode that focuses on the person, letting the background fade into a blur. If it doesn’t detect a face it won’t enter into portrait mode and it won’t focus on what’s most important in the frame.

As I pointed my phone at the face of Jesus, it gave me this message: “No person detected”.
I was immediately sad for two reasons. One- I wouldn’t be able to take the really cool picture of the Christus I’d had in mind. I was sad my phone didn’t see Him like I did, that it couldn’t recognize His face.

Then I thought of all the people that see Jesus but don’t recognize Him for who He really is. They give off the message “No Savior detected.” Then they can’t focus on what’s most important.
This saddens me because He isn’t just the reason for the season. He’s the reason for everything.
When don’t recognize Him for who He is- our Savior, our Redeemer, our friend-we miss out on so much.

But when we focus on Him, the things that don’t really matter blur into the background. Pain can be lessened. Grief can be softened. Joy can be magnified. And love can abound.

Now that the Christmas season is winding down, I hope people don’t lose their focus. I hope they’ll always be able to see Him, and in turn, see themselves.

For who He is defines who we are. He is our brother. We are children of God. He is our Savior. We are worthy to be saved. He’s our Redeemer. The entire purpose of this life is our redemption and exaltation. He is our examplar. We are His disciples. He is our friend. And we are His.

I hope we can keep our focus on Him as the days and months roll by, as the trials and afflictions test and strain, and the joy and peace breath life unto us again. I hope we can always see Him and detect Him- our Savior.

Be strong and of good courage

Have you ever stood before something that seemed so large, so massive, that you were sure you'd never succeed? Maybe it was the trial of a sick child, or a lost job. Maybe your marriage is struggling, or your own health is compromised. Maybe there are problems in your extended family that yo simply don't know how to resolve. Maybe you stand and look at parts of the world we live and and feel like it's heading towards the crapper.

Times like these we may feel overwhelmed, filled with doubt, riddled by fear.

I image that's how Joshua was feeling when he was given charge of the thousands of Israelite nomads. There he was, left with a ginormous group who'd traveled in circles in the wilderness for 40 years, waiting for the time they could claim their promised land. Their beloved leader, Moses, had just died.  And now . . .NOW was the time the Lord chose to have Israel take Canaan. 

He's a better person than me, because I would have probably looked at the Lord and said something like, "Really?" You've had four decades with Moses in the lead. Four. And now, he's gone. And you want to me to lead these people whose diet has been manna foreverrrrrrrr and take over Canaan? Maaaaybe not the best idea."

I'm assuming the Lord knew that Joshua would be a little hesitant or afraid, for before Joshua could even begin to protest, the Lord encourages him three times to be strong and courageous (Joshua 1:6,7,9), He knew that what He was asking Joshua to do was big and scary--daunting even. And yet, it had to be done. Sometimes the promises of the Lord are handed to us, and other times, as this, it requires our reaching. And boy was He asking Joshua and his people to reach.

But, here are two really beautiful promise the Lord gave Joshua:

"As I was with Moses, so I will be with thee; I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee" (vs 5)

and this one:

"The Lord thy God is with thee withersoever thou goest" (vs 9).

Oh how I love those promises!! Joshua must have as well, becasue after the Lord asked him to do perhaps the most difficult thing he'd done in his life, there was no argument, no rebuttal, no bartering. He simply went and did it, trusting that God would keep His promises.

And He did.

It's the same with us.

Sometimes He asks us to reach for blessings; and sometimes we have to reach through some really dark or scary things to get them. But, we can find strength and courage knowing that our Lord is with us; He will not fail us or forsake us. Wherever we go, He will be there too.

I don't see it as Him standing beside us and, pointing to a mountain spewing volcanic lava, saying, "Go over there. I've got something for you. I promise, it'll be worth it."

No, I see Him standing beside us, pointing to wherever we need to go, and saying, "Come. Let's go together. I have something wonderful for you."

Sisters, the Lord is with us. He won't forsake us. We need not fear if we look to Him. 

Let us be strong! Let us have good courage. Let us go and conquer the cities set before us. Let us claim the promises He has for us.

Let us believe our Lord when He says, "Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid: neither be though dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with thee withersoever thou goest." 

And then let's go.

Trees in a Winter's Storm

A storm rocked our area last week.  Snow, ice, wind.  It was bad.  Especially when the freezing rain hit.

At first it was beautiful. We were surrounded by beautiful ice trees.






But- as the freezing ice continued, weak branches and treetops broke and split under the weight of the ice.







Branches littered the ground- and even houses.  But, left standing was the tree- a little worn for the weather- but strong and ready to recover.

Years back my dear sweet Grandma Jane wrote a beautiful poem called Trees in an Autumn Storm. I took the liberty to change a few words to apply the storm.  I think there is a great lesson to be learned.


Trees in a Winter Storm

May I bow before God, as do the trees
before the culling winter storm--
gracefully, never fighting winds not seen.
Upper branches filled with new growth,
Responding to the sometimes thrashing torrents of rain.

For them, no hiding place from God's time-to-time testing.
They are out in the open; vulnerable, accepting.
Lifting from the roots skyward, stretching toward heaven.

And when the storms come, as they always do,
They appear to accept, and even enjoy their time of challenge.
Roots, reaching deep hold base trunk secure, firm, sure.
The bending to the winds and ice will come from the reaching latter growth.

That which has not before experienced the storm
will stand or fall from the nurturing trunk
as heavenly forces call for an accounting of new growth.

Thrashing, swaying, twisting, accepting, ever accepting
'Till the storm is through.

Then all becomes calm, as gentle rain descends.
Bathing each leaf and branch with healing touch.

The trial is over.  The sky lightens.
The trees stretch once again heavenward.

Upon the ground lie twigs and leave, and sometimes branches,
that stood well when there was no storm.
Weaknesses hiding amid the strengths, 'till now.

The trees do not mourn the loss.

They have been pruned by the God that created them.
That which was strong has become stronger.

They are filling the measure of their creation.

There are lessons to be learned from winter's storms--
about life, and God, and growth, and obedience,
And so many other things--

If we could just open our eyes and hearts,
To the simple, visual parable of trees in a winter storm.