Scripture Squiggle: Luke 6:37

"Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven."


A few days ago, while driving down a residential street to my parents' house, a driver turned left out of one of the side streets right in front of me.  My immediate reaction was to verbally question the driver's intelligence.  Mine was obviously the only car on the road; they could have turned after I passed.  And the driver had hesitated, waiting to turn until I was almost to them.  As I hit my brakes and watched the car complete the turn, I recognized the person driving.  I knew her.  But I didn't just know her, I liked her.

Suddenly, instead of finding fault with the woman, I began to think up excuses for her, reasons she may have had for doing what she did.  Maybe she just misjudged my speed or was in an extra hurry that morning and didn't take time to think about her actions.  Whatever the cause of her untimely turn, I found that once I knew who she was, I wasn't irritated about what happened anymore.

And I wondered why.  The reason couldn't merely be that I knew the driver.  If I'd known her and disliked her, my dislike would have been strengthened by her action, not lessened.  So the answer was that the woman was someone I liked and respected--the beginnings of charity.

Jesus has commanded us to love everyone, and I can honestly claim that I don't really hate anyone, but lack of hate doesn't qualify as love.  If somehow I could really remember that every single person is a child of God, even the driver tailgating me as I go the speed limit, maybe I could do better at loving everyone, having charity.

What if I knew that that driver who seemed determined to attach their bumper to the back of my car had a child lying sick in the hospital and was desperate to get back to him?  Maybe the person who practically stops to make a right hand turn has a car with untrustworthy brakes.

The next time a driver irks me, I will try to think of them as a child of God, with thoughts, feelings, worries and imperfections, just like me.  Maybe then I can avoid judging.  I'll take it one car at a time...

Scripture Squiggle: Luke 12:6

"Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before the God?"


The Lord knows and cares about all of His creations.  Including the three small land hermit crabs we bought for our oldest daughter's birthday when she was seven or eight years old.  All three crabs could fit in the the palm of my hand together, as long as they weren't moving around, which they usually were. Our daughter named them Hermie, Kermit and Toby.

I was surprised by how much care the tiny little critters needed; I had expected them to be more like fish--feed everyday and clean the tank when you can no longer see them swimming (or in the crabs' case, crawling) around.  We had to wash their water dish daily, make sure their little sponge stayed moist, clean their rocks, and bath them.

Bathing a hermit crab is nothing like bathing a toddler.  A squirming, screaming toddler is easier.  First we had to catch the little guys, and they could move fast when they chose to.  They'd nip us with their little claws in protest when we picked them up, we'd submerge them briefly in the clean water, and they'd nip us again when we pulled them out.

The crabs had to be completely dry before we could put them back in their tank, so we found a box to spread an old towel in so they could crawl around for a few hours and dry off without constant supervision.

One night in December, in our rush to get to our ward Christmas party, we forgot to put the crabs back into their tank before we left.  The six of us burst back into the house, the kids nearly bouncing from the walls on a candy cane-Christmas high, and found the tank empty.  Their drying box was still sitting on the counter.  Panicked, we checked the box and found only Toby curled up in his shell amidst the folds of the towel.  I snatched him up and placed him in the tank.

The search for the other two crabs commenced.  We checked the counter and the floor below it, wondering if our little crabs could have survived a fall from that high.  No hermit crabs.  The next closest place was our Christmas tree, surrounded by gifts.  While the kids crept around on their hands and knees searching the house, my husband and I began pulling gifts from beneath the tree and placing them carefully behind us.  When we finished, no one had seen any signs of the crabs.

We gave our daughter the talk.  The sometimes-these-things-happen talk.

She countered us with, "Heavenly Father made them.  He loves them, and He knows where they are."

So with a quick warning that our prayers are not always answered they way we want them to be, and that we could find the crabs dead somewhere, we proceeded to pray that the Lord would lead us to the crabs.  After the prayer, we felt compelled to check under the couch and the end table.  We pulled the table out a little so we could get to the couch.  Nothing.  Then we lifted up the end table, and found Hermie happily crawling around on the carpet.

Our daughter scooped him up in both hands, telling him how sorrow she was for forgetting to put him back in his tank as she carried him to the kitchen.  She placed him in the tank with Toby, and turned to me with a triumphant smile.  "Now for Kermit."

We looked for another half hour.  The younger children were getting cranky, so to our daughter's dismay, we called off the search and rescue and sent the kids to get ready for bed.

"I'm sorry," I told my dejected little girl.  "But at least two of them are safe."  She merely nodded and sniffed as she walked toward her bedroom.

Another half hour passed as the kids changed, brushed their teeth and continued to show the effects of too much sugar.  Except our oldest daughter who kept searching for her crab.  We had scripture and prayer--remembering to pray for missing Kermit--and herded everyone into the hallway to their rooms.

Not a minute later we heard our daughter's excited squeal.  "Kermit!"  She came running from the hallway with the missing crab cupped in her hand.  "He was just creeping out of my room!"

Like the sparrows mentioned in Luke, Heavenly Father knew and loved those little crabs.  But more importantly, He knows and loves my daughter--enough to help her find three tiny critters alive and well.

"But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows."

Scripture Squiggle: Doctrine and Covenants 63:9-10

"But, behold, faith cometh not by signs, but signs follow those that believe.
Yea, signs come by faith, not by the will of men, nor as they please, but by the will of God."


Signs follow those who believe.  This is, of course, the reason that Laman and Lemuel were not converted when the angel appeared to them.  They were shown a sign, but they didn't have any faith.  But what about Alma the younger and the sons of Mosiah?  They, too, were given a sign without first having faith, but they believed and repented of their sins.

In completing our Sunday school reading for this week, my husband and I read the account of the angel appearing to Laman and Lemuel and their subsequent continued murmurings.  Then, the very next morning, my personal reading happened to be the account of Alma and his brethren.  A very stark contrast indeed.

Naturally, I wanted to know what the difference was.  Why did the appearance of an angel convert some but not others?  Before I could learn that, I had to see the similarities:

• Laman and Lemuel, as well as Alma were sinners.  Alma was described as being "a wicked and idolatrous man" while Laman and Lemuel were compared to the Jews in Jerusalem who sought Lehi's life.  Those people were so wicked that the city of Jerusalem was fast approaching destruction.
• Both angelic appearances were in response to persecution.  Laman and Lemuel were persecuting their younger brothers for wanting to keep the Lord's commandments, and Alma and his brethren were persecuting those who belonged to the church of God, attempting to draw them away.
• Both angelic appearances were in response to some one's faith.  In Laman and Lemuel's case, the faith that brought the angel was that of Nephi as he tried to do his best to obey the commandments the Lord had given him through his father.  For Alma and the sons of Mosiah, it was the faith of Alma's father and the members of the church that brought about the angel's visit.
• Both parties were given specific instruction.  Laman and Lemuel were told to return to Jerusalem and Laban would be delivered into their hands.  Alma and his brethren were told to stop persecuting the church of God.
• The angels came to teach them something.  The angel reaffirmed to Laman and Lemuel that their brother was chosen to rule over them, because of their iniquities.  To Alma and the sons of Mosiah, the angel came to convince them of the power and authority of God.
• Everyone involved was well instructed in the gospel.  Laman and Lemuel were frequently counseled by their prophet-father.  Alma was also the son of a prophet, as were Mosiah's sons.  None of them lacked for knowledge about the Lord.

Although there were differences in the messages delivered by the angels, the main difference in the occurrences is how the people who saw the angels reacted.  

According to Nephi's account, Laman and Lemuel didn't react with any shock or surprise when they saw the angel.  The angel's visit didn't ease their anger toward their brothers, although they did stop hitting them with the rod.  In fact, their reaction was a very worldly, natural man response.  They questioned the Lord's power.  How could God possibly deliver Laban to them?  He was so powerful he could slay fifty people.  They had no faith.

Laman and Lemuel's reaction was also one of hard heartedness.  They had been taught on numerous occasions, yet they rejected what they were given, refusing to look inward and recognize their wrong doings.  This angelic visit was no different.  They didn't want to return to Jerusalem.  They continued to murmur as they followed Nephi back, perhaps they hoped that since Laban could slay fifty, that maybe he would slay their brother for them.

Alma and the sons of Mosiah, however, had a different reaction.  First, they were shocked to see and hear the angel, so shocked that they fell to the earth.  And they listened.  They actually heard the words of the angel and let it change them, let it remind them of the teachings they had received from their fathers.  The change wasn't easy, as Alma records.  He suffered pains so great that he actually wished that he did not exist.  But he allowed his experiences to soften his heart, rather than harden it as Laman and Lemuel did.

I hope I can follow Alma's example, and react to chastisements from the Lord with a soft heart and recognize the need to change.

Scripture Squiggle: 1 Corinthians 12:31

"Covet earnestly the best gifts; and yet shew I unto you a more excellent way."


Almost from the moment our Christmas tree was up this year, my children were begging me for wrapping paper and tape so they could start putting presents under its welcoming branches.  My young children.  Who have no money for gifts and lack the creativity and ability of my older children to make worthwhile gifts.  Needless to say, I put them off, hoping they would forget and stop bothering me about it.

But they didn't.  Their pleas became more persistent as the days before Christmas disappeared.  So, finally, I granted their requests, pairing the youngest two with an older sibling to help wrap the "presents."  Before I knew it, an array of odd-shaped, hastily wrapped gifts appeared under the tree.

On Christmas morning, I was relieved that my husband and I had the same idea that I did: get the gifts from the younger kids out of the way first.  We began digging under the tree to make sure we had gathered them all and started passing them out, not really giving them the same attention we gave to the store bought gifts.

Unlike most Christmases where I was the one to hand the gift to the next recipient, this year my husband took on the responsibility, giving me a little extra time to catch expressions on my children's faces.  As my youngest son tore the paper from his first gift, I happened to glance at my six-year old, the giver of the gift, and saw his face aglow with excitement.  When my toddler finally pulled the well-loved stuffed animal from the paper, his older brother leaned close and asked, "Do you like it?" with the same excited light shining in his eyes.

We continued opening presents, and I watched, more amazed each minute.  More of my six-year old's stuffed animals emerged from their wrappings, and with each one, he beamed with joy, sometimes sharing why he'd selected that particular animal for that person.

Hiding in the gifts from my five-year old were some of his treasured cars, chosen based on his siblings favorite colors.  He grinned his shy little smile as each one was opened.

Then came the presents from my ten-year old.  Old enough to know that her brothers didn't want any of her princessy, girly things, she created gifts out of sheets of college ruled paper.  My husband received a maze, my oldest son a bull-fighting game with various drawings and characters.  For me, she wrapped a piece of paper around a stick that made an interesting vibrating sound when I tapped it on things.  And on her face, I saw the same smile, the pure joy that comes from giving, as everyone opened their gifts.

The gifts my children gave were not elaborate, and they were definitely not expensive.  But they were true gifts from the heart.  Thoughtful and selfless.

When I close my eyes and think about how wonderful our Christmas was this year, I see my young children's smiling faces as the presents they gave were opened.  And I almost cry to think I tried to prevent them from experiencing the joy of giving.

I'm pretty sure I don't have so many kids because I have so much to teach them, but because they have so much to teach me.

Scripture Squiggle: 2 Nephi 26:22

"...and he [the devil] is the founder of all these things; yea, the founder of murder, and works of darkness; yea, and he leadeth them by the neck with a flaxen cord, until he bindeth them with his strong cords forever."


Reflections on Flaxen Cords and Iron Rods

In thinking about Satan's methods in contrast to the Lord's ways, I began comparing the devil's flaxen cord to Christ's iron rod.  Flax is a fibrous plant used to make linen.  By itself, one strand of flax isn't very strong, and can easily be broken.  But when multiple strands are placed together, the resultant cord is sturdy.

Iron is a metal.  Obviously, much stronger than flax.  But the difference really lies in how they are used.  While the Lord invites us to reach out and grab the rod, thereby following him and his teachings, always affording us a choice, Satan offers us no such kindness.  He doesn't dangle his cord of sin and error in front of us like kittens, hoping we might bat at it and take hold; he wraps it around our necks at the first opportunity we give him.

Flax does not stretch and is resistant to damage.  In the devil's power, we have no room to grow, and alone, we have no hope for escape.  Only through the atonement can we find a way out of the powerful cords of sin.

Iron has the most stable nucleus of any element.  Just as the Gospel provides stability for us in an unstable world.  God and his ways are unchanging, dependable.  And iron is magnetic.  It quietly, yet powerfully draws other metals toward it, much like the way the spirit speaks to our souls, drawing us ever closer to the Savior.

While the soft, flexible fibers of the flaxen cord may seem more inviting than the rigidity of a rod of iron, that very nature is what allows the cord to bind us, to take away our ability to choose.  Whereas the stiff, unyielding iron rod, will never encircle us against our will, but only serve to every guide us on our way, keeping us free.

I'll take iron, thank you.

Scripture Squiggle: Proverbs 18:24

"A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly; and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."

Moving during the middle of the school year in high school is never easy. And we had promised our oldest son that if we did move once he started high school, we would move into a house that allowed him to continue attending the same school. We lied.

Just over halfway into his sophomore year, we found a house that better accommodated our family of nine about thirty miles further away. My husband and I were fairly certain the elementary school aged children would adjust and make friends quickly, but we worried about our two teenagers. They would be moving from a small high school in a rural setting to a large suburban school. We were especially concerned about our son, whose best friend who had moved away a few years earlier had just recently moved back. When they met, at age 11, they acted less like strangers and more like long lost friends that had rediscovered each other. That kind of relationship was irreplaceable.

Our daughter, a freshman, found a group of friends she fit in with on the very first day of Seminary. But as the days and weeks passed, our son seemed to spend more and more time communicating with his friends in our old town. Our new ward and stake did not lack for young men his age that shared his interests, but as his sister hung out with her friends and talked non stop about them at home, he began to spend more time with his books and ipod.

My husband and I hoped that after a summer off, our son would be ready to make new friends at the beginning of the new school year. Instead, things got worse. He began to feel that no one liked him. No one wanted to be his friend.

The three of us sat outside one evening. Our son sat between us, crying as he poured out his feelings of loneliness to us. I didn't know what to do. I ached for my sweet son, who possessed a greater receptiveness to the spirit than I had at his age, a firm faith in the Lord. How could I help him? My mind was blank. But then my husband asked my son if he'd read his patriarchal blessing lately. Through his tears, my son told him he had not. They agreed to read it together the next day.

In reading the blessing, my son discovered a very specific commandment from the Lord to seek out friends. He had been waiting for friends to come to him; after all, that's how his sister had made her friends. Once he realized what the Lord expected of him, my son put forth greater effort.

Over the next few weeks, he talked about people he sat with at lunch or talked to before school. He seemed happier, and he even got invited to a birthday party. Although he has not found a "best friend" here, he has learned the importance of "shewing himself friendly" and even though they no longer see each other everyday, my son's friend from childhood is his friend still. We suspect he's the kind that "sticketh closer than a brother."

Scripture Squiggle: Isaiah 55:6

"Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near."

I was seven or eight when I received the letter. My first real mail other than birthday cards from relatives. I read it over and over, and I couldn't wait to respond to it. So I took the letter to my mother and showed her the instructions I had received and how if I sent one dollar to the person on the top of the list and letters like mine to everyone else listed, I could possibly receive $25 dollars in return.

"It's a chain letter," my mom explained. "And they don't usually work."

"Oh," I replied, completely deflated. "Can I try it anyway?"

"That's up to you; it's your dollar," Mom said, but I could tell she didn't really want me to do it.

I returned to my room, confused and depressed. I wanted to answer the letter; I wanted to see the 'magic' promised, and I really wanted some of that money. My parents and my primary teachers had taught me that I could pray about anything. Well, if I can pray about anything, perhaps the Lord will tell me what to do about this chain letter.

So I prayed. And nothing happened. I still wanted to do the chain letter. The next morning, I decided to go ahead and mail the letter, but since the mail didn't go out until lunchtime, I decided to write the copies later and attend to more important things, like breakfast.

I poured myself a bowl of dry cereal and ate it with my fingers as I read my favorite part of the newspaper--the comics and Dear Abby. I cannot recall any of the comic strips from that day, but I have never forgotten the question posed to Abby. Someone had asked about chain letters. And in Abby's response, I found the answer to my prayer.

I hurried to my room where I grabbed the chain letter and tossed it into the trash.

When I look back on my childhood, this experience stands out as an important step in the formation of my testimony--the day I learned that if I sought the Lord, I would find Him.