I recently mused: A house is a roof over your head, but a home is so much more. To me, home is a very special word. It indicates a place of belonging, a place of love, a place of safety, a place of sacrifice, and a place of peace.
A house is something you build with your hands. It is tangible. A home is also built, but it takes much more intricate, ongoing effort of not only hands, but hearts as well.
Each person who puts his heart and soul into the building of a home might be called a homemaker.
We’ve all heard that word before. Most of us think of this term the way Merriam-Webster does: a wife who does work (such as sewing, cleaning, or cooking) at home and usually does not have another job outside the home.
Sewing, cleaning, and cooking are valuable skills, but alone, they cannot create this sacred place called home.
No, it takes more than that, and it takes every member of the family. I like to think of my family as a team. For our team to be the best it can be, each member must be wholeheartedly devoted to winning the game of life and achieving the joyful victory of being an eternal family.
Not every person in the home team will have the same obligations and roles, but each position, from father to toddler, is essential to win the game.
In our family night last night, my husband and I asked our children what they can do to make our home a happier place.
My ten-year-old, Casey, gave some good answers. He said that he can do nice things for his brothers instead of annoying them. He can help make mom and dad’s lives easier so we have more time to spend together. He can cooperate instead of argue, and let his brothers have their way sometimes.
I loved his answers. He isn’t perfect at any of those things, but I can tell that he truly wants to make this positive contribution to the family he loves. Usually he is a wonderful member of the team, and is a huge helper.
We asked our four-year-old, Rigel, the same question. My husband asked him how he could make Daddy happy, and he said, “Destroy you.” That is a game that they play together. We laughed about it, but to him, playing with his daddy is a way to make our home a happier place.
Several times Rigel has picked flowers for me from outside. Jad asked him why he does that, and he said because he loves Mommy.
He also holds his little brother’s hand sometimes. He often shares his toys, and he does help clean up. He likes to watch us cook, and he likes to play with us. He wants everyone to be happy, and gives good hugs and kisses. He is usually polite, and is good at saying “thank you.”
Kamren, our two-year-old, did not answer the question, of course. He just smiled his adorable, yet mischievous smile. He makes our home a happier place by giving kisses and hugs, cuddling, desiring to learn and be taught, and by making us laugh.
We asked Casey how we can make our home better, and he said to spend more time together. That is really so important. A family whose members are always separate don’t have a chance to talk together, laugh together, listen to each other, play together, cuddle together, or learn from each other. Spending time together shows we love each other and put each other first.
Jad and I want our home to be a holy place, so do our best to have weekly family home evenings, pray as a family and individually, and study our scriptures daily.
Everyone except Kamren takes turns praying for meals or family prayer, but even he knows to fold his arms and bow his head. Casey takes his turn reading scriptures each night. We try to get Rigel to repeat verses too. Even at young ages, our kids know that praying and scripture study are a part of our day to day lives. They remind us to do it too.
Jad is a holder of the Melchizedek priesthood, and has the authority to give priesthood blessings. Our children have so much faith. They know that when they are sick or sad, they can ask for a blessing. Rigel is especially good at asking for blessings for himself or someone else who is sick. Casey and Rigel both received father’s blessings before they started school this year. These blessings offer them comfort and strength.
Here are some other things that we encourage every member of our home team to do:
Help clean and tidy the house.
Pitch in during meal times, either by cooking, setting the table, or cleaning up.
Show affection and respect to each member of the family.
Be discerning of each other’s moods, needs, and desires. Be a good listener.
Only bring in uplifting pictures, books, movies, and music into the house.
Have a positive attitude, and try not to complain.
Keep the commandments of God.
There are countless ways each family member can help make the home a sacred place. If only the mother worked hard to be a homemaker, and nobody else participated, there would be less cheer and a lack of the Spirit.
As Bonnie Oscarson said, “What a difference it would make in the world if all people would see themselves as makers of righteous homes.”
The next time you hear the term homemaker, smile with pride knowing that you are one.
A few days ago, I heard about a movement called #iStandWithCherish. I didn’t really know what it was, and wasn’t super interested in finding out. Then, I kept seeing it everywhere, and read my friends’ passionate posts about it.
I then decided to find out what this was all about. I read a quick news article summarizing that a mother of four from Gilbert, Arizona, accidentally left her 2-month-old son in a shopping cart outside of a hair salon after checking out from a local grocery store. When I read that she left him alone for 40 minutes, I immediately found myself pressing judgment. How can a mother leave her child for that long? Why didn’t she notice? How did this even happen??
Then I decided to watch a video interview where Cherish Peterson told her story in detail. After I heard the whole story, and saw the clear hurt and regret she was experiencing, my heart changed. I felt compassion for her because it was clear that she loves her children, and that she just made a horrible mistake.
My mind immediately went to two times in my life as a mother where I made horrible mistakes that either did cause harm, or could have caused harm, to one of my children.
The first incident was in March 2012, when my second son, Rigel, was 14 months old. I had just given him a bath. I set him on the twin bed in his room, up against the wall. I then turned my back for mere seconds to get his clothes out. A few seconds was enough time for him to scoot backwards to the edge of the bed, and fall with his arm behind his back onto the hard floor. His wrist had been fractured, and he had to wear a cast for weeks.
Because of my error, my son couldn’t crawl correctly. Because of my error, we had huge doctor bills.
Thankfully, Rigel healed, and he never lost his cheerful disposition the whole time he was in the cast. I learned my lesson, though, and from then on I was much more careful, and didn’t put him on the bed unsupervised until he was old enough to walk and get on and off the bed on his own.
The second time I put one of my children in danger was three years later, with the same child, on March 17, 2015. It was so devastating, I haven’t felt comfortable sharing it with others, but now I feel it is time.
I had just taught that day’s church Institute class. I always had a lot of responsibilities after class, so occasionally, one or both of my little ones would end up in the hallway running around with other kids. One of the other moms told me that Rigel was walking around the church with her daughter.
I was planning to go get him, but my youngest, Kamren, decided he wanted to go outside to the parking lot to play with the other children outside. I followed him out, thinking that Rigel and the other little girl would come out the same door (the only door we use for class) in the next couple minutes.
The girl’s mother was still in the church, so I assumed she had found the kids and was playing with them, so as the minutes ticked by, I wasn’t worried at all. But when she poked her head outside and asked if I had seen the kids, I got a little concerned. She went back in to look for them in the gym.
Soon, a police car pulled into the parking lot, and my heart sank. I didn’t know why, but I assumed they were there because of Rigel and his friend. They were. The officer asked me if anyone was missing some kids.
I said that maybe I was. Then, he opened the door and there they were. I was grateful, concerned, and also confused as to how they got away from us.
Apparently, they were seen walking on the sidewalk of the very busy main road right by the church. This didn’t make sense, because there is no easy access to this road from the church parking lot. After mulling it over with other women, we figured out that that the kids must have opened a different door to exit the church, walked through the woods, and down the steep hill the church was on to get to this road. This was something I never would have expected to happen in a million years, and it was surreal.
For a few minutes, I was just totally involved in answering the officer’s questions and hoping I wouldn’t be charged with anything. When it finally hit me what had happened, and what could have happened, I broke down and wept.
My child could have been hit by a car. My child could have died, and it was my fault. It was my fault because I assumed he was okay. I assumed he was safe in the church. I assumed someone else was keeping an eye on him. Because of my assumptions, I may have never seen my child again.
My friends were so comforting and kind to me. They reassured me that I was a good mom, and that I couldn’t have known that would happen. I was so grateful for their sympathy, love and compassion. They helped me calm down enough to drive home. I sobbed the whole way there, and tried to talk to Rigel about the dangers of what he had done. He was so sweet and innocent, saying, “But Mommy, I stayed on the sidewalk.” I felt so incredibly grateful that he had remembered that rule. It could have saved his life.
One of my class members, Stephanie, sent me this sweet email later that day: I hope you are doing well after today’s scary accident. I meant what I said that you are a good mother. This was an accident that we can learn and grow from and I don’t think any less of you and Heavenly Father doesn’t either. Your love for your children is evident in the way you are with them and the things you teach us. Peace be with you my friend. I’m so glad sweet Rigel and <> are happy and safe.
I thanked God over and over for this miracle. I felt strongly that angels were with these two precious children that day to protect them from a devastating fate. My faith was renewed because of this experience.
I made this post on Facebook that day: I am feeling very thankful and aware of my Savior today, as well as how precious my children are, and what a great responsibility it is to be a mother. The Lord trusts me with these little angels. I must always be worthy of that trust.
This is Rigel the next day, safe, sound and happy.
I learned from this mistake too. I brought a baby gate to class from then on. I implemented a rule that no child could be outside the classroom without a parent. I continue to watch much more carefully over my children, even months later.
I felt like the worst mom in the world on both of these occasions – especially the latter. But, was I? Am I? I make mistakes. Cherish made a mistake. Thousands of mothers and fathers have made similar mistakes. We aren’t perfect. We do our best, but we falter. Then we learn and grow from these mistakes, and do so much better in the future.
In Cherish’s interview, she said that nobody loves her children more than she does. I feel exactly the same way about my children. If you had been one of the staff at the Orthopedic office who saw a hurt baby, or one of the drivers on Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd who saw two toddlers walking down the street alone, you might have judged me as a careless, stupid, irresponsible, unfit mother. But, you wouldn’t be right because you don’t know me. You don’t know that the thought of any of my children getting hurt causes me to sob uncontrollably. You don’t know that I dedicate my life to their well-being and happiness. You don’t know the joy they bring me, or that I would willingly give my life for them.
Similarly, judging Cherish Peterson for this mistake, which admittedly is horrible, and labeling her as an unfit mother, isn’t fair. If you have never made a mistake like this as a parent, you probably will. But, even if you don’t, please have compassion. Let God be the judge. Bashing someone’s name and dignity into the dirt on social media or in your heart is not helping anyone.
The focus in this situation should be gratitude that her sweet baby was unharmed and is safe. If he had been harmed, I would hope we would be praying for their family’s peace and comfort. Hate and unkind judgments will never make the world a better place, and they will never undo what has already been done.
Awareness of how to prevent these types of situations does help. Compassion and support do help. Prayers most definitely helps make the world a better place.
Please stand with Cherish, as I and thousands of others do now.
*The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are coarse; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. -Margaret D. Nadauld*
You can support Cherish on Facebook here and here.
I was not my mom’s first pregnancy. She had lost a baby before me. That tragedy would make it even harder to handle the trauma of her second pregnancy: me.
I was due around August 17, 1984, but I was born June 21, 1984. I was eight weeks early.
On June 16, 1984, my mother was working the cash register at Kmart. By the time her shift ended, her ankles were completely swollen, and she was in so much pain, she could barely walk.
My dad had come to pick her up from work, like he always did. Upon evaluating his wife’s condition, he told her manager firmly that this was her last day.
My mom took it easy the rest of that day and the next. In the middle of the night on the 17th, she got up to go to the bathroom. On the way there, blood started gushing from her body.
In a panic, my dad quickly drove her to Chippenham Hospital in Richmond. On the way, my mother was having painful contractions.
At the hospital, she found out the reason why she was hemorrhaging: the placenta was tearing away from her uterus. (My mom actually has a misshapen uterus. It looks kind of like a heart because there is a wall going down the center of it.)
She got medication to stop the contractions. Throughout the night, my mom also got multiple ultrasounds to check on her unborn baby’s lungs.
She did not sleep at all that night. She was put on complete bed rest, and had to stay in the hospital for the next four days.
On the evening of the 21st, since she hadn’t had any issues, the doctors let her get up to use the bathroom on her own.
Immediately after my mom got out of bed, she started hemorrhaging again. She was rushed back to bed, and the ultrasounds started again to check my lungs. I can’t imagine how scared she must have been.
My dad was not at the hospital during that time, because he was at school. While in class, he got a prompting to go to the hospital, so he left early.
When he got there, he saw my Nana and Granddad (my mom’s parents), who had been there anyway for a visit. When he found out what was happening, phone calls were made to my aunt Kathy, my aunt Betsy, and my Grandma (my dad’s mom) to come to the hospital. Back then there were no cell phones, so it was a blessing that they all responded and could be there for my parents.
Because of her intense hemorrhaging, my rapidly decreasing heart rate, and breech position, Dr. Crooks prepared for an emergency C-section, where my mother would have to go under general anesthesia.
Before the operation, Dr. Crooks allowed one person, other than my father, to visit my mother. My aunt Betsy (my dad’s sister), and my aunt Kathy (my mom’s sister), fought over who would get to see her. My Nana remembers Kathy firmly saying,” She is my sister.” Needless to say, Kathy was the one who got to see my mom.
Sadly, nobody, not even my dad, was able to be with her during the actual C -section, but my mom wasn’t afraid. She simply pled to Dr. Crooks, “Please save my baby.”
He responded to her, “We are going to save you first.”
That was when my mother realized that not only was my life in danger, hers was too. That thought was the last thing she remembered before going under.
My dad wanted so badly to be with my mother, but he had to stay in the waiting area with everyone else. What made it even more traumatic, was that the doctor told everyone that they might lose one or both of us.
My family gathered in a circle and prayed. My Nana said she believed it was Granddad who offered that prayer.
My dad remembers crying bitterly, and then the warm embrace of his mother comforting him.
All they could do was wait, with prayers in their hearts.
Finally, they were told that I had been born, and that Mom was okay. I was born at 9:30 PM, a mere 3 pounds 10 ounces, and 17 inches long.
When my mom finally awoke from the general anesthesia, she got the wonderful news that I had survived. Her face fell, though, as she was told she wouldn’t be able to see me yet.
Dad had seen me though, and held me. He could cradle me in one large, strong hand.
He, and the rest of my family, watched as I was prepped with needles, IVs, tubes, and a u-shaped tank over my head to provide me with oxygen. Right as they were about to attach something to my heart, the curtains were closed.
I had to be rushed to MCV because there was no NICU at Chippenham Hospital. My mom was not able to see me before I was taken away.
Dad went with me in the ambulance, unable to visit my mom first. She stayed behind, enduring her intense pain and exhaustion.
When I got to MCV, I was put in an incubator. My dad was allowed to go beyond the glass in scrubs, but nobody else was.
Meanwhile, my mother’s good friend from work, Robin, also had her baby, full term. They were put in the same hospital room. The nurse brought Robin her baby and then asked my mom if she wanted hers.
Her heart aching, she said, “My baby isn’t here.”
This is a picture of me with Robin’s baby when we were about 2 months old.
She wasn’t able to see or hold me, but her heart was with me. She also helped me survive by pumping milk for me to be fed through a feeding tube that went down my throat into my tiny stomach, because I had not yet developed my sucking reflex. I only ate about 2 CCs of milk at a time.
I also had acid reflux and couldn’t digest food on my own. Because of that, I had to take medication. Thankfully, I never was put on a respirator, but I was given oxygen to help me breathe.
Two days after I was born, my mother finally got to go to MCV to see me. My dad drove her there, and wheeled her to me in a wheelchair.
My Nana, who had been having a lot of hemorrhaging issues herself, was scheduled for a hysterectomy that same day. Before her surgery, she watched my mother go to my bassinet to hold me for the first time.
She recalls my mother’s initial look of horror at looking at me with all my wires attached. Then, the most precious moment happened: as soon as I was placed in her arms, it was as if a switch was flipped. Her horror, in an instant, transformed to “total, perfect, and complete love.” Nana had never seen anything like it in all her life. It was such a change.
While Dad was in the room with the two girls he loved most in the world, he watched the rest of the family “cry like a baby” behind the glass as they saw this true love unfold.
Nine days after being in the hospital, my mom was finally able to go home. She and my dad came to visit me at MCV every day, and she continued to pump milk for me, until I was also healthy enough to go home. My dad recalls what “a pain” it was to drive back and forth every day, not knowing when they would be able to take me home.
They were told so many times that in just a day or so, they would be able to take me. Then, they would be told no because I wasn’t digesting well enough, and hadn’t gained enough weight.
As my parents visited MCV during that period of time, they met many families with premature babies. Babies passed away all the time. One day the parents would be there, and the next day they would be gone because their baby had not survived the night. It was heartbreaking.
After being at MCV for a month, my parents could finally take me home. I weighed in at a humble 4 pounds 5 ounces.
That same day, my mom finally had her baby shower, while my dad and aunt Kathy watched over me.
Everyone had to shop at a special preemie store to buy clothes and diapers for me. It was located right next to a friend’s, Steve Montrose’s, carpet store. To give me an idea of how small I was, my dad said my diapers were about the size of a Cabbage Patch Kid’s.
When my parents took me home, they also took home a heart monitor. I had a heart monitor at MCV too, and it constantly had to be re-calibrated, so my parents were a little anxious. There was a Velcro band that had to be wrapped around me, with wires attached. I slept with the wires underneath my little sleepers.
The reason I need the monitor was because I had sleep apnea. My parents were told to shake my leg any time the monitor went off and I stopped pumping blood.
At first, the heart monitor went off all the time, scaring my parents to death. They got no sleep that first night because they were so worried about me. They were so relieved that I made it through that first night. It was actually hard for them to sleep any night. Every time that monitor went off, they ran and checked on me. I had this monitor for six months! My dad told me that my little chest was concaved from having that band around me all that time.
My health was not the only thing that heavily burdened my parents. They also went into huge debt after my birth. My mom had gotten pregnant before their health insurance went into effect, so when she had me, her hospital bills were not covered. Luckily, mine were because I was an emergency delivery. My parents would receive many calls and letters from collection agencies, causing them a lot of stress.
My mother reminisced with me about her feelings during this time of new motherhood. She had been only 22 years old, dealing with the anxiety of having a premature baby who needed so much care. She pondered on how she could have lost her life in the delivery room. She felt so blessed to be alive and to still have me. She said I wasn’t even as small as some of the babies born later term than me. She had been told that baby girls are stronger and fight more, so she was so glad I had been a daughter.
She tried to nurse me after bringing me home, but it was so hard since I had never nursed before. By then, I had gotten used to a bottle. My mom was so worried I would lose weight and go back to the hospital, she started me on formula. Thankfully, I slowly started to thrive.
When I was two months old, Dad gave me my baby blessing at church. My Nana and Granddad had purchased my beautiful blessing gown from the preemie store. Of course, my family thought I looked beautiful, but my dad remembers an audible gasp in the congregation when he held me up.
Nana, Mom, and aunt Kathy with me
I continued to grow, though, and at six months old, I no longer needed my heart monitor.
For Christmas that year, my present, and my parent’s present, was no more wires for me!
To celebrate my new freedom, Nana and Granddad presented me with a huge, and super soft polar bear – the softest stuffed animal they had ever felt.
Nana remembers when I first saw it, I looked at it like, “What am I supposed to do with that?” She chuckled softly as she thought about that moment.
I thrived, and my mom said I ended up being as big and chunky as her friend, Robin’s, son, who had been born full term on the same day.
This is the first picture of me in photo albums where I started to look chunky.This picture makes me laugh!
Apparently, I also got prettier. A friend of my family, Gisela Tetterton, said that I was the prettiest baby she had ever seen.
Nana said that I grew quickly because I had a very strong spirit. Physically, because of my underdeveloped esophagus, I could have easily died. But, I didn’t. She is sure it is because of my spirit.
To her, it has been evident ever since. I have always been determined to be what I wanted. That strong spirit still remains, Nana says, a spirit equaled only by my mother’s spirit.
Nana said that my mom was determined that I would survive so that she could love and rear me. She was willing to have more children, even though she had miscarried her first baby, and almost lost me.
Mom, Dad, me, and my baby brother, Aaron.
Nana confidently said that there was no way, with the combination of her daughter’s mental and spiritual capacities that things wouldn’t have turned out beautifully.
She lovingly told me that I am spiritually strong like my mother. My mom had just come that way, just like me. Nana believes that is because she was pregnant with my mother the day she was sealed in the LDS temple to Granddad, and her first baby, Danny. She always felt having her there in the womb had something to do with mom’s spiritual side.
My Nana knows how to make me cry. Her love is pure and strong. She told me that she treasures all of the pictures of me as a baby laughing and smiling, especially at her and Granddad. Because of the situation surrounding my birth, Nana has always had a sweet spot for me. My whole life, we have sung “I love you, a bushel and a peck” to each other. She is just as special to me as I am to her.
I know my parents were grateful for all the help my grandparents and other family members gave to them in my very difficult first several months of life.
When I was 1 year old, MCV had a reunion at Maymont Park in Richmond. For my parents, it was wonderful to be reunited with the nurses that had loved me and taken such good care of me. I hadn’t even been the smallest baby they had ever seen, which only reiterated what a miracle it was that I lived.
I still have that bear I got on my first birthday.My whole life, I celebrated my birthday with my Granddad, whose birthday was one day after mine.
When I was in the hospital, my parents were told that I could have mental or physical disabilities from being born so early, but another miracle is, I never did. I grew up healthy and happy.
To this day, I have scars on my hands and feet from the IVs. My mother still has a very crooked scar on her lower abdomen from her emergency C-section. My parents have a joke that Dr. Crooks “couldn’t cut a straight line.”
These scars are something to be grateful for, to hold sacred. They are a memory of God saving two lives, one of them being mine. I will eternally be grateful to my Heavenly Father for giving me the opportunity to live on earth, and to be raised by such loving parents.
I have never been so grateful for my parents as I am now, now that I have finally heard all of their memories of my birth, and the first very difficult six months of my life.
My dad told me that when I was two, I never went to bed when I was told. I got out of bed so many times, and often I would be found sleeping at the foot of my parents’ bed. I remember doing that when I was older too. I am sure it was because of the true love I felt for my parents, knowing their love and devotion kept me alive and nourished me into a healthy little girl.
I am so happy that they took a great leap of faith to have more babies after me. My life has been blessed beyond measure by having siblings.
Eddie and Laura Thacker have helped me become the woman I am today. I am so grateful for their examples and for all they do for me and my sweet family now.
Most of all, I am grateful to be alive, when it makes no sense that I am. I know that Heavenly Father has a plan and a mission for me. I owe it to Him to serve Him my whole life, and serve His children. I hope to help save souls just as He has saved my life.
I know that miracles happen. I have had many of my own. I will be eternally grateful for all of them.
I would be making an unrighteous judgment if I said that all Christians are habitually judgmental. However, based on hundreds of social media comments I have read lately, there are way too many hateful things being said by Christians without any thought for how they will hurt others’ self-esteem, and their views of Christianity.
The judgments go towards nonbelievers and their “worldly” views and practices, but also overwhelmingly extend to fellow Christians with differing views.
As Christians, we need to make sure we practice what we preach, and be like the man we cherish as our Savior and Redeemer. To do this, we must recognize the views that lead to unrighteous judgments:
We strongly believe we are right, so thus, everyone else must be wrong.
We think we know what a good Christian is, and define others by our own definitions.
We believe what our spiritual leaders tell us about other faiths, and see no reason to find out for ourselves.
We judge people, organizations, and religions based on tidbits of information rather than on the whole picture.
We think that Jesus loves us more than others because we follow Him.
We are afraid of the “world,” and are quick to condemn anything we believe is worldly.
Pride, ignorance, and fear will continue to drive us to division with our fellow Christians, and the rest of the world, unless we strive to do these things:
Recognize and respect that there are wide ranges of moral beliefs in this world. Christians don’t all hold the same beliefs because of different translations of the Bible, leading to varying doctrines and practices. There are also people of many different faiths, and people who hold no faith. They all have their own moral compasses and are doing the best they can based on what they know.
Cease making our own definitions of what a good Christian is, and leave that to Christ. None of us lives our religion perfectly.
Question demeaning things spiritual leaders, parents or friends say about other religions, denominations, and groups of people. Find out if it is true.
When I was a high school freshman, we studied different Christian religions. A boy in my history class raised his hand when the discussion came to a particular denomination. He said that those people weren’t Christians, providing a reason he believed to be true. I knew it was false, though, because he was talking about my denomination. He didn’t know I was of that faith, but his comment really hurt me. It is sad that he was so misinformed about my religion to judge it in such a harsh way.
Do the research at the source to come to our own unbiased conclusions when we want to learn more about a religion or group.
Several years ago, I dated a man who was as religious as I was, but worshiped in a different church. We had many conversations about faith. I realized after a while, he was starting to make accusations against my faith – things that were sometimes very random, but always very cynical in nature. I later realized that he had been researching my religion by studying websites specifically created to denounce it. Though after study and prayerful consideration, I was able to confirm the untruths, it affected me very deeply. Had he studied my faith from the source, much hurt could have been avoided, and understanding increased.
Realize that we only see the tip of the iceberg. Even if we are aware of behaviors of others that aren’t good, we don’t know the struggles they go through, or the goodness that they have within them. We can’t judge on one thing that we see. Only God knows a person completely.
Remember that God is no respecter of persons (Acts 10:34). This means that He loves each of His children equally, and wishes for all of us to partake of His goodness, peace, and salvation.
Focus on our own faults, and how we can improve, rather than focusing on the faults of others. The Lord taught that we must take the beam out of our own eyes before telling our brother to take the mote out of his, else we be hypocrites (Matthew 7:2-5).
Refuse to judge according to appearance, but instead judge a righteous, or true judgment (John 7:24), based on mercy and compassion (Zechariah 7:9). After carefully analyzing facts and situations, we can come to a righteous judgment. Sometimes, we may conclude that for our well-being, we need to distance ourselves from certain people or groups. However, we should always allow for second chances.
Once, when I was a teenager riding the bus after school, my friend and I started talking about religion. I told him mine, and he told me his. He told me that in his parents didn’t allow him to speak to anyone in my religion, but that he would continue to be my friend anyway because I was so nice. As an adult, I can now see just what a wonderful example he was of righteous judgment. I am grateful that he came to his conclusions based on my character, and saw past a rule he didn’t feel good about.
Befriend those around us who are hard to love. By doing so, we will gain better understanding, and also find things we love about them.
Try to see the good in all people. We are all trying to do our best with the knowledge and experience we have. We should encourage, not bully, and love, rather than judge.
Fellow Christians, let’s think more carefully before we post on social media. The best form of persuasion comes from true knowledge and compassion, not bashing or accusing.
I know that Jesus Christ would want us to be united in His army, and to remember that we are allies and not enemies. We have Him in common, and that should be enough.
Note: This was my perspective at the time I wrote this post. It is ever-changing and is no longer completely accurate here.
I have a brother who is funny, kind, intelligent, musically gifted, a friend to all, and a very supportive and loving uncle and brother. He is someone I respect and love with all of my heart, and one with whom I share many happy, and hilarious, memories. He also happens to be openly gay.
When he asked me to watch a documentary last year called “For the Bible Tells Me So”, I gladly agreed to watch it. It was a documentary that greatly affected me. I sent my brother my most sincere thoughts and feelings from the film:
…As I watched and heard some of the views people have, I was astounded. I always knew there were prejudiced people out there, but I didn’t realize there were so many gay-bashing people, especially Christians.
As a devout Christian, I can say that I know that Christ would never condone this hatred and persecutions of gays. He loves all people equally and tells us to love all people, and to forgive all people, and to judge no one.
I am in total agreement with a lot of the points: you can’t change a person who is gay. Being gay is not a choice. Forcing a gay person to hide his orientation is detrimental. SSA is not a disorder or illness. I agree with all of that, and so does [The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints].
I agree that often the Bible is taken out of context, and I appreciated the interpretations of what some of the scripture passages in the Bible might have actually meant. I think the reason there are so many Christian churches is because people pick and choose what to believe from the Bible, and [also] study passages out of context.
I have so much sympathy for what gays go through. I have not even thought of this, but I imagine you have gone through persecution in your life. I hope not; I really do.
I wasn’t there when you came out to Mom and Dad, but I commend you for being honest and telling them everything… That must have made them sad because I think all parents hope their kids will get married and have kids of their own.
Mom and Dad never expected to have a gay child, but they did. I am totally aware there is a possibility one of my children could also be gay. If that is the case, I would want him to be honest with me, and I would still love my child with all my heart.
I got a lot out of the documentary. I found I related the most to the black family in Haw River, which is only like five minutes from Mebane, where they love their daughter, but don’t rejoice or encourage her lifestyle.
Now, as I say that, I have thought a lot of what it must be like to be gay. I am not, so I can’t have that empathy. However, if I were gay, I would imagine that I would want what most anybody wants: a romantic, long-lasting relationship. Suppressing that desire would be so difficult, and being confident, while being a widely misunderstood and feared minority, would be a definite struggle.
Aaron, my heart is with you, and I do not judge you or hate you or fear you or find you in any way disgusting. You are my brother and I love you with all my heart. Out of all my siblings, you are the one I bond with the most. I [also] have many gay friends, and have always been comfortable around them…
I will always believe, however, that marriage should be between one man and one woman. It is not because I hold on to those few Bible verses. It is not because I have a huge passion for the definition of marriage. It is because I have a strong testimony of God and of [modern day] prophets. I believe that God knows more than we do, and that sometimes He has commandments that don’t seem fair or make sense to us as humans. I believe someday we will understand.
Here is what I do understand: life on earth is short. Life after death will go on forever. This life is a time to prepare to meet God. If I am a true disciple of Christ, my focus should be not on how to bring happiness to others on earth only, but to bring happiness to people in this life, and especially in the life to come. God always meant for a man and woman to be together. Only through that union can children be brought into this world. True joy comes from this family unit.
You may ask, why then would He allow people to be gay? That is a question I have too. I think out of all struggles, that would be one of the hardest.
That is the extent of my understanding and my testimony. I don’t understand everything. I don’t hold the stance I do because I am bigoted or because I don’t want equality. I have the stance simply because that is what I believe God wants. That doesn’t mean I am totally comfortable with it. Being a Christian sometimes means taking leaps of faith, and walking in the dark until God reveals more light.
At the end of the documentary, one of the parents said that she wants to help the churches change. If Christ is the head of Christianity, only He can change His doctrines. Otherwise, the church would be a man’s church. I disagree with her opinion, but I do agree that Christians need to act like Christians and accept gay people into their congregations and into their hearts.
I hope this commentary gives you some kind of peace and clarity, if there was ever a thought in your mind that I didn’t love you as much because you are gay. I hope you never ever think that because it is not true…
I wrote this message to my brother nearly a year ago now. I meant every word I said, and I still believe it with all of my heart.
I know my brother, and many other people are ecstatic about the recent Supreme Court ruling, legalizing gay marriage in all 50 states. I understand why they are happy. When I first found out my brother was gay, 10 years ago, I was actually very adamant about supporting gay marriage because I wanted my brother to be able to be happy, and to have the union that I had with my spouse.
My feelings have changed since, but not because I love my brother less (in fact, I am closer to him now than I have been in a long time).
Rather, my feelings have changed because I have recognized that I have a duty, as a baptized member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to stand as a witness of God at all times and in all things and in all places.
I have taken more seriously the first and great commandment, which is “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.” I know that to love my God with all my heart, I must keep all of his commandments, not just some of them. If I believe that God created the divine institution of marriage, than I must choose to follow Him by supporting His definition of marriage. I can still love one another as I obey this commandment.
I have tried to start living my life by considering good, better, and best options. To me, the best way is always God’s way.
The problem is, we differ in our definitions of God’s way, and many people do not even believe in God, or believe in a different god.
To quote from Fiddler on the Roof, “He’s right and he’s right? How can they both be right?” Tevye, whose previous comments provoked this puzzlement, answers and says, “You know, you are also right.”
No, it cannot be both ways. Either traditional marriage is right or gay marriage is right. They cannot both be right.
I must believe and do what I believe is right. I believe God is still speaking, and that He has upheld his charge that marriage should be between a man and a woman only. I have seen the blessings of leaving my parents and cleaving to my spouse. I know that there are divine roles for both men and women, which when combined in righteous unity, can lead to harmony in the home, and provide the most ideal setting for raising children.
As I do what I believe is right, I certainly do not want to be contentious, or contribute to any feelings of division in our land. Know that I believe everyone is a child of God, and are loved equally by Him. We all endure various trials over the course of our lifetimes. We will also be tempted, and oftentimes succumb to that temptation. We are always equal for these reasons, and we must treat each other as such.
To both sides, I plead to please stop the hate. Please stop the fighting and name-calling. We do not understand everything about each other, God, or even ourselves. Rather than divide ourselves because of our differences, let’s unite because of our similarities.
I recently asked Aaron if he was offended that I often eat at Chick-fil-A, a company that is very pro traditional marriage. His answer is a profound ending to this discussion, and something I hope we can all reflect on:
It doesn’t bother me at all, actually. I even have had it in the last couple of months. It did bother me at first; I didn’t want to support a business that didn’t align with my political and personal views. But then I thought, do I want to encourage destruction or growth? By encouraging myself and others not to go there, in protest, I was hoping in some roundabout way that their business would fold. If enough people stopped going, they would be FORCED to change or fold. On the other hand, by continuing to go there in love and peace, I am encouraging growth and acceptance in Chick-fil-A’s employees. I want to promote understanding, not violence. I can’t do that if I’m not present.
Update: My brother and I had a lovely conversation about my post. He even had a stranger message him and thank him for his example. In our conversation, Aaron said something profound, a message I had actually almost written myself. I suppose it needs to be shared:
If #lovewins is to really mean anything, we must treat all with love! Not just those with whom we agree on any given matter.
This post is part of a blog hop with these wonderful bloggers! We’re talking about our marriages, giving tips, and sharing what we’ve learned, but most importantly defending traditional marriage between a man and a woman.
I took the boys to the library last Monday night. I don’t usually look forward to it because Kamren always opens the elevator, he and Rigel try to run upstairs, and one or both run in the aisles. When in line to check out, Rigel was trying to touch the big screen. I asked him to stop, and went to get him when he didn’t. I then heard a voice call my name, “Amanda.” I looked up to the other young man working. He asked: “How do you do it? How do you raise
three boys?”
I answered that they love each other very much and are usually good boys. I chuckled as I told him that they bring me much more joy than pain.
As I walked to the car, I felt that I needed to give this young man a better answer, and I thought about it all evening. As I started to pay more attention and take notes, I was shocked at how much thought and work goes into raising kids. After over a week of pondering, here is “how I do it:”
Make the most of my time.
I speed walk around the house, doing everything as quickly as I can before the kids start fighting or something gets broken. On my way to do a task, I pick up toys and books from off the floor.
I also multitask all the time, often using one arm to do one thing, and the other to hold a child. I help Casey with his homework while starting dinner and cleaning the kitchen, or make a phone call to an insurance company while playing outside with my kids. If I put something in the microwave, you better believe I am using that minute to wash a few dishes. When there are groceries to bring in the house, I use all my strength to make only one trip.
Make the most of nap time.
There are a lot of things that can’t be done well when the kids are awake. During these couple hours, I usually pick up the really messy things as quickly as possible, and then spend the rest of the time doing things that I need or want to do – church responsibilities, reading, shopping online, talking to friends, planning, and blogging. You would think I would nap during nap time…
Get some me time.
This helps rebuild my sanity, and also helps me miss my kids. I am with them most of the time, but when my husband is home, sometimes I go work out, go to a church activity, or go to the movies with friends. Sometimes, we get a babysitter, and go somewhere fun together!
Deal with daily destruction.
Boys are really rough and crazy. They are constantly jumping off things, pretending to fight with “swords”, throwing things, and tumbling around.
Every week something in my home gets messed up. We try to learn from every destructive act by putting something up higher, locking more doors, listening for when it is “too quiet,” or buying more durable or less expensive
stuff.
My house is also a little greasy, and I have to be okay with the fact that I can’t keep it spotless. We often find dried up food on door knobs or the wall. There are always crumbs on the floor and smeared food on the couch. We just clean it up as we see it and move on. The kids will probably always have stains on their clothing, or messy hair.
Making a mess often makes the kids so happy, so sometimes we sit back and let them do it (or help them in the process). Seeing them make memories and have fun is more important than avoiding a mess.
Do a lot of physical activity.
My boys love to have piggy back rides, play “run from mommy,” pretend to be super heroes on the trampoline, and spin around so much, everyone falls down in dizziness. They want to run, and run fast. They want to be outside all
the time. I have to somehow find the energy to do all this physical activity. Luckily, I have their dad, who can take on that role a lot of the time.
Do activities together.
I want my boys to be best friends. My husband and I really think hard as to what toys to have inside and outside, and what special things we can do that all of the boys will enjoy, at their very different ages. We also encourage them to play together, to hug each other, and to help each other.
Going places as a family helps us make fun memories, and learn more about each other’s interests. It also helps decrease boredom and irritability to have something to look forward to. The kids always enjoy going to the children’s museum, the library, the playground, the park, and play dates. Sometimes we take them out to eat, to a movie, or on a trip.
Be flexible.
Things aren’t always going to go according to plan. Kids can get sick or hurt. The weather might change. Someone might cancel a play date, or an activity might be postponed. It is important for me to stay positive and flexible, so I can help my children do that too.
Be silly!
When I am having fun, being silly, and laughing with the children, they enjoy life even more. The house is lit up in joy. We do a lot of tickling, and making goofy faces and funny sounds. Much giggling ensues.
Show love and attention to each child.
Our boys have very different needs and personalities, so they all need individual attention. They want to show me what is important to them. I need to make sure I focus and show them I care.
They also communicate in different ways. Kamren barely talks, so I have had to learn how to decipher him. I often tell him to “show me,” and he takes my hand.
All of my boys really treasure affection. It could be by cuddling, giving hugs and kisses, playing with them, or saying “I love you.” It is so important that they feel equally loved.When they are in bad moods, it is usually because they need attention, so I give extra hugs, talk to them, or tell them I love them.
Praise and reward them.
My boys need to see their mother as their biggest fan. I congratulate them on their hard work, hang up their drawings, attend my oldest’s award ceremonies and performances, reward my oldest when he does well on a
report card or gets an award, and do lots of high fives and fist bumps when they cooperate, do something nice, or learn to do something new.
Celebrate special occasions and have family traditions.
We make every child’s birthday special. We do a special meal and cake. We usually have family over, but also sometimes do parties. We also do special things for all other major holidays. They are definitely times to
look forward to.
We have some fun traditions too, like whenever we make pizza or get a fun snack, we eat it picnic style while watching a movie. Every Sunday, we eat dinner with our extended family, and when the weather is good, we take walks together.
Capture adorable moments.
We always need reminders of how much we love and cherish our children. I feel it the most during those quiet moments when they are reading together, watching a movie together, or sleeping. This is when they appear the
most angelic. I treasure the pictures I take and the stories I write about my three boys.
Teach them constantly.
I do my best to answer their questions. I read them a lot of books. I point things out, and explain things when I see teachable moments. I help Casey with his homework daily.
Jad and I also teach by letting the kids help us cook, fix things, fold laundry, vacuum, and garden. We share our talents and hobbies with them to build connections, and expand their capabilities. For example, I teach Casey
piano, and Jad teaches the children Arabic.
If one of the kids is trying to do something, but struggling, I don’t just take over. I give them some time to try again before I help. Often, they teach themselves.
Manners are also something we constantly teach. I don’t know what it is about boys, but they think all kinds of bodily functions are funny. I try to teach my boys to say “excuse me” when they burp, etc. I also remind them to
say “please (Kamren gives me a kiss instead),” “thank you,” “you’re welcome,” and “yes, ma’am/sir.”
Give them responsibilities.
I want my children to be self-reliant and learn the value of work. My oldest has the most responsibilities because he knows how to do the most. However, the little ones know they need to clean up their toys, put their dishes in the sink, and put their leftover drinks in the refrigerator. We sing the “clean up” song a lot in our house.
Be strict and enforce the rules.
My kids need to know who is boss. Having a lot of rules helps discipline them, and enforcing the rules helps them learn the value of obedience and respect. “Yes, you are always going to wash your hands after using the bathroom or eating.” “No, you are not going to play and run around until after you have eaten all your food.” “You can’t play with your friends if your room and bathroom are disgusting.”
There are so many rules the kids, especially my little ones, ignore. My husband and I have to follow them and make sure they are following the rules, and if they aren’t, we have to redirect them. If my oldest breaks a rule on purpose, there are consequences.When they hurt each other, we always make sure they apologize and give each other hugs.
Provide for their temporal needs.
My husband and I make sure our children are fed, clothed, rested, bathed, warm, socialized, and happy. This includes in the home and outside it (got to keep the diaper bag well-stocked). As they get older, we help them learn how to do these things themselves, but we are always focused on their well-being. Most of the time, we make sure their needs are taken care of before our own.
Keep them safe.
There is a lot of looking around, holding of hands, calling of names, yelling to stop, and running to catch up in my mom life. Kids do not understand how dangerous the world is, so my husband and I are constantly teaching them about looking both ways before crossing the street, wearing seat belts, staying close to mom and dad at all times, not touching certain things, etc.
Run errands with them, even though they are crazy.
I always kind of dread going to the store, the library, or anywhere the kids need to reigned in and quiet. The opposite always happens. I could just wait until my husband is home to run all the errands, but time with him is limited. I want our family to have fun when Daddy is home, not worry about all the things we have to do.
Don’t worry about what everyone else is thinking, but just do my best.
People are going to judge me for having three kids, and for going out in public with them. They are going to judge my parenting by how my children behave. It is very important for my self-esteem, my sanity, my productivity,
and my relationship with my children, to not care what other people think.
Even without thinking of what others are thinking, I can sometimes be hard on myself when I can’t keep the house clean, stay patient, or have the time or energy to accomplish all my tasks. I try to remember to just do my best
based on my capacity for that day, and then strive to be a little better the next day. My children know I love them. With faith and hard work, I know I can endure all the hardships of parenting.
Ask for advice.
There is no instruction manual for moms. It is really hard to know what to do in every situation that comes up. I ask for help from other moms who have gone through things I go through. Often, I get really good advice on how
to help my kids, and even how to be a better mom.
Be united with Daddy.
It is so important for my husband and I to be united in rule-making, disciplining, traditions, and in all other aspects of raising our children. Children need a safe haven. If Mommy and Daddy show love for each other, they will know they are safe. They will feel loved, and want to be at home.
Keep God in our home.
We sing a lot of children’s hymns in our house. We also read the scriptures every night, and pray as a family often. We have pictures of Jesus around the house, and talk about how He loves us. We do family nights where we
talk about how to be better children of God. Our sweet kids find comfort in these routines, even if they don’t always seem to be paying attention. Love is stronger in our home as we make God a big part of it.
Pray a lot.
My husband and I aren’t perfect parents. We really struggle with stress, lack of sleep, and concerns about our children’s behavior and happiness. We pray constantly for patience, for guidance on how to better teach and show
love to our children, and for the well-being and safety of our family.
I don’t parent my children alone. My husband, God, and I raise them together. That is how we raise three boys.
1. See it on the ledge of your stairwell, jump backwards, and scream!
2. Run as far away from it as you can.
3. Ask your four-year-old if he will kill it.
4. When he looks at you in horror and says no, you realize you must kill it.
5. Breathe deeply.
6. Say a prayer that the experience won’t be scary and that you will be unharmed.
7. Grab the vacuum from the hall closet and run upstairs as fast as you can, veering away from where the bug was.
8. Make sure the bug is in the same spot. It is.
9. You plug in the vacuum, and thoughts of how the bug is just sitting there minding its own business, and that it is one of God’s creations, run through your mind.
10. You are reminded bugs do not belong in the house, especially ones that are big and ugly, and you start to extend the vacuum hose.
11. You realize that may not be good enough, so you run to the laundry room and grab the first spray bottle you see: Windex.
12. You approach the bug and spray the Windex on it like a mad woman.
13. As the blue liquid starts to roll down the wall of your stairwell, the bug slowly starts to walk away.
14. You pick up the vacuum hose up again, trying to build courage to get close enough to the bug that the vacuum hose will suck it into its dark abyss.
15. Meanwhile, your toddler has come up the stairs and is happily playing right near the bug of death.
16. You scream frantically at him to get out of the way and near you. Why doesn’t he realize danger is right above his head???
17. He looks at you like you are strange, but finally comes to you.
18. You ask your 4-year-old one more time if he would like to come kill the bug.
19. He fearfully says that he wants to get in his jeep and drive to Daddy so he can come home and kill it.
20. Taking that as a no, you tell yourself that you have to do this. You can do this.
21. You spray more Windex for good measure, and the bug slowly inches itself further away from you.
22. You very carefully take the vacuum hose, and inch it as close as you can to the bug, still on the stair ledge.
23. He tries to flap his (he has wings?), and you are glad the Windex has weighed him down so he can’t fly away.
24. You bravely move the hose one more inch and watch the bug disappear into the black hole.
25. You scream and turn off the vacuum, watching the hose fall to the ground.
26. You ask yourself, is the bug really gone? What if he comes out the other end?
27. After a quick scan, you realize that it is really gone, and slowly put everything away.
28. You clean up the Windex from the ledge, wall, and carpet, because in your panic attack, you accidentally spilled some on the stairs.
29. You look one more time to make sure the bug is gone.
30. You reassure your 4-year-old and yourself that the bug really is gone and it is safe in your home once again. Your toddler continues to play happily as if this traumatizing experience never happened.
So, there you have it: a mere 30 steps to killing a really ugly, brown, flying, and large bug.
I realized these steps this morning before going downstairs for breakfast. I am not exaggerating the steps I took. I am really that scared of huge bugs in my home.
I think my fear came from my dad chasing me with dead bugs when I was a kid. I used to hide in the bathroom with the door locked until he gave up. He still occasionally tries to do the same thing, but now I just get angry and yell at him, and then run away.
Yes, I am a little crazy, in case you couldn’t tell before.
As I was pondering these moments later, I realized firstly, that I am a little over-dramatic, but secondly, that there are way scarier things that I could actively fear.
In general, though, despite the increasing violence, decreasing morals, more intolerance in the name of tolerance, and a push to remove God from our nation, I do not live my life in fear.
I attribute that to my faith in Jesus Christ and my relationship with Him and my Heavenly Father. Because of this faith that I have, I do my best to keep God’s commandments, fulfill my roles as a woman, mother, wife, sister, teacher and friend as best I can, and strive to make my home a holy place. Because I do that, in partnership with my husband, God is my partner too.
I have the Holy Spirit abundantly in my life helping me see truth, recognize falsehoods, remind me of what spiritual knowledge I have, and help me look at the eternal perspective. This life will be full of experiences that will test my faith, and that of my husband and children, and bring hurt and suffering to us. As long as we keep God first in our family, we will be able to endure those things and come out of them better people. We will also be able to withstand the temptations and deceitfulness of Satan.
Will my fear of bugs ever go away? I am thinking it may not, but that is okay. Bugs are a part of life, and I can’t completely control their presence in my home. But, I can control the presence of many other things in my home that could either strengthen or dampen faith, bring the Spirit or drive it away.
My realization of this control, and the implementation of it in my home, is what makes something simple like bugs my greatest fear. I’ll take it.
Today is a very special day. It is the one year anniversary of my first blog post. As I looked over my 47 posts from this past year, some were short, some were long, some were very long, and some were even longer than that.
Some tell many personal stories from my life. Some contain my fervent testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some are funny, some are serious, but all have me in them.
Not every post had a lot of readers, but all of them came from my heart, and all are special to me.
I had liked the idea of starting a blog for a long time, but never had the real gumption to take that step. Then there was one day when I had all these ideas and messages flow into me that I knew I had to share. They were about the trials of parenthood, but how they really made you a better person.
I knew that I needed to start my blog then. I thought for a long time about a name. I prayed for guidance. The words to the LDS hymn “Love at Home” came to my mind. One phrase in the song is “making life a bliss complete when there’s love at home.”
That was it. That was my title, and that was my purpose. To describe my blog, I chose this phrase: My heartfelt thoughts and feelings about home, family, love, faith, and personal growth.
I have remained true to this description.
I realize that because my purpose is to help myself and others see that God is there, He loves us, and that He has given us this wonderful life on earth to learn, grow and become more like Him, I may not get the most readers. Though I know that we all can benefit from knowing that life really can be a bliss complete when we are kind, compassionate, forgiving and humble, not everyone wants to read about that.
I won’t lie to you, it hurts when I put my heart and soul into a post, and I get maybe a handful of likes, one share, and a couple comments. I want to uplift and help people, and hearing from my readers helps me know I am accomplishing that goal.
When my readers share my posts, I can reach more people. This may sound prideful, and maybe it is if I focus on what people think of me, or how I compare to others. However, I truly feel from the bottom of my heart that Heavenly Father wants me to be His witness and a witness of His Son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost, through my writings. The Holy Ghost has put words into my mind and through my fingertips so many times.
I believe I was given my writing talent to share the gospel of Christ, to help others learn from my mistakes, and even to help preserve my family history.
No matter how discouraged I may get about not having much feedback on my posts, I have never felt that I should stop writing. I will write as long as I feel called to do so. Thank you to those of you who do express your appreciation for my words. It means the world to me. There is nothing kinder you could do for me than that.
In honor of my first year of blogging, I have come up with some superlatives. I hope you enjoy them, and take some time to read some of these posts if you haven’t already.
There was a message at church that Sunday that helped me lift a heavy burden from my life. That was when I decided to start my Sunday series: Sabbath Day Light. These posts meant so much to me spiritually, but as a new blogger, I decided to stop doing them because of the lack of interest. My testimony remains, however, that attending church truly does nourish your soul and enlighten your mind.
This post has had the highest number of reads, and probably the most comments. I agonized over the title, and based on the number of reads, I think it was a winner. If you haven’t read it, this is a story about my husband and a parasite that had grown for 10 years in his body, threatening his life and claiming the vast majority of his liver.
Why would I add this one, you ask? Well, because I still think it was a very uplifting post, and is very relevant to the first weekend in April, just a little over a week away. Check it out!
I have many long posts, but there are only a few in the very long category. This one is my longest, with 15 pages, 4575 words, 19,854 characters without spaces, and 24, 312 characters with spaces.
That post took me countless afternoons to write. I am really proud of it, though, and I really think that couples who study and contemplate these gospel-centered suggestions on how to cleave to each other, will find a benefit to their marriages. I know that because as I researched and wrote it, I found ways to strengthen my marriage.
I spent so many hours researching the beliefs, practices and doctrines of the different Christian churches. It was really interesting, and helped me illustrate why I believe there must be absolute Truth.
I had a lot of fun writing this one. Last Father’s Day was so different than what we are normally used to, but we made it special and fun anyway. We will never forget it.
I actually wrote the birth story of my beloved Kamren before I started blogging, so on his first birthday, I posted that story on my blog. The story surrounding my youngest son’s birth is truly a miracle, and may make you cry – in a good way.
I put this one as the most influential because I originally published this on a fellow neighbor’s blog. It sparked many questions about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that I was able to answer. I have also found many opportunities to share this blog post with others of and not of my faith, and have received feedback that it helped their perspectives, or that they would like to share it with more people who they think could learn from it.
This post was inspired from a conversation I had with my son about bullying. I know that the Spirit guided me to say what I said to him, and I wanted to share it so other parents could help their children too.
I put a lot of personal things in this quote about modesty (in dress, speech and behavior), that apparently made at least one friend of mine and my husband uncomfortable. I put those things in to help other women see that they, and I, are better than I used to portray myself.
I really did post 100 things I have learned from this wonderful book, which is another testament of Jesus Christ. Looking at the 100 messages, it is clear that it is a work of God, and a complement to the Bible.
I wrote this post right after election day last year, when I saw an alarming lack of civility. I tried to bring the point home that our country needs more love, tolerance, and support for its leaders and its citizens.
There is a very sad story in this blog post, one that illustrates the poison that pornography is to individuals, spouses, and families. But there is hope, should one take hold of it!
It is hard to pick a favorite out of 47 posts, but I knew without looking it would be one of my four posts from this series. The series in total I felt very strongly I needed to write. This one means the most to me because my most heartfelt testimony flows through it. The Spirit touched my heart so much as I wrote, that tears streamed down my face. There is nothing more valuable to me than my testimony of Jesus Christ and His gospel.
I knew I wanted to write one more post before my 1-year anniversary of this blog. I had started one, knowing it had great stuff in it, but my fingers couldn’t bring it together like I wanted. I prayed for guidance for what to write, and this new post flowed through me without any hesitation. It hasn’t had many reads, but please read it. I know it is supposed to help someone.
There are so many more posts that I love because they are about my family or spiritual lessons I have learned in my life.
I am grateful for my Heavenly Father for giving me a gift with writing. I hope I can always be worthy of that gift.
As someone who has many friends and family members who have questioned their faith, whether it be in their specific religion, or God Himself, this subject of losing faith has been consistently in my mind.I am someone who loves to help. Anyone who knows me knows that I constantly am looking for ways to serve. I feel one of the most important ways to serve is by helping others in spiritual matters.
If you are one who has lost his/her faith, let me try to help you.
Let’s start with a simple physical analogy. When you lose a key, or your phone, or your kid’s favorite teddy bear, what do you do?
1. You realize you have lost it and slightly panic.
2. You look around the immediate area.
3. If you don’t see it there, you retrace your steps.
4. If you still can’t find it, you ask other people who may have seen it to help you find it.
5. You look for as long as it takes because that item is essential to you.
6. If you don’t find it after all that, you may feel defeated and sad. Then, and only then, do you even consider replacing what it was you lost.
Guess what? These same steps can be used for when you lose your testimony of one or all aspects of your faith.
First, you will realize that something is missing. You don’t feel that fire like you used to. You find you have doubts, a lot of them. You wonder if you ever really knew God was real, or that Jesus is your Savior, or if certain books of scripture are true.
There are many options you can choose as you realize you have lost your faith, but the best option, the only option that will lead you to your end goal of finding your faith, is to reflect on your life. Reflect on the blessings you have, on the goodness you see because of the faith you have lived by.
If you can’t see that because you have been slowly detaching for a long time, you should retrace your steps, meaning look back upon your past. Think of special times that you exhibited faith, made a commitment to God, felt the Holy Spirit, felt a prayer answered. Perhaps you will want to write those things down.
I have spoken to people who question if those special spiritual experiences of the past were a hoax. It saddens me to hear that. I think that we each have a conscience, we each have an inherent goodness, and we each have the light of Christ within us. If we felt peace and joy in those moments, it wasn’t a lie.
Perhaps, though, you really struggle believing that what you once felt was really right. That is when you can talk to others. You can talk to friends and family who do have their faith, and who can testify to you. Most importantly, you can and should commune with your Heavenly Father. Pour out your heart to Him earnestly, sincerely, and humbly. Ask for His guidance, for His love, for His spirit to rest upon you and envelop you. Ask Him to help you remember, and to confirm to you the truth you once knew.
You may lose heart if you try these things and nothing helps you find your faith. Be patient. Keep searching. Read your scriptures, continue to pray, fast, talk to those who help lead you back to your faith rather than push you away from it, for running away from what you lost will not help you find it. In fact, it most certainly guarantees you never will.
I have had enough experience in my life with prayer, scripture study, and soul-searching to testify to you that this method will work if you are willing to hear God’s answer. If you already have your mind made up, you will never be able to hear His voice.
I believe that in most cases, number 6, replacing your lost faith with something else, will not be a necessity as long as steps 1-5 are taken very seriously and sacredly. However, if you have done all of the other steps with full purpose of heart, and you still don’t find your faith, perhaps God is telling you there is more out there for you. Just remember that it is in God you must trust if you wish to find and nourish your faith once more.
I am there for anyone who ever wishes to have conversations with me about faith. I want to help, and by so doing, I know my faith will also grow.
Much love to all of you who are confused and unable to find your way. There is hope, and you can get the answers you seek.
Today is Jad’s and my fifth wedding anniversary. I am so grateful to call him mine. When we were newlyweds, I wrote about our courtship. I think our story is grand. Here it is:
Jad and Mandy met at a YSA dance in Apex, NC on April 3,
2009. Mandy had a boyfriend at the time, but liked to go to the dances to have
fun with friends and well, dance. Jad
didn’t really like going to dances, but his friends had gotten him to go a
couple times before. He saw Mandy and was amazed at how beautiful she was. Her
dancing also caught his attention and he knew he wanted to ask her to dance.
They danced once that night. It was hard for Mandy to understand all that he
said because it was loud and because he had a strong accent, but she did think
he was cute and sweet. Jad asked Mandy for her phone number that night, but she
said she couldn’t give it. They ended the night saying that they would
hopefully see each other at the next dance.
A picture of Casey and me around the time Jad and I met.
May 1 was the next dance. Mandy had broken up with her boyfriend
soon after the previous dance. She saw Jad as she was dancing that night, but
he didn’t approach her for quite a while. He was pleasantly surprised when she
remembered his name. This time Mandy paid more attention to Jad, noticing how
good he smelled and how good-looking he was. They danced a lot that night; Jad
asked her to dance as often as he could. He also pulled her out in the hallway
to talk to her in the quiet and learn more about her. Mandy noticed that he
liked to stare at her. They had a wonderful time together that night, and the
night ended with them exchanging phone numbers.
A few short days later, Jad and Mandy talked on the phone
for the first time. He surprised her when he opened up quickly and told her he
was divorced. She had been afraid to tell him about her divorce and child, but
it was so easy to tell him. He didn’t judge her at all but told her that she
was a wonderful person and shouldn’t be judged on her past. It was a good
conversation. Mandy and Jad were eager to go out on their first date.
Mandy took off work May 26 to meet Jad in Raleigh. It was a
very exciting and fun day. They went to the Science Museum in Raleigh to see
the Chocolate Exhibition. It was invigorating learning all about the history of
chocolate, and the items in the gift shop were exciting and unique. Mandy got
chocolate bubble bath and Jad got chocolate soap. They ate Chargrill for lunch
and then went to the rose garden behind Raleigh Little Theater.
Jad took lots
of pictures of Mandy with the flowers.
He thought she was beautiful.
Mandy was flattered but embarrassed.
She took a picture of him to make it even.
The garden was fragrant and lovely, and helped both of them see how they liked each other.
Then they went to the movies to see Star
Trek. The mall was next. They looked at everything from furniture to legos.
Then they ate at the Cheesecake Factory. Jad got Mandy to eat some of his
dinner. This was the first time they shared a fork. Jad asked Mandy to hold his
hand that night, and she did even though she wasn’t ready. The whole day was
wonderful and both knew that the other was great. The night ended with a hug
and a smile.
Mandy and Jad continued to talk on the phone periodically.
Jad got busy during the summer working double shifts, so they did not see each
other at all in the summer. During that time Mandy got back together with her
previous boyfriend when he came home on leave. She felt really bad when Jad
emailed her about seeing her at a dance, as if he wanted to pick up where they
had left off. She knew she had lost out on a great opportunity when he
responded to her explanation with grace and said how he would never regret
knowing her or spending time with her.
Mandy’s relationship didn’t last. She ended up telling Jad and they
wanted to see each other again.
September 5 was the next time they saw each other. That was
the evening Jad met Casey. He was wonderful with Casey and Mandy loved the time
they spent together. She learned a lot about his country’s food that day too.
She kissed him on the cheek that night after feeling overwhelmed with how
wonderful he was.
The courtship continued for five months. Mandy and Jad spent
nearly every weekend together. They took turns traveling to either Kinston or
Hillsborough.
Mandy knew she loved Jad October 23, the day they went to the
state fair together. That day she, Jad
and Casey had such a fun time and felt like a family. Mandy could see herself being with Jad always,
but it took him a little longer to know.
Mandy and Jad got to know each other’s families and spent a
lot of time eating and doing fun activities together like going to see Phantom,
visiting Battleship, NC and Wilmington,
celebrating Christmas together,
I got custom wind chimes made for Jad. The bottom said Just like music, you soothe my soul. I love you, Jad.
Jad got Casey a soccer ball.
I giggled that he put From the Kitchen of Mandy and Jad. It must come true now!
Jad drew this picture for me.
I thought Jad’s interaction with my Nana was so adorable. If she liked him, it was even more confirmation he was wonderful.
going to a
formal New Year’s dance,
bowling,
and ice skating.
They had little rough patches
along the way, but never doubted how much they cared about each other.
After New Year’s, Mandy and Jad knew they wanted to be
married and talked about it often. He even indicated that he had looked at
rings. Mandy hoped every weekend that he would ask her to marry him, but for
weeks he didn’t. She got a little upset that he was taking so long since they
knew they wanted to be together, but he always smiled his beautiful smile and
told her to be patient.
February 6 was the day. It was freezing cold and snowing.
Mandy had suggested going to Duke Gardens as they were planning what to do that
day. They almost didn’t go because of the snow, but still went after a strong
suggestion from Mandy’s mom. They both took their cameras in to take pictures
of the scenery and each other.
It was freezing, but kind of romantic. Mandy
didn’t know this, but as they were walking, Jad was trying to find the perfect
spot to propose. They had stood under a lovely gazebo earlier, and Jad led her
back up there to take a different route later on.
Outside of the gazebo was a
quote from Francis Bacon: God almighty first planted a garden. And
indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures. After reading it, Jad pulled three red roses
from his jacket. The roses, all varying in the amount of bloom, represented the
past, present and future or their relationship. Jad said some poetic words
about him and Mandy and how much he loved her. At that moment, a huge crowd of
people walked by. It was very embarrassing, so Mandy and Jad walked into the
gazebo as they were passing by. Then Jad continued. He talked about how their
relationship started out in a garden and implied that they were going to take their
next major steps in a garden as well. He said many beautiful things, but did
not get to the point quickly. It embarrassed Mandy and she shyly nodded and
smiled, adding little interjections. He did not get on his knee when he made it
known that he wanted to marry Mandy, but she was very willing. Then, he said
that he also had something for her in his pocket that he’d had for about a
month now. Jad took it out of his pocket, and got down on his knee to present
it to Mandy. She wanted to take the ring out, but he put it on her. It was
beautiful and Mandy was overwhelmed with happiness. She started to tear up and
realized the wait was worth it.
Our first picture together as an engaged couple.
Mandy and Jad started their married life together March 6,
2010 and were married by President Milton under the same gazebo where Jad had
proposed exactly a month earlier.
Though getting married at that time and that place was unexpected, Mandy and Jad were still so happy to be married and start their lives together.
It was a perfect day to become the Al-Bjaly family.
Our little Al-Bjaly family has grown by two in the last five years, with the births of Rigel and Kamren. We have also been sealed in the temple for all eternity, put Jad through life-threatening surgery, bought our first house, seen Jad become a citizen of our great nation, gotten a dog, started a blog, put Jad in school onto a new career path, and mourned the loss of family members, including his grandmother and my aunt.
I am amazed that we have gone through so many trials, tests of faith, and triumphs. I love my husband and my family with all my heart, and look forward to the next five, and fifty years.
