More Used

Most people who know me know that I like used things. I buy used furniture, used pots and pans, and used clothing. There are a number of sensible reasons for this, but part of my liking for these things is something less tangible – a feeling of comfortable safety with something that has been much-used and maybe much-loved.

This morning I was struck when a phrase from the beautiful song, “More Holiness Give Me,” popped into my head. The hymn is essentially a plea from a humble seeker, asking God to “make me better.” The line that moved me was this one:

More used would I be . . .                         

Maybe one reason this caught my attention is that in the world we live in, “being used” is not often considered a positive thing.We protest "You're just using me!" So asking to be “more used” seems odd.

But used does not have to mean exploited or manipulated. Some synonyms for the word "use" are happy, positive words – worth, advantage, and benefit, for example.

When God uses people, He uses them for good. And He uses all kinds of people:

              But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world

                           to confound the wise;

                    and God hath chosen the weak things of the world

                            to confound the things which are mighty . . .

                                                 (1 Corinthians 1:27)

  O        O       O      O       O

A few years ago, my sister Erin traveled to Africa to participate in humanitarian service work. Some of her time there she spent working with a woman in Zambia who, in addition to her own children, took care of about twenty-five orphans, in her remote, run-down home.

As Erin tells it: I spent a few days there helping fix up her house, and she was always busy. One day after she made dinner, I noticed she had slipped her shoes off. When I saw this shoe it I was hit with the idea of wearing your life out with service, and being someone who God can use as he needs to, even though the work may be hard.

Our choice to offer ourselves up to be "more used" is a gesture that requires courage, humility, and faith. 

            Therefore, if ye have desires to serve God
                    ye are called to the work . . .
                                         (D&C 4:3)

If you have the courage to ask to be more used, you'd better get ready.

         And Joshua said unto the people,

                Sanctify yourselves:
                   for tomorrow

            the Lord will do wonders among you.

                             (Joshua 3:5)

. . . Wherever and whenever you read the word of God, with humble and real intent to remember the Savior, you will increase your desire to take His name upon you in your daily life. That desire will change the way you serve in the Lord’s Church. You will pray to Heavenly Father for help in magnifying even what appears to you to be a small calling. The help you will ask for is the ability to forget yourself and focus more on what the Savior wants for those you are called to serve.

(President Henry B. Eyring, October 2017 Ensign)

This is true for parents, for missionaries, for neighbors, for Stake Presidents, and for Visiting Teachers. It can be true for all of us.

\ \ \ \ \ \

The Savior, our great exemplar, set the standard from the beginning. It is He that we emulate when we ask the Lord to use us as He will.

                      Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying:
                               Whom shall I send,
                          and who will go for us?
                                       Then I said: Here am I; send me. 
                                                               (2 Nephi 16:8) 

He stepped forth and offered Himself to be used. And He was used. He was misused. He was abused. He was, indeed, worn out in His service.

But He was made new again. And because of Him, we will be, too.

     

   More fit for the kingdom,

                        More used would I be,

More blessed and holy—

     More, Savior, like thee.

(https://www.lds.org/music/text/hymns/more-holiness-give-me?lang=eng&_r=1)

Slow of Speech

More than three thousand years ago, God gave Moses an assignment.

Come now therefore, and I will send thee unto Pharaoh, that thou mayest bring forth my people the children of Israel out of Egypt.

But Moses wasn't so sure. He had some serious doubts and questions.

“Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh, and that I should bring forth the children of Israel out of Egypt?  . . . what shall I say unto them? . . . O my Lord, I am not eloquent, neither heretofore, nor since thou hast spoken unto thy servant: but I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue.” 

I think I know a little of what he's feeling. I really dislike the sound of my own voice. It's a little nasally, kind of sloppy, and I have a lisp that seven years of speech therapy could not erase. Sometimes I worry that I'll use the wrong word, or pronounce a word wrong, or just say something really stupid and make a fool of myself.

               But what if that doesn't really matter?

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When Wes and I moved to Memphis in 1989, we lived in a fairly poor part of the city. Memphis was a city with a lot of social, racial, and economic inequality, and we felt the presence of that inequity more than we had expected to.

The building where our ward met was several miles away from our home, and no active church members lived near us. After we had lived there about two years, we were given an assignment – to pick up a woman who had recently joined the church, and give her a ride to the meetings every Sunday. Although she did not live very close to us, her home was on our way to the building.

I don't remember her name, so I will call her Sister Pether. She was an older woman who lived in a small apartment near the freeway exit. She was always there, dressed and ready for church, when we pulled into the parking lot. She was cheerful and talkative, and she chatted with us as we drove. But we didn't know what she was saying. Under the best of circumstances we might have been able to decipher her strong deep-southern black accent, but these were not the best of circumstances. Sister Pether was a poorly-educated woman with no teeth. We understood almost nothing she said.

We were glad to give her a ride, and she was clearly delighted by our fat, smiley baby, Sam. I silently wondered what she knew about the gospel, how she had come to join, and whether she might not be coming to church for the right reasons.

One evening the sister missionaries came to our house for dinner, and they told us something that had happened in Relief Society on a recent Sunday. The teacher had called on Sister Pether to read a scripture. (I don't know if the teacher was unaware of this woman's illiteracy and her speech impediment, or if she knew and bravely followed a spiritual prompting.) I expected that would have made for an uncomfortable moment, but that's not what happened. The woman sitting next to Sister Pether opened her scriptures to the assigned verses and quietly read the first word, which Sister Pether repeated. Word by word, they read the word of God, while every woman in the room struggled to control her tears.

I still don't know much of Sister Pether's history or her gospel knowledge. I don't know how her story ends. I don't need to. God knows her heart, and He will be her judge, and He will be her helper.

And with righteousness shall the Lord God judge the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth. (2 Nephi 30:9)

O let not the oppressed return ashamed: let the poor and needy praise thy name. (Psalms 74:21)

For he shall deliver the needy when he crieth; the poor also, and him that hath no helper. (Psalms 72:11 – 13)

            ✯     ✯     ✯     ✯     ✯     ✯     ✯

And Moses said unto the LORD, O my Lord, I am not eloquent, neither heretofore, nor since thou hast spoken unto thy servant: but I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue.

And the LORD said unto him, Who hath made man's mouth? or who maketh the dumb, or deaf, or the seeing, or the blind? have not I the LORD? Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee what thou shalt say . . . Certainly I will be with thee.

Maybe how we speak, and how we feel about our ability to speak, is not that important. Moses and Sister Pether both did the thing God called them to do. For Moses, it was freeing the Israelites, miraculously parting the Red Sea, and giving them God's commandments. For Sister Pether, it was getting dressed and ready for church every Sunday morning and doing what she was asked to do, despite her worldly weaknesses.

I frequently come across things that seem hard to deal with and that I wish I didn’t have to do. Maybe that's true for you, as well.

I hope these stories will help us remember that when we accept an assignment from God, big or small, He will be with us. We all have something to share; something to do that no one else can do.

The counsel that Bryant S. Hinckley gave his struggling missionary son Gordon is good advice for all of us:

Forget Yourself and Go to Work!

Invisible Blessings

Friday, January 2^nd was my son Ben's 18^th birthday. I straightened up the kitchen after breakfast and started to leave the room, flipping off the kitchen lights as I left. When one of them didn't turn off, I turned around to hit it again and I slipped and fell, breaking my hip on the wood floor.

I had surgery to repair the break that afternoon. It went well, and I am now recovering at home and feeling okay. I am amazed once again at the outflow of love and service from my friends, neighbors, and my wonderful family.

But there were some bad moments at first – some moments of questioning and fear. I suppose that most people in situations like this are prone to ask themselves, “Why? Why me?” Even the most devout believer might question, “Why did God let this happen?”

(At least, I hope other people do. I don't want to be the only one.)

I am remembering the terrible events of September 11, 2001, when people asked the same kind of questions: “Why would God allow all those people to be killed by these terrible men? Doesn't He have the power to stop them? Doesn't He care?”

I don't have the answers to those questions, but here's another question I don't have the answer for: How many times did God stop terrorists from killing? How many hijackings, kidnappings, and murders has He prevented?

In that context, I have to ask myself, “How many times did He keep me from falling? How many times have I fallen but have not been hurt? How many times have I had unseen protectors?”

I love the image this scripture paints on my heart:

I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up (D&C 84:88).

These scriptures below bring up another question: 

Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows:  (Isaiah 53:4)

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)

And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, (Mosiah 24:14)

Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:29 - 30) 

How much of the pain, how much of the nausea, how much of the all-around difficulty of this broken hip and its treatment have I borne myself? How much has He taken from me? During how much of my life have I been enduring only the tip of the misery iceberg?

I once heard a woman say that when she counts her blessings she reminds herself to double the count

to include “invisible blessings” – the car that didn't hit her, the cold she didn't get, the vicious dog that didn't bite her child. I certainly have reason to enumerate my blessings the same way.

I'm feeling really grateful now, and I want to keep feeling this way. So I'll be counting my blessings not doubled, but squared.

That's a lot of blessings. I hope I can count that high!

The Way You Look Tonight

You have probably heard these songs a time or two.

(From The Lady in Red)

The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
There's nobody here, it's just you and me, it's where I wanna be
Well, I hardly know this beauty by my side
I'll never forget the way you look tonight.

(From The Way You Look Tonight)

You're lovely, with your smile so warm

And your cheeks so soft,

There is nothing for me but to love you,

And the way you look tonight.

Lovely; never, ever change.

Keep that breathless charm.

Won't you please arrange it?

'Cause I love you, just the way you look tonight.

I used to think songs like these were incredibly romantic. I think almost every woman, at some point, wants her man to look at her and say, "Wow! You look amazing!"

But now I know more, and I want more.

Twenty-seven years ago today, I met the man who would become my husband. I was the "lady in red" who caught his eye at a single's ward Valentine's dance. I was twenty; he was twenty-two. We were attracted to each other immediately. Still, we dated for more than a year before we decided to get married.

1987

1988

It was the best decision I've ever made.

1989

If my husband had married me because of "just the way I looked that night", I don't know if he would still be around. Now, if he looks at me and thinks, "Wow, she's amazing," it's not because of my cute face, or my pretty hair, or my nice figure. Time and children and cancer have changed those things. If he thinks I'm amazing now, it's because he sees me as a strong woman; a loyal, devoted wife, a caring and dedicated mother, and a compassionate friend. He sees in me a woman of tenacious faith; a person who tries to stand for truth and righteousness. He has seen me at my worst, and at my best. We have had good times and hard times, and we have come through it all together.

The songs have it wrong. The books have it wrong. The movies have it wrong. Television shows and magazine ads have it wrong.

They don't know anything about romance.

If you want to see real romance, you can go to a cancer treatment center and watch as a man holds his wife's hand, or rubs her feet, while she receives her five-hour chemotherapy treatment.

Or visit a elderly care center and hear an eighty-seven year old man sing love songs to his wife, who can no longer sing back, and may not even recognize him.

Gordon B. Hinckley, who served as President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from 1995  to 2008, said:

"May I be personal for a moment? I sat at dinner across the table from my wife the other evening. It was fifty-five years ago that we were married in the Salt Lake Temple. The wondrous aura of young womanhood was upon her. She was beautiful, and I was bewitched. Now, for more than half a century, we have walked together through much of storm as well as sunshine. Today neither of us stands as tall as we once did. As I looked at her across the table, I noted a few wrinkles in her face and hands. But are they less beautiful than before? No, in fact, they are more so. Those wrinkles have a beauty of their own, and inherent in their very presence is something that speaks reassuringly of strength and integrity and a love that runs more deeply and quietly than ever before."  (“This I Believe,” BYU 1991-92 Devotional and Fireside Speeches, March 1, 1992, p. 78.)

This, my friends, is romance. This is true love. This is the love we want for our daughters, for our sons, and for ourselves.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Reprieve

I can’t say I wasn’t warned.

When my sister returned my dish, it still held about a third of the apple crisp I had taken to a family party. “But don’t eat it,” she said. “It’s been sitting in my car for days.”

After she left, I considered the leftover crisp thoughtfully. It looked good to me. There was no sign of mold or other spoilage. It smelled good, too. I put it in the microwave until it was smoking hot, thinking that should kill any bacteria that might be there. And when it had cooled down a bit, I dug in.

I was right about one thing – it still tasted good. But I was wrong about it being safe to eat. Within a few hours, I was experiencing debilitating abdominal pain. I spent most of the rest of the day curled up in agony in the bathroom, vomiting every 15 minutes or so.

I kept telling myself that this couldn’t continue much longer; that surely before long, I would have expelled (from one end or the other) the noxious stuff. But as the hours passed. I began to worry. It was the first Wednesday in December, and I was in charge of the Relief Society meeting that would be held that evening. None of the members of the Relief Society presidency were going to be there. I had planned the meeting alone, and I was the only person who knew what should happen. I felt (perhaps incorrectly) that if I didn’t show up, there would be no Relief Society Christmas Meeting. I began to pray more fervently for the Lord to heal me. But my agony of sickness continued.

Twenty minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start, I suddenly felt better. I changed my clothes, gathered my materials, and drove to the church. I knew I had been miraculously healed, and I was grateful.

The meeting was wonderful. I arranged the chairs in the Relief Society room into a half-circle, so the sisters could easily see and hear each other. We began the meeting with a prayer, and then I invited each of the women to share a favorite Christmas memory.

Each sister in turn shared a story, and the Spirit of God grew stronger every minute. I looked around and was struck by how beautiful everyone was. I believe that everyone there was very moved. 

When everyone had shared an experience, I passed out the words to a little-known Christmas song I had come across in my preparations for the meeting. Although none of the women had ever heard the song, I assured them that they could sing it, because it had the same tune as a familiar hymn, In Humility, Our Savior. I loved the idea that this song about the Savior’s birth would parallel a song we usually sang before the Sacrament was given. I struggled with sweet, deep emotions as we sang these words together:

Come, Thou long expected Jesus,

Born to set Thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us,

Let us find our rest in Thee.

Israel’s Strength and Consolation,

Hope of all the earth Thou art;

Dear Desire of every nation,

 Joy of every longing heart.

Born Thy people to deliver, 

Born a child and yet a King

Born to reign in us forever,

Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.

By Thine own eternal Spirit

Rule in all our hearts alone;

By Thine all sufficient merit,

Raise us to Thy glorious throne.

We enjoyed some light refreshments, and the meeting ended. I cleaned up a little before I headed for home. How wonderful that I had not felt at all sick during the meeting!

As soon as stepped into my house, I felt awful. I ran to the bathroom, and stayed much of the night, filling the toilet again and again.

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Next story – five + years later:

No one seemed to know what was wrong with me. I had been dragged to every doctor we could think of, and had received every test those doctors could think of. But nothing explained why I had suddenly lost forty pounds, become unable to walk straight, and was so tired and weak that I was essentially bedridden for three months.

During this time, my daughter Elisabeth turned eight, and her baptism was scheduled for a few weeks later. I hoped I would feel well by then.

I didn’t. The night before her baptism, I cried out to my Heavenly Father, telling Him how important it was to me to see Elisabeth baptized. I was determined to attend, even if I had to be carried in on a stretcher. But I hoped and prayed for better than that.

The next morning, I woke up and tentatively tried to get out of bed. I did it! I felt okay!

I showered, dressed, and went with my family to the Stake Center. I helped Elisabeth change into her baptismal clothing and joyfully watched my husband baptize her. I helped her get dried off and dressed in her cute new dress. I beamed as I saw her confirmed.  And then I went home and served lunch to the out-of-town relatives who had come for the event.

There was no question that my prayers had been answered. I felt great. I knew I had been the beneficiary of a Divine healing.

The next morning, I could not eat or get out of bed. A few weeks later, we finally learned why – I had a small cancerous brain tumor.

I’ve been thinking about these two events in my life. There are, I suppose, a number of lessons there. But this is the one that has been most prominent in my mind: God can heal me. He can heal me for an hour, or for a day. I believe He can heal me, can make me well, for a week, or for a month, or for the rest of my life. Why then, why doesn’t He?

I don’t have the full answer to that question. I do know this: He lives. I am His daughter. He knows my name; He knows my strengths; He knows my weaknesses. He wants the very best for me. He loves me with a perfect Father’s love.

I also know this: I have been richly blessed throughout my life, far beyond anything I could ever earn or deserve.

So, no, I don’t have all the answers. But I guess I’m starting to realize that I do have some of them. And maybe that’s enough for now.

Asleep in the Car

We were getting ready to leave for a little family day-trip when the phone rang. I answered it and found it was our bishop, calling to give us some bad news – my neighbor Alice had been in a car accident. She was only slightly injured, but her husband had been killed.

I said, “No, no.” I said it quite politely, yet firmly. It wasn't, I think, so much a denial as a rejection of the news: “No, no, thank you, I don’t want that. I don’t want it, and I won’t take it –” as if by refusing the news, I could make it not true.

I dropped the phone and began to cry. Alice had been there for me during the worst of my cancer treatment, and we had become close friends. It was horrible for me to think about how devastating this was for her. 

And then I had to load up my kids and our things, get in the van, and head south, trying to provide my kids with a fun weekend, just as Alice and her husband had done 18 hours earlier.

How do we ever do it? I wondered. How do we drive our cars, and go on hikes, and eat the food, and drink the water, knowing that anything we do can kill us? How can stand to live and love and have children and husbands and friends when everything can change in an instant and it hurts so much to care?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

That afternoon we stopped in Salt Lake to go to the Joseph Smith exhibit at the Church History Museum. The two youngest children had fallen asleep in the van on the way, and did not want to be awakened to go to a museum. We eventually got one of them to come with us willingly, but the other was too tired to behave rationally. We had to drag her out of the van screaming and crying. We tried to talk to her, but she wasn't listening. She kept running back to the car. We knew we couldn't leave her there, but she wouldn't cooperate so I picked her up and carried her down the street. She fought and cried so I had to put her down, but I took her hand and pulled her along. She kept screaming, “Let me go!  I don’t want to go!” the whole way as we walked from where we had parked to the museum. I felt terribly mean, but I didn't know what else to do.

When we got there I took her into the restroom and tried to calm her down. She continued to yell. I finally managed to ask her why she didn't want to come to the museum and she screamed, “Because I've been here before, and I don’t want to go again!” I told her that we had never been there, but she insisted that she had.

I had heard there was a fun children’s area upstairs, so we all headed that way. I was holding her by the wrist and pulling her the whole way up the escalators. When we got there, the other kids got excited at all the things there were to do and see, and they scattered around playing. My reluctant daughter continued to cry and struggle for a minute, but at last she began to look around and see what her siblings were doing. Suddenly she wanted to play, too. She ran off, smiling happily. As it turned out, she loved the museum and was very happy there.

As I was putting her to bed that night, I asked her about the way she had acted. She said she was fighting me because she didn't know where we were going and what it would be like. She said she didn't know there would be so many good things there.

“You understand, don’t you, why I had to drag you there?” I asked. “You know I couldn't leave you at the car. It seemed like I was being mean, but to leave you standing by the car on the street in a big city would be really awful. So making you go was the nice thing to do.”

“Or the other nice thing would be if we just didn't go at all,” she suggested.

“But then you wouldn't have had all the fun you had there,” I said.

“But I wouldn't know about it,” she answered.

Eventually, she agreed that making her go to the museum was the best choice.  She recognized that her misery was relatively short-lived, and said she was glad we had dragged her there.

That night I wrote in my journal: 

All day, I've been asking myself how the Lord could require this thing of Alice. But thinking about the incident at the museum, I might have my answer. I didn't want cancer, either, and although I didn't kick and scream (much), I did a fair amount of whining. But I really didn't know about the good things that I would discover. Maybe I would have been content to “stay in the car asleep,” not knowing what I had missed. There are times when sleeping in the car is nice: is just what we need. But to get to the end of the trip and feel that we hadn't done anything at all would be very sad. It takes faith to realize that God is waking us up to go somewhere that is the kindest choice, even if we are tired, or it seems awful, or we are sure we've already been there.

Best wishes to you all as you step out of the car.

Serving As He Did

This happened sixteen years ago. I'm glad I wrote it down after it happened, because it taught me an important lesson that I don't want to forget.

I was the Primary music leader for our ward, and I had been asked to lead the children in a song for a Stake Primary activity. I needed to be a little early for the activity, which started at nine a.m., and as usual, we were running late. I was ready, but I’d had a hard time getting my children up and dressed and I was getting frustrated. I finally got Hannah and Danny ready while five-year-old Sam put some clothes on, and I thought we were about ready to go. “Grab your shoes and come on, Sam,” I yelled as I headed out the door. I looked back to see him standing there with his sandals in his hand, looking hesitant. “Come on,” I repeated. “What’s the problem?”

Sam looked down, then back at me. “My feet are real dirty,” he said.

“What? Sam, I don’t have time for this. We’re supposed to be there.”  I came back to house where he stood in the doorway and looked at his feet. They were indeed very dirty. The night before, as a Family Home Evening activity, we had gone for a little hike in the canyon. Sam had been wearing sandals on the dusty path, and since he fell asleep in the car on the way home, we had put him right in bed without cleaning him up. “All right, fine,” I said, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bathroom.  “Sit up here and put your feet in the sink.”

I was exasperated with Sam and annoyed with the whole situation. I just wanted to get his feet reasonably clean and get out of there. I turned on the water and grabbed his foot.

As soon as I touched his foot, something happened. My annoyance vanished, and I was filled with overwhelming love for this child. I felt honored to be performing this service for him. I remembered how the Savior had done this same thing, humbly and with gratitude.

I was no longer in a great hurry, but the task didn’t take long. I dried his feet gently, gave him a hug and walked with him to the car. We got to the activity to find that they were running a bit behind and hadn’t started yet. Everything went well, and I was especially filled with joy as I watched the children, including Sam, sing the song.

Sometimes, when I am frustrated with my children and the challenge of keeping up with their demands, I remember that day, and the lesson I learned. When we serve as the Savior served, with love, our service is no longer a burden, but a joy.

So after he had washed their feet, and had taken his garments, and was set down again, he said unto them, Know ye what I have done to you? Ye call me Master and Lord: and ye say well; for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you. Verily, verily, I say unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord; neither he that is sent greater than he that sent him. If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them (John 13:12–17).