What Legacy Will You Leave?

With tomorrow being Memorial Day, this morning I find myself pondering the people who have come and gone in my life and the impact their presence had on me.

When I think of my mother, I remember her loving ways and her amazing talents. Despite her life-long bout with alcoholism, she was truly a good person and did her best to be a good mother to us. Yes, she had weaknesses just like everyone else, but fortunately, I am not her judge, nor would I ever wish to be, and Christ understood perfectly how she felt and what she was going through at the time, because he felt it too.

When I think about the father I had just barely begun to know before his life was brutally taken, I remember his beautiful smile and his desire to overcome his drug addiction and live a better life.

When I think about my precious grandmother, I remember her kindness, patience, unconditional love, and unwavering devotion to her Lord and Savior. (I also remember the recipes she taught me that never included measurements.)

When I think of my grandfather, I remember picking plums with him from their huge backyard tree, getting my hair caught in the branches, and my grandfather lovingly coming to my rescue. He was a great man.

When I think about my father's mother and both my great-grandmothers, I remember their strengths and ability to overcome trials and opposition.

Each and every one of these people were very dear to me and their presence in my life helped to make me who I am. Though all were dealt painful blows in their lives, they all took part in the legacy left for me, and I want to do all I can to make them proud and let them know that legacy was not left in vain.

I can't help but think of my children. What kind of legacy will I leave for them? What will they remember about me?
Will they remember me being a good mother? A good wife to their dad? A good daughter of God? A good person?
I sure hope so. I hope that at the end of my life, they, as well as anyone else I have come in contact with, can look back and say, "She did good. She lived her best life."

I just had a thought. (At my age, hormonal emotional moments tend to come and go:-)) Every single tear I have ever shed or ever will shed in this life is worth it, but in the end, the ones that will mean the most are the refining ones. Tears over family, tears born of mourning and grief for others, tears born of the pure love of Christ. That's what I want to leave with my family, and with all of you.

And I pray with all my heart that when my time on this earth is finally done, I can stand before my Father in Heaven and hear Him say, "Well done!"

So, what legacy will you leave?

Seeking More in Life

I remember the first time I met my biological father. It was 1976 and I was twelve years old when he pulled up in front of our apartment. When he got out of his gold Lincoln Continental, my first thoughts were, Wow, he's big, tall, and handsome, and rich! Standing at six-foot-five, solid muscle, with red curly hair, green eyes, and freckles, I thought he was walking perfection. These were the thoughts of a child who had always dreamed of meeting her 'real' father, the man who would one day come and take her away to a better life.

But reality descended and I soon learned his life was far from perfect. He'd won his car and money in the Detroit lottery, which was where he lived at the time. He was married and I discovered that I had two more brothers and a sister. I was even privileged to stay with him and his lovely wife for a few days later that year and met my siblings. Sadly, my father's life began to quickly unravel.

The culprit: drug addiction.
Years later after his divorce, he moved back to Asheville, NC. (our hometown) and tried to clean himself up. After a major battle, he did somewhat. He enrolled in the local technical college, got his GED, and took some classes, wanting to better himself. He wanted more out of life. He now had goals. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough time to see his aspirations come to past.
He ended up being brutally murdered. He was only thirty-eight.

My mother was an alcoholic all her life, yet she was one of the most talented people I had ever known. She was an excellent seamstress, she could sing, paint, play the guitar, and of course, cook up a storm.
She finally put the bottle down and became sober, wanting to better her life. Unfortunately, she did not have time to fulfill the secret dreams she kept inside. Due to the long effects of alcohol, she had a heart attack and died, three days before her forty-ninth birthday.

When I finally overcame my own addictions, moved away, and married my amazing husband, I was told by others that I thought I was better than them. I have never considered myself better than anyone, and I will always remember where I came from. But . . . I was better than that kind of life. I wanted more. I had aspirations, and I still do. Some have come true and some I have yet to reach, but I will never stop seeking more in life. Yes, we should be content and thankful always, but contentment should never stunt eternal growth. Which is where our thoughts should ALWAYS be fixed, on eternal things.

God has so much in store for each of us. He has so much He wants to give us. Some of those blessings will be in this life, and some may not be until the next. Our task is to live worthy of those blessings so we can be prepared to receive them whenever He chooses to send them. He has given us all some kind of gift or talent that we should be constantly using or expanding, not hiding it away or allowing it to remain dormant, buried under grievous weaknesses, unable to grow and do what those talents are meant to do, which is to inspire others, thereby helping us reach our divine potential. We can't waste a single gift. We can't waste a single moment. 

Time is growing short, the final act of this life drawing to a close, and our time on the earth is fixed and set. Every choice we make is vital, including what we do with our time and talents. I pray every day that Heavenly Father will guide my hand and help me use whatever gifts He has given me in His service and not waste them.This is my prayer for each of us. Happy Sabbath :-)

Dreams Fulfilled

When I was about six years old, my brother and I used to sit in a field of tall grass behind our old, dilapidated house and eat two-for-a-penny cookies that we'd bought with money we found in that same field. The coins were usually dropped by alcoholics staggering through trying to get to their own poor homes.
While we ate our precious treats (we were dirt poor and indeed they were precious) I would dream. I would dream of being rescued from my abusive home and showered with with love and presents. I would dream of a new family coming to take me and my brother away. I would dream of feeling safe.

When I became a teenager I dreamed of being freed from the pain of childhood. I dreamed of one day having everything I needed or wanted in life and not having to depend on anyone for anything. I dreamed of not being afraid of people, of one day breaking free of my emotional prison.

When I became an adult I stopped dreaming for a while, becoming bogged in the ways of the world and completely losing my way. Then one day new yearnings began to enter my mind and pierce my heart. I dreamed of being forgiven for past mistakes, of being able to overcome my past, of moving on, and being deserving of future blessing and new dreams I had for myself. I dreamed of truly living life the way I was meant to live it.

Despite the evil and hopelessness that are now running rampant in the world, I still have many dreams, but most of them are for my family now, for they were my biggest dream. Every righteous desire of my heart is fixed on them, and doing everything in my power to help them stay close to Christ. Because my greatest desire is for our family to be an eternal one, and staying close to the Savior is the only way we can achieve that.
Dreams come in stages. Never stop dreaming and hoping for the future. The day that you do is the day you stop living.

Seeking Happiness

C.S. Lewis said, “And out of that hopeless attempt has come nearly all that we call human history—money, poverty, ambition, war, prostitution, classes, empires, slavery—the long terrible story of man trying to find

something other than God which will make him happy."

Truly, there is no happiness without God. Sure, many find a temporary fix in things and other people, but that's just it. It's only temporary.
I equate trying to find happiness without God to a man trying to find true love in a brothel. It just doesn't work out well. Man is that he might have joy. But a life without God is only half a life. A life without the Savior and the healing power of His atoning sacrifice through regular repentance is a life not fully lived, not even close.
The probationary period of this life is fast drawing to a close. I can feel it in my very being, and so can all the children of Heaven Father who are awake, alert and attentive to the powerful promptings of the Lord, urging us to get our houses in order and prepare for every needful thing. People who choose not to recognize God's hand in all that is good are sleepwalking, napping their way through this university we call life, skipping all the classes and thereby failing the life-altering courses that lead to eternal salvation. The favored statement, "Ignorance is bliss" no longer applies and will not be accepted, because it is just an excuse, and not a good one. God has placed a smorgasbord of knowledge before us, doctrinal knowledge, as well as hands-on experience that will help us grow should we choose to open our eyes, ears and hearts to what He wants from us, what he wants for us. It is ours for the taking, and He will guide us every step of the way. But it is up to us to acknowledge that He Is. The road to true happiness leads to the Father, and only in Him will we find that priceless treasure that man so often searches for in all the wrong places: Happiness.

What if I Had Gotten In the Car?

It is so to me amazing how I can look back and see the many roads traveled that make up the map that is my life. When I lay it all out and look at choices I've made, and the possible outcomes and consequences web out before my eyes, it is astonishing to see how closely the Savior has traveled, silent and unseen. But sometimes He isn't silent.

When I was thirteen, we were still pretty poor and there was never much money for anything. Sometimes after school, I would stand looking in the shop windows downtown and daydream about going in and buying those things one day.
I was walking home from school one day when a car pulled up by the curb. The driver - an older man - rolled the passenger side window down and waved me over. I was still about a mile away from home, and wary of strangers, I kept walking, but the man continued to slowly roll along side me. This part of town wasn't the worst, but it wasn't the best either and the main road I walked down carried many shady characters to the government housing project where I lived. When I reached the corner, the man pulled up in front of me, slipped a hundred dollar bill on the seat and said it was mine if I got in. This did not shock me at all because it was something that happened frequently in my neck of the woods, but this was the first time it had ever happened to me, and I was suddenly nervous. A voice inside my head prompted me to walk away quickly and get to an area with more people. I did and he finally quit following me.

Had I gotten in that car, I might not have ever made it home. Many girls didn't. Had I gotten in that car and did make it back, I would most likely have been even more emotionally scarred than I already was. Had I taken that ride with a stranger for cash, I may have slipped head-first down the road to a hellish world that many don't return from. Fortunately, the voice in my head had been stronger than my desire for filthy money. I would like to think that deep down, I could never have done something like that. I'm grateful that I listened and heeded the prompting to quickly walk away. But what if I hadn't?

We have no idea how many times in our lives Heavenly Father has prompted a choice in us that has steered us from one path to another.Yes, we still make mistakes and we always will because we are human, and believe me, I've made some major ones, but I am slowly learning to recognize that voice when I hear it, and I am freshly amazed every time I pull out that map that is my life and study the roads webbing the page - roads that stretched from barren wastelands, through rocky ridges, melding into rich, green countrysides with flowing streams and ripening trees. Every road on my map was, and is, necessary to complete it, and hopefully I still have many roads left to build.

In Search of the Lost Faith of a Child

Some things are hard to think about, some memories too painful visualize again. I file these memories away in a tall metal cabinet and put the key away, out of sight until I need it. This is one of those times.

There have been many times in my life that I have wished I could capture the innocence of another time. No, I would definitely never want to live my childhood over again, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy (if I had one, that is) because my childhood was far from innocent, but within those tender years was once a faith and an innocence that was priceless. To experience even a moment of that pure faith now would be . . . well, let me try to share what I mean.

Because of abuse - witnessing my step-father brutally beating my mother during the day, and then enduring his sickening presence in my room at night as he molested me - I prayed a lot as a child. We rarely went to church, except when I stayed with my grandparents for the summer. My mother and step-father were alcoholics, so there was always liquor in the house, and I was always afraid.
When I was nine, I came home from school one day and heard my mother's screams before I even opened the door. I walked down the hallway, looked in their bedroom and found my step-father holding my mother against the wall with his hands around her neck, choking her. I started crying and he yelled at me and told me to go to my room, threatening to hurt me if I didn't, and I knew he would. Fortunately, my younger brothers were not home.

I ran to my room and closed the door. Moving to the window, I began to talk to my invisible friend. I had done this many times because it helped me to cope, only this time it wasn't working, because my mother's screams and the yells had only grown louder. Getting on my bed, I wrapped the pillow around my head and rocked back and forth, asking God to please make it go away, to please let it be over.
I woke later to the sun going down, and it was over.
This pattern soon became habit- a talk with my invisible friend, then rocking to sleep. I don't know how I knew it would always work, I just did.

It wasn't until years later that I came to understand that those times when I thought I was alone talking to an invisible friend, I wasn't alone. When I thought I was rocking myself to sleep, it wasn't me, it was my Savior rocking me, taking away the pain, soothing me and making everything all right.
For many years, the faith of that child was lost because that child soon became a lost teen and then a lost adult. It took a long time, but I was finally found, and the faith began to grow once again, and though it's strong now, to have the lost faith of that child would make my faith concrete and sure in so many ways.

So this is what I work for, to have the kind of pure, unshakable faith in my Lord and Savior that nothing can touch. He was there for me in the darkest times of my life, and though I left Him for a time, He never left me. And I know He never will.

Christ is always there with His arms stretched open, just waiting for us to step into them. I pray that we can all gain unshakable faith in Him and never lose it, because we are definitely going to need it to see us through the days, weeks, months, and years to come.

A Tool In the Hands of God

God truly does love each and every one of us. We are all literally His sons and daughters, but I think His daughters hold their own special place in His heart. We have no idea just how important and influential we are - influential enough to impact the world, but He does.

I have a daughter who had some major, life-altering, life-or-death struggles when she was younger, but with God's help and through the atonement of the Savior, she was able to get her life back on track. She was a severe cutter and those scars will always be there as a result of the choices she made in the past, as well as a reminder of how far she has come since then. She used to be ashamed of those scars, then one day the shame began to fade.
She was at work stocking shelves when she turned around and noticed a young girl standing a short distance away, staring at her. She looked to be maybe twelve or so. This unnerved my daughter a bit, but because of her appearance, she was used to it, so she continued her work. A few moments later she turned again to find the girl still watching her. By now there was a woman with her. The girl whispered something to the woman - my daughter assumed this was her mother - the woman nodded, and the girl timidly approached my daughter.
"Can I ask you something?" the girl finally said.
My daughter sighed. "Yeah."
The girl hesitated, then asked, "How did you stop?"
Her soft question broke my daughter's heart because she instantly realized the girl was a cutter and this was her quest for additional help and support. My daughter immediately stopped what she was doing, grabbed a stool and sat down with the girl, and they talked. The girl cried and opened up about her emotional struggles, and my daughter shared some of her own experiences and offered what advice she could. Then she shared the gospel with her.
The scars that once caused my daughter shame were used as a tool by God to do His work and bring hope to a soul that was lost.

I consider my oldest daughter a super woman. She is blessed to be a stay-at-home mom to five little ones, all of them six and under, including a set of twins! In a world where big families are mostly frowned upon and children are delayed for material possessions, she and her husband are faithfully fulfilling the measure of their creation. She gets the occasional looks when she takes all her children out in public and is subjected to the playfully snide comments every now and then, but she is also strong enough to let them roll right off her back, because she knows who she is, Whose daughter she is, and why she is here. Motherhood is important to her and apart from the gospel, her family is everything. She's very talented and participates in plays and does what she can to help others.
To the world, she may not have accomplished much, but her life is a tool in the hand of God to bring some of His choicest spirits into the world. She is raising them to be great men and women, and God will use them to soldier on through the coming times and be influences for good.

My youngest daughter recently went through the temple for herself and I had the privilege of being her escort. She had already been going to the temple weekly with her younger brother to do baptisms and she spent the last year preparing for this big day, and we were excited for her.
A week after making her temple covenants, she began to get the usual questions.
"Are you going to serve a mission?"
"No."
"Are you getting married?"
"No."
"Why did you decide to go?"
She decided to go for her. She had prepared and she was ready. In making such an important decision to make such sacred covenants, God used her as a tool to help other young women know the importance of  holding fast to the values they were taught, and the importance being prepared and worthy to enter His holy house for no other purpose but to worship and please Him.

Ladies, we are all tools in the hand of God, and with each passing day, I am more and more amazed at the

opportunities He places before us to do so much good in this world. Through us, He can do any and all things if we will only allow Him to. I frequently think back on my life and skim through the dark days, amazed that I am still here after the many destructive choices I made. But I'm also awed to see how much He had for me to do. He took that old lump of shapeless metal that was me and created a tool He could use. Sometimes this tool gets a little rusty and needs to be cleaned, but His Son takes care of that and puts me to use again, and hopefully, with the Savior's help, I will never wear out.
I pray that we can all be tools in the hand of the Master Craftsman and help Him in creating His marvelous work on this earth.