2019 - Gratitude Month #24 - The Church

Gratitude Day #24

Today I am grateful for my membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And in particular, a member of our local ward (congregation).

I wouldn't be who I am today without having grown up learning exactly how God expects me to act.

And sometimes, I screw up. But, it can always be fixed.

Always.

Mom and my three sisters joined the church in West Virginia in 1948. Those poor missionaries who knocked on my parents' door had to look up West Virginia on a map, for they weren't sure where it was. Mom recognized this was something that she had wanted and needed all of her life, and that it would benefit the family.

Dad wanted nothing to do with it. Hence, he moved the family to northcentral Ohio, making sure there was none of those Mormons in the area.

Four months later, the area opened up, and guess who knocked on Mom's door again? Right.

Four years later, Dad realized it was what he needed, too. He was baptized in the YMCA swimming pool. Three years later, I was born.

I grew up with church meetings and socials being held in our house. We rented a building downtown for Sunday services, but had to go in and sweep up the cigarettes and beer bottles before Sunday morning church. Dad was bishop when I was baptized.

I will always commend my parents on their testimony of the gospel and doctrine of Christ, for once they committed themselves, they never wavered. It didn't matter if it concerned church or anything else they had promised themselves they would do; count on them to be faithful to their commitment.

They taught me to do the same.

My own ward has some of the best of the best within its walls. We are taught to serve our fellow man, and I hope that has been evident by some of the posts I have forwarded about the Church helping people around the world, providing clean water, wheelchairs, medical care, commodities, etc. They are provided for member and nonmember alike.

My ward was there to lift us up when my parents died, and when our son died. They brought in food and provided help when I brought a new baby home, or for any of my many surgeries. They have laughed and cried with me. They have taught me by example, particular their examples of faith and diligence.

I have been given opportunities and encouragement to expand on God-given talents that were part of my nature. I began playing the piano in church at age four, and began giving short talks in Primary at age four or five. (All of the children begin giving talks to their peer group to get them used to speaking.) It's because of those opportunities that I have no fear in standing in a ballroom with 600 people in it, speaking about something I love.

Because of my genealogy experience with my parents, I had years of research skills behind me. Then, I was asked to be the Family History Center Director. I hesitated, for I had a family of young children. The Centers were quite busy at that time, but I hadn't had that much experience in the *new* way of research using microfilm and fiche.

Reluctantly, I said yes.

If I had said no, I would have said no to my future of speaking and instructing and facilitating groups and classes around the United States and on webinars that cover the world.

But, more than absolutely anything else, this membership has helped me develop a relationship with Christ. This relationship has given me a peaceful center in the middle of a very chaotic world. If everything else were removed that I find great joy in, and the only thing I had was this relationship, it would still be more than enough.

So today, even though I was a bit bleary-eyed after arriving home very late last night, I was sitting in church with my fellow church members as we united in our faith and prayers. There are many who scoff at those faith and thoughts and prayers; I do not. They have deep-seeded meaning in my life.

So, this post may be a bit preachy. But, it's one more on my gratitude list that stays close to the top. I truly would not be who I am today if it weren't for 64 years of teachings from scripture, and from good men and women whose testimonies are strong and fervent.

I want to be like that.

Gratitude Day #4 - 2018 - My Church Family

Gratitude Day #4

Today I am grateful for my church family.

Actually, I have a lot of families.

1. I have my own family, immediate and extended.

2. I have my genealogy "family".

3. I have my church family.

And, I probably have even more than those listed above, if I really stopped to think about it. But, on this Sabbath Day, I am thinking about my church family.

It has been part of my life all of my life. Mansfield is where I was born, and where my parents were already attending church. Many of the activities were held at our home, which included food and laughter and teachings of the gospel.

It later moved to our new building in 1961, where my dad was the first bishop. The building expanded under his tutelage.

My young life was filled with:

1. Church dinners and bazaars to help with the building fund.

2. Activities with my peer group.

3. Teachers who put up with me and my shenanigans.

4. Learning how to worship.

5. My own baptism.

But, my adult life took some different turns.

1. It's where we raised our own children.

2. It where I learned to realize who God was, and how people behaved who believe in Him.

This marvelous church family of mine has:

1. Been by my side when I recovered from childbirth, providing help and meals.

2. Was "at the ready" when I received word that my mother had suffered another stroke in Akron - an hour away. There were people who would keep and watch my children at the drop of a hat wen I needed to take off to support my parents.

3. They held me close when I lost my mother. Many of them became the mother figures I needed while still young myself.

4. They quietly came and drove away with bushels of pears that I had bought right before she died. I had laid the pears out to ripen in my basement before I would can them. Little did I know that I would find them all gleaming in jars, ready to put on the shelf after the funeral.

5. They helped when our oldest son suffered a head-on collision. While I stayed at the hospital around the clock, they stepped in to give some normalcy to my other children. They provided meals, took them to piano, sports practices, and dance class while I was MIA for a month.

6. Years later, when that same son would die, and while I recovered from back surgery, my church family stepped in to get our family through the toughest time we had ever experienced.

7. Now that all of my children are thousands of miles from home, that same church family is looking out for us. They check in on us, help us haul branches and cut down trees that have been damaged in the storms, and make sure that we know we are valued.

In turn, we do these same types of things for those in our church, and in our community.

I have worshiped within these walls for my entire life. I have prayed. I have fasted. I have wept. The congregation may have changed; but their principles have not.

So today, I am grateful to have been surrounded by some of the best people to have walked this earth for the better part of 63 years.

Mansfield Ward Building

Mansfield, Ohio

Built in 1961

Coming Out Day 2018; Learning to Let Go and Still Love - From an LDS Mom

Kerry and I had such dreams for our little family of six.

But, they were our dreams...not the dreams of our children.

We were the parents of four young children under five years old when the last one was born.  For several years, our lives were filled with broken sleep, lots and lots of diapers, lots and lots of bottles, more diapers, more bottles, and an awful lot of scurrying.

And, we laughed a lot.

Thank goodness there were years filled with laughter, for there were some times that were also filled with tears.  Raising a family brought me to tears so many times; both from frustration, and from joy.

But, the one thing we wanted our children to know is that they were wanted, and that they were very, very loved.

Very.  And, that there was nothing that they could ever do that would cause us to stop loving them.

Nothing.

Fast forward through music lessons, swim meets, tennis matches, dances, and graduations...

A year after our oldest son returned from his mission, I knew that he was gay.  He didn't tell me, and he didn't tell his dad.  I discussed it with Kerry, and one night while talking on the phone with him, I came right out and asked him if he was.

There was stone, cold silence.

"Mom, who told you?", he said.

There were clues that had been there for years, but none of us had seen them.  It's easy to see them now, but we were in the middle of raising this very busy family.  Most of the time I was caring for others, and didn't have time for deep thought.

Over the next few years, our lives ran a gamut of emotions.  It was a roller coaster ride for all of us, including the younger siblings.  Sometimes we tiptoed.  Sometimes there were strong words.  Sometimes there was silence.  

And, we grieved.  We grieved for the daughter-in-law that would never be, and the grandchildren that would never be.

But, there never was a lack of love.

Not once.  Not ever.

That son went full bore into a lifestyle that included heavy drinking and drugs, which eventually led to acquiring HIV, aids, and hepatitis C.  We tried and tried to get him to commit to his health care, all of which he could get for free.  But, he wouldn't.  He was young, and probably felt invincible.

And, we grieved some more.

We grieved because we knew how this was going to end.  And, we were right.  His life ended because of a drug overdose on 21 Dec 2009.  His sick and wasted body fought hard, but wasn't able to overcome.

And, the grieving was the worst we had ever experienced.  It still is.

Then, our youngest son followed the same pattern.  And, though his life has taken a more diligent course, some of the same feelings emerged as we feared the same ending.

But, it's a different world now.

It was only a few years ago that our oldest son was being used and abused by so many.  It was not unusual for us to find out that he had been beaten, robbed, thrown out, kicked to the curb, and was dumpster diving.

And, though this may occur in today's world, too, the chances of it seems to have lessened.  This generation is more loving, and far more accepting than generations before.

And, I am grateful.  

So, even though my grieving is still fresh from the oldest son, and somewhat there for the youngest, I have learned that they must figure out life for themselves; not for the one we had planned for them.  

A few years ago, we stopped to visit our youngest son and his partner on our way to a genealogy conference.  We ate.  We laughed.  We ate some more.  We took photos.  We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Since then, we attended a housewarming party they invited us to, with the caveat that we would be surrounded by about eighty gay men.  I laughed, and said, "Well, I'll probably be spending the evening alone."

I couldn't have been more wrong.  Kerry and I laughed and talked and connected with these good men all evening long.  There was always a crowd around us, along with the hired chef who was always putting a tasty bite of something from the kitchen in my mouth.

On occasion, I have had non-LDS friends comment that they are so happy we were able to spend time with our son.  That they were really, really happy about it.  Really happy.

Finally, I asked them why in the world they kept saying that.  The answer was, "Well, knowing how your church feels about gays..."

Wait a minute!  The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has never told us to shun, or to turn our backs on any person of any race, or lifestyle, or family member.  If anything, we are to open arms and embrace them, and let them know how much they are loved.  One of the members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Elder D. Todd Christofferson, has a brother who is gay.  I read Tom's book, and the thing he states most strongly is the love and acceptance from his family that got him through some pretty tough times.  You can read about him here:   http://www.ldsliving.com/One-Gay-Man-s-Powerful-Journey-Away-from-the-Church-and-Back-Again/s/86366

So, on this National Coming Out Day of 2018, I have some bittersweet feelings.
1.  That I lost a son who never felt accepted by either the heterosexual or gay community.  
2.  That we are living in times where people are free to live and express themselves as they wish; as long as it's not infringing on the rights of others.
3.  That the sweet and gentle nature of a loving God will take all things into account that we aren't even aware of, and that He will make all things right.  I'm also included in that mix.
4.  That if any of my dozens of gay friends are belittled, attacked, or anything like unto it...if I am near, come over to me.  I will not tolerate that happening to you, or to anyone.  I am an LDS woman.  Hear.me.roar.

So, because of my faith and trust in God, I thought I would include some paintings that speak to my heart.  Every teaching by Him, every depiction of Him shows Him with his arms outstretched to us.  He's beckoning to us.  

And, he's asking us to do the same.

He's not standing there with his arms folded, telling us that we had our chance, and there is no more hope.

May we all learn to do the same.

He's there for us.

His arm is outstretched still

I can hardly wait to hold my son again, and embrace him like this.

A Night in Bethlehem

                                                                        I am LDS.

And, contrary to what many people are taught and believe,

we are Christians who follow the teachings of Christ.

And, we celebrate Christmas.

Several of our wards and branches across the world often celebrate what is called

"A Night in Bethlehem."

We have done it in our own ward.

Our church buildings are literally turned into a replica of 

what it may have been like 

when baby Jesus came into the world.

So, when friends of ours invited us to come to theirs,

we went.

And, it was the best I have ever seen.

Let me show you some of the photos I took.

After walking up the sidewalk that was lighted with luminaries, we were greeted by a tax collector, who had us sign our name onto the "census".  When Joseph and Mary went to Bethlehem, they went to their ancestral homeland to pay their taxes.

Their entire cultural hall was set up with different booths to visit.  Here, we find cups containing grapes and an orange slice.

A woman served cold ice water from a "well" in the middle of the room.

A bakery served up delicious honey cake.

Patterns were provided.

The finished product!
The blacksmith shop was a real favorite with the children.

Mmmm....the bread shop.

It smelled good just standing there.

Typical fare in the Middle East -- pita with hummus

I had never had fig jelly before.  It was delicious!  Especially on homemade bread.

The cheese shop was one of my favorites, for I have had cheese from this couple's farm before.  The metal thing with a wooden block on it is a cheese press.

I was particularly touched by the Carpenter's Shop.  Joseph had been a carpenter, and likely taught Jesus the trade, too.  How else would he have known what a mote and a beam was?  I can just imagine the tenderness Joseph must have used in teaching the Son of God, who would someday teach him.

BTW, this man is Brother Stirling, who is the uncle of Lindsey Stirling, the dancing violinist.

Everyone was given a toy Dreidel.



One of the busiest places was the lamp shop.
The man who worked this booth buys gourds from the local Amish, and has brought back beads from southwest Turkey.
His shop was phenomenal!

Some of the gourd lamps.

Look at those beautiful rugs!  It was so colorful and inviting.
And, can't you just envision guests lying back on those rugs eating figs and grapes?

More of the gourd lamps.

A gourd before being decorated.

Everyone was given a little lamp to light up at home using olive oil.

The Inn.

Innkeepers insisting there is no room.

A reminder for us all.
I can't imagine being nine months pregnant,
having ridden 90 miles on the back of a donkey,
miserable,
trying to find a place to stay,
and no one really wants to help.

After stopping at the Inn and being told to move on, it was time to visit the costume shop.

My friends had fun decorating Kerry.

After getting all costumed up, it was time to be led outside to the live nativity.

It was held outside on the front lawn.  All of the animals were in pens, the light was shining, and it was a perfect setting.

Now, why am I sharing this with you?

I am a woman of faith.

And, I always have been.  

You don't always find me mentioning it, 

and you sure don't find me preaching to you...

unless you ask.

And, several of you have.

This was a simple activity made beautiful.

It made me stop and think what it would have been like 

to be in a very busy town

with merchants peddling their wares.

It made me stop and think about the travels

of Joseph and Mary.

It made me think about the people of Bethlehem,

who had no idea the Messiah was about to be born that night.

Not one who save them from political oppression,

but who would save their from their own sins.

I thought about all of those things on our drive home

through the countryside of Ohio.

It's a tender time of year for me,

and this made me yearn even more for 

the peace that He gives.