Category Archives: Testimony

“And She Ministered Unto Them”: Thoughts on Work and Life

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bolivia-horseback-ride[1]

Peter’s wife’s mother was sick with a fever. The Savior came in and healed her, “and she arose, and ministered unto them.” (Matthew 8:14-15).

The Sunday school class last week was discussing the miracle of raising her from her sick bed. I was thinking about how she didn’t even get a break. One minute she’s sick in bed, and the next minute she’s making supper. She was probably the Relief Society president, poor lady.

That observation about the women in the New Testament times has been with me as I’ve gone about my week, because it’s not just New Testament times. Women simply don’t get a break from life: there is no running away. I think of when I’ve been sick and Paul hit me with his toys all day long. I think of when I’m in a cranky mood. I can’t just stomp, because I have to remember that Paul has needs. Even when I’m away at book club, I’m still thinking “I wonder if Paul’s in bed yet, otherwise he’ll be cranky tomorrow,” etc. Mothers never get time off. It’s the way it is. “Women should be women and not babies who need petting and correction all the time.”

The Relief Society Visiting teaching thoughts reminded me of the role I have, as a Relief Society sister, in this age:

“Just as the Savior invited Mary and Martha of New Testament times to participate in His work, women of this dispensation have an official commission to participate in the Lord’s work. … The organization of Relief Society in 1842 mobilized the collective power of the women and their specific assignments to build the Lord’s kingdom.” (Sister Beck)

Then, this afternoon, Ryan asked me about the cup of syrup spilled on the bottom of the fridge. I was a bit annoyed, angry, and upset. Yes, far too much. I didn’t want to clean that up. I want nothing to do with cleaning up that sticky mess. Grr! I didn’t knock it over! Yuck! What a pain! I just cleaned the fridge last week!

Less than ten minutes later, Ryan and I had a conversation about when I almost died, almost ten years ago now.

One minute I was eating a slice of meat in a café in Bolivia, not thinking much about life, and the next minute I was turning blue, literally choking from want of air. There was panic initially, but then an overwhelming feeling of sadness came over me. Mostly, I was sad to be leaving the world. I thought of all the wonderful things I’d experienced. Even more, I thought of all I had hoped to happen in my life: falling in love, becoming a mother, and seeing my parents and siblings again, telling them I love them. I wanted one more chance to do something wonderful. I didn’t want my physical body to be dead.

Why was I so incredibly sad? After all, life continues after this one. Why should I be sad when I knew I’d have chances, at some point after this life, to marry, to raise children, and to otherwise continue to progress? Why be sad at the fact that I was done with this life when I’d be soon rejoining the Maker in an even more glorious world? The life after this one is glorious, and this life is rather hard.

But when I got that precious little breath of air once more, about 3½ minutes later, and I realized that I wasn’t going die, that I was okay, that I would make it home again! That I might still fall in love! Be a mother! LIVE! I was so grateful.

So I should not complain so much now. I shouldn’t be so annoyed at the spilled syrup. (All. Over. The. Fridge.) I should be grateful I’m still alive, that I’ve lived to have a husband, and a son, and a home, and a fridge, and maple syrup to clean up.

That, I think, is why Peter’s mother-in-law was so grateful to get right back up and serve the Lord. And that is why we, as women, should likewise rejoice in service. These relationships and opportunities are just what we are here on earth to do.

Today’s Relief Society lesson was also about the glorious principle of work: why should we as home-working women, resent the housework so much?

I need to remember that memorable bite more often. Life is so glorious!

P.S. The photo above is from the horseback ride we went on shortly after my experience. I didn’t take the picture, since my camera had been stolen; one of my friends took this picture.

P.P.S. The Heimlich Maneuver works, if you wanted to know. Please learn it!

What Makes a Prayer a Prayer?

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The other day, Paul, who is obsessed with the ABCs and sings the “ABC Song” a dozen times a day, said he’d say the prayer for lunch.

“This is the new prayer, Mommy.” And then, in the melody of the ABCs, he continued, “ABCDEFG, Thank you, God, for everything.”

“That’s not reverent, dear.” I responded. “We don’t joke about prayers. That sounds like the ABC song to me.”

“But that’s my prayer,” he insisted, frowning when I asked him again to say a proper prayer.

Today, when I dropped him off at preschool, I was telling his teacher about the ABC Book he made, and how he just loves the ABCs.

“Oh, we have a new snack prayer they just love,” she said. Then she sang the song I’d heard from Paul, except at the end it said, “Thank you, God, for feeding me.”

“Oh, I get it now!” I responded, “Paul had told me that but I hadn’t believed it was a prayer.”

“Oh, well, it has the ‘Thank you, God’ so it is the snack prayer,” she responded.

And since then, I’ve been pondering prayer. Does really saying “Thank you, God” make something a prayer? To me, a casual “Thank God” sounds like taking his name in vain. People say that all the time, and how often are they sincerely thanking him?

That said, everyone prays differently, and I certainly don’t believe God ignores sincere prayers. The Lutheran service that my son sang at during the fall was a “contemporary” service, with a rock band. Yet, I still felt the spirit as I listened to the pastor talking about how we can all be more loving to each other. Just because something is done with a different degree of reverence does not mean there is no spirit or sincerity.

But to my sensibilities, it is irreverent. In my home, I don’t want my son praying by singing an ABC Song prayer that sounds like it’s using God’s name in vain. I want him to bow his head, close his eyes, and pour out his own words of thanks to his Heavenly Father, speaking to him as the son of God that he is. I don’t want my son sitting at the piano, making up a melody for a song with the only lyrics being “God, God, God.” (He wanted to sing that for Family Home Evening this week.) To me, that is irreverent. I’d rather he sing of his relationship with his Heavenly Father through primary songs.

I just signed him up for his second year of preschool at the Lutheran preschool he’s been going to. Now I’m wondering if he’s just going to be confused. He’s already learned the distinction that, “At home I pray to Heavenly Father, but at preschool I pray to Jesus.”

Is learning reverence for our Heavenly Father, especially during prayer, something I should worry about? I do want him to learn the gospel of Jesus Christ correctly, and maybe the Lutheran influence will only confuse him.

Thoughts on Presidents Gordon B. Hinckley and Thomas S. Monson

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Oh! How I loved President Hinckley! When Paul said he wanted to watch the October 2007 General Conference, I was excited to hear my beloved prophet speak once again. October 2007 was his last conference. He died in January 2008. October 2007 conference was the conference I watched as I was in labor. It is a special conference for me.

But is was so interesting that now, even though I still got a feeling of love when I saw him get up at the podium, I no longer got that warm tingly feeling inside when I saw him speak and heard his voice. That warm testimony now goes to President Monson, and it came when the camera panned over him.

It was amazing how seeing President Hinckley speaking felt so different, but it is a comfort to know that I do have a testimony of President Monson. He is the prophet for our day. God lets me know.

General Conference Revisited

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I mentioned on my blog how I was impressed by how much of General Conference Paul understood. Sunday afternoon I found out just how much more than I realized.

We’ve decided to make Sunday afternoon a “Church movie” afternoon. This means that Paul can only watch movies about the scriptures or church history: essentially, he can watch any of the dozen church DVDs that we have. Now, these are not normally geared toward three year olds, but it’s motivation to do other things on Sunday afternoons. Normally, Paul wants to watch the “Temple movie” (The Mountain of the Lord”) because he loves to see the temple (and not just in song).

The other day, I was listing the titles of all the movies he could watch and he didn’t seem interested in any of them. I came to the end of them and noticed we had October 2007 General Conference on DVD. I mentioned “Or you could watch General Conference from a few years ago.”

Suddenly there was interest. “Yes, I want to watch General Conference!” Paul exclaimed.

“OK,” I said, not expecting this to last very long.

Well, he got through the opening song and then President Hinckley got up to talk and Paul kept watching. And then they were panning through the other general authorities and I heard Paul get excited again.

“Look! It’s President Monson! And Look! It’s President Eyring!”

Now, I knew Paul knew the prophet. But the only way he could have learned President Eyring was through the fact that President Eyring had spoken at General Conference and he heard his name a few times. He remembered.

So never underestimate a three-year-old. They are listening.

(And in case you are wondering, I think Paul got through one more song before he’d had enough.)

Reflections On General Conference

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Semi-annual and annual General Conference is a touchstone each April and October. As I turn on the computer and tune in to prophet’s messages, I find myself reflecting on where we were six months ago, a year ago, two years ago.

Three years ago, on a Sunday morning, I was in labor. I awoke at 3 a.m. Melbourne time, finally waking Ryan up at 5 a.m., just as the morning session of Saturday conference was beginning (or ending?) in Salt Lake City. I watched the majority of the session on the internet as I curled up in laboring ball on the bed and as I paced the bedroom back and forth. I was not feeling very well and I don’t remember much, but I do remember Elder Cook was called that session. I got through most of the session, then we called our parents and told them we were headed to the hospital. A few hours later (at 3:13 p.m. Melbourne time), Paul was born, just about midnight in the USA.

Two years ago, Paul celebrated his first birthday at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I turned on my computer and we watched it on my little screen in my parent’s family room. Paul was a new walker, happy to giggle and play with toys and listen to the songs. He was very tired when we had birthday cake in between sessions.

Last October, we had invited some friends to come to our house for dinner and conference. But then Ryan and I and Paul were a bit sick and we canceled. I don’t recall that we really watched much. We were sick a year ago April, too. I know because we had invited the same friends and had to cancel. Ah well, some years are more memorable than others. I don’t think it was very memorable with toddler-Paul.

This year, Paul gets it. He recognized the prophet and I borrowed Frank and Elizabeth’s idea and had a few key words we are listening for: Temples, the Book of Mormon, and Prophets. When he heard each one he would get to put a sticker on the page. He lasted through a bit of each conference and even when he’d be playing with his toys and we’d think he wasn’t listening, he’d suddenly stop and say, “Alma in the Book of Mormon! I get a Book of Mormon sticker!” And he’d stop playing to put a sticker (or three) on the Book of Mormon page.

This is a testimony to me that it is never too young to give full attention and expectation on your kids. They are listening to the prophet even when you may not think so. Beyond that, they recognize the spirit and the mantle on the shoulders of those who have been called.

It was a few months ago that, at a baptism, Paul saw the Bishop on the side of the room and said, with barely contained excitement, “Mommy! Look! It’s that guy!!!”

“Oh, do you see the Bishop?” I asked. Our bishop is not very outgoing and talkative unless he has a reason to be, so I was quite surprised that Paul had noticed the Bishop as someone special. But, seeing it as a good opportunity, I walked him over, had him shake the Bishop’s hand, and told Paul that the Bishop was special because he was called of God to serve the ward.

Ever since then, Paul has always been very, very excited to see the Bishop, and always wants to shake his hand. At another baptism last month, he saw the Bishop and I again walked him over to shake the Bishop’s hand.

“Yes, it’s the Bishop!” I said.

The Bishop heard me. “One of many,” he responded.

“But the only one of our ward.” I said. I told him how I was sure Paul had a testimony of his calling as Bishop. He got tears in his eyes.

Yes, our children have the spirit. They know.

The New Mormon.org

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I made a profile for the new Mormon.org. Have you?

Go to http://mormonorg.lds.org/profile to set up your profile. Log in with your lds.org site login. (Obviously, this is just for members of the church to log in to. You need your membership number if you don’t already have an lds.org account.)

I think this is a nice way for people to put their social networking to good use. I don’t know how many people (if any) will view my profile out of the thousands of interesting profiles on Mormon.org, but it’s nice to know I’m doing something. I look forward to adding much, much more. It feels so good to bear testimony of what I know to be true.

Reflections

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What is Faith?

After much fasting and prayer (and family financial preparation), Ryan quit his job about four months ago. We both felt it was time. He was working what seemed from my perspective to be 16 hours a day, he had too many bosses, and the traveling every week thing got old about year nine (this was year ten).

As I mentioned, we only took that step after much fasting and prayer. Yet, it then took four months for him to secure his first client as an independent contractor. It was right way back in March, but he did not get a job offer until June. And then, of course, there were two offers the same week and then he got to choose the one he liked best. I found myself wondering many times in the past weeks why Heavenly Father didn’t send one of those two offers back in March or April. Ryan says, “Because Heavenly Father knew that this was about as long as you could handle.” I don’t feel I’ve been particularly faithful: I feel that after that initial decision (which I, too, felt good about) I’ve doubted regularly.

I have learned a bit more about faith. Following those initial strong impressions is not faith. Persisting when I no longer see the end, when I no longer feel strong — that’s faith. The phrase “endure to the end” comes to mind.

Nauvoo

We took a “last hurrah” celebratory road trip to Nauvoo, leaving Monday afternoon once the contracts were signed and his start date set. This was a wonderful thing in so many ways. Some miscellaneous thoughts:

  • The down side to free hotels is that sometimes the right hotel is not close to your destination. Driving an hour to and from Nauvoo every morning/evening is not convenient.  (We stayed in Macomb.)
  • Binkie withdrawl is painful for the child and the parent. Taking the binkie away just before a road trip is either genius or insanity. I’m still not sure which it was.
  • Nauvoo has become huge. My son’s experience visiting Nauvoo will be quite different from my childhood experiences.
  • Even a two-year-old can recognize Joseph Smith and learn about his special experience.
  • Even a two-year-old loves to walk around the temple.
  • Two-year-olds do not want to sit and watch videos in the Visitor’s Center. They also do not have a large enough attention span to visit old house and listen to missionaries. (We made it through two and a half the first day and one on the second.)
  • It’s hot this summer.

Eminent Women

While in Nauvoo, we stopped in a fine arts studio and the painter showed us his work in progress: a painting of the eminent men and women that visited Wilford Woodruff in the St. George Temple in 1877 and asked for their work to be done. (See some info about the event here and Mr. Bedard’s painting here.) Anyway, he mentioned that he needed women to be models in his database so when he gets to painting the eminent women who appeared to Wilford Woodruff, he has faces that he can match with the women who were there.

I said, “Sure.” He said that as he took the picture, I should think about what it would have meant. These women, women like Martha Washington, Abigail Adams, Dolley Madison, Jane Austen, and Charlotte Bronte never had the chance to accept the gospel in their lifetimes. They had heard the gospel since their death and come back to ask for their work to be done. As I thought of what it would have meant, I felt the spirit so strongly. How incredible it is that we can do the work for those who have gone before us!

It made me feel closer to those on the other side of the veil. Ryan and I had the chance to do some sealings for the Reid side of the family a few weeks ago, and it is so special to know that those people do (sometimes) accept the work we do for them. They need us!

The Little Things

While we were in Nauvoo, Ryan and I took the chance to go to the temple, first Ryan in the morning, and then me in the afternoon. I admit, we’d been busy in the heat the previous day, and the nice cool air conditioning, the comfortable seats, and the dark room made this a trial for me. Some of my blinks were kind of long. I felt guilty and wondered why I’d taken the time to come to the temple when I couldn’t give my full attention to the service.

At one point, I had the chance to sit right next to the wall, where there are beautiful murals. Right next to me, I could see a fingerprint in a glob of green paint. It was guiding the paint into the midst of the light yellow-green splatters and I could see the texture. It was incredible to see the texture and to realize that if I’d only step back ten feet, those yellow and green splatters would be the beauty of reeds and leaves on the edge of a little pond. Going to the temple, even when not at my most attentive state, was like one of those little splatters. At the end of my life, those little splatters end up a beautiful mural!

I was telling Ryan this very deep thought when he said, “Hmm, that sounds familiar.” Apparently, Elder Bednar already made this connection. Is this why I thought of it? I’d already heard it? At any rate, I get it now.

In my office is a beautiful painting of a wheat field. The painting is a vast collection of individual brushstrokes—none of which in isolation is very interesting or impressive. In fact, if you stand close to the canvas, all you can see is a mass of seemingly unrelated and unattractive streaks of yellow and gold and brown paint. However, as you gradually move away from the canvas, all of the individual brushstrokes combine together and produce a magnificent landscape of a wheat field. Many ordinary, individual brushstrokes work together to create a captivating and beautiful painting.

Each family prayer, each episode of family scripture study, and each family home evening is a brushstroke on the canvas of our souls. No one event may appear to be very impressive or memorable. But just as the yellow and gold and brown strokes of paint complement each other and produce an impressive masterpiece, so our consistency in doing seemingly small things can lead to significant spiritual results. “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33). Consistency is a key principle as we lay the foundation of a great work in our individual lives and as we become more diligent and concerned in our own homes. (from an October 2009 Conference Address)

What If…. I Have to Grow Up?

We’ve been working on “What ifs?” lately, such as wills and life insurance and planning for the future. One major “what if” is “what if I need to get a job?” I’ve realized I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Absolutely nothing interests me. I especially can’t stand the thought of going back to proofreading other people’s writing for 40 hours a week. I hope I can just continue being a stay-at-home mom for the foreseeable future. I don’t want to have to grow up anytime soon.

Joy in Womanhood

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I’ve written a dozen of posts in my head and I’ve started a few posts for this site and yet somehow they never get posted! Any internet time I’ve found has gone to my public blog, where for many reasons, I am not going to post my innermost personal thoughts. Here are some concepts that I’ve been pondering for a long time, and much like all the other things I’ve wanted to share lately (and never have), it involves my testimony.

Lately, I’ve felt like rejoicing in being a woman. As a woman, I know my role and it is a wonderful one. In so many places in the world, I am told that I am the same as a man, that accepting (and purporting) a gender-specific role to be a nurturer is a demeaning thing for women, and that women should “aim higher” and not be limited or taught to be any different than men. I wholeheartedly disagree, especially that ignoring female-specific gender roles is “aiming higher.” Women, and girls, should nurture gender-specific roles.

As a woman, I have a specific “meaning, purpose, and direction.” I delight in that knowledge. My favorite line from the Relief Society Declaration is that I “find nobility in motherhood and joy in womanhood.” That I do, and I delight in the opportunity to declare to other girls and woman around the world that such roles are divine.

Some would say that I am an anti-feminist by those statements. On the contrary, I consider myself a feminist in every sense of the word. See these definitions (from Merriam-Webster.com):

Feminist: (1) the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes; (2) organized activity on behalf of women’s rights and interests

Women should be politically, economically, and socially equal to men. Whether a woman runs for office, votes for office, buys a house, opens a bank account, or enters a workplace or community environment, she should not be discriminated against and limited. However, women should not be the same as men.

I wish to shout from the rooftops that being a womanly woman is the greatest thing in the world, that being different from men is a wonderful thing. I am a part of the world’s largest woman’s organization, and it certainly supports women’s interests: Relief Society. We women should nurture our own abilities to nurture, for it makes the world so much stronger. Women that know their divine roles are women that truly do “find joy in womanhood.”

In reading over the talks from the last conference, I have found that so many of them are about mothers, motherhood, women’s roles, being a parent, and teaching the rising generation. I loved Sister Beck’s talk from the last general conference, and I find myself reviewing it often.

A good woman must constantly resist alluring and deceptive messages from many sources telling her that she is entitled to more time away from her responsibilities and that she deserves a life of greater ease and independence. But with personal revelation, she can prioritize correctly and navigate this life confidently.

Women are not, therefore, entitled to “me” time, although of course we all need to keep our sanity. We live in an “entitlement” culture; it’s not the Lord’s way. His way is to serve, enduring to the end. And then Sister Beck quotes Sister Eliza R. Snow in a quote that I should frame and put over my bathroom mirror:

Women should be women and not babies that need petting and correction all the time. I know we like to be appreciated but if we do not get all the appreciation which we think is our due, what matters?

The sister I visit for visiting teaching pointed out that women who are abused and/or neglected by her husbands should not feel that they are in the wrong. And as I mention above, women do need to keep sanity and being stranded in a house with, say, a few screaming children for five days a week definitely would drive the best of us insane. But in my case, where I have a husband who dotes on me and takes very good care of me, helps out around the house, and otherwise is the most wonderful man alive, I certainly need this reminder. I get plenty of “me” time.

I admit that I sometimes act like a baby. I don’t want to cook dinner yet again. I don’t want to change yet another poopy diaper. (Yes, after two months of being partially toilet trained Paul is back to no toilet and all diapers.) I don’t want to be the one that is responsible. I want to be coddled and I want someone else to do the dirty work so I can get back to my book (oops, did I say that outloud?!).

But the fact is, I delight in being a mother. I sincerely do “find nobility in motherhood.” I delight in cuddling my son and reading him stories and taking him on walks. I can’t get one (the fun stuff) without the other (the responsibility). Our husbands choose jobs they like, but those jobs aren’t always fun. It is work. And we sure do like payday.

Anyway, this weekend, as I ponder all the responsibilities I have and the ways in which I want to better magnify this eternal job of mine (that is, being a mother), I want to rededicate myself to doing the small, sometimes unpleasant stuff with the nobility of motherhood in mind. Changing those diapers and cleaning the toilets is a part of that noble task.

“Women should be women and not babies that need petting and correction all the time…”

The great thing, but also the not so great thing, about not posting on this site very frequently is that few are going to read this or comment. I like knowing that I can post my testimony in a place where I know it isn’t going away, for my strong feelings of delight at being a woman aren’t about to change. I’d love to hear from you if you are still reading this blog, although please note that I don’t intend to debate women’s roles or feminism in general. I am sharing my testimony of my role and my love of the Lord Jesus Christ.

What do you most love about womanhood and motherhood? What talks about motherhood from the last general conference stood out to you?

We are beloved spirit daughters of God,
and our lives have meaning, purpose, and direction.

As a worldwide sisterhood, we are united in our devotion
to Jesus Christ, our Savior and Exemplar.

We are women of faith, virtue, vision, and charity who:

  • Increase our testimonies of Jesus Christ through prayer and scripture study.
  • Seek spiritual strength by following the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
  • Dedicate ourselves to strengthening marriages, families, and homes.
  • Find nobility in motherhood and joy in womanhood.
  • Delight in service and good works.
  • Love life and learning.
  • Stand for truth and righteousness.
  • Sustain the priesthood as the authority of God on earth.
  • Rejoice in the blessings of the temple,understand our divine destiny,and strive for exaltation.

Micro and Macro: Thoughts on Reading the Book of Mormon

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Last July, when Paul was about 21 months old, I began reading him the Book of Mormon as we ate our breakfast. At first, of course, he barely noticed. He’d keep babbling to himself as he ate his oatmeal. It didn’t (and doesn’t) take long to read five verses. By October, we’d finished First Nephi and begun Second Nephi.

By the New Year, I began to notice something. Paul, now 26 months, enjoyed Book of Mormon time. He’d point to the book on the shelf as he ate and remind me. He’d request Book of Mormon time during lunch too. He’d repeat words (“Wo! Wo!”). He’d look for the pictures of Jesus in it.

I’ve learned a lot from the Book of Mormon by reading so slowly. First, most verses have some precious truth that even a two-year-old can understand. It sometimes felt challenges reading the Isaiah chapters to him. After all, I didn’t want him to remember the word “whoredoms” at age two and a half. Yet, even in the midst of God’s scoldings, there are verses of comfort, reminders to hear with your ears, and calls to come to God. All these are concepts that we need. When a verse says “Open your ears and hear,” my two-year-old can understand. We’re almost finished with Second Nephi now. I’ll let you know when we begin Mosiah (I anticipate it will be another four months).

In January, I began a personal study of the New Testament. When I thought of the Stake President’s request that we read the Book of Mormon by the next stake conference, I discounted myself. Surely that is guidance for those who haven’t read it a dozen times already! I wanted to keep reading the Bible. I’m unfamiliar with it in comparison to the Book of Mormon.

But by March, I was feeling seriously guilty. One Tuesday night, I picked it up and began at the beginning once again. Knowing I had a “deadline” of April 25, I purposely carved out time every night that first week to read the requisite 20 pages (or so). To my surprise, I found myself compelled by what I was reading, so much so that some days I read 50 pages or more. I wanted to carry it around with me during the morning, which I often do with compelling novels, and read it in snatches when I get a break during the day. I wanted to stay up late reading a little bit more before I went to sleep. I wanted to read it.

I finished it in about three weeks, and it was an interesting way to read it. I wasn’t stopping and reading footnotes. I wasn’t taking notes and pondering the teachings I was reading. I was just reading for the overall spirit of the book. What I got was so much more. I gained a stronger love for the Book of Mormon as a book worth reading and rereading. I was reminded each day of the testimony I have of its truthfulness. And ultimately, I was reminded of the hope there is for me, for as I call upon the Savior’s atonement and seek forgiveness for my imperfections, I can someday return to Heavenly Father, imperfect as I am. The people of the Book of Mormon were blinded by pride, by the desire for power, by hate for those around them. It is a tragedy, and yet the message for me is one of hope.

This read, I most loved the book of Mosiah. I remember someone telling me before that King Benjamin’s speech is not for one who is depressed: he only reminds us of our weaknesses and discourages us further. But on the contrary, I loved everything about the book of Mosiah, especially King Benjamin’s speeches. Rather than being depressed, I saw the hope for me, imperfect as I am. I was inspired by Abinadi’s teaching, Alma’s conversion, and the tales of the two groups of people who were enslaved and reacted in two different ways. Alma the Younger’s miraculous conversion reiterates the fact that there is hope for all: we can all be forgiven.

The other thing I learned from reading the Book of Mormon is the importance of the actual act of doing so. Because I was so enthralled by its pages, Paul saw me reading it, and whenever I sat on the couch to read a few pages as he played with his cars, for example, he’d jump up and say “Mommy! Paul’s Book of Mormon too!” And he’d race to get his own blue copy, the one we read every morning at breakfast. He’d pull himself up on the couch as well and he’d “read” his along with me. (This would often last about 30 seconds, but occasionally he would flip through all the pictures and babble to himself for a good 5 minutes.)

The bottom line is that the Book of Mormon is something to be appreciated on both a Macro and a Micro level. Whether you read five verses a day or 60 pages strengthens you. I’m hoping my next read (which will happen now, concurrently with my New Testament study) will be more in the middle of the two extremes as I ponder footnotes, cross reference, and actually study the words saved for our day.

Beyond the mere fact that reading the Book of Mormon is a blessing, I also gained a stronger testimony of the Stake President’s counsel. Surely, there is a reason to obey.  I am grateful I did.