In 2002 there was a movie released called “Charly” which tells the story of a New York City art major who moves to Utah and finds new meaning to faith, love and family.  When I was growing up, our family always tried to watch uplifting films or what we would call “church movies” on Sunday and Charly became an instant classic in our home.  I always remember my mom commenting on a scene in the movie where the lead family is having a backyard BBQ and the montage portrays lots of laughing, good food and dancing in the backyard – it is a picture-perfect moment.  Charly turns to the mother and asks, “is it always like this?” to which she replies,

“No, this is just a good day”

The reason my mom loved that brief scene was because the mother’s character did not appear pretentious or put on any kind of airs that their family’s life was perfect and always full of backyard BBQ bliss – that was just a good day. 

I have thought of that line many times over the years, but especially more recently as the culture of comparison seems to consume almost every aspect of every social media platform.  I can’t open Facebook, Pinterest or Instagram without seeing photo after photo of everyone’s “good days”.  I am not faulting them at all – I do the exact same thing! We go on a camping trip or spend a day at the park with friends or host a birthday party for one of my children and I share all the happy memories. 

But then there are moments like the one I am currently sitting in – it’s 11:00 AM and I am sitting at the computer in my pajamas, my house is a mess, the kids are fighting downstairs and I’m not even sure if they’ve had breakfast yet or not . . . why don’t I share this happy moment on my Facebook story!

I’m not saying I’m opposed to sharing all the highlight moments of my life or that I don’t want to see those moments in the lives of others.  In fact, I often feel that pictures and posts that capture life’s happy memories help us to focus more on all the good things in life and fosters a mentality of positivity and optimism. 

On the other hand, a healthy dose of reality can go a long way to remind us that life has its ups and downs, that no one is perfect and that just as Lehi taught his sons, there must be opposition in all things. 

I think the problem is that on my days when there seems to be an excessive amount of opposition, I escape to my phone only to scroll through reels of perfect vacations I could never afford to take or beautiful bodies my chocolate addiction will never allow me to have. 

I fall into the timeless trap of comparing the worst of me to the best of others. 

And as the age-old adage has taught us – comparison is the thief of joy!  Why is that?  I think the answer is that as soon as we begin to compare, we allow judgement and jealousy to cloud our reason which in turn robs us of the ability to feel gratitude. 

Gary B. Sabin said, “when nothing is expected and everything is appreciated, life becomes magical.”

When I was growing up, there was a small brown lacquered plaque with a poem called “Desiderata“ that hung in the upstairs hallway of our home.  The verse offers much wisdom, but perhaps my favorite line is the one that says,

“If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.”

I don’t believe the author was trying to create a social hierarchy to which we fall in rank, but rather remind the reader to maintain perspective and gratitude even in the face of disparity and difference. 

There are bigger houses than yours and smaller

There are people with more money and less

There are marriages that last fifty years and marriages that end in divorce

The list could obviously go on and the challenge is to not compare our highs with other’s lows and become vain.  Or compare our lows with other’s highs and become bitter. 

I love these words of Vern P. Stanfil,

“I have learned . . . that self-comparison is not the same as emulation. When we compare ourselves to others, there can be only two results. Either we will see ourselves as better than others and become judgmental and critical of them, or we will see ourselves as less than others and become anxious, self-critical, and discouraged. Comparing ourselves to others is rarely productive, not uplifting, and sometimes downright depressing. In fact, these comparisons can be . . . destructive, preventing us from receiving the spiritual help we need.”

I love that he highlights the difference between comparison and emulation.  He goes on to say,

“Emulating those we respect who demonstrate Christlike attributes can be instructive and uplifting and can help us become better disciples of Jesus Christ.”

This leads me to self reflect on how I view others . . . is it through the lens of comparison or emulation.  What does my perception of others allow me to see . . . because remember we are rarely seeing the whole picture. 

As I look back on the last few months of summer, has our family had some incredible travel experiences, spent time with friends and family, gone on several adventures together and had our own backyard BBQs full of laughing, good food and dancing – yes!

On the same token has there been complaining and arguments almost daily, vehicle troubles, hail damage to our garden, failed goals, stress, mess and disappointments – yes!

The truth is, life was never meant to consist solely of backyard BBQ bliss. 

It is so crucial to understand that these moments are temporary and do not define our family, our relationships or our life.  It is our attitude and response to life’s experiences (whether the highs or the lows) that build character and create lasting joy. 

Remember the words of our prophet that “the joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”

Can we look at a bad day and acknowledge it as just that – a bad day?  Can we look at the backyard BBQs of life and appreciate the happiness and memories they bring, while still acknowledging that this is not a permanent state of being?  And can we feel joy regardless of what kind of day we are having? 

Well, I definitely don’t get it right even half of the time, but I find as I turn my focus away from all the distractions and reels and towards my Savior and his plan – it is much easier to answer “yes” to all of the above. 

And so, as the summer comes to an end and a new school year begins, consider this a public service announcement that whatever pictures you may see on my profile or anyone else’s are most likely a backyard BBQ highlight and not usually showing the whole story, and that’s okay.  But if you’re feeling discouraged, or like you are falling short of the perceived standard set around you, just remember . . .

It’s not always like this, this is just a good day.

Last summer my sister bought a birthday present for my nine-year-old daughter that proved to be quite the bargaining chip with my other girls.  It wasn’t an electronic device, a lululemon fanny or even a Stanley tumbler . . . it was a diamond art set!  For those of you who do not have girls between the ages of six and twelve in your house – diamond art is a type of ‘paint by numbers’ craft, only each little square on the picture is filled in with a small colored gem that eventually creates a beautiful image. These sets come in all shapes and sizes and the pictures can be anything from Disney princesses to elaborate landscapes. The set my daughter received was a compilation of small images that had a peel off back to create a sticker. 

Now at the time, my daughter Skylar was the only one of our four girls who had one of these kits, so the diamond art stickers created essentially their own currency in our home.  You would not believe the items, chores and opportunities that were traded to Skylar for the chance to make just one sticker!  To say she milked the novelty for all it’s worth would be an understatement (and for those of you who know her, this would come as no surprise).

Once completed, the most common use for the stickers was to decorate their water bottles.  Our three oldest girls had all been given new bottles for the upcoming school year and they were anxious to ‘make them their own’. 

I underestimated at the time what a trend these water bottle stickers were, but as my girls returned to school in the fall and flashed their bedazzled bottles to their friends, it was clear that the value of the diamond art currency had just increased. 

Now as I’m sure you can imagine…the beauty of the stickers did not last long.  They got wet and lost their sticky, became soiled from constant use and eventually started to peel off.  One day as Skylar lamented about the decomposing stickers on her water bottle, my younger daughter Brooklyn cheerfully pointed out, “that’s okay Skylar, now you have room for more!”. 

This ‘glass half full’ statement of positivity and potential has stuck with me all these months and especially these last few weeks as I have pondered on the love/hate relationship I have with the month of January.

LOVE – I love January because it is the calm after the ‘Christmas storm’, a time to slow down and enjoy cozy winter cuddles.  It is also a time of change and renewal.  An opportunity to start fresh, set goals, organize, evaluate and improve.

HATE – I hate January because I feel so much pressure (probably self imposed) to do all of the above!  Sometimes I want to take the “new year, new you” attitude, cover it in chocolate and eat it after 9:00 while watching Netflix on the couch. 

It’s not that I don’t want to be focused or aspirational, I think I just feel an immense amount of overwhelm as I consider another year passed and a new one upon us. I look at my water bottle covered in dirty peeling stickers and think to myself, “how could I possibly fit more?”

And so, it is in these “the struggle is real” moments of life that I have learned to turn to the wisdom of my sweet little Brooklyn.  We’ve all been given a water bottle and there is only so much space for stickers. 

Maybe it is time to evaluate not how I can add more to the already torn and tattered ones.  Maybe it is time to evaluate which stickers need to be taken off so I have room for new ones. 

There is only so much room on my water bottle – what kind of stickers am I filling the space with?

This principle was made abundantly clear to me last week as the hot potato game of “pass the flu” landed in my lap.  Being sick combined with the exhaustion that follows the Christmas crazies left me lying in bed aching from head to toe and totally unable to do anything productive…or so I thought. 

When I had rested so much that I could sleep no more, I found myself facing a large space of “free time” on my water bottle which I rarely have.  I could have used that opportunity to study my scriptures, listen to General Conference, read with my children, or even just watch a movie with them.  But what did I do instead – I lied in bed scrolling through Facebook, watching mindless TV and fell down several YouTube and Instagram rabbit holes that left me unfulfilled and even questioning so many values I embrace.  I plastered useless stickers of idleness and doubt on my water bottle where a fresh clean sticker of testimony or time spent with family could have been placed. 

There is only so much room on my water bottle – what kind of stickers am I filling the space with?

As the week ended and my health and energy levels improved, I was able to peel off some of the stickers of negativity, sadness and mess and replaced them with improved self worth, routine and cleanliness (meaning I finally showered, cleaned my kitchen and took the Christmas tree down).

Although small and seemingly insignificant, this experience has caused me to be more thoughtful throughout my day as to how I “fill the space” and how I “create room for more”.  Each day, each hour, each opportunity is a blank space that the Lord is anxious for us to fill with goodness and Godliness.  In other words, our lives are full of January firsts – fresh clean spots on our water bottles that we get to fill with beautiful stickers.  The challenge is knowing which stickers to keep and which ones to peel off.      

Michelle Craig taught that to increase our spiritual capacity to receive revelation, we must be intentional about creating time and space to hear God’s voice.  She said,

“As you use your agency to carve out time every day to draw closer to God’s voice . . . over time His voice will become clearer and more familiar to you.” 

She added, “in contrast, the distractions and noise that fill the world and our homes and our lives can make it more difficult to hear His voice. These distractions can so occupy our minds and hearts that we leave no room for the gentle promptings of the Holy Ghost.”

There is only so much room on my water bottle – what kind of stickers am I filling the space with?

With this challenge at the forefront of my mind, I was struck by a verse of scripture in the Book of Mormon that our family read together last night.  The prophet Nephi meticulously crafted thin plates of gold metal to engrave his testimony and the revelations of God.  There was no room for frivolous matters, “they cannot be written upon these plates” he said, “for I desire the room that I may write of the things of God”. 

Once again, Nephi for the win!  Reminding me of the precious little space I really do have in my life and that I too desire that room for the things of God.

Now this isn’t to say that I will never binge watch a TV show again in my life or find an hour of time waisted as I scroll down social media.  I’m far from perfect and unfortunately will not always use the space given me for shiny new stickers of eternal value.  Sometimes it’s hard to peel off the old stickers – they are habitual and familiar.

This is, however, to say that I am grateful there is limited space on my water bottle because it forces me to be accountable and reminds me how precious the space is. 

I’m learning to embrace the joy of repentance as I peel off the old to make room for the new. 

And at the very least, this lesson provides me with opportunities to assess and evaluate the stickers in my life as I am more aware of the simple, yet incredibly significant principle that,

There is only so much room on my water bottle – what kind of stickers am I filling the space with?

Several years ago, I was sitting in a hot and stuffy classroom where Brother Mullen was giving a Sunday school lesson on teacher improvement.  We talked about different ways to involve and love those we teach, how to ask thoughtful questions that promote meaningful discussions and most importantly how to invite the spirit into our class to testify of truth.  Then, almost cavalierly, he said something that I will never forget,  

“Just remember – you can’t hit a homerun every day!”

I know I have been taught some variation of that principle several times throughout my life, but for some reason, in that moment it completely hit home (lol – baseball pun).

Honestly – he’s right!  I’m sure in the setting of a teacher development class, he was trying to reassure us that there will be times when you teach a really great lesson where the class members are engaged and everything goes according to plan . . . times when you hit a home run!  But there will also be many times when nothing goes according to plan!  The discussion gets way off topic, you feel like no one is listening or primary children are literally bouncing off the walls . . . so do not get discouraged because,

you can’t hit a homerun every day!

I have repeated these words to myself many times over the years.  Some days as a wife and mother I feel like I just hit it out of the park!  Then there are days (more often than not) that I just keep striking out with foul ball after foul ball. 

I often find myself feeling frustrated with the paradigm of conflicting emotions that battle within me.  On one hand, I know that there must be opposition to all things.  That righteousness, holiness and joy cannot exist without wickedness, misery and pain.  I know that we are not meant to be perfect and that as human beings we will always fall short. 

I know that we can’t hit a homerun everyday.    

However, I also suffer from a perfectionism complex and often feel discouraged, disappointed and even angry when I fail to meet my daily “homerun quota”.  As though life could be diluted to a mere checklist of things to do.  I place so much value in accomplishment that I often feel weighed down by the unrealistic expectations that I place on myself and others.  Most days I find myself succeeding in one area of my life and lacking in another and instead of celebrating my triumphs, I dwell on my failures.  Why do I do this?

I feel like this is one of the greatest tools the adversary uses to distract and discourage me that results in either pride or pessimism. 

He convinces me that if I decorate holiday cookies with my children, make healthy and delicious homemade meals, exercise daily and have a perfectly clean house  – then I am winning at life . . . homerun, homerun, homerun.  I’m so amazing – pride!

On the same token, I allow his lies to prove me a failure when our family has eaten grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner (three nights in a row), when I forget about the field trip forms and book fair emails my kids have been pestering me about all week and when I stay up late watching TV because it’s the only thing I have energy to do – but then I’m tired in the morning and the cycle repeats . . . strike one, strike two, strike three!  You are the worst – pessimism!

The thing is – we are not meant to hit a homerun every day.  We are meant to experience loss, pain, sorrow and discouragement.  I do not watch a lot of baseball – but I do know that it would be a pretty boring and predictable, even pointless game if every player that stepped up to the plate hit a perfect homerun every single time.  That’s just not what the game is about.  Nor is life.   

I had an experience a few weeks ago as our family celebrated thanksgiving that reiterated this principle to me.  It was a beautiful fall day when we walked up the front steps to my parent’s house.  The table was set with my mother’s country rose china and the aroma of apple pies, turkey and buttery stuffing filled their home. I know a lot of people probably say this, but no one can make a thanksgiving dinner quite like my mom can! 

We were all excited to get together, play games, snuggle babies and of course – eat delicious food! In addition to fifty percent of the people and ninety percent of the noise, I was asked to bring the buns.

I got up on Monday morning, donned my apron and began to channel my inner Martha.  I have never doubled my recipe (and I’m too scared to try in case it doesn’t work), so I have just got into the habit of making two batches back-to-back.  I combined the sugar with the yeast and added the warm water.  It started to bubble.  Then came the flour and a little bit of salt.  I mixed everything together and as I began to knead the dough on my dusted countertop, I could tell right away it was the perfect consistency.  I placed it in a bowl to rise, then began to work on batch number two.  In a perfectly clean bowl, I followed all the same steps listed above.  Almost immediately, I knew something was wrong.  As soon as I pulled the dough from my mixing bowl, it felt dense, tough and dry.  What happened?!  I convinced myself that it was fine and I began to knead.  

I’m not sure why I didn’t just throw in the towel with batch number two at this point.  No amount of kneading and wishful thinking was going to turn this dough into anything edible.  But I was feeling crunched for time, and so fueled by determination and/or stubbornness I carried on – rolling 20 little buns out of what felt more like salt clay than bread dough!  

I baked the first batch and they came out perfect!  I brushed a little melted butter on the top and it was all I could do to not eat half of them right then and there – you know, for quality assurance.  Then it was time for the second batch to go into the oven.  The dough had still not risen at all, but I was certain that somehow they were going to turn out.  The timer went and I opened my oven door to discover 20 little white balls that looked exactly like they did when I put them in.  They hadn’t risen or browned at all and honestly looked disgusting!

What happened? Two totally different results from the same execution of instructions. The time was quickly approaching for our family to leave, and I was still standing in my kitchen wearing pyjamas and rocking a two day old messy bun – so I decided to just call it a day.  

One homerun followed by a major fly ball. 

With my hair full of dry shampoo and armed with one tray of buns – we headed over to my parent’s house.  Upon arriving I explained my plight to my mom who lovingly assured me that everyone would be happy with just one bun.  “Sure”, I thought, “who doesn’t love being given a ration of 1.4 buns per person for thanksgiving dinner.”  I felt bad – she had done everything else and in my mind it was a very “you had one job” kind of a moment for me.  I focused on my failure instead of my success. 

We all sat down to eat and at the end of the day, as you can guess, there was so much food that it really didn’t matter how many buns we had.  We were all happy and so full!  

Isn’t that how it is with the Savior.  He invites us to a heavenly feast and all he asks is for us to bring one tray of buns or five loaves and two fishes. All he asks for is our effort (whatever that may look like).  And we will never leave hungry.    

I love these words by Vern P. Stanfill, “It is often a temptation in our world . . . to obsess about perfection. Social media, unrealistic expectations, and often our own self-criticism create feelings of inadequacy – that we are not good enough and never will be. Some even misunderstand the invitation of the Savior to “be ye therefore perfect.” Remember that perfectionism is not the same as being perfected in Christ.  Perfectionism requires an impossible, self-inflicted standard that compares us to others . . . becoming perfected in Christ is another matter. It is the process . . . of becoming more like the Savior.”

This is such valuable wisdom and has caused me to consider more deeply how I view my daily highs and lows.  It is not that the Lord doesn’t want us to succeed. He is our greatest champion cheering us on to the final play of the ninth inning. 

He wants us to win. 

He wants us to hit a homerun.

He wants us to run home – to him!

He also knows that we cannot do it alone.  He knows we will strike out and drop the ball more times than we can count.  But as we rely on him and keep our covenants, his promises are sure. 

He will not leave us comfortless. 

He will know how to succor us. 

He will prepare the way.   

We will never play a perfect game, but with the Savior on our side – we will always win. 

So maybe I have the wrong idea about what it means to hit a homerun.  It doesn’t mean that life is perfect.  And it doesn’t mean I am valued any less when I strike out.  My homeruns can be small but meaningful victories that will look different every day; and there will always be room for growth. 

I read my scriptures today – homerun!

I told my children I love them – homerun!

I kept that plant in my bedroom alive another day – homerun!

Remember these words of the prophet Moroni, “Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him . . . and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ.”

Elder Stanfill added these words, “We must remember that whatever our best-but-imperfect offering is, the Savior can make it perfect. No matter how insignificant our efforts may seem, we must never underestimate the Savior’s power.”

And so maybe we can in fact hit a homerun every day.

With the Savior on our team we can do all things through Christ which strengthens us. He who lived a perfect life, the only one to never strike out will multiply our meager offering, sanctify our efforts and qualify us – one homerun at a time – to eventually return home.

Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to grow up and serve a mission for the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints – it was truly a lifelong goal for me.  

I finally submitted my mission papers the summer after I turned 21.  Waiting to receive my call in the mail was exciting and nerve racking all at the same time.  I had my heart set on going somewhere exotic and thrilling.  A place where the language was strange, and the food was stranger.  I wanted to be like Alma the Younger and the Sons of Mosiah – boldly and faithfully proclaiming the gospel of Jesus Christ in dangerous, distant lands. 

If I’m being completely honest, I think a small part of me wanted to prove that I was more than just a “temple square missionary” which is where almost everyone predicted I would go.  I didn’t exactly know what a Temple Square missionary was – but I inwardly hoped for somewhere else. 

Well, the day finally came and the large white envelope arrived.  I had been checking the mail everyday for a week and before I left for work that morning, I saw it sitting there.  That was a long day!  That evening after work I drove with my Mom and siblings to a wooded area near the river.  I wanted to open my call in a quiet, peaceful place.  Unfortunately my Dad was working out of town, so I called his cell phone and proceeded to tear open the large white envelope.    

“Dear Sister Gregson, you are hereby called to serve as a missionary of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  You are assigned to labor in the Utah Salt Lake City Temple Square Mission.”

My dream of serving a mission had finally come true, and I was so excited . . . but I’m embarrassed to say that my excitement was laced with a tinge of disappointment about where I was going.  It wasn’t exactly thrilling and it certainly was not exotic.

“Where are you going?” my dad shouted into the phone.

“Temple Square” I replied.

“Where?”

“Temple Square”

“I can’t hear you very well honey, where is your mission call?”

“I’M GOING TO TEMPLE SQUARE!”

The thing was, I knew I would love it when I got there, but I wanted to love it now.  I wanted to be able to tell people with honest excitement where I was going and not be hurt when they laughed or said, “I told you so.”

I had two months until I was assigned to leave in August of 2006.  As the days and weeks passed, I continued to prepare – I bought my frumpy shoes and tweed skirts, I studied from Preach my Gospel and continued to attend all the temple and missionary prep classes I could.  And as the days and weeks passed, I truly did become more and more excited.  There was, however, one concern I had that lingered in the back of my mind.  It had to do with the type of mission Temple Square is. . .

It is a visitor’s center mission.

It is a seed planting mission. 

I knew then and know even more now that success in any effort is not always measured by tangible results, but that didn’t necessarily make it any easier.  I knew I would spend hours a day testifying of Jesus Christ and sharing the message of the restored gospel to hundreds of people . . . but then what?  Once the seed of faith had been planted, the people that came to temple square would go home and hopefully continue their journey on the covenant path . . . but I would never see them again! 

I would not experience the joy of watching God’s children learn gospel truths line upon line and help them prepare to make and keep sacred covenants. 

I would never be able to see the fruit of my labors.

It was a seed planting mission.

I was okay with that in my head, I just needed to be okay in my heart.  The answer came one day as I was studying Paul’s missionary experiences in the New Testament.  The people in Corinth were a lot like me – a little shortsighted and not totally grasping the big picture.  They were getting ahead of themselves and worrying about unimportant things like which missionary companion baptized them. 

Paul’s response to the saints in Corinth was exactly what I needed to hear,

“I have planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase.”

God gave the increase.

It was not Paul’s work nor the church of Apollos – it was God’s. 

It was God’s work then and it is God’s work now. 

This scripture sunk deep into my soul.  I knew in that moment that it really didn’t matter if I was a planter, a waterer or a harvester – God gives the increase. 

I tried to keep that perspective with me throughout my entire mission.  There were certainly days when this was easier said than done.  Times when I knew a person had been guided to visit Temple Square and I desperately wished I could be there with them as they continued on their journey.  But instead, I tried to focus on all the incredible miracles and unique blessings that came as a result of serving on Temple Square.  I knew I was doing what I had been called to do – my very small part in God’s grand vineyard. 

And guess what – I absolutely loved it!

Fast forward 17 years to present day and I once again find myself serving tirelessly in a seed planting mission – the mission of motherhood. 

A mission that is filled with the constant daily effort of planting and watering seeds with an occasional harvest here and there (just enough to keep a mother sane and going). 

Now don’t get me wrong, I am forever grateful for the blessing of being a mother and I know at the end of my life I will look back and love my mission, but I also want to love it now.  I sometimes feel like the 21 year old version of myself – the excitement and gratitude I have for my calling is often tainted by the disappointment I feel. 

Disappointment in myself as a mother

Disappointment in my children

Disappointment when things go wrong – and things will always go wrong.

Yesterday I was having a particularly disappointing day.  It started off with a yelling match between myself and my 9-year-old daughter over her hair – yes that’s right, her hair.  Seriously Christine! 

The house was a mess, the piles of laundry mountainous and I felt like I was failing at everything.  The several reminders from my 5-year-old at the dinner table that I am the fattest person in the family didn’t exactly help my self esteem and earlier in the day through what can only be described as a comedy of errors – I almost killed my daughters pet fish. 

In a meager attempt to begin cleaning our house, we started in her room (the messiest one) and did a deep clean.  This included dusting which happens about as frequently as taxes around here and as I stood on her bed to wipe down the frames on her wall, she felt in that moment the need to pull out all the bins under her bed to find something from her “secret box”.  I stepped down off the bed onto what should have just been the floor behind me, but was actually her head buried in her bin! Alarmed I stepped back again only to land in the bin beside it.  I attempted to correct my footing again, this time stepping on my other daughter innocently playing Lego nearby.  I lost my balance completely and dramatically flailed taking a glass vase with me. 

The vase went flying and came crashing down right onto my daughter’s fishbowl (that was temporarily on the floor while we were dusting).  In an instant, stinky fish water and shards of glass exploded everywhere, and my youngest daughter witnessing the entire ordeal stood there crying, “is Blueberry okay!  Is Blueberry okay!?” After we all recovered from the shock, I am happy to report that Blueberry is in fact okay . . . he is currently residing in a measuring cup on my counter until I can arrange an alternate habitat for him, but he is okay. 

The moral of the story is that dusting is dangerous business and should probably be avoided at all costs. 

The deeper moral of the story is that sometimes it can be really hard to serve in a seed planting mission.  A mission where all of your efforts seem fruitless and pointless.  A mission where it often feels like I am a hamster running circles on a wheel of tears, tantrums and trying to figure out what to make for dinner again. 

Several years ago, my mom gave a me a book written by Emily Watts called, “The Slow-Ripening Fruit of Mothering.”  She shares that children are the slowest-ripening fruit there is. 

“That fruit takes a long time to ripen.  It takes a lot of faith, and a lot of spiritual insight, and divine encouragement, to see it as it’s really going to be.  In the end, in order to have the patience we need, we have to remember how fruit ripens.  Consider that we plant it, and we nurture it, and we water it, and we do what we can, but the ripening of that fruit is mostly up to the sun.  It’s the same with the fruit of our children.  Ultimately, their maturing depends largely on the Son.  We have to trust him.”

And so it is with this trust that I move forward. 

Trusting that there is value in my work as a mother. 

Trusting that my efforts are not in vain. 

And trusting that I can be forgiven of all the mistakes I make every single day . . . even mistakes like yelling at my incredibly strong willed daughter or almost murdering her birthday fish.  

Returning to my dusting saga – after a long and tiring day, our family sat down together last night for scripture study and opened the New Testament to the next chapter in our reading assignment . . .

1st Corinthians chapter three. 

Yes, the same chapter that brought so much peace to my heart all those years ago was right there in front of me.   

“I have planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase.“

I felt God’s love showered upon me in that moment. 

He knows better than anyone that motherhood is a seed planting mission. 

He sees my daily efforts, understands my heart and is acutely aware of the four little slow-ripening fruits that I am striving to love, nurture, and some days just keep alive. 

I read the verse over and over in my mind and then came the gentle reminder from the spirit to trust in the Lord. 

Trust that all my efforts are being sanctified through the Son – the only one who is truly capable of ripening the fruit. 

Trust in his love – his love for the fruit and his love for the one who planted it. 

And finally, trust that at the end of the day when all is said and done – God gives the increase.    

Last week there was a knock at my door and I opened it to see a dear friend standing on my front step.  This sister has ministered to me for several years and although she is currently in a different ward, she continues to love and reach out to my family and me!  As I stood there in my purple leopard print pajamas and sporting an extreme case of bedhead, she lovingly handed me a gift.  

She explained that over 20 years ago when she was in the thick of life and mothering herself, there was a talk given in General Conference by Margaret D. Nadauld that was perfectly catered to her every need at the time.  

The talk was titled “The Joy of Womanhood”.  

She told me how she has always loved the words spoken by Sister Nadauld and she wanted to share them with the next generation of women.  She had made a book that included the words of the talk and beautiful pictures throughout.  As I flipped through the pages, I was filled with so much gratitude for her and this treasure I held in my hands.  

I have read through the book several times since that day and with the celebration of Mother’s Day this past Sunday – the joy of womanhood has truly been at the core of my thoughts and feelings.  

Sister Nadauld began her talk 23 years ago with this statement, “It is a remarkable blessing to be a daughter of God today . . . Our Heavenly Father asks His daughters to walk in virtue, to live in righteousness so that we can fulfill our life’s mission and His purposes.” 

She continued to teach that you can recognize women who are grateful to be a daughter of God by their outward appearance, their attitude, their abilities, their reverence for Motherhood and ultimately their desire to stand out from the rest of the world as they follow our Savior Jesus Christ, “women of God can never be like women of the world” she taught. 

She concluded with this counsel that I have heard many times throughout my life, yet it seems more needed now than ever! 

“The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender.

There are enough women who are coarse; we need women who are kind.

There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined.

We have enough women of fame and fortune; we need more women of faith.

We have enough greed; we need more goodness.

We have enough vanity; we need more virtue.

We have enough popularity; we need more purity.”

I was fifteen years old in October 2000 when this talk was given and less than a year later I turned sweet sixteen and received my patriarchal blessing.  Among the many promised blessings and counsel given to me that day were these words which I truly feel are meant for every woman of God young or old,

“Be grateful that you are a daughter of God.  His daughters are so precious.  They exemplify beauty, honestly and the goodness of God.  Defend the daughters of God.  Stand for womanhood of the highest order.  In a society where the roles of the sexes are so confused, let there be no doubt as to your conviction of who you are and what is expected of the children of God.” 

These words have been a guide to me throughout my life and I have often pondered what it means to ‘stand for womanhood of the highest order!’

Just over a year ago, I had an incredibly unique and powerful experience that has given me greater insight into this heavenly instruction.  My husband and I were laying in bed one night and out of nowhere he said, “whenever I listen to the Emma song it brings tears to my eyes.”  He wondered how we could ever be counted worthy to stand with her and Joseph and if our lives are just too easy.  “Maybe there are larger trials coming, but it almost doesn’t seem fair.”  He added. 

I have honestly felt this way my whole life.  Anytime I hear stories of the trials and sacrifices of the early pioneers, I wonder the same things.  I shared this with him, then added, “whenever I fall down that train of thought, I remind myself of all that they did have to help them through their trials – visions, miracles and angels. They did not live in the faithless world that we do now.  A world riddled with constant distractions.  A world where the roles of the sexes truly are so confused!  We live in a different time . . . in many ways easier and in many ways harder.”

I felt emotional as I shared this with Bryan and tears began to slide down my cheeks.  As I lay in bed, I replayed the words of that beautiful song in my mind. 

“With the world on your shoulders
When the nights had grown colder
You seemed to weather every storm
With a queen’s grace
When you lost your husband
When you buried your children
I’m sure the angels stood in reverence as you prayed
How much can one heart take?”

I suddenly felt completely overcome.  Tears continued to flow, and it was almost as though I felt the very presence of Emma Smith herself.  She was comforting me and somehow preparing me for the trials that will come my way as a woman and a mother in Zion living my own pioneer story.  I felt like she was then joined by an entire body of angels. 

Woman. 

Strong woman. 

My ancestors. 

They were all there with me. 

I found myself wanting to doubt the possibility of angelic presences in my room, but then the words of a talk I had listened to that day came to my mind, “unbelief blocks our ability to see miracles, whereas a mindset of faith in the Savior unlocks the powers of heaven”.  I silently prayed as the desperate Father in the New Testament, “help thou mine unbelief.” 

The powers of heaven were with me in that moment. 

As I felt the almost tangible presence of generations of women who have gone before me, I then saw in my minds eye the image of an army of girls. They were warriors fighting for their covenants.

Young girls. 

Righteous girls. 

My girls. 

It was my posterity. 

My patriarchal blessing says that I “will see my posterity marching forth even as a righteous army of faithful Latter-Day Saints defending the faith, testifying of the Gospel, serving missions and doing the work of the Lord.” 

I saw them only for a couple of minutes – they were so beautiful and strong – and they were smiling!

Following these few tender moments I had with women from generations past and generations yet to come – I felt in the smallest particle of a way how Joseph Smith himself may have felt as he knelt down in the sacred grove. 

I felt a balance of power. 

I felt a slight darkness start to creep into my mind clouding over the enlightenment I had experienced.  I felt the truth of the scripture that in all things there must be opposition.  Tears continued to flow – some tears of joy, some of fear, some of sorrow. 

I cleared my mind and asked Heavenly Father what he wanted me to do. 

I prayed for help.  I prayed for peace. 

I prayed in gratitude for the sacrifices of those who had gone before me. 

I prayed that their sacrifices would not be in vain. 

I prayed that I would be strong enough to change and repent and do better. 

I sat in the dark and quiet of the night.  I stopped and I listened.  I pondered why I was blessed with this incredible experience and I believe the answer was this, “the days of miracles are not over.  You too can have all that your pioneer ancestors had – visions, miracles and angels.  You just have to have faith – a mindset of faith in the Savior that unlocks the powers of heaven.”

These words to the beloved hymn filled my heart,

The Spirit of God like a fire is burning
The latter-day glory begins to come forth
The visions and blessings of old are returning
And angels are coming to visit the earth. 

I pondered deeply how I could possibly be counted worthy to stand next to generations of righteous women and then I felt these words completely overcome me,  

“If I want to raise valiant daughters of God, I need to be a valiant daughter of God.”

And there it is . . .

How do we find joy in womanhood?

How do we connect with generations past and future generations to come?

How do we stand for womanhood of the highest order. 

The answer came to a young mother watching General Conference 23 years ago, it came to me in the quiet stillness of the night and it comes to every woman who honestly and earnestly seeks to know God’s will for them – we need to be woman who are tender, kind, refined, faithful, good, virtuous and pure. We need to walk in virtue and live in righteousness so that we can fulfill our life’s mission and our Heavenly Father’s purposes.

If we want to raise valiant daughters of God, we need to be valiant daughters of God.

A long time ago in a decade far far away, I had the ambitious dream of being what I assumed at the time every young single adult dreams of being – an EFY counselor!  I had attended Especially for Youth as a participant when I was 15 and 16, but the summer after I returned home from my mission, the time had finally come for me to don the lime green shirt and wear my badge with pride. 

I learned the dance.

I prepared my lessons.

I even mastered the cup game to play in the cafeteria – I was set! 

One morning as my small youth group gathered at our spot on the University campus, I had prepared what I was certain would be a mind-blowing devotional that would most definitely set the course for the rest of their lives. 

I began by asking the young men and women if they had all brushed their teeth that morning.  With a few exceptions (eww), they all replied that they had.  I then proceeded to tell them that I work in the dental field and that new research indicates you only have to brush your teeth once a week!  I continued to explain that a concentrated effort to brush your teeth for a longer period of time coupled with proper flossing is an appropriate level of dedication to your oral health and its effects can last up to a week, even two! 

I paused for effect . . . then, wait for it . . . plot twist – I’m lying! 

“Who thought I was telling the truth?”

“Who thinks this is a good idea?” I asked.

Just like proper dental hygiene is maintained by small consistent efforts to brush and floss daily, our spiritual growth and testimony must be nurtured daily by the word of God.  It is not a once-a-week concentrated effort.  It is a daily cleansing of the soul that keeps us pure and unspotted from the world. 

As I concluded my morning devotional, I waited for everyone to experience that ah-ha moment where the lightbulbs would go on and hearts would be changed . . . as you may have guessed, it didn’t exactly turn out that way.  I am sure half of the kids were still asleep and the other half were either focused on which cute boy they were going to dance with that night or how much chocolate milk they were going to chug at breakfast.  Slightly anti-climatic.    

Although my spiritual thought was not as life altering as I had ambitiously hoped for that small group of teenagers all those years ago, perhaps the reason I felt so impressed to share that message with them was because the person who actually needed it the most was me!

I don’t know if it is because I actually worked as a dental assistant for several years or maybe just because I honestly love the feeling of freshly brushed squeaky clean teeth – but the thought of going an entire week without brushing my teeth absolutely disgusts me!  Even on those busy Mom days where I’m still in sweats and haven’t washed my hair in . . . a while – I can at least say that I have brushed my teeth that day. 

It is a habit that helps my day to get going . . . I feel the need to brush my teeth from the moment I wake up in the morning. 

I feel clean and complete once I have brushed my teeth and free from the build up of unwanted filth.

Are you seeing where I am going with this . . . replace the words “brushing my teeth” above with “reading my scriptures.” Then take a moment to ponder.

The sad (and slightly embarrassing) irony is that I can honestly tell you that there have been many times in my life where I have gone a week or even longer without spiritually brushing my teeth!  Regular dental check ups and fluoride treatments – of course!  But then I come home from the dentist armed with knowledge and ambition, and somehow loose track of the most important thing he told me to do.  I don’t know if any of you can relate to this . . . going to church every Sunday, listening to the prophet at General Conference, even reading the scriptures with my own children – check. 

But when it comes to meaningful personal daily scripture study – I struggle. 

It’s not that I don’t want to read my scriptures.  I think I just allow myself to tirelessly fill my jar with all the little pebbles so to speak, leaving no room for the big rocks at the end of my day. 

I was reminded of this principle in a very different context as our family was studying the Old Testament last year. In Exodus we read the incredible story of the Children of Israel and their miraculous deliverance from captivity in the land of Egypt.  Although they were saved from the torturous plagues, delivered from bondage and even witnessed the parting of the Red Sea by the power of God – they were quick to complain and in Exodus chapter 16, they started to get a little hangry.  Now in their defense – there were 600,000 men plus woman and children!  Considering I can’t even walk with my kids to the park without them whining for a snack – I’d say it’s a fair concern. 

The Lord then tells Moses, “Behold I will rain bread from heaven for you; and the people shall go out and gather a certain rate every day, that I may prove them, whether they will walk in my law, or not.” 

Did you catch that – every day! 

The Lord could have easily provided enough Manna to last each family for an entire week, even two . . . but that is not the Lord’s plan.  God wanted his covenant people to learn to rely on him.  It was not a once-a-week concentrated effort. 

The daily act of gathering the life-sustaining manna sent from heaven is symbolic of our daily effort to partake of the living bread of Jesus Christ that fills our souls when we learn of him and study his words.

Knowing all this then, why is it so hard? 

The answer came to me a few weeks ago as I was listening to President Nelson’s talk entitled, “The Power of Spiritual Momentum.”   

He says, “Momentum is a powerful concept . . . so I ask, what can ignite spiritual momentum? We have seen examples of both positive and negative momentum . . . Momentum can swing either way.”

As I listened to those words, I realized that over time I had allowed the momentum of my busy schedule, my lack of energy and every other excuse I had to pull me further and further away from a daily habit that is eternally more significant than brushing my teeth and brings far more blessings. 

Momentum can swing either way.

I started that day.  I sent my older girls off to school, then before making the beds or cleaning up breakfast . . . even before brushing my teeth! – I sat down at the kitchen table and spent time with the Savior studying his word in the scriptures.  It was a manna from heaven kind of morning.

I felt filled.

I felt inspired.

I felt the spiritual momentum I needed so badly ignite within me. 

President Nelson went on to teach, “We have never needed positive spiritual momentum more than we do now . . . [it] will keep us moving forward amid fear and uncertainty . . . Spiritual momentum can help us withstand the relentless, wicked attacks of the adversary and thwart his efforts to erode our personal spiritual foundation.”

Now just to keep things real here, I will tell you that just as I was about to finish this incredible personal scripture study, I heard a panicked cry from my husband calling me to help him.  I ran upstairs to find that our two year old daughter had clogged the sink, left the water running and completely flooded our bathroom! 

A dozen soaking wet towels and a soggy basement carpet later – I was reminded that there will always be distractions and my efforts to gather manna daily may at times seem futile. 

But since that morning I have taken the time (even just a few minutes some days) to gather the manna I need to feed my soul.  It is not always easy, and sometimes I am tempted to gather a little extra so I have enough for the coming days (in case I “don’t have time” to read my scriptures tomorrow).  But as the Children of Israel learned the hard way – excess manna gathered from the day before spoiled and they were chastised by the Lord. 

It is not that he doesn’t want us to have enough – there will always be enough.  It is that God still wants his covenant people to learn to rely on him.  It never was and never will be a once-a-week concentrated effort. 

He wants us to gather the bread of life daily. 

So here I am – perfectly imperfect at everything I do.  But I am trying.  Trying to spiritually brush my teeth on a regular basis, gaining positive momentum every day as I gather the manna that I so desperately need to feed my hungry soul. 

Remember the words of the Savior when he was faced with temptation and struggle, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.”

This past summer I had surgery on my left eye to repair damage that had been caused by a burst blood vessel several years earlier.  The procedure was routine and straight forward for the specialist, but definitely a little scary for me.  However, after meeting with the treatment coordinator and learning what the post-op instructions were, I was almost more anxious about the two weeks that followed the surgery than the surgery itself . . .

No bending, no heavy cleaning, no reading, exercising, driving, texting or lifting anything over 5 lbs. 

So basically – no taking care of my family! 

The surgery was scheduled for Tuesday, June 28^th (the last day of school) and the weeks and days preceding were incredibly busy as I was trying to get everything done ahead of time. 

One of the many things on my to do list was to attend the temple, but the days passed quickly, and I still hadn’t gone yet.  On the Friday morning before my surgery, the stress, anxiety and fear all started to really set in.  We were having a house full of company that weekend and I felt like I had so much to do.  Then the realization hit me – I had to be at the hospital first thing Tuesday morning, Sunday and Monday the temple is closed, and my husband’s family was staying with us Friday and Saturday (not to mention I also had a baptism to attend on Saturday and my daughters final gymnastics meet) . . . the only time I could really go to the temple was . . . right now! 

I cried to my husband thinking I had missed the opportunity to feel the peace and serenity of the temple that I needed so badly.  I was so upset, then the words of a talk by Sister Becky Craven I had listened to the day before came to my mind,

“In our efforts to do something or do anything, we might ask ourselves, “What mattereth most?” 

I knew in that moment what mattered most – it wasn’t having a clean house or getting the laundry done or packing up my kids for their week at Grandma’s – it was spending time with the Savior in the house of the Lord.  My husband rearranged his busy work schedule to stay home with our girls and I was able to attend the temple that morning with a dear friend. 

Nothing changed at home.  My house was still a mess, the laundry wasn’t done, and I still had just as many things unchecked on my to do list.  The change that occurred was a change of heart within me. 

I felt peace. 

I felt joy. 

I felt my mind filled with hope and faith. 

I felt the blessings that come from temple covenants . . .

And that is what mattered most!

I have often reflected on this experience because honestly, for every one time I actually do the thing that matters most, there are 99 times that I don’t.  I remember how wonderful it felt to be in the temple that Friday morning in June, and yet it seems almost impossible for me at times to find and achieve this balance in my life. 

Elder Uchtdorf addressed this very question, “How can we balance the many demands of life with our desires to offer our whole souls to the lord? . . . What about the many tasks and responsibilities that make our lives so busy – where does it all fit in?” he asked.  I have pondered this quandary time and time again!

The answer can be found in the scriptures, “Your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.  But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.” 

Elder Uchtdorf added, “When we look at our lives and see a hundred things to do, we feel overwhelmed.  When we see one thing – loving and serving God and His children, in a hundred different ways – then we can work on those things with joy.”

This reminded me of Dallin H. Oaks’ plea to consider the good, better and best things in our life.  He said,

“Most of us have more things expected of us than we can possibly do . . . We should begin by recognizing the reality that just because something is good is not a sufficient reason for doing it.  The number of good things we can do far exceeds the time available to accomplish them.”

And so each and every one of us is faced with this challenge – to wake up each morning and not just consider all the things on our never ending to do list, but to truly ask ourselves and the Lord,

“What matters most?”    

“What are the best things I can give my time to?”

“What can I do to serve God and His children today?”

Elder Uchtdorf acknowledges that this is not easy to do, “it requires letting some things go and letting other things grow . . . it requires both sacrifice and consecration”

Just as my spontaneous trip to the temple in June did not eliminate the number of household tasks awaiting for me at home, shifting our focus surrounding our day to day responsibilities does not take the tasks away – it consecrates them. 

In 2016, #LightTheWorld was introduced as an opportunity to serve as the Savior did in 25 ways over 25 days throughout the month of December leading up to Christmas.  I often reflect on so many of the tiny miracles we witnessed that season.  Our family was smaller, our house was smaller, and our life was all around simpler then.  We focused daily on the small and simple ways we could keep Christ at the center of our Christmas and it honestly changed everything!  It culminated with Christmas day falling on a Sunday and I will never forget the spirit we felt as we sang and worshipped that sabbath Christmas morning. 

Fast forward six years later – Christmas day again falls on a Sunday, but our life looks so different . . .

Our family is bigger and busier.    

Our mortgage is higher and my energy is lower. 

Our kids have grown, our business has grown, my waistline has grown. 

And now with the Christmas season upon us, we are again striving to light the world in 25 ways for 25 days, but I have to confess – I am struggling to find the balance.  I am struggling to focus primarily on the things that matter most this holiday season.  I am struggling to know what to let go and what to let grow.  To be honest, sometimes I know what things to let go but I have a hard time doing it . . . because it’s Christmas and I love all the things!

I saw a post on Facebook the other day that caused me to stop and reflect.  It said,

“The first Christmas was pretty simple, it’s okay if yours is too.”

My husband would be the first person to tell you I don’t do simple . . . in fact I have the gift of overcomplicating life down to a fine art.  Sometimes I don’t think it’s such a bad thing – I love to make things special and magical and pretty, especially for my children.  But I recognize that there is a unique joy that enters our life when we put the Lord and His will first.

I feel like the ability to find balance is a skill that might come easier to some than others – and I don’t want you to think for a minute I get it right even half of the time.  But I am so thankful for those small consecrated moments when I actually do the best things over just the good and the better.  For those times when I do let something go allowing room for other things to grow.  And ultimately I am so grateful for the Savior and his example and ability to always do what matters most.

So this Christmas if you are up wrapping presents until 2:00 a.m. or baking 5 dozen cookies to give to your neighbors or stressing about finances and the cost of Christmas presents, I hope you’ll think of me (who will probably be doing the exact same thing) and know that you’re not the only one who struggles.  But mostly I hope you’ll think of the Savior whose birth is the reason for all we do this time of year.  Think of what He would want you to do and try to remember,

“In our efforts to do something or do anything, [especially at Christmas] we might ask ourselves, “What mattereth most?”