The other day, a Facebook memory from three years ago popped up on my feed revealing this picture with the following caption:

“Our family in carrot form.  Five little carrots.  One big hug!”

Beneath the caption, I added the words from Mosiah 18:21, “And he commanded them that there should be no contention one with another, but that they should look forward with one eye, having one faith and one baptism having their hearts knit together in unity and in love one towards another.”

I love this memory!  At the time, our family consisted of my husband, myself and our three little girls.  We have since added one more carrot to the bunch, but the idea of these five little carrots so intertwined, so connected, so knit together still warms my heart and brings a smile to my face.

I wish I could say that as a family we completely embody every principle taught by Alma in the scripture above, that we really are just a bundle of hugging carrots . . . but the truth is anyone who has spent more than five minutes with my children knows this is not the case. 

The reality of our family dynamic would more accurately be pictured as a mama carrot who is always stressed and yelling at her children to clean up the constant mess they have made in the garden. 

The papa carrot is so patient, but not quite able to keep up to the constant fluctuation of hormones among all the girls in the greenhouse. 

Then there are four baby carrots whose mission in life it seems is to pop the green tops off all the other carrots in the family . . . and all by 9:00 in the morning!   

There are definitely beautiful, peaceful moments of love and kindness in our home . . . moments when those four crazy little carrots make me so proud and so happy.  But there are also moments that tear at my heart leaving me feel saddened and broken.  When the contention has me completely worn down and I find myself wondering if there is any way we could even just for a day have our “hearts knit together in unity and in love one towards another.”

When searching for the answer to this question, I feel like it can be easy to find blame.  It can be easy to compare.  It can be easy to feel discouraged.  But as I have turned my thoughts to the five little carrots and considered many of the life lessons to be found in the garden – I have felt a renewed sense of hope, courage and joy!

LESSON 1: YOU ARE THE GARDENER

Last summer our family visited a beautiful orchard in Vernon, British Columbia.  As we walked through the gift shop at the end of the day, a lovely children’s book caught my eye.  It is written by Joanna Gaines and her children and is titled, “We are the Gardeners”.  The first page of the book reads,

“Some say that a garden just grows from seeds, but we think it grows from trying and failing and trying again.  A garden is hard work, but so is most of the good, important stuff in life”. 

These words resonate so strongly with me!  A garden is hard work.  Accepting the role of gardener means understanding that we have great value and influence in the lives of each seed we sow.     

The gardener plants

The gardener nurtures

The gardener works and weeds and waits

Trials may rain down and flood our crops, temptations can overcome and even choke young plants and the hail of discouragement can destroy in a moment what has taken months or even years to grow.  But the gardener sees beauty in the imperfections and failures that ultimately result in lasting blooms of charity and delicious fruits of unity.

Remember, when all is said and done, the gardener harvests the bounty and goodness that belong to the one who first planted the seed.  You are the gardener. 

LESSON 2: CONSIDER THE FRUIT

Whether we are planting small forget me not flowers or the seed of a great oak tree – it is so important to consider the fruit. 

Consider the seeds that God has entrusted you with. 

Consider that all plants yield a different fruit.  Not better.  Not worse.  Just different. 

Consider what conditions each seed needs to take root, flourish and eventually produce the bountiful harvest for which it was created.   

When I think of my children and my grand desire to literally knit their hearts together (or sometimes just tape their mouths shut), I have to remember that I have all different kinds of plants growing in my garden.  I have to consider the fruit.

You cannot expect a tomato plant to produce raspberries or pull a carrot from the ground wishing it will be an onion.  This is not to say that we as plants in God’s great garden cannot change.   That is one of the things that makes us so remarkable as human beings – our ability to repent and CHANGE.  This is, however, to say that as the gardener it is imperative that we recognize and understand what we have growing in our garden.  We cannot knit the hearts until we know the hearts.

Know the plant.

Consider the fruit. 

LESSON 3: A WEED A DAY

I love to garden!  I am no Martha Stewart, but I enjoy spending time outside surrounded by so many of God’s beautiful creations.  I am in constant awe at the potential held within one tiny seed and there is literally nothing better than eating fresh veggies straight from the garden. 

 . . . And then there’s the weeding!

I have spent many back-breaking hours weeding my garden and contemplating the many parallels to the struggles of life the weeds provide.  Perhaps one of the greatest lessons taught by the weeds is the need to pull just a few every day.  As with all aspects of the gospel, and all aspects of life for that matter – consistent, daily effort develops habits, prevents overwhelm and allows young seeds to grow up in the unincumbered environment they need to thrive. 

Russell M. Nelson taught, “Nothing is more liberating, more ennobling, or more crucial to our individual progression than is a regular, daily focus on repentance. Repentance is not an event; it is a process. It is the key to happiness and peace of mind. When coupled with faith, repentance opens our access to the power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.”

Repentance is weeding!

It is taking a few moments from each day to remove all the distractions and temptations we don’t want growing in our garden. 

It is clearing out the bad to make room for the good.  It is learning to recognize what belongs and what doesn’t in our life.  

Some weeds are sneaky and imitate the very plants we are trying to grow. 

Some weeds come out easy and some take great effort to remove. 

Some spread quickly into other areas of our garden.

Some grow tall and lofty as though they have a place. 

Some are small and subtle, developing a root system that can return again and again. 

The point is . . .  weeds are a part of life . . . repentance is a part of life. 

And so, as I again consider my quest to rid my family of all contention, to grow in unity and love and to knit our six little carrot hearts together, I will move forward armed with these valuable lessons. 

Remembering that I am the gardener – that there are ups and there are downs . . . but I can find joy and beauty in the journey.  I know what I want my garden to be. 

Recognizing that each and every plant will yield a different fruit – and that’s a good thing.  Knowing and loving my plants as the gardener is how unity in my garden begins. 

And then there’s the weeding.  Just a little bit every day.  Cleansing the soil through repentance and creating rich, fertile ground for my sweet and tender plants to grow in.  

“A garden is hard work, but so is most of the good important stuff in life.” 

The year was 1995.  I followed closely behind the cart my mom was pushing through the many Zellers aisles.  My little sister sat in the front – her feet dangling down, and my brother and I quietly admired all the treasures the large department store had to offer.  With no fitbit to count our steps, it is hard to say – but my ten-year-old mind was quite certain we had been walking for miles! 

We finally found ourselves at the back of the store in the sporting department where a large sign hung above the service desk which read, “Coloring Contest!”  

The project: a large coloring sheet with black velvet in the darkened areas (any child of the 90’s will know exactly what I’m talking about). 

The prize: a brand-new bike!

To be honest, I don’t remember being as excited about the prospect of getting a new bike as I was about the prospect of getting something out of our grand family trip to Zellers – a giant coloring page.  My Mom bought 2 kits for my brother and I and our Saturday’s journey to the store was complete. 

I spent the next several days meticulously coloring every inch of that poster.  I used my newest markers and I never went out of the lines.  I gave it my very best. 

Weeks passed and although I was certain that no child could have colored anything quite as beautiful as the page I had submitted . . . I did not really think I would actually win a bike.  Then came the day of the phone call.  My Mom walked from the kitchen into the living room where I was playing with my siblings on the brown berber carpet to give us the exciting news – I had won!

Now up until the age of ten, I had been riding the same banana seat blue angel cruiser I had got for Christmas when I was five years old, and my parents finally decided it was time for an upgrade.  We went bike shopping and I had just got a new purple 10 speed only a few months earlier.  It almost seemed silly to be getting another one.  My brother on the other hand was still riding his first bike with peeling paint and a chain that was constantly falling off.  I remember my mom sitting next to me on the piano bench softly suggesting that I let my brother have the new bike, but reassuring me that it was still my choice as I had won the contest.

“Of course!” I responded.  I already had a new bike, so it only made sense for my brother to have one too.  It would make our bike rides together so much better and I wouldn’t have to stop to wait for him to catch up or help fix his chain.  It was a win/win situation in my mind – now we both had new bikes! 

Fast forward 27 years and I was talking to my mom on the phone about getting our oldest daughter who is ten a new bike for her birthday.  She jokingly suggested that all I needed to do was have her win a coloring contest, then added that she had recently come across the winning piece of art while cleaning out the basement a few weeks ago. 

I pondered since on the experience and thought to myself – oh how things have changed! 

What if the stakes were a little higher and I was a little older? 

What if someone told me that if I did my very best to color a picture, I could win a new car! Or I could win a trip! Or I could win a house!

As much as I hate to say it, I’m not so sure the adult version of myself would be quite as gracious.  Would I say, “oh thank you so much but I already have a car that works and gets my family where they need to be, why don’t you give it to my neighbor who doesn’t have one” or “I have already been on a trip, why don’t you let someone else go” or “I have a beautiful house, please give it to the homeless.”  Or would I say, “I used my newest markers and I never went out of the lines.  I gave it my very best and I earned the prize.  You can find me in Hawaii, thank you!”

Now I don’t know what the chances are of me winning a car or a trip or a house in this lifetime.  But I do know that I have been given so many other gifts and when put to the test, I am not always as eager and willing to just give my brother the new bike so to speak.    

Let me share with you a second story to illustrate my point.  My husband is an incredibly kind and giving man who was recently called as the mission leader in our ward.  He thrives on the opportunity to serve and share the gospel with others and is very generous with his time and resources.  Through these efforts he was connected with a woman named Linda.  Linda is a middle aged woman from China who has experienced many challenges in her life.  Her current situation saw her in the middle of a difficult divorce, moving to a new house and a new town, unemployment and unwanted distance from her children.  She was quite alone and quite in need of help. 

Over the weeks and months since meeting Linda, Bryan would do everything he could to help her navigate legal papers and appointments, clean and pack her home, drive her to activities, service her vehicle, set up utilities for her new residence and more.  I’ve met Linda several times and she is a lovely woman, but I found myself starting to resent the amount of time my husband was sacrificing from his family to serve this woman we hardly knew. 

This all culminated for me over a week ago on Father’s Day Sunday when she messaged Bryan to ask for some help.  If there is any day we want to spend as a family of girls with the one man in our lives – it is Father’s Day.  I suggested that my husband tell her it was not the best day to come over and ask if another day would work.  She didn’t need much and my husband waited until the girls were in bed to help her, yet I still found myself slightly irritated by the situation.  Why?

A few days later and completely out of no where, my sweet four year old daughter said to me, “I feel so sad for Linda because she doesn’t have a husband – who will she spend Valentines Day with?”  In an instant my heart completely softened and everything changed for me.  The question was simple, but it poignantly reminded me of everything I have been given. 

I have a new bike…so it only makes sense for my sister to have one too. 

I have since found myself in prayer asking my Father in Heaven to bless me with the gift of charity that comes so naturally to my husband and daughter.  I have wondered what happened to the 10-year-old me who was so desirous for my brother to experience the same joy and happiness I felt in owning a new bike?  I thought of the words of King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon when he taught the people to “become as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient and full of love.”

The innocent and childlike compassion shown by my sweet little Brooklyn reminded me of the words of the well-known hymn:

Because I have been given much,
I too must give;
Because of thy great bounty Lord,
Each day I live;
I shall divide my gifts from thee
With every brother that I see
Who has the need of help from me.

Because I have been sheltered, fed
By thy good care;
I cannot see another’s lack and I not share;
My glowing fire, my loaf of bread,
my roof’s safe shelter overhead
That he too may be comforted.

And so as I carry on day by day, I am trying harder to see everyone around me as I saw my younger brother so many years ago, as Brooklyn sees our friend Linda and ultimately as the Savior sees each one of us – fellow children of God. Brothers and sisters, all in need of love, compassion, patience, forgiveness and maybe even at times . . . a brand new bike!

I wake up Monday morning to noise – the arguments have already begun,

“That’s my shirt!”

“I want the blue plate!”

“Mom, (insert any one of my children’s names here) hit me!”

I roll out of bed – I was totally going to get up early today and get a head start on . . . something.  Housework, laundry, maybe even throw some exercise in there (well, let’s not get too carried away). 

I look ahead at the day that lies before me and I’m already tired . . . I look ahead at the week and I’m exhausted! 

I brush hair, pack lunches, review spelling words and gather overdue library books.  Then there’s the checklist:

“Have you brushed your teeth?”

“Have you practiced the piano?”

“Are you wearing clean underwear?”  The number of times I have to send a child back upstairs following this question is unsettling.  It really should go without saying, right?

We say a hurried family prayer and then I send my kids out the door running to catch the bus.  Sometimes it’s on a happy note.  Sometimes there are tears. 

“I wanted to take the soccer ball to school!”

“You were supposed to sign my permission slip!”

“Why didn’t you make muffins today, you promised you’d make muffins!”

Now obviously not every Monday morning looks exactly like this . . . though if I’m being completely honest – it is uncannily close to my daily reality.  And so, it is often following these moments of chaos and disarray that a wave of nostalgia comes to carry me away to a happy place. 

A far away place

A quieter place

A place that is so very different from where I currently am. 

I go back to a fun and carefree time – the young and single life 

I picture myself getting ready in the upstairs bathroom at my parent’s house.  Going on a date, going to a dance, going out with friends – I was going somewhere, and it was going to be fun!  My jeans were flared, I had butterfly clips in my hair and my favorite CD’s were loaded into the 6-disc changer my little red Mazda Protégé was sporting.    

It surprises me now how low my standards have fallen in terms of what I am willing to look like before leaving the house.  My dry-shampooed hair is in a two day old messy bun, I’m rocking my comfiest sweat pants and the diaper bag I lug around has a rotting apple core somewhere in the bottom that I completely forgot about.  Now I get excited when my husband wants to come with me to Costco – grocery shopping and a date . . . sweet!  Two birds, one stone!

I go back to a spiritually fulfilling time – the missionary life 

I was so focused, so driven and so excited about sharing the gospel.  I studied my scriptures daily and experienced exponential growth in my faith and testimony.  I served others and learned to look for the daily miracles around me.  I felt like I was doing something of value.    

I am so scattered now I find myself counting the number of children in my mini van to make sure I have everyone before leaving the house, or worse, before leaving the store.  I want to do and be so much more.  I create such high and unreasonable expectations for myself that I end up feeling discouraged and disappointed at the end of the day.  I know everything I should be doing, and yet I still struggle.  Why is it a challenge for me to just pray and read my scriptures daily like a grown up?  I say that because although my husband and I strive to pray and read the scriptures with our children each day . . . the scene can often resemble the deck of the titanic.  There’s a lot of commotion and screaming and in spite our best efforts to create peace – the ship just keeps sinking. 

I go back to a time before children – the newlywed life 

Life seemed so much simpler then!  We ate dinner in the living room while watching our favorite TV shows.  We went on dates and the house stayed clean.  Dinner for two, laundry for two  – no problem.  We did everything together and I’m pretty sure we were fun back then.  My income was bigger and my waistline was smaller. 

Now my life can easily be summed up in a meme I saw on Facebook, “my housekeeping style is best described as ‘there appears to have been a struggle!’” I’m not clear on the science behind it, but the harder I work, the messier our home actually gets.  My laundry sorting room (aka the hallway) looks like the bedroom floor of Cinderella’s stepsister’s  – you could literally swim in it.  And speaking of swimming, do you want to know how many times I have scooped poo with my bare hands out of the bathtub?  I feel like being my kids chauffeur alone is a full time job and the amount of food on my floor after dinner could feed a small nation.  Our expenses are high and my stress is higher. 

So here is the thing – sometimes I have moments where I want to go back.  I find myself wishing and wanting the comforts and ease of the past.  I find myself repeating longing phrases like,

“I was so much skinnier before I had kids”

“I used to have so much more time on my hands”

“It was so much easier to keep the house clean back then.”

Sometimes I want to go back to the “good old days”.  Back to my old ways and my old life before children and marriage.  Before things got hard – the things that made me better, the things that made me stronger.  I don’t actually want to go back in time . . . but instead of facing the challenges of today, I turn to the comforts of yesterday. 

We have been studying the Old Testament this year as a family and I have been thinking a lot about the children of Israel.  As we read about their 40-year “adventure” in the wilderness, I was struck by the many similarities I see between myself and them.  It is amazing to me how many times they lamented leaving Egypt and even wished they could go back. 

Every time something was hard

Every time their faith was tested

Every time their circumstances seemed bleak

They complained about their current situation and instead of looking forward with faith, they looked back with regret.  They seemed to forget the countless times the Lord had delivered them, blessed them, guided them and protected them.  They also seemed to forget the fact that they had been slaves for 400 years and that Egypt probably wasn’t quite as great as they remembered.  There is nothing for them in Egypt, but every time they are afraid to move forward, it just seems easier to turn back. 

We often view the past through a pair of rose colored glasses and that “grass is greener” mentality can rob us of the joy of today. 

There is nothing for me in the Egypts of my past.  All that I have and all that I am are a sum of the experiences the Lord has given me throughout my life.  He has delivered me, blessed me, guided me and protected me. 

President Russel M. Nelson taught us that the Hebraic meaning of the word Israel is “let God prevail”.  Did the children of Israel do just that?  Do I?  He went on to add that “it takes both faith and courage to let God prevail” but promised as we do, the Lord will fight our battles.  The Lord certainly fought battles for the Children of Israel, and he fights them for me today. 

So, the next time I find myself in the thick of a “manic Monday”, what am I going to do? 

Will I retreat to my “land of Egypt” – familiar and safe

Or will I fight for my “land of Canaan” – full of promise and potential

Will I let God prevail in my life?

“Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope and a love of God and of all men.  Wherefore if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life.”

When my oldest daughter turned one and my maternity leave ended, I started teaching piano lessons out of our home.  This opportunity has been an adventure to say the least!  I have had many rewarding experiences interspersed with a few “pull your hair out moments” here and there.  But what I did not foresee at the beginning of this journey was the number of times that my students would in fact be teaching me. 

Each week I review flashcards, practice scales and patiently listen to “Mary had a Little Lamb” yet once again – all while attempting to refine these sweet little musicians and their budding skills.  However, each week as I sit on my old wooden chair with chipped white pain next to the piano and teach these incredible youth, I find my own abilities and character refined in the process. 

A few years ago, I had the privilege of teaching a boy named Carter.  When my husband and I were first married we lived in the basement suite of Carter’s parent’s house and were always thoroughly entertained by his adventurous spirit and almost daily shenanigans.  Needless to say – Carter and I go way back. 

One Wednesday afternoon, Carter came to his lesson and played his piece with exceptional gusto!  As the keys of the final chord were struck, I clapped enthusiastically and told him the song sounded great. 

“Now” I added encouragingly, “did you try practicing the song with the pedal?”

“I did once” he replied, “but it didn’t sound that good.”

 “Oh, why not?” I questioned

He thought for a moment then responded, “well, I didn’t take my roller blades off, so maybe that’s why.”

My heart swelled – only Carter could be so honest in his confession.  “It’s hard to do two things at once isn’t it?” I reassured him.  “Let’s try it again today . . . this time without the roller blades”.

Since that time, I have often thought of Carter playing the piano with his roller blades on and wondered – do I do the exact same thing?

Do I try to play with pedal while still wearing my roller blades? 

Do I try to do the things my Father in Heaven has asked of me while not fully letting go of the things I want?

Carter wasn’t doing anything wrong by rollerblading.  I picture him zipping around the yard, chasing cats and playing tag with his siblings – he was having fun.  The challenge for Carter then and for each of us now is the eternal principle of giving up something good for something better. . .

It is the principle of sacrifice.   

It required sacrifice for Carter to remove his roller blades in order to come inside and practice.  It was much easier to just leave them on so he could go back to his rollerblading immediately after.  Sometimes I fear that I approach repentance in this same way – I’m not quite ready to give up my “rollerblades” just yet.  I’ll do what Heavenly Father asks me to do . . . but I’m not ready to let go of the things I want at the same time.  And so, I pedal on while wearing my rollerblades.  This way of playing our song is in a word – ineffective.  It doesn’t create lasting change nor does it allow us to grow and improve in the ways the Lord would have us. 

Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught that the only way to offer our whole souls to God is “by sacrificing anything that’s holding us back and consecrating the rest to the Lord and His purposes”. 

So, what is holding us back? 

What is keeping us from playing our song with pedal and fully enjoying all of the incredible blessings our Father has in store for us? 

What are the rollerblades you are reluctant to remove?

The answer to that question looks very different for each one of us.  Honestly, I feel like I have a different pair of roller blades for every day of the week . . . fear, selfishness, pride, anger, exhaustion . . . the list could go on and on.  It’s not that I want to be a fearful, prideful or selfish person, it’s that to stop doing fearful, prideful or selfish things, or in other words – to sacrifice what I want requires effort. 

It can be hard. 

And sometimes it almost seems easier to just leave the rollerblades on while I come inside to practice so that I can go right back to what I was doing before. 

It is in these trials of faith that we must remember the words that our beloved Prophet President Nelson has taught us repeatedly, that “the Lord loves effort!”

So how do we sacrifice? 

How do we take off our rollerblades that are holding us back and play our song the way it was meant to be played?  We turn to the One who sacrificed all in order to play the song perfectly in the end.  We turn to Jesus Christ, the master teacher and we follow him. 

It takes practice. 

It takes effort. 

But he who patiently sits by our side and listens to us play the same mistakes day after day, week after week loves us infinitely and has given us the perfect lesson plan to follow.  As we play arpeggios of righteousness and scales of obedience, the chords of the gospel harmony will ring beautifully in our lives.  We will come to love our Savior in a deep and abiding way that creates in us a desire to give all that we are back to him. 

We will want to play with pedal. 

We will want to take off the rollerblades. 

My dear young friend Carter is no longer a piano student of mine and stands several inches taller than me.  He has become a young man and has a faith and a testimony that I admire greatly.  I don’t know if he remembers any of the piano lessons I taught him, but I will always remember the lesson he taught me – the day he tried to play the pedal with his rollerblades on. 

The winter months have me feeling very nostalgic and I often find myself watching old movies – the classics that I grew up on from the Christmas favorites to the sigh-worthy chick flicks. 

Last night, however, I watched a movie with my husband that I surprisingly saw several times in my youth but haven’t watched in years – Ben Hur. 

As a child, I always loved the epic battle scene on the galleys, the beautiful love story between Judah and Esther and of course the legendary chariot race in the Roman arena – but watching the movie yesterday stirred my soul in so many new ways. 

The film is 62 years old, so I don’t blame you if you haven’t seen it…but you also can’t blame me for any spoiler alerts – you’ve had enough time to watch it.  

It is an incredible story of love, pain, betrayal, forgiveness and faith.  I don’t know if I have ever noticed this before, but as the title is displayed at the beginning of the movie it reads “Ben Hur” followed by “A Tale of the Christ” . . . it truly is just that. 

Our hero, Judah Ben Hur is a loving son, brother and friend – a prince no less, living at the time of Christ.  A false conviction of treason sends him to serve as a slave in the galleys and his mother and sister to a life sentence in a desecrated Roman prison.  Initially driven by revenge, Judah eventually returns to his home to find everything he once had is lost and the family he has always loved now lepers living alone in a valley of death.  He is broken and empty and can only be healed and filled by the one who gives us all living waters, even Jesus Christ. 

As he finally recognizes the Savior for who he is, Judah’s heart is softened and, in his words, “I felt His voice take the sword out of my hand”. 

His heart is changed. 

He finally forgives. 

It is only then that he discovers his mother and sister who were once cursed with leprosy are now well and whole. 

They have been healed! 

I think it is so poignant that his faith preceded the miracle, for this is where the true healing lies. 

As the movie ended, I sat quietly reflecting on how I felt.  I then began to ponder on something I have never considered before. . .

What can we learn from Christ healing the leper?

We know he healed the blind, the lame, the sick . . . but of all the ailments and illnesses the people at that time would have experienced . . . why is leprosy specifically and repeatedly referenced in the scriptures?

This led me to a search that has opened my eyes even more to what the Savior was truly teaching through the miracles he performed. 

2000 years ago, leprosy was not just a disease, it was a social status.  Those suffering from leprosy were considered cursed by God and declared unclean.  They were banished to a colony and were not permitted to participate in society.  They could not enter the temple.  They could not even see their families.  They were rejected.  They were alone.   

As I considered all of this, I realized that Christ continually cleansed the leper because spiritually – we are all lepers. 

Christ was teaching the people then and continues to teach us now that he can take anyone – no matter their social status, no matter how unclean they may be considered, no matter how separated from God they may seem, no matter how alone they may feel – he can take that person in his loving arms, and he can heal them. 

The miracle is so much more than it seems.  It is not just a healing of skin and flesh, but a healing of heart and soul. 

Brent H. Nielson shared these words, “[The Savior’s] message was that He could touch the eyes of those who were blind, and they could see.  He could touch the ears of those who were deaf, and they could hear.  He could touch the legs of those who could not walk, and they could walk.  He can heal our eyes and our ears and our legs, but most importantly of all, He can heal our hearts as He cleanses us from sin and lifts us through difficult trials.”

Let us now return to Ben Hur and consider the miracle at hand.  As Judah lovingly embraces his mother and sister now cleansed from their debilitating disease; I think the even greater miracle, the more powerful healing is that of Judah’s heart.  A heart once full of hate and void of faith, is now a heart turned to God. A heart that is healed.  A heart that is changed. 

That is the miracle!  

“Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.”

Yesterday was Sunday and I had the rare and kind of wonderful opportunity of going to church with just my oldest daughter.  I had two coughing kids at home and if my husband was already home with sick kids – you better believe I was leaving the baby too! 

As we walked into the chapel, my daughter pointed out that it was like we were on a date.  We sat down in a pew together and reverently listened. 

No one was jumping on my lap. 

No one was asking me for a snack.

No one was fighting with their sister . . . there was no one to fight with. 

As I sat quietly and undistracted during the sacrament, I had the privilege of opening the hymn book to silently read the words we had just sung.  As I turned to hymn 179, the first word of the song title catapulted off the page . . .

“Again”

“Again, our dear redeeming Lord, We meet in thy beloved name”

I read and re read the first line of the song.  I am sure I have sung it a dozen times before, but as I sat there truly pondering, my mind was consumed with a simple impression – “life is about doing things again and again!”

As a mother of four little kids – my life is full of repetition. 

I change diapers again and again.

I drive children to school again and again.

I make dinner again and again. 

I carefully apply band aids to invisible wounds, pick up Barbie shoes that I have just painfully stepped on and don’t even get me started on the laundry – I do it over and over again! 

The thing is, no matter what your occupation or role in life – I guarantee that there are things that you do repeatedly day after day, year after year, your entire life through.  Our mere human existence requires it!

We pay taxes again and again.

We buy groceries again and again.

We eat, sleep and breath again and again. 

Now I confess that sometimes the repetitive and mundane nature of life feels dull and unrewarding.  I am sure we have all had that moment where we think to ourselves, “I just need a change”.  But I also think that there is value in embracing the pattern of “again” that our creator has made an essential part of the plan for His children.  He wants us to do things over and over again. 

He wants us to pray to him again and again.

He wants us to read our scriptures again and again.

He wants us to obey, and love and serve and repent again and again. 

I have always loved the idea that life is a process, not an event.  And every part of life – parenting, marriage, learning, growth, developing any skill  – it all takes time.  It is all a process of doing things over and over again.  Learning from those things, getting better at those things, and then repeating those things. 

I love these words by Dale G. Renlund, “Exercising faith in Jesus Christ, repenting, receiving help from Him, and being forgiven are not onetime events but lifelong processes, processes that are repetitive and iterative.  This is how we endure to the end.”

I found it very interesting that in this past October General Conference alone there were twenty different references to the word process.  Repentance, prayer, scripture study, spiritual growth, revelation, sacrifice, conversion, becoming holier and restoration – were all related to as a process not an event.  They all consist of doing things again and again. 

Now I fully recognize that as in all aspects of life – there must be a balance applied to this principle.  After all, I’m sure we have all heard the definition of insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.”   This is where our prophet’s counsel to “begin with the end in mind” needs to be applied.  When we know what result we want to achieve, we can then discern between which habits are worth repeating and which are not.

I’m sure I am not the only person who does selfish, lazy and sinful things over and over again.

I yell at my children again and again.

I waste time on my phone again and again.

I get distracted from the most important things in life again and again. 

This is why I am so grateful that repentance is a process not an event.  As I continually make mistakes, I can continually change for the better . . . again and again and again. 

So, if you ever find yourself sitting in church covered in cheerios wondering why you come week after week . . .

If you have tucked a child into bed for the tenth time in a night and questioned if you’ll ever get to go to bed yourself . . .

If you have tried and failed a hundred times to achieve any goal you have set for yourself . . .

Please remember this – There is power and purpose in repeating small yet significant acts again and again. It is the very essence of all that God created.

The tide comes home again and again

The seasons change again and again

The sun rises and sets again and again.

We are God’s crowning creations and He wants us to go through the repetitive and iterative process of becoming more and more like him each day. 

“Again, our dear redeeming Lord, We meet in thy beloved name,

While from the fountains of thy love Thy spirit kindles like a flame.

For all the anguish of thy soul, For thy great gift so full and free,

With grateful hearts all penitent.  Dear Lord we do remember thee.” 

Once upon a time there was a girl who had two blankets.  Okay confession: I own a LOT more than two blankets, but for the purpose of our story today we are going to talk about two of them. 

The first blanket came to me a long time ago while I was working at a dental office as an RDA.  It was my first job after graduating college and I loved it.  As Christmas came, the staff were generously presented with gifts from the two partnering dentists. We each received a gift card and a big, beautiful box tied in a satin ribbon.  The words on the lid read “Pottery Barn”. 

Are you serious! 

I was 20 years old and certainly did not own anything from Pottery Barn (well, lets face it, I still don’t).  Needless to say, I was very excited.  I opened the lid to reveal a beautiful sheepskin blanket.  A treasure.  I didn’t want anything to happen to that blanket.  It was a prized possession. 

It stayed wrapped in its original box for years, safely tucked away on the top shelf of my closet.  Sometimes I would consider using it – I would pull the box down from it’s perch and stroke the contents inside.  It was so soft! 

“No, I can’t use this” I would think to myself.  “It’s too nice!” 

It sat there for years.  I got married and it came with me.  We moved multiple times and each time came the box with the perfect blanket.  Eventually it made its way out of the box – but was still never used.  I remember one time my husband suggested we take it camping, “it’s so warm” he said, “it would be perfect!” 

I stared at him incredulously, “do you know where this is from!?”  Back on the top shelf it went.  And so is the tale of the first blanket. 

The second blanket is almost as old as the first.  After some years of working as a dental assistant I decided to go back to school.  My Mom helped me pack for the big move and bought me a new ‘bed in a bag’ from Walmart to take with me to my college apartment.  The quilt was a blue and white plaid and sewn with that kind of clear fish wire thread they use. 

It came to school with me.  It held me on those late nights I stayed up studying for exams.  It made a fort when my roommates and I wanted to watch a scary movie.  I got engaged that fall and my husband and I cuddled a LOT in that blanket!  It came with us on picnics, date nights and was perfect for wrapping up in to watch fireworks.  To be honest, while I was down at school, it was the only blanket I had. 

We came back home, got married and the blanket came too.  “Keep this in the car” my husband would suggest during the cold winter months, “I want you to be safe and warm if you ever get into an accident”.  We had our first baby and my mother-in-law came to stay with us.  I pulled out the hide-a-bed for her to sleep on and laid the plaid blanket on top.  More babies came and with that more adventures, more travels and more family movie nights – all in the beloved bed in a bag blanket.   

So why do I tell you the tale of two blankets? 

Sometimes I wonder if I was a blanket – which one would I be?  Which blanket best represents my life? 

And the truth is, I am both.

Sometimes my life feels like that bed in a bag quilt – needed daily, worn out from use, dirty, trampled and falling apart at the seems.  I am stretched here and a little faded there.  And sometimes I look at all the other Pottery Barn blankets in the world and I feel discouraged – reminding myself that I am only a bed in a bag. 

However, with all the use comes all the memories – the hugs, the forts, the cuddles.  That blanket has never been afraid of getting its hands dirty or worried about how much weight it can hold while pulling children across the carpet.  With a lifetime of service comes joy and satisfaction.  The old bed in a bag blanket has been fulfilling the measure of its creation for it’s entire life.  It is a wonderful blanket. 

Last year I got a new duvet cover for our master bedroom.  I decided the bed needed a nice throw at the end to complete the look, and so I reluctantly pulled out the Pottery Barn Blanket.  I carefully laid it across the foot of my bed.  Finally, after all these years – the beloved blanket has been given a place and a purpose.  I still try to take good care of it.  It will never come camping with us.  And I am scared to this day that the dry clean only blanket that has made it all these years is going to be projectile vomited on by our baby.  But I am using it.  I am loving it. 

Sometimes my life feels like the Pottery Barn blanket.  I have value, worth and beauty beyond measure and yet there are times when I tuck myself away on the shelf.  Sometimes I am scared of getting torn or ruined, so I stay in my safe little box. 

I am a daughter of God.  This knowledge is a treasure.  A prized possession.  I think I am perhaps guilty at times of burying my talent, so to speak, as the man in the parable that Jesus taught.  Not always, but sometimes.  Remember, it has taken years – but the Pottery Barn blanket is finally laying across my bed.  It is used and loved and cherished.  It is also a wonderful blanket

And so in the tale two blankets, I find myself reflected in both.  I remind myself that while the day by day of my life may tug at my threads and wear me thin.  There is also nothing more perfect than holding a child in your arms while wrapped in a warm blanket or having pizza smoothie movie night on an old quilt on the living room floor. 

I also remind myself of my infinite worth.  Dieter F. Uchtdorf lovingly reminded the sisters of the church, “You are something divine – more beautiful and glorious than you can possibly imagine!”  Or in other words, you are a Pottery Barn blanket – not meant to be boxed up on a shelf, but created to bring warmth, beauty and happiness to those around you. 

You are a treasure.  A prized possession.  You are a wonderful blanket.    

Renovations – the word holds a very different meaning depending on which end you stand.  On one end it’s the “easier said than done, we can do this ourselves, this will be so fun” promise of a brighter kitchen or revamped bathroom.  On the other end it’s the “wow, that was a lot of work, but I love it so much, I’m so glad we did this” Martha Stewart Living cover page. 

I want to talk today about what lies between the two ends – I want to talk about the middle!

Last year my husband and I started flirting with the idea of a “minor kitchen reno”.  I jokingly asked if he thought our marriage was strong enough to handle it . . . I mean, we have four kids and started our own business – we got this . . . right?!

Well, we have now found ourselves in the very middle of it all and I have to be completely honest – it sucks!  Lol.  Throw out everything you thought you knew from watching HGTV and extreme home makeover – it’s all a lie.  Okay, maybe it’s not all a lie, but I will tell you this much . . . it certainly does not happen in one episode or even one week. 

Renovations can take a long time! 

They are messy!

There are a lot of things you can do on your own, but eventually – you will most likely need a little help.

You have to make room for the change to occur.

Sometimes you have to focus on one thing at a time . . . it doesn’t all happen at once. 

It requires hard work and sacrifice. 

But after all is said and done – it is worth it in the end

Do you ever feel like you need a spiritual renovation?

You might start with fixing a couple of holes in the wall or repainting a bedroom, but I’m thinking bigger.  I’m talking about gutting the kitchen, scraping the popcorn ceilings, maybe even knocking down a couple of walls. 

A few weeks ago, I called my sister in tears – my house looked like the aftermath of a Jurassic Park movie, my to-do list rivaled the length of my Costco receipt and I was trying to decide between Kijiji and Marketplace as to the best site for auctioning off my children . . . it was just one of those days!

As I cried into the phone, she patiently and empathetically listened, then offered the following beautiful words borrowed from C.S. Lewis,

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

And with that I ask again, “do you ever feel like you need a spiritual renovation?” 

To be honest, I hope the answer is “yes”, because we all do. 

This life is a process of becoming.  In the words of one of my favorite country songs, “what matters most is what’s in the middle”.  It’s the day-by-day journey of renovating our souls.  It’s removing the old and tearing out the broken to make space for the new and the whole things in our life, or rather the things that make us whole.  It’s repentance.  It’s constantly striving to change for the better. 

Spiritual renovations are not easy and unlike my kitchen (I hope) they never really end. It is this continual effort and faithful striving that ultimately lead us to our Savior Jesus Christ, the master builder.

And so my friends, please remember that we are all a work in progress – most likely unfinished and a little rough around the edges. And while we undergo this lifelong process together, don’t forget:

Spiritual renovations can take a long time!

They are messy!

There are a lot of things you can do on your own, but eventually – you will most likely need a little help.

You have to make room for the change to occur.

Sometimes you have to focus on one thing at a time . . . it doesn’t all happen at once. 

It requires hard work and sacrifice. 

But after all is said and done – it is worth it in the end.

“And I rejoice in the day when my mortal shall put on immortality, and shall stand before him; then shall I see his face with pleasure, and he will say unto me: Come unto me, ye blessed, there is a place prepared for you in the mansions of my Father. Amen.” – Enos 1:27 –