Does Freedom Require Peace?

I've had the pleasure of studying the Book of Mormon as outlined in the 8-11 year-old teacher guide of The Church of Jesus Christ of Later-day Saints. That sentence felt wordy. Let's try again. This teacher's guide: Primary 4: The Book of Mormon, has been my study companion this year. Still weird? Oh, well.

This week I was teaching the lesson on Captain Moroni and the Title of Liberty. I feel like this is a story most LDS youth learn pretty early on. It's quite momentous. Moroni is upset that his fellow Nephites aren't following God, but instead seeking their own power and gain. So in an act of military leadership, he rips his coat and writes what becomes his military motto on it.

It reads: In memory of our God, our religion, and freedom, and our peace, our wives, and our children.

He then fastens this piece of rent cloth onto a pole (like a flag) and proceeds to put on his armor. Later, he uses this Title of Liberty to go and recruit his army. Those who join him promise to abide by this motto and never forsake their God. They swore that if they broke that promise, Moroni could leave them at the hands of their enemies.

It's a pretty intense pre-war cry.

After reading a few verses of scripture that explain this story, I asked my class to list the six things Moroni wrote on this torn coat.

"Religion and God," one responded.

"Wives and Children," another replied.

"Good, what else?" I asked as I wrote these on the board.

"Freedom?" said the first voice.

"Yes, and?" I proded.

"Liberty?"

"No, but the whole thing was called the "Title of Liberty," remember?" I corrected.

There was a long pause.

"Freedom and what?" I asked, realizing the other answers had all come in pairs.

"Justice?" a student said almost knowing for certain it was incorrect.

"No. Freedom and Peace," and at that moment it struck me. Freedom and Peace go together just like Religion and God, Wives and Children. Freedom and Peace are a set of two concepts that go hand in hand.

Freedom and peace.

When I came home I took a little more time to ponder this personal revelation I felt like I'd received in class. I didn't expound on it much in class, because it is my personal revelation, but it is such a profound thought to me.

Do we have freedom if our nation is constantly at war? Do we have freedom if our society constantly bickers with one another? Can freedom exist without peace?

Captain Moroni was fighting for his people's freedom (and, spoiler alert: he won), but he understood that, that freedom would not come until they were at peace. Peace would not come until they could stop defending themselves against the attacks of the Lamanites. Peace would not come until his own government and Church stopped having contention from the inside. It was actually this very inside tension that led to the Title of Liberty, not the outside threat of the Lamanite army. He created the Title of Liberty in response to a threat that came form inside his own city and amongst his own people. He knew his freedom depended on their being at peace with one another.

So can we truly be free if we are not at peace? 

Friday Night Quick Takes

1. In my last post I mentioned that Reid gave his first talk in Primary last Sunday. I actually spoke in Sacrament meeting that same week. Rather than having a weekly sermon offered by a priest or preacher, members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Later-day Saints take turns giving talks from the pulpit. A member of the Bishopric decides on a theme for the meeting and assigns three (or two or four) speakers a topic from the theme. We're usually given two to three weeks notice to prepare.

My topic was compassion for others and I really appreciated the opportunity to study examples of compassion in the scriptures. Ben invited one of his colleagues to come and she was sweet enough to hold Nell through out my entire speech. Reid raised his hand the moment I took the pulpit. It was sweet, watching his eager little face stare at me, just waiting for me to call on him. Ha! I was asked to prepare a 15 minute talk, but ended up only having about 7 minutes to give it. I was crossing out paragraphs and full pages right before I took to the stand. Here's a link to the original talk; eight pages I had to cut down to four right on the spot (the speaker just before me actually used the parable of the Good Samaritan (he spoke on empathy), so that was easy to cut).

2.  I snapped this photo after we got home from Church and the stress of giving a talk (and helping Reid with his) had disappeared. I actually took it so I could show my dad that Coraline got dressed at least once this week. We're not total bums Grandpa.

3. When I was a missionary in Malaysia I promised one sweet man I'd teach my kids to eat with "the original spoon." It was generally understood that missionaries who used their hands to eat had fully embraced Malaysian culture -- and trust me, I embraced it! I love Borneo Island! Anyway, Nell required no teaching. This girl is a natural!

4. She constantly cracks everyone up. Even complete strangers. I spent 14 minutes in a cardio class today at the gym, yes, just 14 minutes, and I was totally worn out. After picking up the girls from drop in child care we all took a seat in the lobby. Nell kept insisting we go watch Reid in his swimming lesson and I told her I needed a minute to relax because I was out of breath. She quickly responded "Here, you can have some of mine!" And then very sweetly leaned in to blow fresh air toward my mouth. The man sitting across from us got a chuckle out of that. And of course, when she announced "There, all better. Let's go see Reid," I had to get up and take them to the super stuffy swimming pool area. 

5. Reid hit Nell with a full fledged punch in the stomach today. It was awesome. Proud parenting moment. I didn't even know how to adequately respond. He was sent to his room and I later told him he should never punch anyone. He mentioned he could punch Satan, but I stuck with my rule. We don't punch anyone, ever. Not even if they punch first (disagree with me all you want on that one, but I'm the parent and that's my rule). First, I told him he'd probably never see Satan, and that if he did the only way to really get rid of him is to command him, in the name of Jesus Christ, to leave. So we practiced telling Satan to leave, which I'm sure will come in super handy some day. 

6. Ben and I watched the first two episodes of Fuller House tonight. We both laughed several times and I got a little teary eyed more than once. It's super cheesy and completely hammed up, but I think we could all use a little wholesome throwback to TGIF. Ben mentioned he'd be interested in a Family Matters reunion. So many good memories of family friendly Friday night TV. 

7. Last night I watched the Republican debate. It was not family friendly, and it was only funny in a scary sort of way. Seriously, Trump and Cruz are the people we want to teach our kids to emulate and respect? No thank you. It is the first one I've seen this election season. I was cheering on Marco Rubio as he took on Trump. He was so cool and collected about it. I was really impressed. I hope and pray that either one of the Democrat candidates or Rubio or Kasich (who doesn't have a prayer) make it to the White House. Heaven help us if it's Trump or Cruz! It'll be interesting to see if the GOP has a brokered convention.

Teaching the Gospel

One of my favorite things about parenthood is teaching my children the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Gospel is so deep and complex and profound in my grown mind, but when I teach it to my children it feels so simple and beautiful and true.

The other day Reid and I were snuggling on the floor when he said something about always being my baby -- no matter how big he gets (I'm training him well). I made some comment like, "Yup, even when you're 65 and I'm ... uh, I'll be gone." Which was a dumb thing to say. He caught on to my implication and started to cry. He cried for sooooo long. Nothing I could say comforted him. It didn't matter that we'd be in heaven together one day because there was still some unknown time period where he'd have live on Earth without me (I didn't even dare tell him there's a small chance that might not be how things pan out).

Even as he started to embrace the idea that we could be together forever, he began to bemoan the idea of having to leave Earth. He went on and on about all the creatures he loves and cool things (volcanoes) he wants to see and wah, wah, heaven doesn't have those things. Heaven is dumb.

I realize this is not sounding like a simple or beautiful story, but just wait.

Later that night we talked about his concerns (more calmly) when Ben was home, and he decided he wanted to say a prayer to help his heart feel happy and safe. He told us he really wished he could see Jesus and that Jesus would tell him we were right. It melted my momma heart. His prayer was so sweet, and he went to bed feeling peace in his own tender heart.

At Church the following Sunday one of the teachers said something about being with our families forever after we die. I sit kitty corner behind Reid and I watched for a reaction, but he didn't seem to have one. He just kept looking forward, eyes on the teacher. A minute or two later I noticed tears rolling silently down his cheek and I asked "Buddy, what's wrong?"

He stood up and came to me for a big hug and sobbed, "I just want to hug Jesus."

Oh that little guy, he has such a tender heart.

That same week he was assigned to give his first primary talk. The topic was Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father created the world for me. We studied and studied and practiced and practiced, and I think he learned a lot and grew in faith by the end.

He came up with his closing testimony all on his own. 

The Sickies: Of Disappointments and Gratitude

Wednesday night I was awakened to the sound of Coraline cough/choking. I sent Ben in to check on her, and -- well, let's just say she was sick.

I slept in her room, holding her upright in the rocking chair. I awoke every hour or so, to clean and comfort her. It was a long night, but by morning she was on the mend and I was laying in bed catching up on some missed sleep.

Then I heard Ben holler for help. He'd cut his thumb pretty badly on our apple slicer. I ran out to help him put pressure on his thumb and insisted he sit down. He was pale and dizzy and about to pass out. Needless to say, he ended up staying home from work for most of the day. After several hours in bed, he and Coraline both felt better.

By evening it seemed as though our house would return to normal. But before Ben and I made it to bed, Nell woke up sick. So she and I slept on the couch together. I sat upright in the recliner and she leaned against me, waking up every hour or so for some comfort and clean up.

We had big plans to go see Ben's family this weekend. He has Monday off, and two of his little sisters -- who have a child both Reid and Nell's exact age (like literally born just hours apart) -- are visiting from Utah. We were all looking forward to such a fun weekend with family. That obviously all changed when the norovirus hit our house. We we're definitely all disappointed by that, but I'm actually surprised by how well each of my kids handled the bad news. I suppose they just wanted to slow down and get some rest anyway.

I kept telling Ben that I had a feeling my body would fight it off while I was busy caring for the kids -- but that once things settled and I got to relax I'd be hit. And that is exactly what happened.

Reid woke up Saturday telling me he felt a little sick. Not sure if he was hungry or truly sick, I gave him something light to eat and waited to see what happened. Well, about an hour later he was telling me I'd given him the wrong foods and that they had made his tummy sick. He spent the whole day watching movies. Thankfully he needed a lot less comfort and clean up than the girls. Both because he had a milder version of the stomach bug, but also because he can hold a garbage can and aim all on his own. It's such a lovely stage to enter.

Anyway, my predictions were accurate. Once they were all in bed on Saturday night, recovering quite nicely from all that had ailed us the past three days, my body gave in. Before anything major happened I asked Ben to give me a priesthood blessing. I took note of a couple different promises. One was that I would be healed depending on my faith and the faith of those offering the blessing (Ben and our Bishop). That left me with a lot of hope and I crawled in bed thinking I could sleep everything off.

Well, within fifteen minutes I was rushing to the bathroom. It's interesting to me, how getting the stomach bug always humbles me. As I sat on the bathroom floor I was thinking about that promise, how my faith should have made me all better. I didn't actually doubt my faith (or that of the others), instead I just realized that being sick for those short few minutes was my body getting better. It was horrible, awful for five minutes, and then it was done. My girls had spent 12 hours, heaving every hour -- but I got it all done in five minutes.

I also thought about how having that same illness helped me think about my kids and their suffering, and that of course made me ponder the power of Christ's atonement.

I know, I know ... this post is super weird. First, who wants to read about our bout with the throw ups? No one. No one! And why am I making it all about spiritual things? Well, because getting sick always brings me closer to my Father in Heaven. I still remember a time, some twenty-plus years ago when I was sick and I asked my father for a blessing. He told me it wouldn't magically make me better, and I realized I didn't care. I just wanted words of comfort, sent from my Father in Heaven.

Basically every time I've been sick since then I have asked for a blessing, and rarely have I immediately felt better. At least not physically, but I'm always given the strength to get through whatever ails me. And this phenomenon is worth noting. I love that even in moments of great disappointments -- missing family fun and having to care for sick kids -- I can find gratitude for the wonder that is my body and the beauty that is the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. 

Kneel Before Your Magnificent Maker

Sunset taken earlier this month

This blog is just a hodge podge of thoughts. But today I had an experience I feel inspired to share with my children. I can't tell them now (partly because they are in bed, but mostly because they are 4, 3, and 10 months old). It's a simple story with grand impact. I hope you, dear reader, enjoy it as well.

During sacrament meeting today it occurred to me that I am too prideful. I am, but this isn't a story about that realization. This story is about a missing handle on my apple peeler/slicer/corer small kitchen appliance.

Last Wednesday we went to a local Apple Orchard for some apple picking. This Tuesday we picked some apples off a friend's tree. Twice now I've tried to harvest all these apples by turning them into yummy freezer sauce and dried apple rings. Twice, I've failed. My first attempt was last Sunday, and though I did complete a batch each of sauce and rings, the whole process was a mighty struggle and huge mess. In the end I threw my old apple peeler/slicer/corer in the garbage (and chanted mirror, mirror on the wall I am my mother after all).

My new apple peeler/slicer/corer arrived Thursday and thus began my second attempt at saucing and dehydrating. It also came to a frustrating end when I could not get the handle to stay on. To add to my misery, I had three small children demanding all my attention and my kitchen was (once again) a complete mess. I finally just threw my hands up and recognized that now was not the time. I quickly finished up a batch of sauce and decided to complete the task another day. Preferably one when I didn't have three small children around.

Which leads us to today. Coraline and Nell were napping and Reid, you were settled down in front of the TV (an unfortunately regular babysitter for our non-napping child). Dad and I got the kitchen all cleaned up and ready to apple! We had three slow cookers (for three big batches of sauce) and the dehydrator with five trays of rings out and ready to go! The apples were all cleaned and we both had a peel/slice/core station. Only, I couldn't find the handle to my brand new apple peeler/slicer/corer.

I was certain a basic cleaning of the kitchen would turn the missing piece up, but it hadn't. I took time to pause, ponder, and pray. And then I searched through drawers once again. Still, I could not figure out where that little handle (and it's screw) were hiding. Dad started the rings anyway, using the partially functioning peel/slice/corer. I settled on the old fashioned method of hand peeler and hand corer. Things were going alright, but I knew we could be more efficient if I just found the handle.

The thought came to me that prayer was going to help me find it, but I also knew I had to look. So I just continued shuffling through drawers and uttering pleas in my head. The second thought that came to me was "kneel." But I felt like I didn't have time. I didn't need to stop working, to stop looking, in order to offer a sincere prayer. Heavenly Father, I know you can help me find this! Where is it?

Kneel.

Finally, I acquiesced and got down on my knees. I offered the same prayer as before but with a heart that was humble. A heart that was not only pleading with my Father in Heaven, but also worshiping Him.

On my knees my mind was cleared. I knew I needed to go look through the compost bucket. Our yucky, rotting, overflowing, compost bucket. I headed outside with a certain confidence. Continuing a new prayer in my mind, I testified to my Maker that I knew He was great enough, that even if I hadn't thrown the handle in the compost during my fit of rage, He could place it in that bucket at this very moment. And I would find it. I grabbed the bucket by the handle, had a few bees swarm up near my hand, and I headed out toward the compost bin (not giving up at the sight of the bees is proof of my confidence -- they terrify me).

I poured out the basil plants I'd dug up Thursday evening. Then I sifted through rotten egg shells. Next I found all the apple peels and cores. I poured them out onto the lid of our large bin and began sifting. I was running my fingers through rotting, mushy food waste. Nearly everything was brown, and the handle I was looking for is brown. And yet I saw it. My eyes caught sight of it just as my fingers ran right by it. I let out a sigh of glory and relief and began looking for the screw.

As I walked back toward the house with both, I nearly shouted "You are Magnificent!"

All I had to do was kneel.


About a year ago I wrote you, dear children, a letter in regards to prayer. This story would seem to fit right into that epistle. But I needed to add it here tonight. It isn't enough to document, just one time, my thoughts and feelings towards prayer. It isn't enough to occasionally mention my gratitude for my Maker. I don't mention His wonder nearly enough on my little corner of the Internet. But tonight I could not go to bed without preserving this little story.

I am almost 33-years-old and I still (occasionally) pray with the silliness and faith of a child. I pray over missing appliance handles, and my God delivers me. Dear children, please, please, always know that God will answer your prayers. He may demand you humble yourself first. He may demand you kneel. But He will answer.

He wants to help you, but He will wait until you are sincere. He does not want you to take Him lightly. He wants you to really know He is there. And I want you to know your mother worshiped Him. Not just in big moments or before meals and long family car rides. But even in little moments, when I was up to my wrists in yucky compost, anxiously waiting to make you some yummy freezer applesauce. 

1985 -- My Favorite Ornament

In 1985 my parents did not buy us ornaments that captured our year. I'm guessing their budget was tight (three kids age 6 and under with #4 on the way), so instead they let us each choose an ornament from the tree that would become ours (ours were stored in a separate box and never used to decorate until we were old enough to have our own trees). In 1985 I would have just turned three-years-old, and I passed up all the cute snowmen and Santa Clauses for this simple nativity scene. Simple, but gorgeous. 

I have always, always, loved the purity of this Creche. I remember getting our ornament boxes out each year and excitedly handling each special one. And every year I spent a few extra minutes gazing at the wonder of the Christ child and His loving parents. You can't tell from this picture, but it hangs by a star. Those four simple things -- The Savior of the world, His loving mother and father, and the Star always felt so powerful in my tiny hands. 

Absolutely my favorite. 

Some Days

Some days, I really just don't have anything to say. Shocking, I know.
I usually draft nothing on these days and just go to bed.
I wake up the next morning and ponder yesterday only to discover I still have nothing to say.

I don't know. My kids' behavior at wiggles and giggles (open gym) this year has impressed me. Are they really over fighting other kids for toys? I hope so.
I made some slow cooker pulled pork, mexican-verde style.
I did laundry. I feel like I always do laundry.
I love my hubby. He's the cutest and the perfect fit for me.
He let Reid spiderman jump on him way more times than seemed safe, but boy was Reid a happy boy!
Nell speaks too clearly. Well, it's still a muffled toddler voice, but her sentences are full and complete and accurate and it just amazes me.

Okay, I've said enough now. Right?
If you want some deep, spiritual reading, go check this out: Loving Others and Living with Differences.

The Words of Isaiah

I've always loved the words of Isaiah. My reading comprehension wasn't great as a kid (or teen), but that didn't inhibit my love of reading. However, the nature of scriptural language combined with my low comprehension always left me in a struggle. The only verses of scripture I ever felt I understood were the words of Isaiah.

Truly ironic, huh? I suppose imagery and metaphor are my strength (as a reader, definitely not as a writer).

Today in Sunday School we studied several chapters of Isaiah, and I was once again engrossed by his powerful imagery. What a wonderfully skilled writer Isaiah was. The scriptures are uplifted by his words -- his wonderful praises to the Lord.

The verse which struck me the most was Isaiah 25:8. The phrase "the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth" really stood out to me. I wanted to shout it at all the Christian pundits (and their followers) who act as though they are victims. Where is their faith that as a follower of Christ they will always come out victorious? With God and His Son on our side there is no need to fear. Faith shuts out fear, and true faith will make any rebuke feel minimal.

This is why I'm so turned off by the new Christian movement to act as though we are victims. I've written in the past about my distaste for playing the victim. More specifically that post is about my preparedness as a Christian to live in a day when my beliefs and lifestyle are rebuked. I am 100% signed up and willing to live with the reproach of the world.

Because I know Isaiah's prophecies are true.

Prophecies tell us Christians will be ridiculed and mocked. Prophecies tell us the world will be rampant with sin. We cannot act blindsided or victimized by these two current happenings. The scriptures are there to prepare us for them. We knew they were coming. But more importantly, we know that rebuke (and the sin) will be taken off all the Earth.

Christians need to see life as the eternal realm that it is. Suffering criticism while on the Earth is nothing to complain about because this Earth life is but a short time. The time will come when that criticism is turned away and all suffering will be rewarded.

I am neither frightened nor wounded by the reproach of the world. My faith outshines fear. My faith heals scars. My faith is in Christ. 

Thoughts on Prayer

Dear Children,

I want each of you to know how God answers prayers. I also want you each to know that you were an answer to prayer. Your very existence was prayed for each and every time. I have many stories on answered prayers, and you may have heard each of these before ... but I'm writing them down here so that you'll have a simple place to look when you are ready for truth.

First, as much as I love the country song of my childhood, there is no such thing as unanswered prayers. God answers every prayer, but the song is right about one thing, He won't always answer them the way you'd like them to be answered. This brings us to the most important aspect of this conversation. How you pray and what you pray for matter.

Sometimes it is appropriate to beg for things. Even silly, inconsequential things. I can't even tell you how many times I've stopped a frantic search and pleaded with God to "help me find my keys, wallet, phone, etc, etc, please, please, please." One of two mirarculous things always happens during these kinds of prayers. Either, my mind clears up and I know exactly where to go to find the missing item, "down to the laundry room, really God?" But down I go, only to spot my phone on top of the washing machine the moment I enter the room. Always, always thank God the moment said missing item is found. These moments of clarity and prompting are amazing, and one of the simplest ways I know God is real. He. Is. Real. But, if this clarity does not happen, I'm simply reassured to move on with my day. Sometimes I don't handle that advice well, and I get mad at God for not helping. Which is 100% the wrong attitude, and probably part of the reason why He wouldn't help me to begin with. He is a parent, afterall. But even when I'm told to "move on," things do always work out. Like the time God told me I wasn't going to miraculously find my car registration renewal form. "Move on." So move on I did, and guess what, on my way out the door I saw our former registration receipt (which I swear we always keep in the car) . And the DMV has a super easy to fill out renewal form. See, God's great and even when His answer isn't what we want, it's always an answer. He always listens.

Second, timing is everything. During your father and I's honeymoon stage at USU I lost my keys. It was a pain and we searched everywhere but couldn't find them. God didn't seem to have an answer to my begging, but honeymooning left me in enough bliss that I never got angry with God. I just "moved on." After over two weeks of using the spare car key and playing hide and seek with our one remaining house key, I was at the student center computer lab finishing up a portfolio for an Education class. I went to the front desk and asked for a three ring hole punch and the student employee threw open a couple of drawers, checking to see if they had such a tool.

"Those are my keys!" I shouted as the second drawer flew open. She hurried and shut the drawer. Most lost and found rules are that you must identify the item, not see it and claim it. I sensed by her glare that she was not about to surrender my keys to me.

The student employee in charge heard my excited outburst and saw her glare. He quickly decided to intervene. I described every detail of every key chain and each key. He nodded to her to open the drawer and check my descriptions. She tossed the keys in her hand, still not sure she trusted me when her boss said "give them to her, they're clearly hers."

I have no idea why God waited over two weeks to answer those prayers. But I do know I'd finally come to accept the fact that my keys were gone forever, and just then God helped me find them in the bizarrest of ways.

If God has time to know my misplaced keys are stuffed in a campus computer lab drawer, He has time to know every detail about your life. You can take anything to Him in prayer. He knows how and when to answer. He knows which answer is best for you and your spiritual growth.

Finally, God expects you to work. When your prayer is a search for an answer to a question, God expects you to have answers already prepared for Him, and He will either confirm or deny them. If you want to know if The Book of Mormon is true, you must read it. You must decide for yourself if you believe it. Then, you must ask God to confirm to you that you know it is true. If you have decided it isn't true, He will not confirm that belief. You will feel discontent and confusion. He will not confirm falsehoods and He will not deny truths. But you must search and ponder the answers yourself. After all your effort, you can take your answer to Him and He will confirm with peace or deny with stupor of thought. Learn to discern peace and stupor.

In closing, I'd like to combine the importance of timing and the importance of work. There will come times when you are trying to find direction in your life. Where should you attend college, who should you marry, should you serve a mission, what career path should you take? Life has so many different opportunities and many of them are good. You will want God's assurance when you pick the path that is right for you. But again I reiterate how important it is for you to do your work. When I applied to college it wasn't until after I was already accepted to USU that I asked God whether or not USU was the place for me. I'd already done all the work, and He confirmed my efforts.

Before your father asked me on our first date, I told God I was ready for marriage and I asked for His help in the process. Before your father asked for my hand in marriage, I told God how much I loved Ben and I asked for His confirmation of our relationship. When your Dad asked to marry me, I already knew my answer and God's.

But there was a time when I could not figure out God's purpose for me. I'm sure you've heard this story before, but I'm going to write it down here so that it is saved in perfect memory for you.

I always had a desire to serve a mission. My life was planned out and nothing was going to stop me from getting a college degree or serving a mission. The later was coming easily, I loved my time at USU. At the close of my second year I knew it was time to go on a mission. I didn't find an apartment for the following year, and I fully expected to be filling out my missionary papers. But God did not confirm my prayers. I didn't let go of my righteous desire, but I didn't move forward in my effort to serve.

I scrambled to find an apartment for the coming school year, and even on move in day there was one last change to my room assignment. I began my third year of college in turmoil. I loved USU and I felt like I was in the prime of life, but I was approaching 21 and I knew the dreams of my heart were finally available to me. I spent hours and hours stressing over my decision. I found little comfort in my prayers.

Finally, I realized I needed intervention. I needed a Priesthood blessing. Throughout my time at college I had the good fortune of asking your Uncle Matt or Uncle Jon for such blessings. But this time around I knew I needed someone who wasn't aware of my weighty life choice. I needed someone who wouldn't even ask why I needed a blessing of comfort.

The best Home Teacher I ever had between the ages of 19 -31 was just the right person. The words he spoke were from God and I finally had peace. I still did not know whether or not I should serve a mission or abandon the idea all together, but I knew that God would answer that prayer. You see, I'd had so many stupors when I told God I wanted to go that I eventually tried telling Him I didn't want to go. But that was a lie and it resulted in continued stupor. This left me so confused.

The answer I received from that priesthood blessing was to simply stop asking. The timing was not right. God would provide an answer when the time was right, and until then I was to relax and enjoy the life I was living. It didn't take more than two months to find my answer. But for the first time that entire year of college I was at peace. I stopped worrying about serving a mission and simply enjoyed the most wonderful year of friendships and Education I ever had. God needed me to enjoy that college prime before I moved on to greater things.

The answer came crystal clear one Saturday night. "If I pray to God right now and tell Him I want to go on a mission He will finally say 'YES!' Miraculously, my papers were submitted to Church Headquarters within the next 48 hours. I had already done all the work I possibly could up to that point, God finally confirmed my heartfelt desires, and I began my missionary service on the exact day and with the exact people God had designed for me.

Accept the answers God gives you. Remember that timing is just as important as what you are praying for. And make the sacrifices required to receive the answers you need. I love you dear children. And my love is small in comparison to your Heavenly Father's. He answers your prayers. All of them. 

My Missionary Experience is Greater Than a Broadway Musical

The Book of Mormon: Broadway came to a city near me. The kids and I actually drove by a huge crowd waiting to see it one afternoon. If I didn't know The Church of Jesus Christ of Later-day Saints takes out a three page ad in the playbill, I probably would have rolled my window down and shouted "Read the book!" Heck, even knowing that I still wanted to.


A couple days later my neighbor informed me she saw it. I sensed she was offended by the crudeness of both the language and the content, but her husband shrugged it off and said, "you've got to laugh at yourself." They assured me the musical doesn't make particular fun of my religion, but rather it makes fun of all people who profess a faith in God (and the sufferings of Third World Countries). While I agree (based on the synopsis they shared) that the musical pokes fun of people of all faith, it does so using one of the most humbling, sacred, life forming, wonderful, difficult, joyous, and painful experiences of my life. The Mormon Mission.



Like most Mormons, I've tried to take the high road in regards to the musical. I'm not writing this post to voice complaint or offense, but rather to let you know that you have a fabulous primary source when it comes to understanding Mormon Missionary service. Use the musical for what it is: entertainment. Do not use it for what it isn't: knowledge. Neither of the musical's creators served a Mormon Mission; they aren't even Mormon. Please realize that the Broadway play that won nine Tony awards is simply an R-rated, stereotyped version of something I lived day in and day out for 538 days.

It's hard to sum up 18 months of life changing moments in one blog post (feel free to read my mission memories tag in the sidebar, which still doesn't do the experience justice), but I'm going to attempt it. Why? Because if my readers, friends and neighbors get their info from the Broadway play, I am at fault. Tonight, I'd like to give you a glimpse of my own personal Mormon Mission. The experience is different for each of us, and yes there are great news articles and church websites that can give you a basic overview. But I want to share with you dear reader, friend, and neighbor -- my own personal journey as a missionary.



Missionary service is voluntary, not paid.
No one is paid to be a missionary. Quite the opposite. Missionaries are financially responsible for their service. I had the great fortune of having two loving parents who paid the monthly total (somewhere between $400-$500 a month) for me to be a missionary. They also foot the bill for my two older brothers. When my parents were young adults they did not have the same level of support. My mother relied on her own funds and donations made by her local congregation. My father relied on money he'd earned in college and the help of his widowed mother. Some missionaries labor and save for years in order to afford this service opportunity.

The area of service is assigned, not chosen.
As part of the missionary preparation process young men and women fill out a great deal of "paperwork" -- which is now all done on line. They are given a chance to rate their level of interest in learning a foreign language, but that is the best chance they get in saying they'd like to go overseas (and their preference is merely considered, often ignored). When I was deciding for myself if I really wanted to serve, I had to make sure I would not be disappointed with an assignment in the States. My parents and two elder brothers each served in Europe, so I had to make sure my expectation wasn't a cool overseas experience, but a real desire to serve the Lord. I had to determine I could be happy serving anywhere, even in the Salt Lake Temple Square Mission (my "worse possible" assignment scenario). I was assigned to serve in Singapore and East Malaysia. I had to look that up on a map.

Missionaries are great ambassadors for the people and cultures they serve. 
It is difficult to find a missionary who does not have a profound love and respect for the state and people they served. Even missionaries who lived in some of the world's most politically troubled nations will tell you something wonderful about the society there. Mostly, they will tell you of the beautiful traditions, customs, and cultures.

I love Islam. I respect anyone who chooses to practice Islam in the manner it is intended to be practiced. I have no problem separating Muslim from Terrorist. I firmly believe God expects me to be a voice of reason for those who do struggle with this separation.



Mosques are exquisite and simple. I'd give almost anything to hear the daily prayer, called out five times a day, while I ride my bike through the jungles of Borneo. I'd love to spend just a few brief moments walking through a Malaysian food gallery just before the close of Ramadan. I've never seen so much devout worship in all my life.

I love the respect Buddhists have for their ancestors. I love the long history of their celebrations.

I long for Asia every Chinese New Year, or, as I still prefer to call it, Gong Xi Fa Cai.

I miss Gawaii like crazy each summer, as my facebook feed lights up with old friends celebrating Borneo Islands harvest season.

Indian food is now my favorite, and Deepavali (more commonly known as Diwali) is an amazing religious festival we would all do good to celebrate -- the victory of light over darkness, hope over despair, knowledge over ignorance. What wonderful principles to embrace as a human family.

There are Malaysian/Singaporean things I don't embrace with love, like Durian. But I love the memory of my first bite!

My greatest lesson learned was love.
I knew love before a mission. I loved my family. I loved my dearest friends. I'd even loved a boy. But what I learned as a missionary was a new kind of love. I learned of the love Christ has for all of God's children. This love is immense. It has the power to save lives. It has the power to bind families together for eternity. It has the power to overlook human weakness, struggle, and sin and replace it all with love.

Charity, the pure love of Christ, is the absolute most wonderful thing I gained as a missionary. I am not perfect in my charity, and I wasn't perfect in it as a missionary, but those tiny glimpses of Christ's love for the people of Singapore and Malaysia have impacted me greatly and carried me on through difficult times in my life. It served me well as a teacher in inner city DC.

It serves me well as a mother.

I gained perspective. 
The play gets one thing right, a missionary experience is a great coming of age journey. I'm forever grateful that during those young, formative years I learned how unimportant worldly possessions are.




I learned how crucial it is to respect people who speak different languages and have different backgrounds.


I learned how to make a marriage work. Missionary companionship's require work, compromise, love, and understanding.

I gained so much more from this experience. Bruises from bike accidents.


Blisters from miles of walking. Heat exhaustion from 100 degree temps with 100% humidity.

And heartache from crushing disappointments. Just as I had glimpses of the Savior's love, I had glimpses of His suffering. I was not with Him in Gethsemane, but I know the agony He felt there was real. I felt a portion of the pain He must feel every time His love is not returned.

I know what it is like to want to lay down my life in order to save another. All because I was a Mormon Missionary.

**I want to reiterate, please, please feel free to ask me ANY questions you have about Mormon Missionary Service, in the comments or on facebook. At the risk of cliche, there are no dumb question, and I've probably fielded many of your questions before. I welcome the conversation.** 

What I Know Continued

When I originally wrote Friday's "Some Things I Know" post, I started the below paragraph, but it felt too bulky to go with the rest, so I cut it out and saved it for later. Here it is now:

I know God calls prophets to teach and lead His children. Adam was the first prophet, but his message (which was God's message) was rejected. Thankfully, other prophets were called: Noah, Abraham, Moses and more. Unfortunately, humans have a hard time accepting current prophets. During the time of Abraham, there were many who believed in Adam and Noah but rejected Abraham. Many who believe(d) in the prophets of old reject(ed) Christ as the Son of God, even though all the messages of Adam, Noah, Abraham and Moses testify of Christ's coming. The same is true today. Many believe in Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, and Christ (who was/is greater than a prophet) but they do not accept a true and living prophet on the Earth today. 

As I said Friday, I know that this pattern of prophets and apostasy will be made clear to everyone at some point before the Great Judgement Day, but this realization that all prophets were hard to accept when they were modern prophets has really struck me over the past few weeks. When I think of the billions who believe in Abraham's prophetic call, I marvel at the thought that he was rejected during his own time.

I believe many great men and women are inspired by God. I believe many are called to do great works among the children of men. Their influence is felt by millions, and some are so great they have even changed the course of humankind. Yet, the men who are given God's authority, to act in His name, the men who hold the Priesthood Keys necessary to salvation, are often rejected, persecuted, and even martyred.

Returning to things I know, I know God occasionally gives part of His great power, His priesthood, to the sons of man. We are His spirit children and as such He desires for us to return to live with Him. This can only be made possible through the use of His priesthood powers. First, we must have Faith in Him; second we must turn to His Son, Christ, and ask for forgiveness of our sins -- we must repent and partake of His great sacrifices. Third, we must be baptized in His name, with God's proper authority. This baptism is done by immersion. It is the literal washing away of our sins. It is a new birth, one in which we promise to follow Christ. Fourth, as a guide, we are given the Gift of the Holy Spirit or Holy Ghost. Many will feel the influence of the Spirit before they are baptized by proper authority, but after baptism we are given this most precious gift, to constantly guide us, teach us, protect us, and enlighten us.

The road does not end there; we must endure to the end. We must partake of more, higher saving ordinances. We must make and keep sacred covenants in God's Holy Temples. Just as Christ's followers of old worshiped in Temples built in their day, we too are required to build Holy Temples, dedicated to the Lord. Because Christ fulfilled the Law of Moses, the ceremonies and rituals found in modern day Temples vary from the those of Biblical times ... but the commandment to build Temples remains the same. We are still expected to prepare ourselves for Temple attendance. And all this is preparatory to returning to live with God.

Everything He has given us -- from our bodies, to our Earth, to the Prophets, to the Priesthood, to His Son, and to His Temples -- everything is designed to help us return to live with Him.

Some Things I Know

I know God is real. I know we are created in His image. We are His spiritual offspring.

I know Christ is God's son, both spiritually and physically. I know Christ lived a perfect life, one without sin. I know He voluntarily took the sins of all mankind upon Himself, that He might know how to succor the children of God. He is the mediator through which we return to God -- our Father in Heaven.

I know both the Bible and The Book of Mormon testify of Christ. They testify of God and His great love for all His children.

I know that anyone who sincerely wants to know if these things are true, can study them out in their heart and their mind and then ask God for a witness of the truth.

I know that many will never have the chance to sincerely and earnestly learn of God, Christ, or The Book of Mormon during their mortal life time. And I know that in His mercy, God will give them a chance to do so in the after life. Everyone will be able to knowingly accept or reject these truths.

The reward for those who accept (here or in the life to come) will be glorious. Families can live eternally in the presence of God. Husband and wives will be united forever and their influence will be grand.

I do not know all things, but these things I know. 

I Shouted for Joy

5:45 am. Reid came out of his room needing to go potty. Barely conscious, he immediately asked me if we could go to Grandma Bassett's house. Instead of trying to explain (for the hundredth time) how difficult it is to just go get on a plane and go (because I know he'll just tell me to buy tickets already), I quickly told him it is Grandma's turn to come visit him. This did not appease the poor boy.

"No! I want to go to Grandma's house"

"Why buddy? Think of how much fun you'll have when she comes here."

"But I want to see her kitty. And go to the splash pad. And go to her pool."

"Yeah, we did have fun when we went to Grandma's house, didn't we?"

"Why does she have to live so far away? Why can't Grandma live in Oshkosh?"

"It'd be fun if our Grandmas and Grandpas lived in Oshkosh, huh?"

"Let's tell them mommy. Let's tell the construction guys to go get Grandma Bassett's house and tear it down. They can put it in their truck and bring it to Oshkosh. Tell them, mommy."

By this time his potty routine was just about over and the only thing I could do to console him was to crawl in to his tiny twin bed with him. We snuggled the morning away.


11:25 am. Our Sunday School lesson was amazing today. Most Christians have heard the story of Job a dozen times, but I was still spiritually fed this morning as I sat through our Sunday School class. Many members shared trials they'd experienced, and together we all agreed that we need to be valiant in keeping our baptismal covenants. We all re-committed to helping mourn with those that mourn. One class member (the teacher's husband) asked us to think about how different the story of Job had been if he had just one friend who was willing to mourn with him. Obviously, he joked, the story wouldn't have been as good but Job's suffering could have been made light through the kindness of just one friend.

Though much of the lesson left me with a deep desire to improve myself, to better align my will with God's, and to comfort those in need of comfort, it was the closing comment that really stuck with me. One of the missionaries pointed us all to Job chapter 38 verse 7. He reminded us that through Job's suffering, Job strode to draw closer to God and to understand His doctrine better. In chapter 38 we learn some fabulous early lessons about our Premortal Life. God asked Job to remember where he was when God laid the foundations of the Earth. Assuming (as a reader, that) Job knew the answer to that question, God then reminded him (in verse 7) that "the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy."

We were all in that Council in Heaven. As God's spirit children we were all made aware of how difficult this mortal life would be. We knew God would give us all we received, and we knew that God could take it all away. And yet, we shouted for joy. Job shouted for joy, that he might have the opportunity to come to Earth, receive a body, learn of God, choose to follow Him and return in glory. Job shouted for joy, that he might experience sorrow, feel afflictions, learn of God, choose to follow Him and return in glory.

I distinctly remember a sacred moment I had as a missionary when I knew that one young mother had, like Job, shouted for joy. The poverty some of the Saints in East Malaysia lived in was beyond my understanding. I could not have even imagined it had I not spent months serving these wonderful women. One such mother, Sister Suin, truly touched my heart during my seven month stay in Kuching. And I'll never forget the glimpse of knowledge God gave me in regards to Sister Suin and our knowledge in the pre-Earth life. I just knew that Suin was made well aware of her deprived circumstances and that she eagerly agreed to them. I just knew that she accepted the possibility of poverty and abuse, heartache and despair, long before she experience any of it. I knew she'd promised God she was tough enough to handle her lot in life. Most importantly, I knew she promised Him she was tough enough to protect her five children and many more that lived in her drug infested neighborhood.



I'm not really sure why some of us are given more hardship than others, and that is an idea I struggled greatly with as a missionary, but I do know we all shouted for joy when we realized how glorious the opportunity to come to Earth would be.

I love the Plan of Salvation.


4:55 pm. My sweet little Nell, refusing to leave Ben and I alone in the kitchen, pulled on her dress up apron and knocked my computer off the top of her play kitchen. When I went to assess the damage (on my computer, because my child was obviously fine) my eye went straight to the crack on the backside. This was, of course, after I'd already let out a huge scream. I was beyond frustrated. I'd spent a good ten minutes trying to get her to leave us alone for some dinner prep time. Reid was quietly watching some TV, but Nell refused to join him or to play with any of her favorite toys in a separate room. No, she wanted to be right beside me. Finally, finally, she at least stood next to me and made her own dinner, in her own little kitchen. I thought I'd finally found some peace. Then crash!

I seriously was furious. Ben came running inside (he was on our deck grilling up some caprese chicken masterpieces) and I immediately told him my computer was broken. Nell was too difficult to ever cook dinner with. And we'd just be having plain old spaghetti for the rest of our lives. I was done making nice meals that took time and effort. My computer was never going to work again. (Later, when I'd cooled down -- so like hours later -- he laughed about how much I am just like my dad!)

Ben took care of Nell, fixed my computer, and reassured me my efforts in the kitchen were appreciated (he would not do well on a diet of spaghetti). I was still mad, but this time I wasn't mad about Nell or the computer. I was so disappointed that I couldn't be like Job! For crying out loud, it hadn't even been six hours since our lesson and here I was yelping over a cosmetically scratched computer. That doesn't even deserve the tag first world problems. That's simply a spoiled mom fit. I felt terrible.

Sometimes it is tough being human, but I would like to think God could take away everything he has given me and I'd still continue with faith, hope and charity.

Let The Holy Spirit Guide

I'm so thankful for the many times Heavenly Father has answered my prayers by the guidance of the Holy Spirit. I don't know where I would be without this special Comforter. I'm grateful for the many times He answered prayers on His time, and not mine.

Happy Sabbath!

What'd You Learn at Church Today?

Or, if you're not a Church goer, what'd you learn about life today? Everyday is a chance to learn and to improve, right?

Our sacrament speakers were so wonderful this morning. I truly felt edified. But the lesson that struck me the most at Church today was this reminder, given during our Young Women's class time:

"Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities." -- The Family: A Proclamation to the World.

I just love that list of nine principles. 

Teaching the gospel

I've had the privilege of teaching the Young Women the last two Sundays. Yesterday (on our boat ride) my friend asked me what my favorite calling would be. I quickly replied "teaching the youth Sunday School class. I'd even take the adults. Just Sunday School in general." I would love to teach every Sunday and never have to do any midweek or weekend stuff again (did I really just write that?).

Anyway, today our lesson was titled "Why is Temple Marriage Important?" I learned, or relearned rather, so many valuable things.

I especially loved reading this story, about a young couple who walked all the way across Costa Rica, sleeping in roadside shelters, just so they could reach the temple in Honduras.

I also loved studying "The New and Everlasting Covenant of Marriage" in the True to the Faith book. It's so awesome to know that Ben and I's relationship can last beyond the grave, and that because of our relationship we can continue to progress even after death.

Oh how grateful I am for this.

Manit, Utah Temple. First temple I attended, which is a true statement for each of the separate temple ordinances.
Picture taken Feb 2009. 

  

Reflections

As I sit down to write tonight's blog post, I have a lot of jumbled reflections on the day. I usually try to zone in on one and center it as my post, even if I connect it to others, but I'm not sure I can do that tonight.

I'm just so excited I'm finally caught up! What I am writing tonight will be posted tonight!

Which reminds me that blogging everyday does, at times, feel like a chore. But it is one I'm grateful for. I'm grateful I've been able to reflect on every day of this past year. I love that I have a record of my family's happenings and my children's growth. I love that I am able to put my religious insights into writing more often than I did before. And I think my political posts have remained about the same in number, that's probably good.

I feel more gratitude, even while I feel more burdened. Burdened by the chore of coming up with something to say for each day of the year. But, as Elder Eyring teaches us about journaling, grateful for the opportunities to see the hand of the Lord in my day to day happenings.

There are still so many things in regards to my study on the Abrahamic covenant and it's relation to Islam that I want to share. Today marks the end of the Ramadan, and I'm so grateful that over the course of the last few days I've been able to learn even more about a religion I admire. Modern revelation tells us that Muhammed is a direct descendant of Abraham and he was enlightened by God.

In 1978 The First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Later-day Saints gave a statement titled "God's Love for Mankind." In it they claim, "The great religious leaders of the world such as Mohammed, Confucius, and the Reformers, as well as philosophers including Socrates, Plato and others, received a portion of God's light. Moral truths were given to them by God to enlighten whole nations and to bring a higher level of understanding to individuals."

How amazing! What a wonderful message for Church members to embrace. God does call Prophets to lead His Church. He gives them authority to lead and bless His children. But He has also enlightened others and taught them moral truths that have blessed nations. My mind immediately went to men like Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, and others -- who clearly were inspired by God to do a great work amongst His children. Anyone, with or without the Gospel, has the power to draw closer to God and to gain His guidance, for the improvement of their lives as well as others.

The stretch of Islam has blessed nations. It's improvements to Math and Medicine are the foundation of Western Civilization as we know it, but so few people realize and recognize that influence.

Some of the other wonderful insights I gained while studying the Abrahamic covenant are that God's covenant with Abraham is available to all of us through the Temple. We are all blessed by it as Abraham's seed, but the same promises given to Abraham can be given to us through the miracle of temple ordinances that have been restored in the last days.

Today I was also reminded to choose the better part, which is ironic because I rushed over my experience as Mary of Bethany so that I could be caught up as of today. In my rush to catch up on my blog writing, make freezer meals, do the laundry, and clean the kitchen, I left my children alone to play together. Which is fine, they had fun together. But after so many hours of TV and each other they were both desperate for me. Id' been home and caring for them all day, but I hadn't been playing with them.

The things I was doing were not bad. They were good things that needed to be done. But they aren't things that last forever. Once I was finally able to sit down and really give Reid the time he needed, my heart just melted. He was so darn cute. We were building an airport out of Legos and he just had so much to say. His excitement that Mommy was finally playing with him (aka sitting in the play room doing nothing but listening to him) was bursting out of his body. It was a great reminder of what really matters. 

Understanding the Abrahamic Covenant: an American Christian's perspective on turmoil in the Holy Land.

If you follow me on facebook, you may have seen my little rant about anti-Arab posts. I'll blame that on pregnancy. Why be pregnant if you can't use it as an occasional crutch? Oh, cause of the cute baby at the end ... that's right, that's what all the hormones are really for.

Anyway, my post led me to some interesting study and research. I already had some background in the geo-political history of the region, but Friday night as I lay in bed I thirsted for more knowledge in regards to the geo-political future of the region. After all, the land in dispute is Holy Land. We may argue over who has claim to it right now, but we all have to agree three of the world's major religions all view it with special regard. And I wondered, what side (if any) of the Israel/Palestine battle should I pick based on my religious views of the Holy Land.

But it was late at night, and I just wanted to go to bed. So I sincerely sought God's insight, but without doing much of my own work. The late night answer was clear, and similar to many answers I've received before. God loves all His children. Because the worth of souls is great in the sight of God. He doesn't sit up on His throne in Heaven and cheer for the Muslims or the Jews. He weeps over the hatred individual Muslims and Jews hold in their hearts. He welcomes each precious life lost in the battle into His Spirit World. If needed, they are reproached and given chances to learn Gospel truths. If their life was good and noble or they died before the age of accountability, they will feel love and goodness. They will find peace. And they also will be given the opportunity to learn Gospel truths and receive the blessings of its ordinances and covenants.

I fell asleep satisfied with my answer, knowing it was from God. I awoke looking for no further religious enlightenment on the matter.

Then, around nap time (my best time of day for deep thought and study) on Saturday, a friend commented on my facebook post, asking for any religious insight I had into the conflict, particularly as it relates to the Gospel of the Restoration.

Without much effort I answered. I double checked some facts and added my understanding of religious history. You know, I summarized 2000 years of religious wars in one paragraph. Everything from the birth of Islam to the Crusades to the Holocaust is a lot easier to understand if you just compartmentalize it into one paragraph. Right?

Then the stirring in my heart began. I didn't want to remain satisfied with the answer I had given. I wanted a deeper understanding of the Second Coming of Christ, and the role the region surrounding Christ's homeland of Jerusalem has to play in that gloriously awaited second coming.

So, I went to LDS.org and searched "Second Coming of Christ." First answer, the one God knew I needed: The Gathering of Scattered Israel. I soon found myself reading various manuals, scriptures, and conference talks on the subject. I was re-learning things I had forgotten from my own Seminary and Institute years. But this time around I was understanding them with the more developed, more learned, brain I have trained through my adult years.

I was able to ponder my knowledge of the geo-political details of the Middle East side by side with the spiritual truths I've been taught through out my life. Tender mercies I was given as a missionary, teaching in a Muslim country, were brought to my mind, and my testimony of God's love for all His children was strengthened once again. My original late night answer was correct, but God knew I needed to back it with a deeper understanding. He knew I needed to remember precious moments in His Holy Temples.

But I will only give you a more secular summary of the experiences I've had. I still want to keep the sacred spiritual ones to myself. So, let's dig into the history of Abraham and the scattering and gathering of Israel. Shall we?



A History
God made many great and important promises to Abraham regarding his seed. Christians, Muslims, and Jews alike agree on this point. They all view Abraham as one of their literal and spiritual fathers. They all view themselves as blessed by the promises God gave Abraham. As Abraham's seed, both Isaac and Ishmael are important to this promise. Many who follow Judeo-Christian religions only seem to remember Israel - born as Jacob - the grandson of Abraham. This is probably because it is easier to stomach the Old Testament if you just gloss over Abraham's weird and misunderstood relationship with Hagar. So to start lets just look at the line Judeo-Christians follow.

They follow Abraham's line through Isaac. Isaac had a son named Jacob and Jacob had twelve sons of his own (it was before the birth of Benjamin that Jacob became Israel). The twelve sons are: Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Dan, Nephtali, Gad, Asher, Issachar, Zepulun, Joseph, and Benjamin (Genesis 29:32 - 30:24 & 35:18). However, when Jacob divided the land of Israel he actually divided it into 14 tribes, but we (Jews and Christians alike) always refer to them as 12. See, Jacob, who we will now call Israel (because his name changed by the time he divided the land) gave Joseph a double portion of land, one for each of Joseph's sons, who were Ephraim and Manesseh. I found this map very useful when trying to figure out which of the 14 had land and where. You'll notice that Dan and Levi are missing. I guess they gave/sold their land to their brothers, and I know that Simeon was later absorbed into Judah, and Manesseh was split in two, but regardless of who was adopted where and who was split where the tribes are always referred to as 12 in number. Makes things easy and hard all at the same time. Gotta love the Old Testament!

Well, as is always the pattern of the Old Testament (and the New and The Book of Mormon), people who have the word of God like to reject it. They like to twist the teachings of the Prophets to fit their own desires. They reject the priesthood and God's authority on Earth. And that is exactly what happened, at one time or another, with all twelve (or fourteen or eleven -- depending on when you are counting) of the tribes.

First, the ten Northern tribes were taken captive by Assyria. This is where Ishmael re-enters the picture. Many historical records teach us that Assyrians were Ishmaelites. Yup, Ishmael, Abraham's eldest son, who is also part of the Abrahamic covenant. Even the scriptures, not just history and geography, suggest this. Before either of Abraham's sons were born, God told Abraham he would make a great nation out of Abraham, and that Abraham's seed would be as numerous as the stars. Another part of that promise was that Abraham's seed, and the greatness of that nation, would be a blessing to all the families of the Earth (Genesis 12:2-3 & 15:5). Then, when Ishmael was conceived by Abraham and Hagar, an angel declared the earlier promise to Hagar, that God would multiply her seed exceedingly, that it would be too great to count (Genesis 16:10). Finally, when Ishmael was 13 years of age, God promised Abraham that Ishmael would have 12 sons and that he would make Ishmael a great nation (Genesis 17:20).

As a quick aside, I recently tried to read the entire Old Testament and I had such a hard time with Abraham and Sariah's treatment of Ishmael and Hagar that I quit. Now I know I should have stuck it out, because Ishmael and his seed were not forgotten! They too are an integral part of the Abrahamic Covenant. Even if they were abandoned into the Arabian peninsula.

An honest and intellectual hypothesis would be to assume the ten lost tribes of Israel mixed with the descendants of Ishmael's twelve sons (many years after Abraham's wives and sons were separated -- so no incest going on there, not that the Bible goes out of it's way to avoid incest, anyway). They became lost to the records of mankind, but they were obviously not lost to the Lord. Oh how important it is for us to remember they are lost to the records of mankind, but not the Lord. Just as Ishmael and Hagar became lost to the records of mankind, they were not forgotten. The promises made to them have been and will continue to be fulfilled.

Back to Israel, later the two southern tribes, Judah and Simeon (with Simeon later becoming part of Judah), were also taken captive ... BUT ... here's the all important difference -- they were not lost to the records of mankind. Judah (and Simeon) are today's Jews. They are the people who kept the early records of the Bible. Many of them are tracked throughout the Bible. They are the line through which Christ came into the world (a promise given to Abraham as part of the covenant). And had King Solomon (and those who followed him) honored his covenants, Christ would have been born the King of the Jews. But King Solomon turned away from God and as a result his kingdom, Judah, was taken captive and has remained in exile ever since. They were scattered among the heathen, into all nations (Leviticus 26:33 & Jeremiah 9:16).

And I'll take a break at this time to explain this is why I am sympathetic to Israel -- to the Jews who reside, scattered, in all nations across the Earth. Judah has been persecuted since the captivity that occurred after King Solomon's reign. We have record of it and the record isn't pretty. From the Crusades to the Holocaust to horrible things before, in between and after; our brothers and sisters of Judah have not had it easy these past 2700 years (and it wasn't exactly easy in the hundreds of thousands of years before that either). My heart aches for the loss they have felt. Antisemitism is real and it should not be tolerated. Not from Christians and not from Muslims.

But I fear American Christians are so gung-ho on helping Judah, on getting Israel gathered so that Christ can come again, that we often forget Ishmael, his descendants, and the ten tribes lost to the record of mankind. We forget that God's great promise to Abraham also includes Ishmael, and Ishmael's twelve sons, and the ten lost tribes. Is it not likely that some of the descendants of Ishmael and of the ten lost tribes are today's Palestinian Arabs?

All history of the region points to this hypothesis.

The New Testament points to this hypothesis.

When Christ instructed the apostles in their missionary work He told them to go first to the lost sheep of Israel. He sent them to call out the elect of the ten tribes. And where did they go? Not to my ancestors in Europe (full bred Gentile over here). They headed towards Asia, into the heart of today's Middle East. It is my understanding that most Europeans and Native Americans are, like Joseph's sons Ephraim and Manesseh, adopted into the 12 tribes of Israel as they accept the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is also my understanding that Abraham's seed is so plentiful and prosperous that many people could trace their ancestry back to more than one tribe. But the main point is, we really don't know where the descendants of the other ten tribes reside. And though history tells us the descendants of Ishmael are on the Arabian peninsula, we don't have a record of their lives and covenants.

Only God truly knows where the descendants of Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac, and Israel are. Five-sixths of Israel and 12/12ths of Ishmael were lost to our religious records but they were never lost to Him. Is it not possible, that after rejecting the missionary efforts of Peter, Paul, and other members of the Church during Christ's time, that some 600 years later some portion of those descendants accepted Muhammad as their prophet and Allah as their monotheistic God? Is it not possible, that God enlightened Muhammad as part of His promise to Abraham, but withheld His covenants from Muhammad because He knew Abraham's descendants had a history of rejecting covenants?

And if this is the case, then isn't it totally wrong for Christian Americans to assume all of the Palestine/Israel borders belong to the tribe of Judah? Surely, there is no denying the tribe of Judah has rights to that land, but what of the other 5/6ths? And what about the promises made to Ishmael, that his seed would dwell with Israel's? And that his seed would also be fruitful, and a great nation (Genesis 16:12 & 17:20). If we look at an untainted history of Arabia, we see that it was indeed a great nation (while Europe was in it's dark ages). And I promise that even today Islam blesses the lives of families through out the Earth.

I believe that when many American Christians get to the other side of the veil, and obtain part of God's great knowledge, part of His intent and part of His great love for all His children, when we see Him judge our brothers and sisters according to the laws and covenants (or lack of covenants) given to them, we will be ashamed of our attitude toward our Muslim brothers and sisters. I also fear that other American Christians will hold on so tightly to their hatred and their stereotypes, that they will not be able to behold God's greatness. They will not be able to accept the loving kindness He will offer the children of Ishmael and the ten lost tribes.

Amongst my favorite verses of scripture, even long before I understood what they meant, are the words often repeated by Isaiah (and therefore Nephi): For all this his anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still. 

That is the approach I imagine Christ and the Father taking in regards to the Israel/Palestine conflict. God knows who the seed of Abraham is. He knows of the many wars and great destruction they have brought on one another. God has to be angered at the recent destruction of Holy Lands and holy tombs, but His hand -- the sacrifice and mercy of Christ -- will never be turned away. He will patiently wait until the Gospel has sounded in every ear, until every single one of His children has had a chance to feel of the love and mercy Christ has to offer, until each of us chooses for ourselves, our own commitment to His will, and therefore our own level of eternal happiness (hint: the more we subject ourselves to His will the greater our eternal happiness will be). He offers peace and forgiveness, and a hope that all His children -- Israeli or Arab -- will give that same peace and forgiveness to their brethren.

Friday Night Quick Takes

1. Somehow I totally forgot about these adorable cowboy construction worker pictures! We took them yesterday, just after the original ones I posted. I didn't come across them while I was editing photos last night, but when I remembered them this afternoon I just had to share. Enjoy!

Gosh, I love this kid so much. 

2. Sadly, his stutter was so bad during the late morning that he simply refused to talk. For about 30 minutes he wouldn't even open his mouth, other than to say "I I I I I I I I I I I I wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa -- I can't tell it!" I can't tell it is his new phrase. I hear it more than two dozen times a day now. Sigh. This too shall pass. 

3. Nell is so stinkin sweet I could die. She'll just randomly start cleaning up during certain parts of the day. She loves to put things away, not quite as much as she loves to take them out -- but still, I'm quite impressed that she picks up toys (among other things) without being asked. 

4. We had homemade chicken noodle soup for dinner. Not totally from scratch (store bought noodles and stock), but definitely not a short cut version. I make meals that are much, much more complicated, but for some reason I rarely create American classics, so it felt like a triumph. 

5. For weeks I've been wanting to write a post about a spiritual epiphany I've been stewing on for over a month. I don't know why I'm so hesitant to write it all out. In brief, I've realized the story in John 8: 2-11 (always a favorite of mine) isn't just about refraining from judgement, it is about refraining from condemnation. Maybe that isn't so profound to others, but lately it has meant a lot to me. 

6. Earlier this week we had a music themed play date. The kids made their own tambourines and banjos. The two crafts were really easy and sound surprisingly decent. Most the kids there were more interested in playing with our toys than our instruments, but I enjoy theme based play dates. Even if the theme only lasts about 10 to 15 minutes.  

7.  I can't think of a seventh thing, but most my previous quick takes have seven, so I feel like I need seven. Grrr. I love Ben. I love him, I love him, I love him!