I think I have writer's block. I've never had it before, so I can't be sure. The problem is, there is so much loveliness that I can't sort it out into a thesis, main idea, or topic sentences. My sentence structure has been hijacked by happiness!
Forgive the poor writing. Just feel the spirit of God's love, if you will. Pretty sure that's what Moroni requested (Ether 12), and God granted his wish. Perhaps He'll do the same for me.
Creation, Fall, Atonement. The pattern relives itself each day of my life. Everyday becomes a redemptive tale, my very own book of Genesis. Yesterday, for example:
Creation
Sunday. A perfect day, as every day is at first. I wake up at 6:22 am, turn on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and shower. Rush to ward council. Rush back. Study. Microwave leftover butternut squash soup. Go to church. Make copies, talk, counsel, drive. The day continues, and as it progresses, I begin to fall.
Fall
First Fall? Getting snappy with my companion. She's having a bad morning, I can tell. She's not one to self-disclose, but I push for details. Thoughtless of me. Second fall? Under-prepared for ward council. I didn't know they'd want copies of our Family Mission Plans! If only I had planned better! Third fall? My control-freak took over Sisters Best's* project. That was five days ago, actually. But the fall takes life again when a member unknowingly jokes about it. I fell the first time, and I fall again when I feel the fresh guilt of having hurt a friend. I continue to fall all day long.
Atonement
If not for a daily Atonement (yes, even hourly), I would be a wretched creature. The prophet Jacob says that the first judgment that comes upon me "must needs remain to an endless duration" (2Nephi 9:7). So I would be forever fallen: a mean companion, an under-prepared missionary, a controlling friend. But that is not who I am, and it is not who God intends me to be.
The simple gifts of Jesus Christ helped me all day long. I apologized to my companion. I will not push next time. I'll study her needs and desires and pray to know how to communicate better. We ran out of the room and made copies. Next time we'll be better prepared. And Sister Best if forgiving.
I am forever grateful for the eternal gift of Jesus Christ. Because He lives, I will continue to create good things in myself and in the world around me, even when I sometimes fall.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Friday, December 13, 2013
Quarter Centurian
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| Happy birthday to me! "Grandma Stewart", that's me: the oldest sister of the mission! |
Restoration-Twinkie Metaphor
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| My comp Sister Ellis and her amazing Restoration-Twinkie metaphor (read the boxes!!) |
Thanksgiving 2013
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Thirds Cousins
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| Sisters Stewart (distantly related, but we call ourselves cousins...if only we didn't have nearly identical names too, then our mail wouldn't be such a debacle!) |
Monday, December 2, 2013
Thanks-Giving Indeed
Holidays on the mission are lovely. God can't provide what you love most (your family), but He makes up for it in the details.
We received a good-morning text from one of our investigators that read, "Please enjoy today as though you were Joseph Smith on the day the church was restored."
I'm not sure that we accomplished this per say, but we came as close as we could.
Our first dinner appointment was with the Galandra family. She makes potatoes and stuffing just like my mom. And he is a nut about Jewish mysticism. Three hour conversation about the gospel from a Jewish perspective? Yes, please. Their daughter sat on the couch with her nose in a book the entire meal; how very Stewart of her.
Our second dinner appointment - distanced three hours apart from the first, just in time for the stomach to crave gravy again - was a missionary smorgasbord. Twelve missionaries, the mission president and his wife, our office couple, and one very cute family from the ward. Sister Walkenhorst makes apple pie just like my mom. And they seated us with the children! Yessss. For the oldest unmarried grandchild, the kid's table has always been my appointed place. The company was perfect. The five year-old exclaimed over and over about the bits of sausage in the stuffing. The twelve year-old was thrilled to tell the sister missionaries about her upcoming musical. And the grumpy seven year-old kept sneaking food onto his sister's plate. These are the details that make Thanksgiving sweet.
We filled the hours remaining by visiting a widow (forty-five minutes looking at family photos) and singing in the Alzheimer's ward at a local care facility (amazing how they forget their own families and yet remember Christmas songs).
Happy Thanksgiving. Happy Christmas! Happy life, dear friends.
God is the author of all this good.
We received a good-morning text from one of our investigators that read, "Please enjoy today as though you were Joseph Smith on the day the church was restored."
I'm not sure that we accomplished this per say, but we came as close as we could.
Our first dinner appointment was with the Galandra family. She makes potatoes and stuffing just like my mom. And he is a nut about Jewish mysticism. Three hour conversation about the gospel from a Jewish perspective? Yes, please. Their daughter sat on the couch with her nose in a book the entire meal; how very Stewart of her.
Our second dinner appointment - distanced three hours apart from the first, just in time for the stomach to crave gravy again - was a missionary smorgasbord. Twelve missionaries, the mission president and his wife, our office couple, and one very cute family from the ward. Sister Walkenhorst makes apple pie just like my mom. And they seated us with the children! Yessss. For the oldest unmarried grandchild, the kid's table has always been my appointed place. The company was perfect. The five year-old exclaimed over and over about the bits of sausage in the stuffing. The twelve year-old was thrilled to tell the sister missionaries about her upcoming musical. And the grumpy seven year-old kept sneaking food onto his sister's plate. These are the details that make Thanksgiving sweet.
We filled the hours remaining by visiting a widow (forty-five minutes looking at family photos) and singing in the Alzheimer's ward at a local care facility (amazing how they forget their own families and yet remember Christmas songs).
Happy Thanksgiving. Happy Christmas! Happy life, dear friends.
God is the author of all this good.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Jesus Speaks To Women
The General Relief Society Meeting is gentler than the General Priesthood Session, and for good reason. Men and women respond to different styles of repentance invitations.
I can't speak for my gender, but I know myself. I respond to kindness and empathy. I rise according to the excellency of my role model. I don't need to be told that I'm doing poorly. Tell me that I'm doing a job well, and I'll do it better. Sharpness only makes me pitiable and helpless.
Satan knows this.
His words to me are biting. He tells me that I'm falling short of expectations. He tells me that I'm unlovable. He points out everything that I do wrong, until my wrongs overwhelm all of my rights.
The Savior knows better.
When he spoke to women, He appealed to their goodness. He taught them to simplify, and to focus on priorities (Luke 10:38-42). He protected them from judgmental crowds (John 8:1-11). He appreciated their gifts, and He often lodged in their homes and ate food that they prepared.
When his disciples criticized Mary Magdalene's sincere offering, He stepped in as her protector. His words have been ringing in my head all week:
"Let her alone; why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good work on me...She hath done what she could." (Mark 14:3-8)
When I notice myself feeling overwhelmed and inadequate, the Savior steps in to deflect the lies. Satan says, "You're not a good Sister Training Leader. You're not prepared for this lesson. You didn't meet your goals. You don't know how to bless these people."
Jesus says, "Let her alone! Why trouble ye her? She hath done what she could."
My best, no matter how poor by comparison, is always pleasing to the Lord.
I can't speak for my gender, but I know myself. I respond to kindness and empathy. I rise according to the excellency of my role model. I don't need to be told that I'm doing poorly. Tell me that I'm doing a job well, and I'll do it better. Sharpness only makes me pitiable and helpless.
Satan knows this.
His words to me are biting. He tells me that I'm falling short of expectations. He tells me that I'm unlovable. He points out everything that I do wrong, until my wrongs overwhelm all of my rights.
The Savior knows better.
When he spoke to women, He appealed to their goodness. He taught them to simplify, and to focus on priorities (Luke 10:38-42). He protected them from judgmental crowds (John 8:1-11). He appreciated their gifts, and He often lodged in their homes and ate food that they prepared.
When his disciples criticized Mary Magdalene's sincere offering, He stepped in as her protector. His words have been ringing in my head all week:
"Let her alone; why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good work on me...She hath done what she could." (Mark 14:3-8)
When I notice myself feeling overwhelmed and inadequate, the Savior steps in to deflect the lies. Satan says, "You're not a good Sister Training Leader. You're not prepared for this lesson. You didn't meet your goals. You don't know how to bless these people."
Jesus says, "Let her alone! Why trouble ye her? She hath done what she could."
My best, no matter how poor by comparison, is always pleasing to the Lord.
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