The Supposed Inefficiency of Manual Sprinklers

There is a little house in our neighborhood which has been for sale for a very long time. I finally got up the courage to call the realtor to ask if I could "stage" the house to help attract a buyer. He kindly allowed me to do that (sad that I have so much extra furniture in my garage that I actually COULD do that). ANYWAY, as time has gone on, there has been some interest, and even an offer, but nothing the seller could agree to.

Meanwhile, the summer heat has taken a toll on the yard. It completely turned yellow. So, we jumped into action again. Now we are watering by hand every day and mowing the yard, etc. The owner called and was grateful for the help, said he'd pay my boys to do it. Often, however, its been just me out there moving the little sprinkler around the yard during the day.

At first I was trying to set the sprinkler (the kind that produces a "rainbow" of water that rotates from one side to the other) right in the middle of each yellow patch. The yard is smallish and I didn't want to "waste" water by having the "rainbow" arch of water land on any of the cement or the house itself or the gravel driveway, etc.

After many days I have noticed, however, that there are some dry patches that literally can NEVER be reached when I use this method. I have realized that sometimes, I HAVE to run the sprinkler in a place where much of the water lands on cement in order to actually hit certain dry patches. (I realize that if I had a different sprinkler head, this might not be true, but as I don't, this is the case).

It got me thinking about people. Sometimes I think that as parents and friends and extended family members, when we attempt to "love" someone, we try to be "efficient." Meaning, we try to give them what they need without wasting too much of our precious time or energy doing something that we really don't want to do. Perhaps sometimes we feel our efforts are wasted and that our words of love are perhaps falling on "deaf ears" or onto cement.

However, as I have watched these little patches of grass grow, I have realized that "showering" someone with the love and affection THEY need, in the ways and places and times that THEY need it, is perhaps the ONLY way to help certain relationships and love "grow."

We may feel that we are expending too much time or energy (do I really need to SIT DOWN and watch cartoons with my kids?) or that our efforts are misdirected and mostly miss the mark (is it really worth the all the money to go on a family vacation? can't we just stay home and hang out with each other? Does my extended family really care if I show up to their baseball games or piano recitals?), but I am starting to feel that any and all our efforts to love those around us, especially our children, are never wasted, no matter the cost.

In other words, love cannot be inefficient, love cannot be quantified. And next time I'm tempted to opt out of some seemingly silly bonding time, I will remember those little dry patches and just what it takes to reach them.

Closed For Inventory

All moms understand how hard it is to get to the store. You plan around naps and extra curricular activities. As you have more children, you might even plan so that you can go alone, perhaps in the evenings. But then you run the risk of certain stores being closed, etc. There never seems to be a really convenient time to go shopping. And of course, if you finally get out the door at a decent time, someone will need a diaper change or a change of clothes or a snack, etc., etc!

There is one store in particular that I have been meaning to get to for weeks. I pass it often while on the way to my regular shopping destinations. However, this store is full of breakable trinkets so I know I can't bring too many children at once. Finally last week, there was a perfect window of opportunity. The planets were aligned just right! I excitedly pulled up, parked and bounded to the door, only to find this sign: "Closed for Inventory: Jul 5-9." Wow. Really? Does anyone really "close for inventory" anymore? And for a whole week? I was shocked. And frustrated. Do they know how hard it is for me to get to their store?

But then I thought about it. As I slowly made my way back to the van, I realized that the trip had not been totally wasted. I had, in fact, been reminded of a very powerful message. I too need to take time out of my busy, regular schedule to take stock of my life. I imagined me posting a similar sign on my bedroom door. I should be making time, perhaps each day, to really ponder my mission, to determine my priorities, to discover where I lack and where I have an abundance that I can share.

All too often I feel I am "spinning my wheels," forever journeying and never "arriving" at my destination. Of course, being a parent is a constant journey. And truly, there is no destination other than the daily joy as we witness the growing of our children. Still, I have such better days and nights when I have taken some time to commune with my God, to ponder the things of eternal value before getting back on the race track.

This sign, "Closed for Inventory," has become an important reminder and an invitation to me to MAKE time (it won't happen otherwise!) to search, ponder and pray each day. And maybe every once in awhile, to spend even more time ( a week?) really deeply searching and assessing.

Hopefully, my family will be happier and better off as I really try to create this balance in my life.

Take Time to Be Holy

Take time to be holy, speak oft with thy Lord;

Abide in Him always, and feed on His Word.

Make friends of God’s children, help those who are weak,

Forgetting in nothing His blessing to seek.

Take time to be holy, the world rushes on;

Spend much time in secret, with Jesus alone.

By looking to Jesus, like Him thou shalt be;

Thy friends in thy conduct His likeness shall see.

Take time to be holy, let Him be thy Guide;

And run not before Him, whatever betide.

In joy or in sorrow, still follow the Lord,

And, looking to Jesus, still trust in His Word.

Take time to be holy, be calm in thy soul,

Each thought and each motive beneath His control.

Thus led by His Spirit to fountains of love,

Thou soon shalt be fitted for service above.

(by William D. Longstaff)

Flowers

I have a black thumb. Anything I plant dies. Luckily my husband takes charge of the garden each year.

Still, I have a love of vibrant flowers. I enjoy having pots of flowers in spring and summer, but I have to keep replacing them because I keep killing them. I just don't seem to comprehend the delicate balance of water, sun and fertilizer needed to keep them alive.

This is not due to lack of attention. I check on them several times each day. In fact, I think I might be over watering and over feeding them. Basically, I hover, paranoid that they will die right before my eyes if I don't DO SOMETHING.

As the years have gone by I have learned a thing or two. Now the flowers last at least a week before dying. This is what I have learned: Don't water or feed too much! Basically, "don't hover." It seems they grow and flourish on their own most of the time. They don't need a lot of anxious attention from well-meaning me.

So, you can guess my metaphor. I have also come to know that children are like flowers. To flourish and grow, they need the right balance of water, food, sleep and sunshine. They need parents. But, they also need to be left alone to make their own decisions. They need to find their own light. They need to struggle and roam and find their own water and nourishment. Whenever I "hover" they shrink and become petty, angry, selfish, bored. Basically, they die.

This is why, whenever I leave the children in my husband's care, they have a marvelous time. He does his thing and isn't too worried as long as there is no blood on the carpet. They learn and grow and "duke it out" as they find their own way. Whenever I return from a long absence, everyone is perfectly calm and happy.

So, as I struggle each year to keep my flowers alive, I realize how very much my garden of children need me to love them, but also at times, leave them to their own experience.

"A gardener is what I am,

a simple and honest man,

I reap and sow,

I make things grow,

and do the best I can."

-the Gardner (Christ) from "The Garden" by Michael McLean

Child of God

Eighteen years ago my husband and I drove our dusty, old car to pick up my mother-in-law from the airport. Her visit was not unusual, though they lived 1500 miles away, as my father-in-law is a pilot and they enjoy flying privileges.

This trip, however, was special indeed. This time she carried a most precious bundle: a beautiful baby boy. She was bringing him to be placed with his new adoptive family. The LDS family services building was on the way home. We soon stopped and entered the building. There we came to the room where an anxious family waited. Our eyes met theirs and we all began to weep. It was one of those sacred moments where words fail.

The father, a musician, gently accepted the boy into his arms. He gazed deeply into the child's eyes, then began to sing a song he had written for the occasion. This wonderful family had girls of their own, but now added their first boy. His was a tender lullaby expressing heartfelt joy.

What made it all the more meaningful for me was the fact that a few months earlier I had been visiting my parents-in-law and had met the sweet birth mother of this child. She was staying there in their home where many others had likewise been sheltered and loved. This young mother and I shared conversations about the gospel, our lives, how we were different, how we were the same. She was a very deep thinker with the most brilliant smile. I instantly loved her. Some unhappy experiences had led to her situation, but she had made brave, wise and loving decisions, including a plan for adoption. It was a privilege to meet her and I knew I'd never forget her grace and deep soul.

Over the years, I was able to keep in touch with her since she had formed such a close relationship with my husband's parents. They considered her a daughter, so we often saw pictures and letters from her.

In time she married a wonderful man in the temple and had a beautiful family.

Years went by. My husband and I lived away for a long time. When we finally moved back west, we ironically ended up in the neighborhood where this young man and his wonderful family now live. Hence, I have been able to see him grow up and become a most amazing individual.

Not only does he act and sing and dance (and has been featured in a church wide video production), but he was also elected Student Body President of his high school, and was voted Homecoming King by his peers. He is humble, loving, and inclusive; an extraordinary person.

Each time I see him, on stage or in the community, I see his unconquerable smile. That same brilliant smile. I think of his birth mom and wonder if she knows, somewhere in her heart, how amazing he has become. She had faithfully placed him with another family in a happy, supportive community where he grew and achieved and shared the great love he was given.

Why do I tell this story? Because this week, he is graduating from high school. He is officially "welcoming" the audience to the graduation. And so, through third parties and letters, he has invited his birth mother to come meet him, and to attend. His unbelievably fantastic family encourages his decision.

I have a son just about his age and have been at the high school often for many occasions. Also, since we live near his family we see them many times a week around town. It has been interesting over the years to visit the birth mom, or to see pictures of her and her family, and then, sometimes even the next day, to see this young man (though they live states apart). I have had a unique perspective, following both of their lives and knowing the connection, but not being able to share information or feelings.

I have thought how he must often have wondered who she is, what she looks like, what her life is like and so on. He has maybe wondered, "Who am I? Where did I come from?" I live so close to him and I know the answers to many of these questions, yet have not be able to tell him. He has had to live by faith, seeking his Heavenly Father's comfort and guidance.

Now the time has come for them to meet. It will take place in the home of my husband's parents this week. Now his faith will be realized. He will be able to see, embrace and talk to her himself!

As I thought about this happy meeting, I imagined my relationship with my Heavenly Father. I can't see Him or receive any tangible communication at this time, yet, I know He is real. I know that ever since I left His presence, He has had my best interests at heart. I'm sure He has worried about me far away on Earth. I'm sure He has wanted to swoop down and intervene and show Himself to me, especially in my darkest times. I'm sure He has wished to show me exactly who I really am. Yet, this is not been allowed now. Instead, I have had to walk by faith.

Luckily I was placed in a wonderful "adoptive" family who loves me and reared me in righteousness.

I wonder, however, how it will feel to someday look my Heavenly Parents in the eye, to embrace them and know without a doubt who I am and from whence I came. It will be such a stirring moment to finally realize my faith that truly "I am A child of God."

I Am A Child of God,

And He has sent me here,

Has given me an earthly home,

with parents kind and dear,

Lead Me, Guide Me,

Walk beside me,

Help me find the way,

Teach me all that I must do,

to live with Him someday

P.S. I got to escort this young man to my in-laws house for his special reunion with his birth mom. That too was a treat for all of us. It was natural and beautiful. We all felt the full circle of life. They spent hours catching up while I spent time with my parent's-in-law, but I could hear lots of joy and laughter from the other room! Truly God is good, and Faith proceeds the miracle.

Nineteen

Today is a special day. Nineteen years ago today my husband and I knelt across an altar and pledged an eternal commitment: to each other, and to God. How old was I? Nineteen! So that's the number of the day!

Although imperfect, it has been a journey of joy. I can say without reservation that marrying John, even at the age of nineteen (almost 20!), was truly the best decision and the foundation of my life. He is the happiest part of my world, the light and love of my life. Of all people on earth, it is he that most reminds me of our Savior. When he embraces me, I feel embraced by the love of the Lord. And, by this time next year, I will have been married for longer than I was single. Truly our lives have intertwined. We are one.

To commemorate this special day, and Mother's Day soon coming up, I will share a talk that I gave in Stake Conference last December. It tells a bit about my journey into marriage and motherhood. I hope one thing will be clear: my testimony is that no marriage is perfect, no parents are perfect, no children are perfect, hence no family is perfect. However, we are all "perfected" in Christ. As we are repenting every day and trying our level best to prioritize Him through service in our families and otherwise, we are perfected daily through the Atonement.

When John and I were first married, 19 years ago, we didn't yet know how to communicate well. We had only known each other 5 months the day we were married! We didn't have all the answers, but we had the gospel of Jesus Christ. Coupled with our covenant to stay together, come what may, we have forged an eternal bond forged in a refiner's fire. If we can come this far, I honestly believe that any marriage can. As has been said, Christ is the great "healer." When He lays His hands on something, it lives. When He lays His hands on a marriage, it lives.

I want to publicly thank my tireless husband for being so Christ-like in all his dealings with me. He is a perfect gentleman as he endures my . He is slowly helping me become "more perfected" in Christ as he sets an example of temperance, kindness, respect and mercy.

For my part, I have never given up. Even when times have seemed bleak, I drew a line and never crossed it. This complete fidelity of heart, mind, body and conversation has allowed me to focus on the positive and realize the potential in both of us, separately, but most of all, together. My sister has a plaque in her house that sums this up. It states, "Choose thy love, Love thy choice."

I am confident that the next 19 years will bring more challenges. As our children mature and make life altering decisions, we are bound to experience deeper levels of sorrow and joy. Still, through it all, I have faith that with John at my side and Jesus as our guide, we can weather the storm and build a home wherein love may dwell. Happy Anniversary sweetheart!

The Joy of Motherhood

Stacey Thompson

Sharon Stake Conference December 5, 2009

And Eve, his wife, heard all these things and was glad, saying: Were it not for our

transgression we never should have had seed, and never should have known good and

evil, and the joy of our redemption, and the eternal life which God giveth unto all the

obedient. (Moses 5:11)

Brothers and Sisters, today I will speak on the Joy of Motherhood.

I was born the oldest of 10 children and consequently began changing diapers while

some of my peers were still wearing them. After a chaotic childhood, I looked forward to the solace and self awareness that college life could bring. Therefore I was not prepared to meet my eternal companion at the tender age of 19. I had dreamt of

serving a mission for as long as I could remember. Getting married would forever take away my chance to serve as a young, single sister. This thought caused a hole in my soul.

When we knew our relationship was serious, I asked my future husband if he would wait for me to return from a mission. With integrity that he has carried throughout our marriage he said, "the prophet told me to come home from my mission and not delay getting married. I will be anxiously engaged in finding a wife while you are gone, should you choose to go. However, if I am still single when you come back I will gladly marry you the day you arrive home." I didn't like my odds. Although I questioned the timing, the Holy Ghost whispered just enough to let me know my path. I knew I'd never met a finer, more Christ-like man, and I knew he loved the Lord more than he loved me. I also knew he'd be married to some other lucky girl if I put off our marriage for 2-3 years.

Thus I experienced my first sacrifice for the sake of motherhood. I chose eternal marriage and put behind me forever the mission dream. Years later, with four little babies, I recalled that decision and experienced again the pangs of sadness. I had felt so close to my potential investigators! Like they were waiting for me to come. But my husband taught me, "cheer up! You already have four converts!" He was of course referring to our children. I had never thought of that before. It was years before I realized that my most important convert was myself. Brothers and Sisters, I am a convert to the Joy of Motherhood.

I admit that growing up I was not much interested in domestic things. I loved school and devoured any chance to learn. I took summer school for several years just for the fun of it. I also loved music and acting. Bro. Jerry Elison, now of the 8th ward, and othersgave me opportunities to live out my theatrical dreams. I also learned choral conducting by watching Margaret Brown and Preston Woolf in the 3rd ward. Through sacred music I found great joy and peace. I also took many dance classes. I was an English major and I also fiddled in the folk band. These were righteous endeavors and I excelled. Guess what I didn't know how to do? Cook, clean, organize, bottle food, manage, make decisions, budget, beautify, or discipline children. I was terrified to start our own family. All I could remember from eighteen years at home was a blur. The endless monotony of changing babies, piles of laundry, vats of food, always feeling too cold, or too sweaty, never enough room on the couch, never enough time alone in the bathroom, and the constant fatigue of waking in the night to newborns' cries. Nope it didn't sound too appealing. I wanted some vacation from the "Joy of Motherhood."

Now my lack of homemaking skills was not my parent's fault. They made us work very hard and I'm sure they assumed that all of it was "sticking" in my brain, but mostly I was part of an assembly line at home. There was always another person

helping with this and that such that I did one part, but not the whole. We did have daily early morning scripture study without fail, family dinner every night, kneeling family prayer twice a day, and FHE faithfully. Still, being the oldest, I experienced mostly the fertilizer of these experiences and not much of the fruit (which came years later). I am ashamed to say that I did not begin to value these experiences or the habits they instilled in me until many years into my own parenting journey. My noble parents were tireless in their efforts to raise 10 righteous children. I never imagined how their example would influence my life and subconciously shape my decisions. Their sacrifice is beyond compare and the pattern of their lives is the lamp that now lights my feet. Because of them I can have faith and hope on a daily basis that, as Pres. Hinckley was fond of saying, "everything will turn out alright." Because I have witnessed first hand how my siblings grew out of their childish ways and became marvelous people, I have hope. I could not thank them enough for the greatest gift they have given me, namely my siblings, each one a cherished friend, confidante and counselor.

But as a naive almost 20 year old, my youngest sister, now on a mission, was but three years old. She repeatedly jumped down the stairs at our elegant wedding reception and apparently destroyed some antique candles by biting them. My conversion to the "joy of motherhood" was a long way off.

But my sweet companion shared his vision of how it could be. He was the second of two, four years apart, and the only son. His longing for more siblings matched that of his parent's for more children, but it was not to be. Instead he was left with a yearning and a feeling that there were in fact many spirits waiting to come to his home. AHH!!!!! Out of the frying pan and into the fire! Gently, but with conviction, he shared his testimony of family and parenthood. He share the following with me: "After marriage,young wives should be occupied in bearing and rearing children. I know of no scriptures or authorities which authorize young wives to delay their families or to go to work to put their husbands through college. Young married couples can make their way and reach their educational heights, if they are determined." (Kimball, 328) It took me eight years to finish my undergraduate degree. I had three children and was expecting the fourth when I finally finished my undergraduate degree. I testify that this promise is true! My husband is still going to school. He hopes to finish his PhD later this year. It's only been 18 years.

At many times in our marriage I thought that I would be better off in the work place. I was so much better suited for it. I knew I could make a nice income. Maybe he could stay home and be mister mom. There were many ideas, but we continued to follow prophetic counsel: "Come home, wives, to your children, born and unborn. Wrap the motherly cloak about you and, unembarrassed, help in a major role to create bodies for the immortal souls who await." (Kimball, 327). Elder Scott says this: "Of course, as a woman you can do exceptionally well in the workplace, but is that the best use of your divinely appointed talents and feminine traits? As a husband, don’t encourage your wife to go to work to help in your divinely appointed responsibility of providing resources for the family, if you can possibly avoid it. As the prophets have counseled, to the extent possible with the help of the Lord, as parents, work together to keep Mother in the home. Your presence there will strengthen the self-confidence of your children and decrease the chance of emotional challenges. Moreover, as you teach truth by word and example, those children will come to understand who they are and what they can obtain as divine children of Father in Heaven." (1994) Still I worried about our meager income and remembered hardships when I was young. I wanted better things for my children, but then I read this: "Of course, it will be harder to get your college degrees or your financial starts with a family, but strength like yours will be undaunted in the face of difficult obstacles. Have your family as the Lord intended. Of course it is expensive, but you will find a way, and besides, it is often those children who grow up with responsibility and hardships who carry on the world's work." (Kimball, 324).

We tried to do what we could to make it when times were tight. At one point we actually moved into a one bedroom apartment with three little kids. We had a marvelous time. We were in the first ward then. We loved it! The children slept in the one bedroom and my husband and I slept on an

old, uncomfortable pull-out couch in the front room. We lived there for a year.

We just did whatever we had to do to make it work for me to stay home. I have learned much from this. We know that sacrifice is what produces faith. “A religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has power proficient to produce the faith necessary unto life and salvation; for, from the first existence of man, the faith necessary unto the enjoyment of life and salvation never could be obtained without the sacrifice of all earthly things. It was through this sacrifice, and this only, that God has ordained that men should enjoy eternal life.” Joseph Smith, Lectures on Faith #6 . I can testify that as we have constantly tried to obey this counsel, we have been blessed beyond reason financially. Also, our children have grown up working hard. They amaze us with their goodness and strength.

"Yes, men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace. Whoever will lose his life in the service of God will find eternal life." (Ezra Taft Benson)

Is it hard? Yes, but I have learned that with the Lord, I can do hard things.

And I believe that it is joyous precisely because it is so hard. I have learned to embrace the sorrow because I know it is bringing great things, great joy. We can only know joy because we know sorrow.

Over the years, my skills have improved and I have had many moments of great joy with my precious family. I actually love to cook now and it is a joy to me to have my children join me. I love to hear, "Wow, how'd you get to be such a good cook mom? When I get married, I'm going to make this stew for my husband!" I love how my girls talk to me about boys.

And I also love my boys. When they were younger, we knew that family home evening was working because one day, while we were living in Philadelphia, the neighbor boy came over. When he began to be unkind to my little daughter, her four year old "big" brother came to the rescue. He immediately pounced on the boy and started choking him and said, "you have to be like Jesus!"

There has been humor and the tears over the years, I want you to know that whatever I didn't know how to do the Spirit taught me how to do. (As we lived away from family for many years in both California and Philadelphia). I could share countless stories and scriptures that have shaped my life and guided my efforts as a mother, but we just don't have time here today. I will say that I learned to "feast upon the words of Christ, for the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do." (2 Nephi 32:3)

One very sacred experience I would like to share came when we were living in Philadelphia. My husband was the bishop of a very busy ward. This was aninner city ward with 26 different nationalities represented. He was also working full time and going to school full time. We had six children under seven at the time, including one year old twins. I had been teaching seminary in the ward and was also doing cub scouts and the primary music.

I was due with the seventh child in just a few weeks and I had been home schooling the oldest three children. I was very worried about the new baby coming because I just didn't think I could handle a newborn and the other six as well as home school at the same time. However, I was very frightened by the "environment" at the public schools. I was worried about the language they might hear or other worse things they could be exposed to. This problem weighed heavily on my mind one evening just after Christmas. My husband had taken the children for a drive while I was trying to carefully put away the Christmas ornaments. I was listening to Handel's Messiah while doing this. Suddenly I felt a prompting, "turn the music off." I thought, "It's the Messiah, why should I turn off the music?" I kept working, but then I felt it again, "Turn the music off, I want to talk to you." This time I obeyed.

I turned off the music and went to a secluded room. I knelt down said, "I am here Lord.'' Nothing happened. I began to pour out my heart concerning the school situation. I expressed my fears for my children and my dilema about the new baby. I told the Lord that I wanted to protect my children. How could I send them to school if I couldn't be there with them at all times to watch over them? The answer was quick and clear. He said, "They were mine before they were yours. You will not be with them at all times, but I will be." I knew then that they needed to go back to school. I knew that no matter what they would experience there, it would be for their own good. I also knew that the heavy burden of parenting was lifted off my shoulders that night. I learned that I was not alone in this task. I was yoked with Him. He would always be there and He would swoop down and intervene as needed for my children just as he had done for me at critical moments in my life. I realized that in a very literal way, He was their Father. It took a great deal of trust, but I knew in whom I trusted.

I sent them back to school, the spirit returned to our home in greater abundance as I was better able to focus on eternal things and creating the environment at home with better balance.

All throughout our marriage, the Spirit has been my tutor. Now the joys are

overflowing. I wish I could share more, but the time is gone. I am very grateful for this assignment. I am very grateful for Sharon Stake. I love you all. I love my Savior, my exemplar, Jesus Christ. I say these things in His name, Amen.

*As a side note: The whole reason I started this blog was because I had such a divine experience preparing for this talk. In the end I realized that many mothers and even I do not realize that the greatest joy possible on earth comes through our marriages and our children. We hear that, but it does not always penetrate to our hearts. After researching and working on this talk for weeks, I was given an undeniable witness of the joy and magnitude associated with the sacred role of Mother. I want to share this message of joy, hope and faith to as many women/mothers as I can in the whole world. I hope you'll help me share the joy! Thanks so much for reading.

Tender Mercies

Nothing really profound to say today, but I just wanted to share some recent "tender mercies."

We've been trying hard to "live within our means," so we've been carefully tracking our budget. Last week we ran out of gas, milk and just about everything edible in the house a couple days before pay day. To make things stretch, we walked to more places and we ate weird food storage-y items. We scrounged for change in the couch, etc. to find seven dollars to put gas in the van for the last day.

We were down to the last 2 diapers. I ransacked the car, all diaper bags, my purse, etc. but turned up nothing. With one more day to go, I was wondering if I should go door to door asking for diaper donations. That night we put the last two diapers on the two babies for bed. It was late, like 9:00 and we were ready for family prayer. Suddenly there came a knock at the door.

It was the ward clerk! For some odd reason he came over at that hour to bring us a reimbursement check for some Scout stuff my husband had bought. Weird. Usually they would just want until Sunday to give that to us. The check was for over $100. As we knelt for family prayer, I told the children that it was a miracle. The Lord had seen our obedience, our sacrifice. Although we weren't going to make it another day with no money, He saw our need and swooped in to fill the gaps. What a tender mercy!

Despite the lateness of the hour, John looked at me and said, "go get milk and diapers and put gas in the car!" I did so happily, grateful for the love I felt and for the lesson we all had learned.

Similarly, I recently started worrying that I needed to be signing our soon -to- be four year old up for preschool somewhere. He is very intelligent. He already knows most of his letters and I can see that he needs the extra challenge. However, as I researched, I discovered that such a thing would not be in our budget.

The very next day I got a strange call. My other children's elementary school called and said that a certain woman (the mother of another child there) wanted to speak to me and left her number with the school (since we had recently moved and switched phone numbers, she didn't know how else to reach me). Although I know this woman well and admire her, I have never spent much time with her, other than casual conversations at school functions. I was curious to know why she wanted to speak with me.

I called her back, but left a message. She called me, but I couldn't talk just then. As a busy mother herself, the two of us played phone tag for days. Finally I saw her at a school event. I apologized for not getting through to her, but she said it was fine and then explained her reason for calling me.

This sweet woman has a large family too. Last year, the unthinkable occurred. Her bright-eyed, toe-headed toddler, about four at the time, had been accidentally run over and killed by an extended family member in their own driveway.

Of course the whole family was devastated. But they were also enfolded in the arms of the Savior's love as they bravely soldiered on. As part of the healing process for them, they decided to generously set up a "scholarship" at the preschool their son had attended and loved. She was calling to offer that scholarship to me.

I was flabbergasted to say the least. I hadn't told anyone that I was investigating preschools, not even my husband. Furthermore, since we had moved, I had not been around the elementary school much and had not seen this woman for months! Why she thought of me I'll never know. But she explained that she had awakened in the night on more than one occasion with my name coming to her. I humbly and gratefully accepted her unbelievable offer.

I don't always understand the Lord's will or His timing, but I do know that He keeps His promises. And for us, at this time as we struggle to raise nine children on a budget, we know that He has truly multiplied our meager efforts and showered us with tender mercies.

I, the Lord, am ^abound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no ^bpromise.

D&C 82:10

Bring ye all the ^atithes into the storehouse, that there may be ^bmeat in mine house, and ^cprove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not ^dopen you the ^ewindows of heaven, and pour you out a ^fblessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.

Malachi 3:10

Lost and Found

I am not a jewelry person. I can't even wear my wedding ring at night. Having grown up a tom boy, it just feels foreign to put on rings, earrings or especially necklaces.

My sweet husband, however, comes from a family of jewelry wearing women: they are Southern, they are beautiful, and they accessorize brilliantly. Consequently, I really tried for a few years, but just couldn't get the hang of it.

On one occasion, my sweetheart bought me a beautiful pearl ring (pearls are the one gem I do love). Still, the three different "golds" and the leaf design just didn't seem quite like "me." You can imagine his dismay at my complete feminine dysfunction.

Finally, after years of frustrating gift giving attempts, my patient husband lovingly presented to me the most perfect piece of sterling silver, ever. It was an anniversary gift, purchased on the streets of Philadelphia during a day trip of sight-seeing with our out-of-town family. I had stayed behind with my nursing newborn, allowing John the freedom to shop all day without me (with the added benefit of my sister's discerning eye!)

I still remember exactly where we were, out on the back porch of our 1905 Dutch Colonial there on Shadeland Ave. in Drexel Hill, when he pulled it out of his pocket. The night was perfect. Clear, balmy. The stars were twinkling. The children were in bed. All was calm. Our extended family happily chatting inside. He held a black velvet pouch. I started to panic. My thoughts were: "Oh no! not jewelry! What will I say? How will I respond? Can I fake it? Will I hurt his feelings?" But then, I saw it.

The most perfect ring every crafted; for me, that is. A simple sterling silver masterpiece. It actually consisted of three rings: One larger in the middle, two smaller bands above and below. And best of all, they were held together with another small band going vertically in the back (making them comfortable and keeping the three bands together as one). I couldn't believe it. I think I cried. I couldn't hug him enough. It was so thoughtful, so loving AND so perfect all at once.

It sounds silly I guess, to be so happy about a piece of jewelry; something so flat and empty. But to me, it symbolized a love so kind, so pure, so patient and long-suffering. A love that had endured countless rejections, yet kept trying to find that perfect little something. And now he had found it. Wow, what a guy.

As you might imagine, I am simple when it comes to clothes also. I have a few "staples" and I wear these items over and over again. Well, this perfect ring became my jewelry staple. It was so comfortable, I wore it every day, sometimes I even slept with it on!! It went with everything. I could dress it up or down. But I always knew that no matter what I was wearing, no matter what my mood, it would always just "fit."

As I pondered this, I realized how this circular little ring symbolized our marriage. Our temple ceremony had been simple, chaste, eternal. We are not a flashy "power" couple, but we are sturdy, comfortable, and bound together forever as one. Since I wore the ring so often, people assumed it was my wedding ring; and I guess for all intents and purposes, it was.

Seven years later we moved to Utah. We lived with John's wonderful parents for six months while waiting for our new home to be built.

We were excited about our new house, but were nervous about the price tag. We had spent years getting totally out of debt, except for a modest mortgage. Going to a bigger, new home would put us back into a hefty debt situation. It seemed worth it, but we couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it just wasn't right.

We decided to move in anyway. We loved the neighbors, the location, the 3 laundries, the 7 bathrooms, the mud room, the stage, the 3 car garage, the view and so on. There was nothing NOT to love. It was perfect! except for one thing.

Slowly, our once idyllic marriage began to change. There was a lot more stress. Little disagreements about paint color, tile, how much to spend on the yard, etc. crept into our conversations. The stress could be felt more and more, even by the children.

About this time, something else happened. Since I often remove earrings wherever I sit to read and always set rings on the kitchen window sill to wash dishes, I often lose track of them. This practice isn't too dangerous because most of my "jewelry" is from Walmart and I don't mind losing it for a few days now and then. However, the one perfect ring was different. I always kept track of that. I made a distinct effort to make sure I knew where it was at all times, even when I took it off.

Over time, however, I became so completely overwhelmed with maintaining our huge home and huge family that I did lose track of that ring. One day when I wanted it, it just couldn't be found in any of my usual spots. At first I didn't really panic because I assumed that it would just show up in the normal course of life, but after four years of looking, I had to concede that it truly must be lost.

I tired not to reveal my feelings. I wanted to hide how profoundly sad I was, how responsible I felt for the loss. I didn't want my husband to even know I'd lost such a special thing. When he finally found out, I tried to downplay the loss and told him I'd replace it. I hunted all over to find one like it. I was sure they had been mass produced and were probably everywhere, but I was wrong. I couldn't find anything like it at all. Not in Utah, not anywhere else we traveled either, not even back East.

In desperation, I went to a popular silver store in the mall. I found three separate rings which somewhat resembled the one, but I had to wear them all together and they were not all uniform sizes. This was uncomfortable and annoying. Often one would just fall right off my finger. I could never keep them altogether when not being worn. I had to go searching every time I wanted to wear them. In the end, my baby took one off during church and flung it. Weeks of looking turned up nothing.

Again the metaphor was clear. I had allowed our marriage, once simple and "just right" to become "lost." It had become a victim of our new and improved lifestyle. Where was the love? The long-suffering? The benefit of the doubt? It was lost, somewhere in the never-ending piles of sample paint cards from Home Depot.

Although we were "happy" and getting by, the deeper joy and peace that comes from truly "living within your means" was missing from our life.

Something had to change, we both knew it. We felt compelled to get out of debt as quickly as possible. We knew this meant selling our dream home (during a recession!) and finding a simpler place to live where we could afford some real joy.

It was not an easy or fast process. It took over a year to find buyers and another suitable place to live. However, with the Lord's help, we were able to do both after much difficulty and sacrifice.

We moved into our "new" home seven months ago. It has been an adjustment to go back to fewer bathrooms and only one laundry, but a happy adjustment. What we have lost is nothing compared to what we have found. The peace, love, and mutual respect has returned to our lives. The crazy "busy-ness" has tempered. The stress has all but melted away. And although we miss our sweet neighborhood friends terribly, still, we have greater peace.

We live in closer quarters now, but rejoice to do so. I can hear my teenage girls giggling just down the hall (ALL NIGHT LONG!). Our single story family room is "just right" for cozy snuggling in front of the real wood burning fireplace. Our mature yard is a jungle for toddler explorers and mud pie makers. Our shrunken square footage has required me to purge much of our over-sized furniture, leaving only the most essential pieces.

And our marriage? Wow. It's just like the old days, only better. Not only do we share love and peace again, but we appreciate it too. We know what was lost, and has been found.

The other day, I was cleaning out some dresser drawers that hadn't been packed up for our move. They had been taken from one house to the next with all the contents completely intact. I discovered many outdated clothing items and was making quite a pile for DI when I came across a small box. Hmm. I'd never seen it before, it looked like trash. I impulsively began to to toss it toward the garbage. But suddenly, I hesitated. What if there were something inside? I decided to check. As I opened the smashed little box, tears sprang to my eyes. There it was, the perfect ring. I couldn't believe it. It had been with me all the time, perhaps squirreled away by a child at play. All the sad, hard years, it had been with me, just hidden away, buried deep inside; waiting to be found again, when I was less preoccupied and ready to appreciate it's sturdy, simple, eternal beauty once again.

I kneeled down in thanks and poured out my simple prayer to God. I thanked Him for giving us the experience of feeling lost, of allowing us to be found, of healing our hearts, healing our family. But mostly I thanked Him for teaching me so profoundly that He, like my perfect ring, has really been with us all the time. When I was ready to turn my life back over to Him, I "found" Him ready and waiting.

And the ring? I wear it almost everyday. The perfect reminder of my perfect husband and my perfect Father in Heaven who's perfect love has found me once again.

Luke 15: 8-10

8 ¶ Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one ^apiece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?

9 And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost.

10 Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the ^aangels of God over one ^bsinner that repenteth.