Meeting In The Living Room of Memories

I opened my off-white bedroom door, hearing the familiar creak that would accompany it only after it was two thirds of the way open. I walked down the hallway, avoiding the parts of the floor that seemed to cry in anguish when stepped on, towards my family room, which had light protruding from it. The hustle and bustle of life was overwhelmingly loud: kids were running and screaming everywhere, playing tag or driving pretend cars through the adults' legs, my brothers talked about work and their recent endeavors sporadically while listening to the game that was on the television, and the women in our family spoke of what women talk about, their topics of conversation never on one consistent track.

The couches in my family room weren't big enough to hold everyone, so the men had slid the rolling chairs from the kitchen to the edge of where the dining room hardwood met the family room carpet so they could be a part of the conversation that would soon begin. The setup was almost like every other family gathering: Christmas, except the people are split up into their own families, facing the Christmas tree in front of the window, and kids sitting impatiently on the floor waiting for their toys to be opened before they can go play. Birthday parties, where everyone sits randomly and the birthday girl/boy sits with almost a whole couch to themselves to make room for their presents. New Years, except with our family more centered around the table and the food, rather than the usual carpeted gathering place.

So many memories decorate the smells and the laughter of the room constantly occupied with people: Announcements that someone is pregnant, the laughter and competitive spirits created by the new Wii placed in front of the living room, the music that our family seems to somehow be centered on from fun nights of karaoke and dance parties, the center of blanket forts and cardboard box towns, a home theater filled with reclining chairs and popcorn, and even a counseling office. My family has seen it all and have been strengthened by the activities that our family room has held.

It was unusual to have every single family member present at that same time. Every special occasion seems to always have someone missing; whether for work or travels or something unexpected. But this occasion had everyone there, laughing and enjoying the stories; memories made together. Everyone was there because this occasion was different.

There, in the middle of all the craziness, were my parents, holding hands, distant, but still smiling at the recalled memories. This was odd for my mom to be sitting in a house full of people, normally she'd be up making food of some sort, or getting her grandkids drinks. But not this time, she just sat next to my dad, tears and fears showing themselves in her wise and understanding brown eyes. Trials and adversity polka-dotted their marriage and the love that they had made at such a young age. They faced each trial together, as a team, and never let the other fall. The next one would be no excuse to their unity.

I sat down on the floor, my back leaning against the piano bench that faces the east wall. The immense amount of emotions in me conflicted in every way, making me feel hollow. One thing I knew for sure: I was grateful for my family, and I loved them. I knew that what the near future held for us was going to bring our family even closer together. We would need each other to lean on.

Sitting there, observing my family, I thought of 3 Nephi 7:4 "Now behold, there was no man among them save he had much family and many kindreds and friends; therefore their tribes became exceedingly great." Not only did we have a lot of family in that room, but because we had a family, we were "exceedingly great." My family is not perfect. We are not the typical American Dream family. But we still have something precious and of great worth just being part of a family. My family is the biggest support I have. They lift me up. They have helped me grow into the person I am today. They are priceless and of exceedingly great importance to me.

My family, the one that has bonded over years of meeting in that family room, came together again that night with a different fear than any of us had felt before. We had all fasted that day - even the family member who had separated himself from religion - for my mom. The kids had finally all come to a stop at the foot of the couches, sensing the somberness, as we sat in silence for a few moments. Tears flowed easily from even the strongest of eyes. And then, in the middle of the living room that cemented our memories together, as one exceedingly great and giant family, we knelt in prayer for my mom, who was going in to surgery to have her breast cancer removed the following day.

The family pictures that were taken before my mom's surgery.

Doubt Not, Fear Not

Wrestling the Future

I lie awake in my bed wrestling within my own thoughts about the future direction I must go. My current responsibility is to teach the Gospel of Jesus Christ to those whom I have been called to serve. But what about that day when I wake up and am forbidden to put the tag on again? I need a plan, I must be prepared. So there I lay, pondering anxiously about which runway that will give my life flight.

Do I return to the school that had given me so much confidence in myself. Providing personal opportunities that never would have been imagined at another institution. Or do I take into consideration that with the age change of missionaries perhaps the other school has less attendance allowing a greater opportunity to get accepted. What about my friends at my first school who I have known since young ages. I need them still don’t I? Their support is more then they will even know. To transfer schools is more than just an educational adjustment. Its life changing in every sense.

The struggle is real, reasons to stay are valid, the reasons to transfer are worthy. My heart is torn between the future opportunities at the new school are there, the safe and known opportunities at the first school are there and will be there should I choose to return. As I fought back and forth that particular night, the answer came soft and quickly. I was to at the very least apply to the new school and the feeling was clear that I would be accepted. 

I was honestly appalled. I didn’t really want that answer. For the last 16 months of my life I had been teaching exhorting and inviting people to follow the promptings of the spirit. Now it was time to live what I was teaching. Act upon the impression and walk with faith. The inner struggle almost instantly ceased to be a worthy struggle if I would only trust the spirit. It still requires faith, but its easier to set aside the “what ifs” and just move forward with faith. 

Doubt Not, Fear Not

High School can try a young wavering heart. Its a time when youth are either grasped tightly to the teaching of the Gospel or holding on loosely to the coat tails of a peer. They may come to seminary just so mom and dad will hand them the keys, they will come so that they can enjoy their friday night. Occasionally the lesson may prick their heart, but they will fight it and sit there forcing themselves to fight the spirit and what its teaching them. 

It was a privilege to be on the council that would be responsible to find a scripture that would be used as our year theme. Something that would help students feel the love of their Father in heaven and his confidence in them. Prayerfully we as a council came to the conclusion of Doctrine and Covenants 6:36 “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not fear not.” 

It was our hope that this scripture could help those that were only there come to a greater knowledge of God. That it would help those students that already were engaged find faith and hope in the things they still doubted. This verse did just that. Little did we know the role it would play for those in the council. One lost his brother and the other her mother during our senior year. They were able to lead by living this verse and clinging to its doctrine. Other students admired that and together as seminary students we grew in our faith and trust of the Savior that year.

Wild Study

The clock almost seems to be screaming 8:00am. Its december and the heater is failing to do its job. My cold clammy hands are hurrying to handle the neck tie. My feet frantically search for my slippers and as i race down the stairs my hands steal the blanket from the bed. Once at my desk i fall to my knees. My mind is at home, back in high school, does that girl still care about me? Multiple off topic things dance across my minds stage. I try to gather my thoughts to my purpose in being on my knees. That is to find through all the heavy wave lengths going on my Heavenly Father. Asking him for help and guidance as I am about to embark yet again on  trek. 

Its a trek with an unkept trail, without a finish line, it could have many beautiful land marks to stop and enjoy or it could be a constant steady course. I conclude our conversation and take my seat at the desk. As I begin to open my Book of Mormon I feel the journey beginning. I don’t know where I will be taken. I read with spiritual eyes and a desire to learn and grow. 

This is my wilderness every day for 1 hour. Its me and God, our time to have an interview, for me to be taught by the master. Often times I am lost in the wilderness of scripture and pondering. I have found my sacred grove each time I kneel at that desk, that I open my scriptures and let God come to me and endow me with the power and knowledge I desperately need that day.