My Oldest Habit

Of the many family home videos on the shelf back home, only one of them is in VHS form: “Katie’s First Christmas.” While two of the scenes captured therein include my role as the baby Jesus in our family’s Nativity Scene and Mom showing off Christmas presents to camera-wielding Dad, my favorite event to watch is unrelated to the holiday. It involves my eleven-month-old self bringing a book to my mother. I hand it to her and let her place me on her lap with the casual air of routine. She reads it—“The Going to Bed Book”—aloud, and lets me turn the pages.

Reading is, then, one of my most longstanding habits (although “addiction” might be more apt word in this case). Consistent reading increased my vocabulary, communication skills, and pleasure; I was hooked. By middle school, it got to the point where I couldn't eat without reading simultaneously, even if it was just the back of the cereal box.

Middle school was also the point when I made one of my most sacred and influential vows to myself: that I would never again let a day go by without studying God’s word. I’d had much experience with the scriptures before, but my consistency with (and thus yield from) them had fluctuated. I knew, due in part to the benefits of my secular reading, the power of habit.

Thus far, I have kept my vow, and intend to for the rest of my life. The expected—indeed, promised—blessings of increased knowledge, wisdom, moral strength, and influence of the Holy Ghost have been mine. As much joy as nearly any piece of literature brings me, the word of God brings the most. And that, my friends, is saying something.   

Loneliness and Gratitude

1. Inner Struggles
  I pulled my jacket tighter, the chill of the earth sinking through my shoes as I walked and the January cold that had leaked through into February was soaking through me. Chilling me to my bones. I had woken up that morning ready to turn back over and sleep "just five more minutes". Every ounce of  motivation I had to get up had already drained from my waking body. But I had dragged myself to get ready, barely managing to make my hair and makeup look the least bit presentable. Lost motivation that I still hadn't found two hours into my day. This was the kind of cold I hated. Every part of my body was aching; my hands, my ears, my heart. When I finally made it out of the cold and into my class I sat in the back. Barely managing to keep my eyes open through the 50 minutes of lecture. An engagement, a mission call; these things reminded me of how small I really felt. That somehow these big events in others lives made me look smaller, less important, sending chills down my spine. These big events of others all seemed to be adding weight to the already heavy anvil pushing on my chest. I walked out of class not saying a word to anyone. Back into the cold I nearly sprinted to the library to hide, at least there I didn't look like a loser for having no one to talk to. I sat, absorbing the warmth. Dreading the moment I would have to leave my safe haven. A phone buzzed across from me, a gentle reminder that someone was thinking of her. I pang of jealousy rushed through me. I, unexpectedly, reached for my phone and unlocked it. The screen blank. No friendly red dots to say hello, to remind me of my worth. I opened my computer and began searching through the blues for some kind of human contact. Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr. Slowly corrupting my safe haven into another reminder of my need to be "independent", my need to pretend I'm the "strong silent type". The anvil on my chest grew heavier. Forcing more pressure into my already tightened rib cage. I snapped my computer shut and sat there, wondering how to escape my corrupted safety. So much of me wanting to scream but within the crowded walls of books I stayed silent.
"I'm sorry" I thought.
10 in the morning and I was already apologizing for the way I felt.

2&3 Scripture, Personal and Powerful & A Wilderness Quest
 Growing up in Provo I was born into the LDS faith. For as long as I remember I was taught about Joseph Smith and his trip into the Grove. So when I hit the age of 12 and transferred to Young Women's this didn't change. I was given lesson after lesson about Joseph Smith, we sang about his first vision and other such things. When I went to girls camp my leaders had the wonderful idea of having a scheduled "grove time" where we went as a ward up into the woods and just read our scriptures, prayed, and pondered about life. This was some of the most amazing experiences I ever had. I was in my last year of Girls Camp when I really learned the worth of this activity. It had been a hard year and a lot tougher summer and I was struggling with some major decisions in my life. I was overwhelmed with life and began to doubt myself, my abilities and the timing of Lord. We had "grove time" a lot more than the majority of us would have liked and we were starting to burn out on it. I had decided to restart the book of Mormon in hopes that I could finish it in a timely manner. I sat there next to an aspen tree, burnt out on the "love of nature" everyone claims they have until they are actually confronted with nature. Aimlessly I read, letting my mind wander and letting 3 chapters pass without really knowing what I was reading. All the stresses of my life began to overwhelm me. I stared at those ivory pages and slammed the book shut. I ran my fingers through my smokey, greasy hair and thought of how desperately I wanted a shower. A yawn came to my lips and I tried to hold it back, but the tired overcame me  and I displayed the lack of sleep that I had wanted to hide. I put my head in my hands and let the stresses of life overcome me. I opened my scriptures once more and let the wind decide where I would read. It fell open to Mormon 9. I mindlessly read the chapter when I hit verse 16.
"Behold, are not the things that God hath wrought marvelous in our eyes? Yea, and who can comprehend the marvelous works of God?"
I looked up and realized the beauty that was all around me. Remembering the wonderful blessings that I had and feeling a sense of gratitude. I folded my arms and thanked the Lord.
The rest of girls camp was one of the best ones I'd ever had.

His hands became real to me..

As a boy in an active Mormon family, I was very much submersed in what I would call Mormon “Oral Tradition”. I was continually surrounded by gospel topics at the dinner table, at early morning seminary, and during church services. I heard beautiful stories of courageous ancestors converting to the restored gospel. I read the Book of Mormon daily, but I read out of a sense of obligation and duty 

rather than a desire to learn and grow spiritually.

While in the Provo Missionary Training Center, I began to gain a sense of spiritual urgency. I soon realized that my spiritual knowledge gained through a faithful family culture might not be enough for the future investigators I might teach, or even myself.

For the first time, I went to the scriptures for answers. I specifically remember reading prophecies about the Savior and was impressed to see that the Atonement was real, even prior to Christ’s Birth.

“Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.” Isaiah 49:16

I read the Gospels in the New Testament and I marveled at the words of the Savior.

“Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself: handle me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have.”

I opened to 3^rd Nephi and read about Christ’s arrival to the Nephite people.

“Feel the prints of the nails in my hands and in my feet…”

 His hands became real to me. The scriptures were His way of inviting me to know Him in a personal way. Literature has been the avenue for a deeper, more personal level of faith and loyalty to God.

My Pride and Joy

The greatest accomplishment thus far in my life comes from a 27 inch, 23 pound bundle of joy that calls me "daddy". Her name is Addalynne and she is my inspiration. Her energy for life is unmatched and her curiosity has no bounds. Her blue eyes are captivating and her voice is heartwarming. 

Being able to teach my daughter the gospel of Jesus Christ and the power of the atonement is a duty that has no rival. The satisfaction that comes from it is empowering. Watching her kneel down and whisper, with her sweet innocence, a child's prayer is truly a blessing in my life. 

Reading the scriptures with Addalynne is quite possibly the most faith promoting literary experience I have ever had. Every night before prayers and bedtime we read from a little illustrated version of the Book of Mormon. This book rewrites the great stories of the Book of Mormon so a child could read and enjoy it.

I find it interesting that my faith can grow so much from such a simple version of the scriptures. Reading with my daughter and teaching her of our ancient prophets has brought a greater understanding of the scriptures than I received even on my mission. I think it is this way because I am no longer reading the scriptures for my own personal gain. Reading with my daughter has given me the opportunity to be a teacher to a master student, who, at this young age, is impressionable and eager to learn all that she can. I’m just glad that I have the blessing of aiding her along this journey.