My Secret Weapon

I feel certain that if, in our homes, parents will read from the Book of Mormon prayerfully and regularly, both by themselves and with their children, the spirit of that great book will come to permeate our homes and all who dwell therein.  The spirit of reverence will increase; mutual respect and consideration for each other will grow.  The spirit of contention will depart.  Parents will counsel their children in greater love and wisdom.  Children will be more responsive and submissive to the counsel of their parents.  Righteousness will increase.  Faith, hope, and charity--the pure love of Christ--will abound in our homes and lives, bringing in their wake peace, joy, and happiness.
-Marion G. Romney 

I have read this promise so many times that I'm surprised I don't know it by heart.  We've always been pretty consistent in our scripture study, and so I've always been a little bugged that we don't have the rosy family scene this quote depicts.  I've especially wondered why, when we're doing the best we can to live the gospel, we struggle in this house with so much contention.  And as I've prayed for help in teaching this family to speak kindly, I've been prompted to be more consistent in our family scripture study.  This advice I always acted gladly upon...for a few days.  :)

The answer to my prayers came this year in the form of a challenge from the bishop: to read the Book of Mormon in its entirety as a family this year.  He gave us a schedule that started Jan 1 2015, and my family scrambled to finish our first reading before the end of last year so we could start on time.

It took us at least four years to read the Book of Mormon as a family last time.  Suffice it to say, it scared me a little to think of committing to read the whole thing in one year.

My husband, who teaches seminary, was not crazy about the schedule idea.  He's a free spirit, and doesn't like the idea of rushing through great material in order to complete an assignment.  And to be honest, I had my doubts about the program, too.  But we believe in following our priesthood leaders, and so we sucked it up and started marking boxes every day to keep track of our progress.

We read together in the mornings.  Sometimes we're tempted to do other things first-- especially on the weekends when we have tons of time at home--but we've found that our chances of success go way down if we don't do it before breakfast.  And since we know we have to make up any days we miss, we are highly motivated not to miss.  We wake up the late sleepers and drag them in, blankets and all, and read our daily assignment from the bishop, which is usually around eighteen verses.  Part of the reading assignment is to mark, in different colors of pencil, attributes of Christ, references to Christ, and the words of Christ.  Our oldest three are all strong readers, so they take turns doing this. Sometimes we have great discussions on gospel principles.  Sometimes we laugh at the foibles of characters such as Laman (whiny), Chemish (lazy), or King Noah (selfish.)  Sometimes we kind of rush through the daily assignment and hope something sank in on its own.

TJ and I have been pretty consistent with family scripture study for the past several years.  We've done really well on weekdays and have missed a lot of weekends.  Sometimes, weekday study has been just a few minutes long, but we figured it was better than nothing.

But I can tell you now that in scripture study (as in life), you really do get out of it only as much as you put into it.  The difference between being pretty consistent and being very consistent is the difference between being pretty blessed and being very blessed.

We are feeling very blessed.  The kids are happier.  TJ and I are more patient.  We approach challenges with greater faith and softer words.  We seem to find more teaching moments throughout the day to witness of gospel principles to our kids.  There are way fewer--WAY fewer--fights over toys, clothes, and the breathing of someone else's air.  There is a culture of service going on, and an overall spirit of forgiveness.  Most of all, there's more love around here.

Isaiah and Paul, who are three and five respectively, are the best barometers for the success of this family.  When we struggle, they tend to act out.  But when this family's humming the way it hums right now, they are absolute joys to be with.  They tell me, each other, and the other kids several times a day how much they love us.  They smile.  They kiss.  They basically love on the family as a whole.  And I really think it's because they've been sitting in on our daily sessions with the Book of Mormon.  How much they can grasp cognitively, I really don't know.  But something is going on in their hearts, and besides being extremely cute, it is catching.

Our family is now perfect and we'll probably all be translated sometime this week.  JUST KIDDING! We still have challenges.  We still lose our cool now and then.  We still get lazy, disrespectful, unkind, you name it.  But it's just easier to be good these days.  And I know I can use all the help I can get.

I've started thinking that the Book of Mormon is every Mormon mom's secret weapon.  Sometimes it is even a secret from us.  We forget, don't we, all the promises that have been made?  We forget how good we felt when we were consistently studying as a family.  Even while we're listing the reasons we're not doing it--the list is long and we've all got one--we know in our hearts that if we could straighten out our priorities a little we'd be happier.  More blessed.

Sister Linda S. Reeves shared a testimony that has stuck with me:

A friend recently cautioned, “When you ask the sisters to read the scriptures and pray more, it stresses them out. They already feel like they have too much to do.”
Brothers and sisters, because I know from my own experiences, and those of my husband, I must testify of the blessings of daily scripture study and prayer and weekly family home evening. These are the very practices that help take away stress, give direction to our lives, and add protection to our homes. Then, if pornography or other challenges do strike our families, we can petition the Lord for help and expect great guidance from the Spirit, knowing that we have done what our Father has asked us to do.
Brothers and sisters, if these have not been practices in our homes, we can all begin now. If our children are older and refuse to join us, we can start with ourselves. As we do, the influence of the Spirit will begin to fill our homes and our lives and, over time, children may respond.  (emphasis added)

I love this counsel.  As moms, we are all looking to lighten the load of stress and worry we feel every day.  Do you remember the moment she made this monumental promise?  I do!  It just makes sense that the Father of us all, who cares deeply about my work as a mother, would have put in place practices that would empower and bless me.  It is almost silly for me to be writing this post.  Silly that this is such a revelation to me--because so many have testified of the power of daily scripture study.  But I'm here to add my voice.  It works.  

We Are Not Afraid of Work

At the end of last week's trauma,  I headed for the temple and then out to eat with some of  my home school sisters.   It was a powerful uplift and reminder of what truly matters in life.   I love laughing with and learning from these choice women.   They believe, with me,  what Julie B. Beck taught:

"Families mean work, but they are our great work—and we are not afraid of work."

Home school is just one way I go about accomplishing my great work.   I feel sure that you, too, are engaged in building your family.   May God bless you in this noble work!   And me,  too.  

Look at this face and tell me what kind of week I had.  The kids have been sick for weeks months FOREVER.

I try really hard not to whine on this blog.  But my kids have been passing around a cough for what seems like my entire life.  Is it possible that they were sick even before they were born?  We usually just roll with it.  In a family our size, you can pretty much count at least one out of five being sick all winter long.  But this week Eliza even had trouble breathing and had to be put on a nebulizer.  And that was when I really got mad.

What do you guys do to keep your kids from getting sick?  Do I need to do flu shots next year?  More veggies and fruits?  Because something's gotta give.  Being sick during the winter is a bummer.  But being sick in the spring, when we're all dying to get outside, is super the worst.

Also, I sneezed yesterday.

Please advise.

When these orchids started blooming at the beginning of the month, they were promoted from the kitchen window to this seat of honor.  TJ got them for me last year on my birthday, so that means I've kept them alive for a whole year.  Yay, me! Waking up to these beauties every morning makes me feel like a duchess. Now if I could just get my breakfast in bed, everything would be perfect.

What I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Facing Depression

Tonight I talked with a dear friend who has been suffering from depression, and my heart broke all over again for what she's going through.  It took me back to the first days and weeks of wrapping my head around the word, "depression."  It made me feel old and wise.  I've always been too big for my britches that way, and I know got long-winded when I was talking to her, but I still don't feel finished.

 I will never forget what I went through to figure out that I needed help with my depression.  The memory of those months and years of suffering still fills me with sadness.  I had three kids under the age of four.  We had moved from our beloved college town to far-flung Wyoming, where we didn't know a single soul. My husband was deeply involved in building his career, and was often gone from dark to dark on weekdays, or even a whole week at a time. My beloved daughter had suffered a long illness which took her closer to death than I ever want to see my children again, and which culminated in a ten-day stay at Primary Children's Hospital.  I was trying to learn how to feed my newly-diagnosed celiac kids food that would not kill them.  I was potty-training my oldest so that I would have only two in diapers.  I was far from my family in sunny St. George, I was freezing, and I was very alone.

When we talk about clinical depression it's helpful to look for triggers, and boy, did I have triggers at that point in my life.  Does that mean that my life was meaningless or that I had nothing to be grateful for?  Absolutely not.  I was building something that I was sure would bring me joy.  But the problem was that I felt nothing but anguish.  All the time.  I felt extreme anxiety and constant guilt for my failings as a mother and wife.  Even when my darling babies kissed and hugged me, no ray of happiness could penetrate.  I was dead to everything but pain.

At church I felt I was just going through the motions.  I fulfilled callings, served ward members, visited with those who needed help, all because I knew I should--but without the attendant feelings of closeness with God I had always enjoyed.  I prayed to a God who was no longer speaking to me and read His words even though they didn't seem to mean anything anymore.  I wondered, after all the witnesses I had experienced in my life, was it possible for me to lose my faith just because being a mom was stressful?

I remember checking out a stack of books about depression in our small-town library, blushing at the thought of what the librarian was thinking of me.  I did not know that she would later become one of my  mentors through the illness, having experienced it herself.  I remember a conversation with TJ in which I confessed my devastating discovery: that I was broken, without hope of repair.  He told me we would get help for me, no matter what.  He said I would feel better.  I remember calling my sister and admitting the shameful truth.  She was not surprised, but supportive.  And then I called the doctor.  And then I filled my first prescription for medication.  And then I called the therapist.  And then I started feeling that there was hope.

If I could have a conversation with the 25-year-old version of myself tonight, I would start with a big hug.  Young Self was such a brave person in the face of such a bewildering host of troubles. And she felt so alone, unworthy, and guilty.  She felt hopeless.  I would love to tell her how many thousands of healthy days she has ahead of her: how many breathtakingly beautiful baby kisses will sink straight into her happy, healthy heart.  I would love to tell her that God is counting her tears and will repay them a hundred-fold.

And I would give Young Self some great advice.  Because I always give advice.  And sermons. Those who love me just listen patiently, and since this is my daydream, Young Self will have to do the same.  Here is the advice I would give her, not necessarily in order of importance:

1.  Learn all you can about clinical depression.  The internet's a great place to start, but even if you're not a huge reader, invest the time necessary to get an idea of what you're dealing with.  Knowledge is power!  Especially pay attention to the neurological explanations of what depression is.  It is so important for you to understand the physiological underpinnings of this illness to give you the strength you'll need to reach for healing.  Here is what I consider to be absolute required reading for those who are suffering from depression or who are long-suffering with a loved one who does:

"Like a Broken Vessel" by Jeffry R. Holland

Reaching For Hope: An LDS Perspective on Recovering from Depression

The Depression Cure: The 6-Step Program to Treat Depression Without Drugs

2.  Talk to loved ones, and listen to the ones who are committed to help you find healing, no matter what that entails.  I hope, so much, that one of these people is your spouse.  If not, keep talking.  But find those who will back you up when even you think it's not worth trying.  Because you will need their help to get better.  Talking is part of the therapy.  Talking is part of what will heal you. So talk.

3. Get ready to reach for help.  Fight hard against the destroyer!  Exclamation point! Right now, he will pull out the shame and work you over with it.  Don't be ashamed of your condition.  It's called mortality, and everyone has it.

Do you need a therapist to help identify unhealthy patterns in your life and replace them with good ones?  Of course, you do.  In my opinion, everyone does.  Why is it that most Americans would not undertake to fix the brakes on their car because they feel under-educated or unqualified--and yet they feel the intricacies of the human mind are easy enough to tackle alone?  I would much rather risk a car accident than risk a lifetime of unhealthy relationships and generations of suffering.  Wouldn't you?  Find someone who has studied these things.  Find someone you can trust to help you.

Do you need medication to start your healing process?  I will never forget the day my Zoloft kicked in.  I was on the phone describing my day to TJ, who was on a trip.  I wasn't expecting the medication to work for another week or so, but as we talked, I realized that it already was.  I had told TJ how much fun it had been to make sock puppets with the kids--the type of project I never initiated because it was too overwhelming.  And as we chatted, I described the beautiful new flower screensaver on the computer, and I felt real happiness.  I had not felt that way for so long, it was stunning even in its simplicity.  I had enjoyed a healthy day for the first time in a very long time.  I felt like I was the person I had been pretending to be.  I felt like a good person.  I felt like a normal person.  I felt like myself again.

How could that be a bad thing?

Don't let the destroyer keep you from healing, no matter what.

4.  Keep a sense of perspective.  Remember my dear librarian-friend?  In one long, long, conversation she told me that if she got to choose a trial--if all the trials in our town were put in a basket and she could choose one--she would choose depression.  Only after a few years of dealing with this disease did her comment make sense to me.  As real as the suffering is, in my case it is limited to what goes on inside my brain.  My husband is faithful and kind.  The kids are healthy and happy.  We always have food on our table.  When someone is sick, the doctor fixes it.    Depression is curable.  Depression is manageable.  I would much rather my trials all happen inside my head, thanks very much.  Remember that most of the craziness happens between your own ears, and that your loved ones usually are too wrapped up in their own lives to read your troubled thoughts.  Isn't that a good thing?  You are not tainting the world by your suffering.

5.   Hang on, with both hands and all ten fingernails, to your faith.  Keep praying.  You can't hear Him.  It is part of your condition.  It is not because you are unworthy, and it's definitely not because He has stopped listening.  He is closer than ever, but you won't be able to see that until you start getting better.  In the meantime, hold on.  And nurture your hope.  God did not put you on this earth to fail.  It is impossible to fail as long as you keep getting up and trying again.  He does sometimes let us battle it out alone.  But even then, we are never alone, and someday, He will recompense every loss.  He will even make up for your weaknesses in the lives of your loved ones.  My kids are amazingly healthy despite being raised by a crazy woman.  Because of the Atonement, I know that each one of my precious babies will have exactly the experiences they need to lead them back to Him--because of my weakness and His strength.  Hold on.  Trust on.  I promise it will all make sense someday.

For so long I felt that I was on autopilot in my faith.  I kept going because of the memory of faith.  I kept going because I believed I wasn't seeing the whole picture.  Sometimes when people would talk about trials as these great spiritual experiences, I would wonder what was wrong with me.  I couldn't feel the Spirit in my life--did that mean I was handling my trials all wrong?  I have come to see that it's just part of the depression package.  And I'm so glad I held on even when all the warm fuzzy spiritual feelings were not there.  To me, that is what faith really means.  It means pushing the boundaries of our vision by walking past it.  Now I can see back and I'm so grateful I kept going. There have been innumerable blessings along this road.  And I believe there are still so many to come--for me and for you.

I've been a lazy mom lately.  I get the kids through their chores and school stuff, I drive them where they need to be and I put band-aids on--all as quickly as I can so I can get to the "fun" stuff.  Concerts and dates and books and long baths.  When did my life become something to get over with or something to escape?

Tonight I felt the familiar Monday-night urge to get through family night as efficiently as possible so I could read the Georgette Heyer book I have downloaded on the Kindle.  But as I got dinner on the table, I said a quick, silent prayer for help in being a good mom.  And that help came from Eliza and TJ, who were raring to get the family out to the park on this beautiful spring night.  We left the kitchen dirty and took a couple of soccer balls out there.  We played random games, mostly in an effort to teach these poor athletically-challenged kids how to catch and throw a ball.  We laughed ourselves silly at their ridiculous efforts.  Most of the games, no-contact sports though the were, ended in wrestling matches on the soft, cool grass.  We spent longer than we usually do, and had way more fun than we usually do.  There is something so blessedly beguiling about being outdoors with the kids.  Time just seems to melt away when the dirty dishes are nowhere in sight.

The kids are getting to bed an hour late, and so I won't be reading tonight.  But I don't really care because I had more fun at the park than I could have had reading a book.  Imagine that!



Well, maybe I'll just read a little.  

Miles to Go Before I Sleep

Sometimes you wake up at 4:30 in the morning and can't sleep anymore.  And all day your body and brain are screaming for sleep, but it happens to be the busiest day of the week, and you even have evening commitments which will keep you from getting to bed early as you'd like.  Sometimes the thought of making dinner, cleaning it up, talking to people, keeping your body upright, and staying in real clothes for another six hours just too much to bear.

At this point, a little Robert Frost goes a long way to console you.  And since it's your blog, you can be forgiven for being a little pretentious.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Feel free to memorize only the last four lines, like I did back in college, and periodically recite them to yourself when the five o'clock blues strike.  You'll feel noble and whiny at the same time.  It's wonderful.