A Little Better

After thanking his neighbors for their service in providing a wonderful Christmas for his family, I heard a humble father say, "Life is never going to be fair, but we can make it a little better for everyone around us."  

I've thought a lot about these words.  It's true that life will never be fair and the more we try to make it fair the more disappointed we will be, but we can make life a little better for everyone.  I love the quote by Gordon B. Hinckley, “Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop, most beef is tough, most children grow up to just be people, most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration, most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. Life is like an old time rail journey…delays…sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling burst of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.” 

Photo Courtesy of Juber Al-haddad via Flickr

I went to the dentist yesterday for my regular six month check-up.  Now going to the dentist for me is torturous.  Ever since my first root canal at the tender age of nine, I've developed an irrational fear of going.  Even the sound of the drill is enough to send me into fits.  I realize in my rational mind that going to the dentist is one of those necessary evils that I endure just for the sake of being healthy, but it's still hard.  It's one of those experiences where I just want to close my eyes like a child and pretend that I'm not there until it's all over.  But I have to say that my dentist and all his wonderful helpers do everything they can to make the experience a little better.  They offer me headphones, and a remote with all of the cable stations so I can watch the TV mounted in the ceiling, a blanket to keep me warm, meds if I want them, drinks, chap stick, and they complete the experience with a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and some floss, along with coupons for free bread at Great Harvest Bread Company.  But the best part about the dentist experience is that my dentist and his helpers are kind, friendly, extremely smiley, and I know they genuinely care about me.  My dentist actually sees me!  Read my Truly Seeing blog if you don't know what I mean.  I definitely don't think it's fair that I've had to go through so many painful experiences with my teeth, but I'm so glad that these people are there to make the journey a little better.

We can all do that!  We can all make the journey a little better for those around us!  Like my husband said a few days ago, "We shouldn't want life to be fair."  If it was fair then we would all be condemned to that place of eternal torment.  The Savior has paid the ultimate price for each of us.  Every single one of us holds a place within His heart.  He gave everything He had to make life not just a little better for us, but a lot better.  In return, He asks us to make life a little better for those around us.  I'm grateful for the angels in my life that do that for me.  Imagine if we all did that for each other...

Gordon B. Hinckley, in his book, Standing for Something, tells us, “Imagine how our own families, let alone the world, would change if we vowed to keep faith with one another, strengthen one another, look for and accentuate the virtues in one another, and speak graciously concerning one another. Imagine the cumulative effect if we treated each other with respect and acceptance, if we willingly provided support. Such interactions practiced on a small scale would surely have a rippling effect throughout our homes and communities and, eventually, society at large.”

I hope that we can make life a little better for all those around us today.  It doesn't have to be much.  Even a smile, a note, a compliment, or little bit of recognition can brighten the world and make life "a little better" for everyone.

My Hope for the New Year

When my sister and her family were on their way to a holiday event one day last week, they noticed a blind man trying to cross the busy street in front of them.  Because of the new fallen snow and the build-up of icy drifts, the blind man couldn't find the edge of the sidewalk and was unable to properly determine his direction.  He therefore struggled to find his way, backing up traffic.  That's when the world suddenly became perfect,for just a short bit of time.  My sister watched as several good-hearted individuals parked their cars right in the middle of the road and went to help the blind stranger make his journey across the busy highway.  No one honked or yelled in irritation as the traffic light changed from red to green.  No one tried to go around the beautiful spectacle.  All watched, patiently transfixed by the show of brotherly love.  When the blind man was safely on the other side, another woman offered to take this blind stranger where he needed to go. 

 

Photo Courtesy of NCReedplayer via Flickr

When moments like these happen, I am once again reminded that love is stronger than hate, and forgiveness is more powerful than revenge.  I reflect upon the great examples of love and forgiveness in my life, and how deeply I am touched when someone gives the beauty of love instead of ugliness.  There is always plenty of ugliness to go around, what we need in this world is more Godlike love. 

I went to see the movie Les Miserables this last week, and I was so touched once again by the wonderful story of Jean Valjean who finds redemption by truly learning to give his life to God by serving his fellowman.  The movie is a tear jerker and teaches the profound power of love and charity.  I love the words written by Victor Hugo quoted by the character Jean Valjean, "To love another person is to see the face of God."  I think there is great truth in these words that we can all learn from.

A friend shared the story of her husband's family recently and it has forever changed my life.  Her father-in law is a paraplegic and her mother-in-law must care for her paralyzed husband constantly, around the clock.  As you can imagine, this is a demanding and strenuous life.  When times get difficult and she grows tired and taxed, she imagines that she is giving her service to the Savior in order to make it through.  Can you imagine how much better the world would be if when we grew tired and taxed with those around us, especially those who might be a challenge in our lives, if we imagined that we were serving the Savior instead?  I think this is what the Savior meant when he said, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." 

As we begin a new year and the Christmas decorations are once again boxed away, I hope that we won't forget the love that our Savior brought into this sometimes dark and complicated world.  His redeeming love can change our hearts and our lives forever and the lives of those around us, as well. 

When times grow tough, let us all resolve to give love to our Savior by serving those around us.  In the words of Saint Francis of Assisi, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.” That is my hope for the new year for all of us!

Truly "Seeing"

This last week I've been feeling a little lost in the holiday hustle and bustle of things.  I've been trying hard to find the Savior in the midst of it all. Last night my family and I once again watched the old Christmas classic, Mr. Krueger's Christmas about a lonely older gentleman who just longs to take part in the spirit of the season with the rest of humanity.  His holiday cheer is basically invisible to those around him until he is finally noticed by a sweet young girl who asks him to go caroling with the rest of her party.  The story concludes with the young girl saying, "I love you, Mr. Krueger," returning the sparkle to the lonely widower's face.

Photo Courtesy of Miss Millificent via Flickr

The story reminded me of another story I read a few years ago written by Nicole Johnson, entitled, The Invisible Mom:

It started to happen gradually. One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, 'Who is that with you, young fella?' 'Nobody,' he shrugged. Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street I thought, 'Oh my goodness, nobody?' 

I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like 'Turn the TV down, please' - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, 'Would someone turn the TV down?' Nothing. 

Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, 'I'm ready to go when you are.' He just kept right on talking. 

That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me. 

I'm invisible. 

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. 

I'm invisible. 

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? 

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. 

She's going... she's going... she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' 

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.' 

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. 

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.' 

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.' 

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. 

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' 

That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.' 

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women. 

What makes this story so beautiful to me is that not only does God "see" Charlotte in this story, but her friend Janice truly "sees" her too.  It makes me wonder, are we really taking the time to truly "see" those around us at this busy time of year? 

Jonathan Swift has said, "Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others." 

My grandfather taught me a great lesson about truly "seeing" when I was eleven or twelve.  We shared a love for horses, and so one day I spent hours drawing a picture for him of his favorite horse, Fancy Brass.  I will never ever forget what he did after I gave him the picture.  He examined the picture carefully, thanked me graciously, framed it, and hung it on the wall of his office next to all of his real estate awards.  Wow, did I feel special!  That gesture meant the world to me.  The picture of Fancy Brass hung there on the wall until he died four years later.  It's been many years now since his passing, but I recognize with a grateful heart that when my grandfather accepted my gift the way he did, he gave me an even greater gift: he truly "saw" me.

Mother Teresa tells us, "The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread."  I think the Savior is telling us the same when he tells us to "Feed my Sheep."  It is not food that people truly long for, but the pure love of Christ.  When the Lord sends us to "bind up the broken hearted, ...proclaim liberty to the captives," and open the "prison to them that are bound" isn't he asking us to truly "see" those around us?"  

I went to lunch with my two of my sisters a few weeks back, and I knew sitting with them that they could truly "see" me and I them.  I thank them for the great gift they have given me, especially on my most invisible days. 

I would like to express my gratitude to others in my life who truly "see."  I think the greatest gift we can give each other this Christmas is to "see" just as the Savior does and extend the needed love to those around us who might be feeling invisible.  Perhaps then we will find Him in all of this crazy hustle and bustle.

Photo Courtesy of More Good Foundation via Flickr

Epiphanies of Gratitude

While sitting in the doctor's office yesterday with my oldest son who is preparing for a mission, we heard an older woman say in a loud voice, "Don't take me in backwards, I can't see where I am going."  We turned around to see an older gentleman gently backing his wife in a wheelchair through the door. 

"Well, let's get you turned around, then," he said kindly.  He made sure his wife was comfortable before checking in at the desk.  

The wife began to fidget with the wheelchair, "I thought you said that the wheels lock when you push back on the chair," she complained.

"No, dear, that was the other wheelchair," he said with compassion, while locking her wheels in place for her and sitting down beside her.  She was thirsty and wanting a drink, and so he got up from his seat again and asked the receptionist for a cup so that he could get his wife a drink from the drinking fountain nearby.  He filled up her cup a little more than half full and handed it to her carefully.

She responded by saying, "You didn't fill it all the way up, did you?  You are going to have to drink some.  I can't drink this much."  The elderly woman drank most of the water and then handed the rest to her husband who finished it for her without complaint.

The conversation continued much the same, with the woman complaining and the gentleman answering with gracious kindness.  Listening to their conversation, I was greatly affected by the woman's simple lack of gratitude.  Here was a good, kind man lovingly serving her and she could not seem to muster even a simple, "Thank you."  It struck me profoundly then, the importance of gratitude; the importance of saying, "Thank you," to all of those around us, especially God.  For without gratitude we are never truly satisfied.

I've heard it said recently that if we were only able to retain those things in our lives that we thanked God for each day, what would we have left?  I've thought a lot about that.  Have we thanked God today for all of those blessings in our lives that we just couldn't live without?  Our blessings are so abundant. Just look at the world around us! Betty Smith has said, "Look at everything as though you were seeing it for the first time or the last time.  Then your time on earth will be filled with glory."

I wish that the wife of this charity filled older gentleman could have the experience of looking at her husband for the first time just as I did yesterday.  She is richly blessed by the constant service of an angel on earth who loves her so completely.  What a enormous blessing it is to have that kind of love!

John Milton tells us, "Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world."

May we have epiphanies of gratitude this week as we sit down with our loved ones during this Thanksgiving Holiday.  May our time on earth be "filled with glory," as we look at everything as though we were seeing it for the first or last time.  And may we bow our heads in thanks to God for all the many blessings we cannot do without.