Being Called of God

There has been enough evidence in my own life, and in the lives of others around me, to lead me to firmly believe that I need never be too concerned about the exact degree of inspiration involved in a particular call to serve in the Church. I know that the Lord is indeed in charge. But from the time of Adam, he has consistently allowed his children (including our leaders) to exercise their agency in ways that enable them to have many and various “learning experiences.”

I also believe that God can help us to grow and progress in important ways even in the midst of situations that may cause us some frustration or unhappiness.  I have only half-jokingly declared that the reason that I was asked to be in charge of Public Communications for a stake in Baltimore was probably so I would be incredibly relieved to be subsequently called as a ward Relief Society president!

Sharing with my priesthood leaders any real concerns about my present circumstances which might indicate that a particular calling may be (or may have become) inappropriate is something I’ve usually done. Sometimes, after prayerful consideration, the leader saw fit to withdraw or postpone the calling, or extend a release. Sometimes I’ve been counseled to accept the call in faith, or to “soldier on” through my difficult situation––which I’ve done––and things have always worked out in the end.

In unusual cases, I have seen how the inspiration to interview someone for a call ends up accomplishing a different, but necessary, purpose. The Lord may wish to reassure someone that they are worthy to be called to a position, even though they are unable to accept the call because of health, family, or other reasons. Sometimes the interview calls forth a needed confession that may help someone along the path to repentance and peace. Sometimes we may hold a calling only for a very brief, but necessary and sufficient, period of time. 

Although I think that often it really doesn't matter where we serve, or who serves in a particular calling, sometimes it truly does matter. In those cases, the person suggesting the name and/or extending the call often has an impression that may not always appear “logical,” but that in hindsight usually proves to have been providential.

Some of the ward callings I have held to serve on a committee or teach a class could well be regarded as callings from man by expediency, with God’s approval. In all those cases, I was very grateful to have received a sweet personal confirmation that the calling was exactly right for me at that particular time.

For me, it has been reassuring to know that I can always rely on God’s power to help me fulfill my callings. And I have witnessed how members who support each other in their callings (even in the midst of any struggles they may face because of their own or others’ shortcomings, thoughtlessness, or errors in judgment) can be blessed to feel the Spirit and draw nearer to our Father in Heaven as they serve.

Dealing with Weakness

 

I needed to recognize a serious weakness lately, when I was having my photograph taken to accompany a quote of mine that is going to be displayed with several others at an upcoming church Women's Conference with the theme "Fear thou not for I am with thee."

 

After taking shots in several poses––front and three-quarter, smiling and serious––the photographer asked me to sit in profile with my hands clasped in front of me, as though perhaps in meditation or prayer.  

 

I hesitated, mentioning that I was a bit sensitive about my hands. I used to consider them one of my best features, but they are now noticeably deformed with osteoarthritis. 

 

She immediately said that pose wasn't necessary, but I responded, "I'll do it. I need to overcome my vanity!" And I took the pose. 

 

Nowadays I consider that my green eyes are my best feature, and I was originally hoping she would use a shot where they were visible. But now I realize that I'll be happiest if she uses the pose where one of my weaknesses began to turn into a strength.

 

Lessons for 2023 from an Amaryllis

I’ve often said that I have a “black thumb” because plants given to me have usually died rather than thrived. Thus, when my sister gave me an amaryllis bulb kit that was intended to bloom at Christmastime, I was worried.

 

Little did I know, as I valiantly tried to strictly follow the directions on how to plant the bulb in the included soil and pot, that observing the growing cycle of this lovely gift over the coming days would help me see how I could make 2023 become a year of increased joy and satisfaction. 

A Simple Phrase that Changed My Life Forever

Fifty-five years ago this morning, I woke up, knelt by the side of my bed in my off-campus apartment at BYU, and prepared to utter the same prayer I had been offering for the previous nine days. 

Ever since I had met David Stone, I had been pleading with my Heavenly Father to tell me if David was indeed the person whom I should marry and be joined to for all eternity. On our first date, arranged over the telephone after a friend of David’s had spoken highly of me, we both sensed that we might have met our future spouse. 

A few days before, the two of us had fasted and prayed to know the Lord's will, and although David felt he had received a positive answer, I hadn't.  Before he left Provo the day before, we had agreed that we would keep in touch and see how our relationship developed.

My Attitude Made the Difference

Many years ago, while living in Europe, I had an unusual experience that brought me some spiritual insight that has influenced my life for good ever since. 

 

As I recall, this took place during my first meeting with our bishop after I was sustained as the new ward Relief Society President. As I came into his office, I was greatly surprised to see that he had written quite a few names of sisters on the blackboard. He explained that their arrangement showed how he thought their visiting teaching assignments should be organized.

Rosh Hashana Inspiration -- Sep. 10-16, 2018

My second week brought me spiritual experiences every day that I served in the temple––which is what you might expect, of course. 

What you might find surprising is that one of my most memorable spiritual experiences that week occurred not in the temple, but in the small Orthodox synagogue of a congregation that meets on the second floor of a commercial building, above a furniture store. 

Settling into my new life in NYC--Sep. 1-9, 2018

My first few days in New York City brought me a whirlwind of activity here in my new surroundings. I felt incredibly happy and grateful every minute for the amazing, totally unexpected opportunity to serve full-time in the Manhattan Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. 

I had many spiritual experiences that reaffirmed the feeling that many blessings await me as I give my whole heart to this mission.

How I Came to Embark on an Exciting New Adventure

After David passed away in 2014, I had no plans to serve a full-time mission for my church. Since I had served a proselyting mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as a young woman in France, and then had served full-time with my husband, David, for ten years––first when he was President of the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo West Mission for three years, and then while he served in Area Presidencies as a General Authority Seventy for seven years––I felt that my place henceforth was to serve my family and local ward members, not serve another mission.

However, a few months ago, after serving several years as an ordinance worker in the Seattle Temple in the summer, and the Dallas Temple the rest of the year, for some reason I began to think about the desirability of serving a temple mission for a year sometime in the future, perhaps in the spring of 2019.

The Envelope

It started with an envelope.

Yesterday, after we had played several board games, my Kindergartner granddaughter Paige was looking through the various kinds of paper in my craft box, intending to draw or write something during her after-school visit with me. She found a greeting card envelope, selected a piece of yellow card stock, and told me she wanted to make a card for “Grampa.”  

Grampa, aka my late husband, passed away when Paige was not yet three years old. I doubt she can really remember him, but on my kitchen counter are two digital photo frames that scroll through family photos including many of him, some even with her as a baby or toddler. When Paige is eating her after-school snack, she looks at those photos, and often either names some of the people in them, or asks me who they are. Some are of my parents and grandparents, and I have on occasion mentioned that they, like Grampa, have died, and are happily living in Heaven now. Whether seeing photos of Grampa keeps real memories of him fresh in her mind, or that she just continues to love her idea of him, I know not.

Staying in the Lane

As I was driving to the Seattle temple by myself for the first time after my arrival in Washington last month, I began to feel very sad that David, my late husband, was not beside me. I felt I had made great progress in the last few months in usually remembering him happily, but at this moment, thinking about how, long ago, he had carefully given me the driving directions I was now carefully following brought tears to my eyes.

Suddenly, my mood completely changed. My mind was flooded with joy as that memory from a decade ago came forcefully into focus. I recalled David’s voice repeating to me the important advice I needed to follow if I was to arrive at the temple on time, “Stay in the lane, Rosalie!” It now struck me in a new way that I knew could help me deal with the waves of sorrow that still threaten to engulf me from time to time.

An Answered Cri de Coeur

The anguished cries of my three-year-old grandson, combined with a statement by Dostoyevsky and hymn lyrics by Isaac Watts, prompted me to ponder how we can discover and attain our deepest desires. 

While visiting the family of our youngest son some years ago, the adults in our group were startled one evening by the sudden, impassioned crying of our three-and-a-half-year-old grandson, David. He was apparently having a nightmare. Our daughter-in-law attempted to calm him with soft words and rocking, but he continued to cry out and talk nonsense which related to what he was dreaming.

She carried him downstairs to join the rest of us, and mentioned that this sort of thing had happened before. Once David was fully awake, she assured us, he would calm down. For a couple of minutes he continued to wail and display deep distress, despite his mother’s efforts to awaken and reassure him.

No Looking Back

A little over nine years ago, my oldest son and I exchanged good-bye waves and smiled at each other as he backed out of our driveway for the last time. My husband and I had sold our house, and were moving out of state to live nearer our grandchildren.

As he drove off, my son’s head was held high, and he didn’t look back.

He had recently been laid off from his job; but he was now excited about beginning a new career as a writer. Despite the known difficulties of breaking into the ranks of literary professionals, his success in getting several stories published during the last few years spurred him to consider the loss of his increasingly joyless job as an opportunity to jump wholeheartedly into that other field. With concerted effort, determination and a bit of luck, he was hopeful that he would soon be able to make his living doing what he truly loved to do.

As I watched his car disappear around a bend, the tears began to flow, and my mind went back to another farewell experience that had occurred when he was nineteen:

Building Bridges rather than Walls

About ten years ago, I received very positive audience response to a talk I gave in church, probably because it dealt with situations most people could identify with. I recently ran across a Word document that contains the post I subsequently wrote for this blog containing the substance of that talk.  For some unknown reason, the original post seems to have disappeared. So here it is again:

What are some of the things that prevent us from achieving more harmony in our adult family relationships? Selfishness and pride are often the culprits. But many times, I think it is misunderstandings that promote strife, hurt feelings and alienation. We all have different personalities, and we see things from different perspectives. We can't always find the right words to express our feelings; and sometimes we let the emotion of the moment lead us to say things we don't really mean, and immediately regret. If left unresolved, misunderstandings in the family can foster mounting stress, anger, and resentment, and may prevent us from enjoying the trust and confidence of those we love most.

I’ve heard it said that when faced with difficulties in a relationship, we can choose to build either walls, or bridges. A few years ago I had an experience with one of our adult children which taught me how useful bridge-building can be in uncovering and resolving misunderstandings.

Maintaining Trust When God’s Ways Seem Inscrutable, Part 2: Reflection vs. Reality

“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” I Corinthians 13:12 

In the verse above, from a letter the apostle Paul wrote to the relatively new church members in Corinth, he used an analogy that was particularly meaningful to them when he described how we  understand God and his ways. That analogy becomes clearer for 21st century English speakers if we know that the words translated into English as “glass” and “darkly” have slightly different meanings in the original Greek. “Glass” meant a looking-glass, or mirror, many of which were manufactured in Corinth out of polished brass. Those mirrors often revealed a distorted or discolored image of the thing being reflected. The Greek words translated as “darkly” meant “in a riddle or puzzle, by an enigma.”[1]  Paul’s analogy helped the Corinthians resolve questions that were creating disunity in their congregation. I believe it can help us, in our day, to deal with questions about spiritual matters that some find puzzling, or even disquieting.

Maintaining Trust When God’s Ways Seem Inscrutable, Part 1: Understanding the Meaning of Revelations

While a student at Brigham Young University, my husband had a very intriguing personal experience with President Hugh B. Brown (an apostle and a counselor in the First Presidency of the LDS church at the time), his wife, and one of their granddaughters who was a good friend of David’s. The four of them had lunch together in a restaurant in Salt Lake City sometime in 1963 or 1964.

Considering himself a lowly university student, David remembered feeling very much in awe of President Brown. One part of the conversation in particular stuck in his mind, and he told me about it after we were married in 1966, because it raised such interesting questions and possibilities regarding the policy of Priesthood ordination not being available to men of black African ancestry at the time.

Being of Good Cheer

Inspired by a post I originally published on “A Prayer of Faith” in 2006.

Nine years ago this month, my father passed away peacefully just eighteen days short of his hundredth birthday. Even as his physical capacities gradually diminished during the last few years, he continued to live by himself, fixing his own meals, and using his own recipe to bake his super-nutritious bread. Both he and my mother, who had died seven years previously, impressed all who knew them with their positive, cheerful outlook on life, even in the midst of their challenges.

I have sometimes wondered if my own basically cheerful nature was inherited, or more a result of seeing and following my parents’ example. Both genetics and observation no doubt come into play, but shortly after my father’s passing I found evidence that they were actively trying to teach me the value of being cheerful when I was very young.

Oh Say, Where Is Truth? Part 3: Facts or Feelings?

This final post in a trilogy on discerning truth recounts a poignant example of memory distortion that has bittersweet connotations for our family now that my husband has passed on.

Genuine tragedies have occurred when false memories have resulted in false accusations. Fortunately, most false memories are relatively harmless, and easily corrected when brought to light. Our family has a “false memory” story, which we laughingly bring up whenever we doubt one another’s recollection of an event.

During a time before everyone had cell phones, when we were living in a suburb of Baltimore, our seventeen year-old daughter J called from a friend’s house to ask for an extension of her curfew. My late husband, David, was in Europe on business, and as I listened to J’s request, I prayed I would make a decision that he would agree with.

Oh Say, Where Is Truth? Part 2: Do We “Remember It Well?”

Part 1 of this trilogy of posts about truth posited that fiction could sometimes be more “truthful” than non-fiction. This follow-up post deals with the challenge of finding truth in memories.

When faced with conflicting memories of our past, my husband and I often smiled as we quoted the opening lines from a duet “I Remember it Well.” They epitomize the tendency to we have to believe that we personally remember things correctly, even when faced with evidence that others remember the same events quite differently.

               We met at nine.

                        We met at eight.

 I was on time.

                        No, you were late.

Ah yes! I remember it well[1]

We all tend to believe that we remember things correctly, and often misunderstandings arise when people disagree about what “really” happened. But psychologists have discovered that our minds definitely can be fooled.

Oh Say, Where Is Truth? Part 1: Fact or Fiction?

This is the first in a trilogy of posts about finding truth.

While traveling across Australia by train with my husband in 2006, I became engrossed in a highly-acclaimed biography of one of the prophets of this dispensation, which was written by a believing, committed member of the LDS Church. As the author began referring to the accounts of certain incidents, however, I became at first uncomfortable, and finally very disturbed.

My unease did not come from fears that my testimony would be shaken, but rather because I sensed that much of what was being considered as "history" or "facts" was not really how things actually happened. I doubted the accuracy of some of the original reporting, and the memories of those being quoted, because they didn’t ring true to me.

I put the biography aside, and resumed reading a work of fiction which is loosely based on the life of a prophet of this dispensation, and which was written by another believing, committed member of the LDS church. A few pages into my reading I was struck by the realization that I felt a much stronger sense of "truth" while I was reading that fantasy novel, than I did while reading certain parts of the supposedly non-fiction biography. How could this be?

Strength through Submission

The following is a revised version of a post originally published on  “A Prayer of Faith”  6 July 2006.  It was inspired by Elder Henry B. Eyring’s talk “As a Child” delivered in the LDS General Conference of April 2006:

From the time I was a child, foreign languages fascinated me. Growing up, my father taught me some Esperanto and a few German phrases; and after dabbling in Latin and Spanish in high school, I decided to take on the challenge of Russian at Brigham Young University. Soon after beginning my study, I began to have an intense desire to visit Russia—to see for myself the land of Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov, Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, which was then under the iron rule of Communism. This was back in the early 1960’s, when the Soviet Union under Khrushchev routinely issued dire threats to the free world, but welcomed the chance to earn dollars by conducting carefully chaperoned showcase tours for Americans.

I was thrilled when BYU announced that they would be participating for the first time in a Russian summer study program. I immediately applied, was accepted, and started saving money for the trip. I obtained a passport. My whole family sacrificed to help fund my study abroad experience, and I was elated at the opportunity to realize my dream.