The Things That Matter Most

In President Uchtdorf’s most recent General Conference address, he combines analogy, humor, and the telling of stories to guide and direct us to what matters most: the gospel of Jesus Christ.

President Uchtdorf immediately captures our attention with two analogies connected by humor.  His first is about the growth of trees slowing down when conditions are less than ideal.  President Uchtdorf then inserts humor to transition us to his next analogy: “At this point some of you may be thinking, ‘That’s all very fine and good, but what does it have to do with flying an airplane?’ Well, let me tell you.”  For the last six years, we have been listening to analogies from his years of being a pilot. With his next analogy concerning turbulence in the air and the need for a pilot to reduce his speed at such times, he reaffirms his point that, like the growth of the tree, it is not only natural, but a good idea “to slow down a little, steady the course, and focus on the essentials when experiencing adverse conditions.” For those of us who have felt the pain of inadequacy that comes at times of adversity due to an inability to do more than just survive, this was a message to be grateful for.

 President Uchtdorf continues with stories to support his admonition to simplify our lives and come back to what he lists as four basic priorities: “First, our relationship with God is most sacred and vital…Our second key relationship is with our families…The third key relationship we have is with our fellowman…The fourth key relationship is with ourselves.”

In a light and humorous tone, through analogy and storytelling, President Uchtdorf shares with us the solution to the stresses of the world which are to joyfully partake in the doctrines of the pure gospel and to refocus on what matters most.

A Nice Bit of Serendipity

10/8/10:                                      

Thursday was the day we met with Sister Steadman, so I was on campus earlier than usual.  I began at the writer’s clinic in the library.  After the clinic, I tried to find an open computer to revise my paper before meeting with Sister Steadman.  That is a busy place.  I was tired from days of working on our writing assignment and studying for the mid-term that I had taken the evening before.  When I’m tired I get easily confused and my sense of order is worse than when I’m not tired—I forget and misplace things.  I finally got a computer and quickly realized it was too loud in that room even with my noise filters in.  I gathered up my things and headed to the computer lab across form Sister Steadman’s room—only to find out a class had scheduled to meet there.  I looked over my paper—unable to do anything on it officially without the use of a computer—and somehow realized I didn’t have my recorder.  That was not a good thing for two reasons: I can’t afford a new one, and the class information on it is necessary for me.  I felt a bit of panic at the loss and desperately wanted to go searching for it right that minute.  But I didn’t have time to go to the library and back before my scheduled meeting.  Wait, is there silence coming from her room?  Yes.  I checked and she had time to see me in that moment—she had two no-shows.  Thirteen minutes later I was quickly and anxiously entering the library. 

I have three children at BYU—two daughters and a son-in-law.  I noticed Dave out of the corner of my eye.  (Do I stop?  Will I somehow miss out on finding my recorder?) I slow my pace to stop and say hello and spot Rebekah next to him.  They see me and there facial expressions turn to excitement.  (It is always nice when anyone is excited to see me!)  Then as I turn to see who the third person in their party is, I know why.  It’s Rachael!  All four of us, unplanned and unbeknownst to each other had showed up at the very same spot on campus at the same time.  What are the chances of that?  This was the first time they had seen me “as a student.”  “Look at you, Mom!” “You’re so cute with your lunch bag and rolling backpack…in your little sweats…”  (Little is a term they can apply to me as they are all larger than I am.) It is nice when your kids think you are cute—even with a rolling backpack that I only see instructors using—apparently instructors don’t care about being cool either.  And I’ll have to start carrying my little red lunch bag outside my backpack regularly now, as it obviously adds to the “cute” look.  What a great moment; family reunion in the library.  (Too bad I didn’t have enough in my little red lunch bag to share.)  And all because I was confused, lost my recorder and two people didn’t show up for their scheduled meetings.  And yes, someone turned in my recorder; it is safely back in my possession…until next time.

The best and worst moving experience ever

10/5/10                                           

We’re getting ready to move.  We’ve been working on it for months now.  Not that my apartment is taking that time—I’m a minimalist, simple and clutter free. (Well, maybe clutter-free is a stretch. But that is the goal anyway.)  It is the basement apartment we have to get ready for living in that is taking our time.  That is part of the irony of where we are moving and the process we have to go through to move there.  Heavenly Father is the great orchestrator though---we see over and over again.  Because of my brain injury, I have minimal driving abilities—it takes brain energy that needs to go to other things.  (Like studying).  For this reason, it is best if I am within walking distance of campus.  But I’m too old, and I have a high school aged son still at home, to be surrounded by the young college kids most apartments would provide.  That puts one of my options, and a good one, in the Tree Street area above the creamery.  At the beginning of the summer we began the search.  We attended various wards in the area to put the word out.  A couple things looked hopeful and then fell through for us.  None of those were in the fourth ward, which we both sensed was the right place for us.  But with zoning laws, we were told it wasn’t going to happen.  We held out hope, feeling this was where we belonged.  The summer came and went and I was beginning to doubt myself.  October would soon be upon us and my contract would be up where we are—which would mean a large raise in rent and another year’s lease.  Yet I felt no urgency.  I had to talk myself into trusting Heavenly Father—reminding myself of my past moving experiences and how well He had orchestrated them to get us where we needed to be.  Then one day in August, I felt we needed to attend the ward again.  We sat next to an elderly woman (92 years elderly) and had a nice conversation with her afterward.  Then in Relief Society, she came up to me with her address and said, “You just come by and then pray about it.”  And we did.  (Apparently zoning allows the elderly to rent out a part of their homes.)  Here is the irony: I am a minimalist and she is 92, was a depression era child, raised 11 children and has gotten rid of very little in all those years.  (She finds a use for everything.) At one point we were compared to Jack Sprat and his wife.  Her yard is full of grapes and peaches and apples and all kinds of edible plants/greens.  I will get to learn about them all.  She is a fascinating woman and we belong together.  Heavenly Father knows what he is doing.

Why am I here?

9/24/10:                                                         

Why am I here at BYU?  Because this is where Heavenly Father wants me.  Personally, I’d be content with a simple life: eating, sleeping, exercising, reading, spending time with my children and possibly taking a class.  If I’m required to go back to school, I think I’d like to start in the 6^th grade.  There is so much that I could learn starting all over again.  And I would love to be learning just for learning’s sake.  But Heavenly Father has a different plan—one that stretches me.

Many years ago, the kids and I were in the process of moving from Bellingham Washington to Utah.  It was a long process as there was a situation holding us up.  I was told it might be resolved by spring, but no sooner.  Then the prompting came to get all my things packed and in the garage by January.   “Heavenly Father is going to make some miracles in my behalf so we can move in January,” I thought.  And I readily started the packing process.  As January drew near, the moving situation didn’t seem to be working as I had anticipated.  It really was going to be spring before things worked out.  Was I wrong in listening to a prompting?  I began to forget what I had originally felt and slowed down my packing.  On February 11, my house burned down and we lost everything that wasn’t packed and in the garage.  I learned an important lesson to not create endings to our promptings.  When we speculate as to the reasons and/or purposes of God’s plans and inspiration in our lives, we may take actions that change the direction of His plans.
 

So why am I here?  I’m not going to presume that I know exactly.  I only know that I’m where I am supposed to be right now in the moment.  I obviously have something to learn—a lot to learn.  And maybe there will be others who will have something to learn from me too. 

Change of sentiments

9/30/10: Did I say somewhere that I liked writing?  That it was fun?   That I enjoyed it?  I change those sentiments; this is hard work!  I have a speech before me, The Gettysburg Address that brought me to tears when I first read it.  I see how he uses personification to bring our nation to life—as if it has a life of its own, a life worth saving.  I can see how President Lincoln appeals to his audience’s sense of loyalty and dedication to this great country and to those who died preserving it. I see how he formed his words in such a manner as to re-kindle in them a spirit of Patriotism and re-dedication to the war effort.  I can see how every sentence counted; there were no wasted words. (Notice how I changed the period to a semi-colon to link those two statements together?)  I recognize his humility and reverence in honoring the men who died—and even humility in his not recognizing just how remarkable his speech is.  He felt no greatness in himself for the position he held.  By this time, he was a man tired and beaten down from fighting for a cause he believed in, a cause he had always believed in—had been reared believing in.  And there were those who opposed him in fighting for that cause any longer.  They were tired of the war.  Not one of them had been spared the pain of personally knowing death and/or injury in family or friend from this war. 

Knowing, having been moved to feel all the above, how do I put it in proper form to say what I want to say?  How do I find the words to do it justice?