Sodom & Gomorrah

I went to a fireside last Sunday and had the priviledge of listening to a BYU professor of religion. He was an awesome speaker.

One of his points was: "Let the past go, celebrate the present, and look to the future with an optimism born of the spirit."

He told the story of a colleauge who, when he was a bishop, was able to see a young lady who had sinned, and then followed all the steps of repentance, but could not seem to forgive herself. I personally think this is the hardest step. He told her to go home and read the scripture story of "Sodom & Gomorrah" and to come back to him and tell him what she learned from it. She comes back to the bishop and tells him that she learned, "When you sin, you are destroyed." The bishop says, "No! That is not the lesson I wanted you to learn." She then asked, "Well what then?" He came back with a resounding "Don't look back!"

How come it is so hard not to look back? My husband always says he hates it when I bring up past mistakes. His especially. Sometimes it is hard for me to let go. All my past mistakes as a mother are probably the hardest. Before I was in therapy, I was not doing a good job at motherhood. I still feel guilty about that. I even said to my therapist that I hope my kids forgive me for that. He said they will when they have children of their own.

So, one of the last things he said was, "God cares more about your direction than your location." He also said we need to concentrate more on our aim instead of the target. If we are taking aim and working to improve it, we will hit the target.

We know the outcome of this world. God will win. No matter how wicked it gets, or how many of our dear brothers and sisters choose wickedness, God will win! Since we know the outcome, will we be able to work harder on our aim? Yes! At least I know I will be trying.

It depends on how you look at it

I have a tendency to make things bigger that they really are. Some would call it blowing things out of proportion. Making a mountain out of a mole hill. You get the point. My friend gave me the analogy of holding my opened hand up to my nose. When I did this, all I could see was my hand. Then he told me to pull my hand back until my arm was straight. I could still see my hand, but it was smaller. And I could see other things too. I'm just a bit too good at holding my hand to my face. When I have a problem, that's all I see. When in reality, the problem really isn't so big it can't be solved. And there is still plenty of enjoyment in life to help us through the trial. The problem is there, that's the fact. But, it is not the only thing in my life. I have so many blessings, that when I hold my hand (ie. problem) up to my nose, I forget to be grateful. I neglect all the good I really do have in my life. I forget that God gave me a brain to problem solve. I am using my brain to freak out. What a waste of good brain.

Another analogy I love,is looking at the glass half full instead of half empty. I refer to this often in my mind because I am trying to learn that trials are only part of our lives. I am me because of what I have learned from my trials, but also what I have learned from being a human being, working, loving, being faithful, being obedient, being a wife, companion, mother, daughter, sister, and friend. All of these shape who I am.

"The only difference between stepping stones and stumbling blocks is the way you use them."

My brain really does still work!

It has been a week and a half since my school started. At first I was so filled with anxiety I wanted to throw up every morning. I took my first test on the first day of class to see if I qualify to be in that class. I had to wait 2 days for the results. Two difficult, anxiety filled days. But, I made it. I made it through the anxiety, and into the class. Barely, but even barely is still good enough. Now, I am getting into the groove and learning and re-learning a lot about music already. It has been a much better couple of days now.

I have to say, it is weird being the oldest student in all of my classes. The teachers are older, but the next oldest student is about 23.

Well, I love the classes. My brain feels otherwise, but is getting forced back into memorizing, and taking in new information. This actually feels like a muscle being worked....Hard! But, I can feel the difference in just a week and a half.

So, I plug forward with cautious optimism, that all will be well. I asked my dh what another word could be for cautious optimism. He couldn't find the one I was looking for. My word? Humility...being teachable.

My brain has a lot of learning to do, and yes, I can finally say, "My brain really does still work!"