Sharing Spiritual Experiences

I've always known God was there.  Not some mystical, magical, undefined being.  A person who cared for me.  A person who protected me.  A person who loved and valued me.

For as long as I can remember.  He was there.  Not in some abstract way, a sense without definition.  In a way that just felt natural.  That felt secure.

I had my first intensely personal experience with God when I was very young.  I was aware of a relationship with God at an early age.  Before I knew who or what God was, before I understood what it meant.

But I don't share that with people.

Because once I started to learn how the world worked I understood that it wasn't safe for me to do so.

I grew up going to church.  We asked a blessing at meal time.  That was about the extent of religion in my house.  An occasional attempt at a religious lesson.  Choose the right.  Do unto others.

But no God.  We go to church, but we aren't those people.  Don't take the religion thing too far.  Don't get all self-righteous.

I learned early that discussing spirituality was not acceptable.  To even discuss God or ask a question about Christ or scriptures was inviting ridicule.  Any attempt I made to be righteous was seen as self-righteous judgment of those around me.  Was seen as holier than thou.

When you feel something so deeply, and have it mocked regularly, it hurts.  It is damaging.  It shuts you down and you learn to keep those thoughts and experiences to yourself.

But I have those experiences for a reason.  The back and forth communication I have with God is not for me alone.  The miracles in my life are not just to convince me.

It took me so long to understand this.  To find my way past the blocks that were placed in my life by judgmentality.  To see that the real power in my spiritual experiences comes when I share them.  When I listen to my heart, see that a person's desire is sincere, and share what I know.

The adversary loved it when I was too scared to share.  He wanted me silent because my words could bring others to God.

I am done being silent.  I am ready to sing praises.  I am ready to proclaim truth.

God lives.  He knows me and loves me.  He is mindful of me.  And of you.  He cares what happens in my life.  He guides my life.  God still works miracles today.

And I refuse to be silent about Him ever again.

A Woman of Faith

The Book of Mormon tells a story about two thousand young warriors, dedicated to God.  Within this story there is a scripture that many mothers cling to.  These young men are described as having great courage and great faith.  And in Alma 56:48 they say, "We do not doubt our mothers knew it."  They trusted that God would protect them because their mothers had taught them this.

As a mother, I want to teach my children well.  I want to teach them truth.  And I want to help them become good people.  I also want them to be people of faith.  I want them to know God and trust that He will protect them and guide them if they will invite Him into their lives.  But there is only so much that I can do to make this happen.

My children must choose for themselves.  And that's scary.  They may choose to leave the church.  They may choose to disregard all that I have taught them.  They may go against everything I believe in.

All I can do is love them, teach them, and be a woman of faith myself.

Being a woman of faith is more than just believing or knowing that God is there.  It's more than trusting in Him.  It's more than telling my children that they are His children and He loves them. 

It's about living a life of faith.  It's about putting into action those things I believe.  As it says in James 2:26 "faith without works is dead."  I may believe in being honest but if I do not practice it, my faith benefits no one.  No matter what principles I believe, if I don't live those principles my faith in them will mean nothing.  And proclaiming belief while living in opposition to that claim does not teach faith to my children.

I cling to the story of the two thousand stripling warriors.  I live a life of faith for myself, but also for my children.  I want to model the behavior I'd like to see in them.  I try to be a good person.  I try to please my Father in Heaven.  I try to set a good example.

And occasionally I am rewarded for my efforts.  Several months ago I heard my son speak of his feelings and how difficult it was when his father left the church.  And then he said, "But I knew my mom still believed."  He talked about how he relied on that and how it gave him the strength to stay committed.  And then a few months later I got to hear him say that he'd found a testimony of his own.

These were incredibly humbling experiences for me.  I am so grateful for a teenage son who is willing to share his feelings with me.  I am grateful that he trusts me.  And I am grateful that he is finding out for himself, that he is becoming a man of faith.

Rewards of Motherhood

I am a woman of faith.  My belief in God, and His hand in my life, are the foundation for everything I do.  Including the way I mother my children.

I want them to know Him, to trust Him, to know that they are never alone -- even when I am not with them.

And sometimes I am rewarded for my efforts.  Sometimes my children say or do something that lets me know they have been converted.  For a woman of faith no reward is greater than a child who believes.

My daughter, Jessica, rewarded me recently with this beautiful poem.  And my heart melted.

I'm Yours

These are my hands.
They're not very big.
They aren't pretty or slender, either.
My fingers are stubby, and my knuckles stick out.
I have hangnails all over.
But here they are anyway:
My hands.

These are my feet.
They're really quite squat.
They're callused and a little dirty.
I have a hard time squeezing them into high heels.
I'm not sure they're the right shape.
But here they are anyway:
My feet.

This is my heart.
I know it's not perfect.
It's scared sometimes, and weak.
I don't use it as often as I probably should.
It just looks so small.
But here it is anyway:
My heart.

God,
it's hard not to feel like
I'm not very much.

Your power is so great,
and I'm only a tiny piece
of everything.

But I love you, and I know that -
incredibly -
you love me.

So I trust you.

Take them.

Take my hands.
Use them to reach people who need you.
Let them lift spirits and carry burdens.
Make them strong enough to do your will.
They're yours.

Take my feet.
Use them to get your gospel moving.
Let them guide me on the path of righteousness.
Make them quick enough to run to my brother's aid.
They're yours.

Take my heart.
Use it to find your children in their sorrows.
Let it show love to those who need it most.
Make it soft enough to hear when you whisper.
It's yours.

I give you all that I have,
all that I am.

I may not be much,
but
I'm yours.