I've thought a lot lately about tools.
And no- not those jerky guys that use people. Even though that's always what one of my friends snickers about when I say the word "tool". Oh goodness.
I mean actual tools. Screwdrivers, hammers, wrenches. Mediums through which the master builder changes his work.
I have always wanted to be a "tool" in the Lord's hands. As in- God loves all His children, but His physical hands don't touch them right now, even though He is trying to change them and build them. I've always wanted to be that tool- that medium through which God could work.
The problem is- when you're not the builder, it's hard to know where you're supposed to go, who you're supposed to help, and what you're supposed to do. Are you supposed to be a hammer? A wrench? Who needs my help? And what do they need? Do they need someone to make them food? Do they need someone to babysit their kids? Do they need a shoulder to cry on? Do they need to be left alone? And how am I supposed to know?
This is the most confusing part for me- knowing where to go, and what to do. I can be all ready- all willing and wanting to love someone in a way that will mean a lot for them in a big way, a way that I can be God's hands in their life for a moment. It's just hard to find the right person at the right time and recognize it. How do I know where I'm supposed to wait to be in that right spot when I'm needed?
And then, today, it hit me.
In the toolshed.
Duh. :)
What is the toolshed? Well, let me start by talking about what it's not, at least to me. The toolshed is not endless hours on Netflix. It's not a week schedule full of doing things soley for your benefit- your career, your school, your appearance, your belongings.
To me, being in the toolshed means being actively working on good things. This is key to being in the right place at the right time. Do your visiting teaching, say yes when people ask for favors or service project labor. Volunteer to help others, and be happy about it. Make food and let people eat it. If you're not trying to help people in small ways that barely matter, you won't be prepared to help them in big ways that make a world of difference.
Being in the toolshed also means being watchful and careful, and thinking long and hard about the people around you. Try to read them. See where what they love, and try to see what hurts them. And then ask God about it. And then make it better for them.
Sometimes we're all ready, all willing to be used by God for great things, but He doesn't need us right now. Sometimes we sit in the toolshed unused for a while. But the key is that we're there- in the toolshed, willing, and waiting, and watchful.
But other times- because we're doing our visiting teaching and service consistently, those we serve need help in huge ways, and we are all ready to help them, because we already love them, already know them, and they already trust us enough to allow us into their most vulnerable parts where we can heal and serve.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Mi Libro Favorito: Palabras Últimas
My Favorite Book: Last words
Today in church we had the most wonderful lesson about my favorite book, the Book of Mormon.
Summary of the book: it's a history of people that lived in Central America from about 600 BC through about 400 AD- their wars, kings, nations, and all with a focus on how the people tried to learn about Jesus Christ, as dictated by the prophets of God throughout the history. The theme is definitely coming unto Jesus Christ and being perfected in Him. (PS- this has changed my life).
At the very end of the book, the last prophet who records anything is named Moroni. He watches his nation self-destruct through wars and he is the last remaining from his family. He wanders around in the wilderness for 36 years. THIRTY SIX YEARS. Alone. Utterly alone. I try not to be a Debbie Downer, but man- how much worse can it get? That's pretty darn bad.
But he continues to record as God inspires him to do so. One of my favorite scriptures is Moroni 7:45-48. That scripture about love has changed my life at critical crossroads.
Read the verses quick here: https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/moro/7.45-48
But anyways. I digress. Today in church we talked about Moroni's last words. The very very last thing he put in this huge record of people over a 1,000 year time span. What could he possibly say to wrap up a huge record like this?
He decides, in his last sentence before he bids farewell, to talk about this:
"And again, if ye by the grace of God are perfect in Christ, and deny not his power, then are ye sanctified in Christ by the grace of God, through the shedding of the blood of Christ, which is in the covenant of the Father unto the remission of your sins, that ye become holy, without spot."
Grace. Amazing grace. How sweet the sound. That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found. Blind, but now I see.
Grace has changed my life, because it means I don't have to be perfect. I just have to want to be, and He can make up the rest. This has been so constantly true throughout my life. There have been times when I have been so fatigued I felt like I could not go one more step on my own. I collapsed and felt like I could never get up again.
That's when I know he helped me, because somehow I kept going, kept loving, kept working, even when I couldn't. He carried me. Gave me strength where I had none. Changed me when the only thing I put into it was desperately wanting to change.
These last words are so profound to me. This is what it's all about. There are little things I try to do- reading my scriptures, saying my prayers, trying to help others when they need help, giving of my blessings to those who need it more than I do. But what it's all about- the big idea- is that little by little, we are changed by grace. The blood that Christ shed actually has power in my life, and it actually changes me.
These last words are so appropriate for what the entire book is about.
I try not to be preachy, but the fact of the matter is that the Book of Mormon has changed my life, directed my hardest decisions, and changed me into a person at crossroads in my life. I have heard God talking to me when I read the Book of Mormon. Much of who I am and am trying to become is dictated by this book. It´s my favorite. If you need a good read for slow Sunday afternoons, or you need like major direction in life, or peace when you cannot find peace anywhere else ;), I would highly recommend it. :) But seriously.
Today in church we had the most wonderful lesson about my favorite book, the Book of Mormon.
Summary of the book: it's a history of people that lived in Central America from about 600 BC through about 400 AD- their wars, kings, nations, and all with a focus on how the people tried to learn about Jesus Christ, as dictated by the prophets of God throughout the history. The theme is definitely coming unto Jesus Christ and being perfected in Him. (PS- this has changed my life).
At the very end of the book, the last prophet who records anything is named Moroni. He watches his nation self-destruct through wars and he is the last remaining from his family. He wanders around in the wilderness for 36 years. THIRTY SIX YEARS. Alone. Utterly alone. I try not to be a Debbie Downer, but man- how much worse can it get? That's pretty darn bad.
But he continues to record as God inspires him to do so. One of my favorite scriptures is Moroni 7:45-48. That scripture about love has changed my life at critical crossroads.
Read the verses quick here: https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/moro/7.45-48
But anyways. I digress. Today in church we talked about Moroni's last words. The very very last thing he put in this huge record of people over a 1,000 year time span. What could he possibly say to wrap up a huge record like this?
He decides, in his last sentence before he bids farewell, to talk about this:
"And again, if ye by the grace of God are perfect in Christ, and deny not his power, then are ye sanctified in Christ by the grace of God, through the shedding of the blood of Christ, which is in the covenant of the Father unto the remission of your sins, that ye become holy, without spot."
Grace. Amazing grace. How sweet the sound. That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found. Blind, but now I see.
Grace has changed my life, because it means I don't have to be perfect. I just have to want to be, and He can make up the rest. This has been so constantly true throughout my life. There have been times when I have been so fatigued I felt like I could not go one more step on my own. I collapsed and felt like I could never get up again.
That's when I know he helped me, because somehow I kept going, kept loving, kept working, even when I couldn't. He carried me. Gave me strength where I had none. Changed me when the only thing I put into it was desperately wanting to change.
These last words are so profound to me. This is what it's all about. There are little things I try to do- reading my scriptures, saying my prayers, trying to help others when they need help, giving of my blessings to those who need it more than I do. But what it's all about- the big idea- is that little by little, we are changed by grace. The blood that Christ shed actually has power in my life, and it actually changes me.
These last words are so appropriate for what the entire book is about.
I try not to be preachy, but the fact of the matter is that the Book of Mormon has changed my life, directed my hardest decisions, and changed me into a person at crossroads in my life. I have heard God talking to me when I read the Book of Mormon. Much of who I am and am trying to become is dictated by this book. It´s my favorite. If you need a good read for slow Sunday afternoons, or you need like major direction in life, or peace when you cannot find peace anywhere else ;), I would highly recommend it. :) But seriously.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
The day everything went wrong
Alrighty- another post about Romania. Now that I've had time to reflect, I have to write about our very last day at the hospital. Because it was, well... horrible.
It was the rainiest day yet. No sun. Just big splashy puddles in lumpy, uneven streets and wind that blew so hard your entire coat got soaked even with an umbrella because the rain blew in from the sides and hit you anyway instead of gently dripping off the sides of your umbrella like it's supposed to. But that was okay, because the children were worth seeing.
It was also the last day to buy beautiful painted Romanian eggs at the Easter market outside, and we had wanted to go after lunch, but the market was closed until when we were supposed to be at the hospital because of the rain. But that was okay, and we never bought those eggs, because the children were worth seeing.
This was our last shabang, the last time to spend time with children who didn't have their own parents, to love them, and to serve them. I was tired, but ready for one last time with them.
We got to the hospital and split up, as we usually do. Half of us started on the top floor, half of us started on the bottom floor. We walked down halls, asked the nurses where the orphans were, were told there were no orphans on that floor, and proceeded to the next floor. But there were orphans there, the nurses just... didn't want us to go see them. Because of the mud on our boots. And because the children would cry. Sometimes we fought them. We didn't fight them today. We just said "Multumesc," thank you, and went to look for more.
We looked and looked and looked. No orphans that the nurses would let us see.
We were supposed to be there for 3 hours, but after 25 minutes, we had searched the entire hospital, and were out of options.
So, we had to go home.
Back through the rain. Soaking through our shoes now. Blowing our umbrellas so hard it was easier to just put the umbrellas away and lean into the rain. 30 minutes of walking up to the hospital. 25 minutes of searching for our last kids. 30 minutes back home. All for nothing. 3 months of being in Romania, trying our best, and on our very last visit- we weren't able to see any kids at all. The nurses still were annoyed with us. And the rain was unrelenting. It was like something was mocking us for trying so hard for so long, because we weren't going to get that one last time.
I'd like to say I learned a great lesson from this, and that it's changed the way I look at service and has helped turn me into a better person. But that wouldn't be true. I still look back on this day and am completely confused. That was the thanks we got for all we did? Grumpy nurses and a rainy day with cold wet feet? That wasn't the perfect fairytale ending we deserved for all our hard work. It wasn't even a good ending. It was just fatiguing.
Maybe sometimes even when you try your very best, it still doesn't work. People still don't want your help. And it rains. And the people that need your help never get access to it, because you can't reach them.
Is it really service and love if you never get to reach the people you're trying to reach?
I hope so. I hope that service and love are beyond that.
I'd like to think what matters is that we tried. We went all the way to search and find them. And we're willing. And we did our best. And we really do love them. Even if it's only in our hearts.
It was the rainiest day yet. No sun. Just big splashy puddles in lumpy, uneven streets and wind that blew so hard your entire coat got soaked even with an umbrella because the rain blew in from the sides and hit you anyway instead of gently dripping off the sides of your umbrella like it's supposed to. But that was okay, because the children were worth seeing.
It was also the last day to buy beautiful painted Romanian eggs at the Easter market outside, and we had wanted to go after lunch, but the market was closed until when we were supposed to be at the hospital because of the rain. But that was okay, and we never bought those eggs, because the children were worth seeing.
This was our last shabang, the last time to spend time with children who didn't have their own parents, to love them, and to serve them. I was tired, but ready for one last time with them.
We got to the hospital and split up, as we usually do. Half of us started on the top floor, half of us started on the bottom floor. We walked down halls, asked the nurses where the orphans were, were told there were no orphans on that floor, and proceeded to the next floor. But there were orphans there, the nurses just... didn't want us to go see them. Because of the mud on our boots. And because the children would cry. Sometimes we fought them. We didn't fight them today. We just said "Multumesc," thank you, and went to look for more.
We looked and looked and looked. No orphans that the nurses would let us see.
We were supposed to be there for 3 hours, but after 25 minutes, we had searched the entire hospital, and were out of options.
So, we had to go home.
Back through the rain. Soaking through our shoes now. Blowing our umbrellas so hard it was easier to just put the umbrellas away and lean into the rain. 30 minutes of walking up to the hospital. 25 minutes of searching for our last kids. 30 minutes back home. All for nothing. 3 months of being in Romania, trying our best, and on our very last visit- we weren't able to see any kids at all. The nurses still were annoyed with us. And the rain was unrelenting. It was like something was mocking us for trying so hard for so long, because we weren't going to get that one last time.
I'd like to say I learned a great lesson from this, and that it's changed the way I look at service and has helped turn me into a better person. But that wouldn't be true. I still look back on this day and am completely confused. That was the thanks we got for all we did? Grumpy nurses and a rainy day with cold wet feet? That wasn't the perfect fairytale ending we deserved for all our hard work. It wasn't even a good ending. It was just fatiguing.
Maybe sometimes even when you try your very best, it still doesn't work. People still don't want your help. And it rains. And the people that need your help never get access to it, because you can't reach them.
Is it really service and love if you never get to reach the people you're trying to reach?
I hope so. I hope that service and love are beyond that.
I'd like to think what matters is that we tried. We went all the way to search and find them. And we're willing. And we did our best. And we really do love them. Even if it's only in our hearts.
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