When Bad Things Happen

My little Sunday School class was all a whirl Sunday morning over the sad events of last Friday in Connecticut.  They asked, "Where was God?"  I had prepared a Christmas lesson, but as I listened to the kids talk I felt like we needed to dive in a bit into the different ways that God responds to incidents like this.  Sometimes it is hard to understand events where evil acts are imposed on others.

Not that this is an inclusive tutorial, but right then, on the fly, I could think of three ways that Heavenly Father deals with His children when bad things are happening.

First, He spares us.  Through the promptings of the Holy Ghost, God can whisper direction that can protect and direct us.  We can be inspired to go late,or leave a situation, or avoid a person, or take a different route,  etc. The kids were able to think of lots of stories of folks who "always do this", but that day "did that instead".  Or people who changed plans and it ended up keeping them safe and sound. W don't know what dangers are around us, but our Omniscient God does.  And we rarely know the results of following promptings like this. Nevertheless, He does and He can spare us.

One example from our family's almanac: The summer of 1998, we started our drive home from Salt Lake to to Minneapolis.  We had a most inconvenient car disruption in Green River, Wyoming that delayed us eight hours from getting back to Minnesota.  We didn't know that there was a storm brewing in the Midwest, but June 29, 1998 was the great "Corn Belt Derecco"-- a tornado that swept through Iowa.

From a local source:"The Des Moines area was particularly hard-hit. Although the evidence remains somewhat inconclusive, it appears that the large, fast-moving mesocyclone of one supercell was nearly in contact with the ground as it moved from southwest Boone County east-southeast across the northern and eastern parts of the Des Moines metro area. This feature appears to have been responsible for the most intense damage along this corridor. In Des Moines, Polk County, roofs were lifted off stores and homes, planes were flipped at an air field just north of the city, and heavy construction equipment and semi-trailer trucks were overturned on Interstate 35-80. Up to 100,000 homes lost power, and power to some parts of Des Moines was not restored for nearly a week. The damage, totalling an estimated $100 million in Polk County alone, was consistent with wind speeds of 110-155 mph (F2 strength)."

When we finally got on the road from a day of hanging out at the ski shop and walking the Green River with our three tiny boys, we didn't even know that we had been spared this terrible storm.  But, as we drove through Des Moines, Iowa and saw the shocking damage along the freeway, we calculated that our delay had kept us from driving straight through the heart of tornado some hours before.

Second, He shows His power-- He rescues us miraculously.  God is Omnipotent and can do marvelous things.  Through the Priesthood, His Priesthood holders can access His power, too.  Can He move mountains, close lions mouths, save disciples in pits of fire, open seas to dry ground, send manna, change water to wine, send 40 days of rain, prepare mountain sides of chariots of angels?  yes.  He is a God of miracles and in marvelous ways he protects and cares for us.

The kids and I read the story of missionaries, Alma and Amulek, and of being bound and jailed.  With the strength of God, they broke the bands that held them and the prison walls fell down.  Their enemies left in fear and the men were free. (Alma 14)

Third, He holds wicked men accountable for their wickedness.  Herein may lie the answer to tragedy like 9-11, Connecticut  or Columbine.  Could God change the course of planes?  Yes.  Could He make bad things never come to bear?  Yes.  But--

Tucked in the middle of the miraculous rescue of Alma and Amulek is the story of their converts and Church friends.  The missionaries were brought to a place where they could witness women and children and their scriptures being thrown into a pit of fire.  This was gut-wrenching to see and Amulek asked, "How can we witness this awful scene? Therefore let us stretch forth our hands, and exercise the power of God (the priesthood) which is in us, and save them from the flames." (Alma 14:10)

Alma's response teaches the third point, "The Spirit constraineth me that I must not stretch forth mine hand; for behold the Lord receiveth them up unto himself, in glory; and he doth suffer that they may do this thing, or that the people may do this thing unto them, according to the hardness of their hearts, that the judgments which he shall exercise upon them in his wrath may be just; and the blood of the innocent shall stand as a witness against them, yea, and cry mightily against them at the last day."  (Alma 14:11)

So, if God always "spared" and/or "showed His power", then the wicked would never be able to be judged according to their works of darkness.

We ended by talking about D&C 122:7 "...know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good."  No matter the ill, God will bring good to pass.  I couldn't help by pointing out that Robbie Parker (father of the deceased Emily, who died in the incident last Friday), was the first parent out there.  He stood like a priesthood man would, in suit and tie and in front of our Church.  He spoke of forgiveness, compassion and love.  He set the tone for the world.

Calling Them Home

While Greg and I were on Prince Edward island this past Fall, we happened into a little fishing village named, North Rustico.  It was on the ocean on the north side of the island.  That meant that the ferocious waves and winds of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence pressed against the red sandstone shores.  The sea breeze made it feel like it was drizzling and the homes and were beaten and bruised. Still it had a very homey feel and even though the town was sleepy, I could tell that there was industry and pride in the village.  Their lobster traps were neatly stacked.  The buoys were piled nicely.  It was a lovely, idyllic place.

Reaching out into the Gulf was a old dike and walkway about the length of a football field.  It's foundation was giant boulders, and railway ties rested on their tops.  It was broken and punched, but Greg and I took a walk out towards the end. The ocean banged against each side of this dike in anger.  And I felt very much intimidated by the strength of the waves and their intensity as they crashed up against the rocks at my feet.

It was getting dusky and thick fog was settling in when I got out into the ocean and looked back on North Rustico from the sea.  Standing in the middle of those noisy, crashing, churning waves, one thing stood out-- in center of the town at the ocean's edge was the North Rustico Lighthouse.  It's turning head was bright and seemed to be searching.

Now, I had been admiring lighthouses for a week and all the way from Portland Maine, but this was the first time where it occurred to me that lighthouses do more than help folks avoid dangerous rocks and cliffs.  This North Rustico beacon seemed to be calling.  Yes, calling the residents of this village back home. I imagined families who were quite probably waiting in their seaside houses for their daddies to return from the day's catch. This light seemed to beckon them to leave the ocean's indignation and return to safety.  It was lighting the way through dark and fog and endless wave to loving hearth. Not allowing the searcher at sea to miss the village amidst the boundless dark water of an ocean's night sky.

I have a porch light at my front door and it is my lighthouse.  As the sun begins to go down, I turn it on.  I leave it on until each member of our family is safely gathered.  I always breathe a sigh of relief when Greg and each of the kids enter the door and retire for the night.  It is only then that I feel like I can turn off our search light, close out the waves and winds with a turn of the lock, and be at peace knowing that we've all escaped the world's fury.  When one is gone, I leave the light on all night long.  I can't turn it off knowing that someone needs to find his way home.  And when each is collected, I hope they will notice clean sheets, puffy beds, folded clothes, warm dinners, homemade treats, tidy surroundings, acceptance, kindness, patience and love.

I hope my light calls my men home like that beautiful beacon of North Rustico.

On Mother's Day

As a little girl, I loved playing with dolls. I had chubby, pink-cheeked babies and a Baby Come Back that coo’ed and toddled. My sisters and I created paperdolls and their tabbed clothes with tracing paper and colored pencils. I loved setting up a household with the small Fisher Price people. My siblings and I used the blocks to transform the Fisher-Price Village or the Fisher-Price Hospital into large mansions full of little furniture and big families. I used to cross the street to my friend, Shari Warnick’s house, and we played with Barbies. Shari had a sports car that was great for taking Skipper or PJ to piano lessons, or for Barbie to go on dates with her husband, Ken. As a Senior in High School, my wish-list for Santa included a Cabbage Patch Doll. He obliged and I adopted Octavia Roxanna, a fat-faced, blonde-headed baby. I took her to Prom with me and Greg Weight in a dress that matched the purple one that my mom had made for me.

I have always looked forward to being a mother.

Even with all of that young practice, and with a boat-load of desire, when it came my time in actuality, I wondered about my skill. As I was packing to leave Orem Community Hospital with a brand-new baby, Ryan, I felt very insecure. And very inadequate. And very, very nervous. The bundle seemed so little, so precious….and so breakable. He had a little personality and I sensed all sorts of potential. All of a sudden, the job seemed big and important and I wondered if I knew how to raise an actual, real-life child. Under my breath, I whispered to Greg, “These nurses are willing to send this little guy home with us. How do they know we can do it?”

Now that I am in my twentieth year of being about this work full-time, I am oddly still asking this same question about myself—How does God know that I can do this? Sometimes I still feel nervous about my ability to nurture and teach these little humans that are in my care. And though I still ask the question, I know the answer better than I did on that May morning in 1993-- How can it work? Because mothering as a partnership with God. He knows that I can do it, because the perfect, omniscient, omnipotent, charitable He is my companion.

This is what I am learning:
* We do very little in this job without the support of heaven.
* Our best efforts, though they may seem feeble, can be made sufficient through the Atonement of Christ.
* This process is as much about my growth and development as it is my children’s.
* My relationship is custodial. The Parent to whom these kids really belong is fully invested in their development.
* He is there to help and inspire. He guides and comforts.
* He can make things fine when I make mistakes, am too much a softy, over react, am too serious minded, worry, pester and grump.
* He can make me fine by bringing me peace, confidence, evidences of His hand, and by helping me hone characteristics like He has.

Julie Beck was right when she said that “forming families is a faith-based work”. (Teaching the Doctrine of the Family, CES Training Fireside, Aug 2009, Julie B Beck) It requires acting and pressing forward with our eye on Christ. He knows all. He loves perfectly. He can accomplish miracles with His great power. When I fail to see Him as my partner, then mothering is a scary and hopeless and overwhelming job. I love that Elder Cook talked of he and Sister Cook’s parenting and said that over time, “our faith increased and our fears decreased” (CR Nov 2007 Live by Faith and Not by Fear, Elder Quentin L. Cook) Yes, the work of family is a “faith-based” work, and I must be founded and reliant on Christ in this effort.

If I peek at my life with a space shuttle view, I can see that the entrance of these six little boys into my life have made my loftiest dreams a reality. I am whole and most satisfied because of this lovely opportunity to mother..... and I can do it, because of Christ. This is where the paper dolls and Cabbage Patch babies of yore were leading me all along.