To RECEIVE the Holy Ghost

After Zoe was born, and left this earth very soon after, there was a period of about three months where I KNEW that I had the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost. It was so easy to feel the love and guidance of the Lord. My heart was utterly broken and all those things that usually stand in the way of such communication were gone. I had no desire to sin, and I had absolutely no desire for the things of the world. I didn't even listen to the radio for fear some lyrics or words spoken would offend The Spirit. I read my scriptures more frequently, I prayed more earnestly, and I FELT things more purely than I ever had before or ever have since. The words, "Lo, I am with you alway." were ringing in my head constantly.

After this time, things gradually started to get back to normal- I began working out (and therefore listening to "normal" music-- it's hard to do hip-hop abs to Mo-Tab), I got back into school and started having days where I skipped either one or both of my personal scripture study and prayer. I occasionally had days that were just plain BAD- one in particular stands out in my mind.

I had just had surgery on my two badly crushed toes and had to rely on crutches to get around. One morning I woke up and it had snowed. Which meant that the three flights of stairs that had to be maneuvered in order to reach the parking lot were completely covered in the hateful white stuff. That morning I cried the entire way down the stairs- sliding on my butt, because I had fallen trying to use the crutches- cursing everything and everyone in sight. And my day only went downhill from there.

I didn't feel the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost anymore. It didn't leave overnight, but I realized that gradually the things of the world had seeped back into my life and all but extinguished the light of The Spirit, the same Spirit that had sustained me during the most trying time of my life.

I started trying in earnest to get that same companionship back, only to meet failure. I truly believe that during those three months, I was given a "double portion" of The Spirit in order to compensate for the loss that I felt so keenly, and I hope now that I will never have another experience that will call for such a miraculous gift again. But I still struggle everyday to do as the scriptures say, and "receive" the Holy Ghost and truly make him welcome in my life. It is hard with the general busyness of life, and the constant call of the world, but we are commanded to do it.

I am preparing a lesson for Relief Society on this very subject, which is what got me thinking so much about this. So, I want to pose a question to all of you who read this--

How do you receive the Holy Ghost in your day-to-day lives?

It's a bird, It's a plane... no- IT'S TIME!

I dropped my baby off at nursery for the first time yesterday.

I set her down.
She ran off,
started playing,
..... and never once looked back.

I peeked in halfway through the two hours, and she was happily sitting down eating her whales, and drinking out of a cup!

And then.....

it hit me.

My baby is no longer a BABY.

I was filled with complete wonder at the growing process. One day Quinn was nothing more than a nudger in my tummy, the next she's this demanding little ball who does nothing but eat and sleep. And now..... this. I'm not sure I can handle this- my brain needs time to catch up.

And then I realized I was not alone- and as I looked at the other mothers gathered around the little one-way window, with tears in my eyes-- They looked back at me with complete understanding. Like they already knew what I was just beginning to grasp. Oh, why didn't someone tell me?

My little fairy

Childhood Obesity

This poor little guy doesn't even fit in his stroller- good thing his "momma" still loves him....

klutzy

Okay, so our church building is really weird. You can only cross from one side of the church to the other by going through the chapel or the gym OR the stage. Quinn pooped her pants in the middle of sacrament and the mother's room happens to be on the side opposite where we were sitting. So I had to cross through the chapel to change her bum. On the way back, I decided to NOT walk directly in front of everyone in our ward in order to get back to our seats. SO--- I made the worst decision in the history of my church attendance. I decided to cross the stage.

I opened up the door to the stage and peeked into the blackened area, noting the chairs strewn about and the SERIOUS lack of light, but decided I would be fine. (I'm so much braver when I have someone with me-- even when that someone is Quinn.) I made it up the stairs and across the stage with no problem. Then I began my descent of the stairs at the opposite side. Everything was going great until I reached the last step (or what I THOUGHT was the last step), and stepped off into oblivion.

You know the feeling. When you realize, oh crap- I should've already touched the ground. Oh no, this is gonna be bad.

And then... WHAM! A volleyball poll met my face and then the second one met my chest. (I actually had the thought- "oh, a volleyball poll. This IS a good place to store those. I always wondered where they were kept.") My foot met, what was ACTUALLY the last step, but in such a way as to render that foot completely helpless. And I.... well, I bit the dust, as they say. (Turns out, when things-- such as body parts--- hit a volleyball poll, it makes a sound like a church bell which I am quite sure can be heard for miles around.)

I sat there stunned for a good 3 seconds and then my brain registered that Quinn was crying. BRAIN: What? Oh, yeah. I was holding Quinn when that all happened. Where is she? AAaaahhhh- I'm STILL holding her. Whew! Nice one. I'm stronger than I thought. Wait, is she hurt? Umm....... no. Just scared. Scared. SHE'S scared. aahhh ha ha ha ha. (maniacal laughing)

I seriously laughed crazily while trying to calm her down. That was the only thing that kept me from crying my eyes out in response to the fear, adrenaline, and PAIN. oh the pain.

Anyways, this all has a happy ending. I hobbled out to meet Tyson, who promptly became frantic picturing me falling down the big 35-step staircase up to the primary room, but calmed down remarkably well when informed that it was actually the stage stairs I had fallen down. (it was dark, and there were polls at the bottom okay?)

But in all seriousness, I would like to pose a question:

Why does it hurt so much worse when you're older? My neice Maggie would've taken that fall, stood up, flexed her muscles, and stated, "That almost hurt my guns."

dilemma

definition: a situation requiring a choice between equally undesirable alternatives

example: (the following is a real-life texting conversation)

Tyson: So Sister Moon [I did not take any literary license pertaining to the teacher's name] came into class with her skirt tucked in, talk about a dilemma

Me: Tucked in to what? (hoping that she was at least wearing garments)

Tyson: Her tights, luckily they were only knee highs

(Pause for at least 6 1/2 minutes of laughter)

Me: Well that's good.

Tyson: Ya so I'm a guy but you feel a need to tell her- awkward

Me: Whoa- did you tell her?

Tyson: Ya, not quite as awkward as you might think but still

Me: Was she embarassed?

Tyson: Very, the sad part is she didn't even know for how long...

Redefining dilemma: letting your female teacher walk around with her skirt tucked into her knee highs or telling her, even if you're a guy

Job Security

That's right-- I'm a lifer here.