Jesus Honored His Parents, and So Can You
This last Thanksgiving Holiday found me in Idaho at my parent's house for the whole week. And before the rest of the family descended up on us, we (my parent's, my sister, and even my husband for a bit there) got involved in another verbal wrestling match of ideas. This happens fairly frequently in my parent's home. I think this is one of our most defining characteristics as a family. And I think it's one way my parents have helped me define me. Here is a list of topics over the last few months:
The Root Cause of Terrorism
What Turns Extremists into Terrorists
White Privilege
How We are All Racists
Mansplaining
Feminism and why cat calling isn't cool
Saving Seed and GMOs
School Shootings, Gun Control, and Mental Health
Sweat Shops/Fast Fashion
White Man's Burden
Impacts of Colonialism
Global Warming
The morning after our most recent contest, my sister, my mom, and I went grocery shopping for the epic Whole30 Thanksgiving Feast my sister had planned (it was soooooo good!). And we got talking about our "conversation" from the night before, not about the ideas themselves, but about how we have conversations like that with our parents. I personally think I have the best parents in the world and one of the big reasons is because we have conversations like this. Because they have taught us to think and articulate our thoughts and even if it frustrates them sometimes that we have our own opinions on things, that they will always engage with us. That they are willing to listen and change their minds. That even though they both grew up with very specific ideas on what it means to respect their parents (don't disagree, don't argue, always defer), that they don't hold us to those same standards. And mostly, that no matter how heated it gets, that they put the relationship first and always end with love (this is mostly my mom's doing). I also hope they know that they ground us in wisdom and help us see greater truth than we could see on our own, that we respect their experience and knowledge and that they are still influencing our thoughts and beliefs. And that I love them SOOO much!
Happy Pills and Pioneers
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“Depression is not a sign of weakness, it is a sign that you have been strong for too long” ~ Author anonymous
Might I just add, that at least for me to some degree, it is also a sign of being strong without the help of the Lord. I think. Maybe? I have wondered if I was one of those people that never missed a day of scripture study and prayer, maybe I would have been spared this trial?
But while typing that my heart answers, no. Choosing righteousness doesn't mean we are spared hard times. The gospel isn't a forcefield or magical spell or happy pill to shield us from the world and sorrow. Except that it sometimes is, or at least softens the blow, or makes us stronger to endure.
So then I ask, if I had turned to the Lord daily in scripture study and prayer before and as this depression crept into my life, would I have sunk so deep? I don't know. I'm a bit scared of the answer, honestly. Eric has answered firmly "no" for a long time now. Whatever the answer, that sinking, that depth has become an important part of my soul, it has added depth to my life. And now I wouldn't trade it or prevent it. But I do wonder what the experience would have been like, what other dimension and knowledge would have been added to my soul if I had more fully trusted in Him.
The irony of it all is that being depressed completely changed the way that I felt (or didn't feel) the spirit. Most of the time, it was like I couldn't. I was completely insulated from hearing its voice and influence and I felt so very isolated. Now, however I can see that the spirit was still there, getting through imperceptibly. I was never alone. But it's taken years to see that. I honestly have no idea why I kept going to church. There were so many Saturday nights I said I wasn't going to go, because how I could a teach a lesson on ________ when I don't have the Spirit? And yet, I would go. And the lesson was very much directed by the spirit, but I didn't feel it, at least not in the way I was used to feeling it. It seems clear to me now, as I am writing this, that the Lord was there, His angels were there, helping me get dressed and carrying me to church week after week.
Today is Pioneer Day. We watched some scenes from 17 Miracles with the kids and we were all deeply moved seeing "their strength" in their absolute weakness. I wept. I am so grateful for their sacrifices and their stories that are woven into the fabric of my being. I feel their strength today. I know angels helped them push their handcarts, and I'd like to think I was one of those angels. I know now that they were helping to push my handcart of depression a few years back. And I am grateful.
Might I just add, that at least for me to some degree, it is also a sign of being strong without the help of the Lord. I think. Maybe? I have wondered if I was one of those people that never missed a day of scripture study and prayer, maybe I would have been spared this trial?
But while typing that my heart answers, no. Choosing righteousness doesn't mean we are spared hard times. The gospel isn't a forcefield or magical spell or happy pill to shield us from the world and sorrow. Except that it sometimes is, or at least softens the blow, or makes us stronger to endure.
So then I ask, if I had turned to the Lord daily in scripture study and prayer before and as this depression crept into my life, would I have sunk so deep? I don't know. I'm a bit scared of the answer, honestly. Eric has answered firmly "no" for a long time now. Whatever the answer, that sinking, that depth has become an important part of my soul, it has added depth to my life. And now I wouldn't trade it or prevent it. But I do wonder what the experience would have been like, what other dimension and knowledge would have been added to my soul if I had more fully trusted in Him.
The irony of it all is that being depressed completely changed the way that I felt (or didn't feel) the spirit. Most of the time, it was like I couldn't. I was completely insulated from hearing its voice and influence and I felt so very isolated. Now, however I can see that the spirit was still there, getting through imperceptibly. I was never alone. But it's taken years to see that. I honestly have no idea why I kept going to church. There were so many Saturday nights I said I wasn't going to go, because how I could a teach a lesson on ________ when I don't have the Spirit? And yet, I would go. And the lesson was very much directed by the spirit, but I didn't feel it, at least not in the way I was used to feeling it. It seems clear to me now, as I am writing this, that the Lord was there, His angels were there, helping me get dressed and carrying me to church week after week.
Today is Pioneer Day. We watched some scenes from 17 Miracles with the kids and we were all deeply moved seeing "their strength" in their absolute weakness. I wept. I am so grateful for their sacrifices and their stories that are woven into the fabric of my being. I feel their strength today. I know angels helped them push their handcarts, and I'd like to think I was one of those angels. I know now that they were helping to push my handcart of depression a few years back. And I am grateful.
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