Climbing Back up the Ladder

Climbing back into the attic isn't just about overcoming the fall...

For me, it was about remembering three little words my husband taught me. 
It was also about being more conscientious about listening to the Holy Spirit.

The fateful day when I fell, now fifteen months ago, the wrong spirit was in my home. 

My husband and I were arguing about essentially nothing... but the spirit of contention was present. That also meant that the Holy Spirit was not.

It was the Holy Spirit that I felt each time I was quietly reminded to grasp tighter to the ladder. 

The Holy Spirit wasn't there that day... and I had my hands full of stuff and a heart full of anger as I fell backwards 10 feet into the air... landing on a hard floor breaking my back.

The Holy Spirit arrived with the Missionaries that day. The young Priesthood holders who my husband called to bless me, when I screamed for them in pain. 

They were his second call that day, the first being to 911. The Elders performed the blessing with me on a stretcher on my front lawn.

For the next four days, in a haze of intractable pain, I learned to walk again. 

I was in a steel brace for 6 weeks, then released for 6 more weeks of physical therapy. By the time September came, I was preparing to journey to Arizona with my husband to explore the land we dreamed of purchasing.

With Heavenly Father's assistance, I healed. 

When I returned to the house where the accident had occurred, it had been almost a year since the fall. I even surprised myself at the amount of PTSD that the ladder contained within it's every rung. But that very fact made me more determined to climb it.

The attic was my get-away. It was on that hard wooden floor of that attic where I prayed to God to know how to become closer to Jesus Christ. It was in that attic where I received the answer I wasn't ready for. It was in that attic where I was told by my Heavenly Father to be Baptized and become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

It is in that attic, where I feel closer to God. Perhaps, because I spent months up there, alone. Perhaps because the wooden floor has absorbed more of my tears in prayer than any other place in the world. Perhaps. 

As I climbed the ladder.... a poem started to form. I have shared it here:

Three points of Contact

Three points of contact
the words ring in my head

three points of contact
next time could find you dead

Three points of contact
my shoulders loaded with bags

Three points of contact
Forgot to drop my shoes
this could be bad

Three points of contact
Do curled toes count as one?

Three points of contact
four to go, I'm almost done.

Three points of contact
On the way up the stairs

Three points of contact
into my attic lair

Three points of contact
Why do I want to climb?

Three points of contact
to get writing out of my MIND

Three points of conact
almost to the top

Three points of contact
it would be crazy now
to stop!

Three points of contact
my pulse racing in my ears

Three points of contact
amplifying false fears

Three poinst of contact
breath shallow, too fast

Three points of contact,
my feet on the attic floor
I made it at last.

Three points of contact,
the phrase my companion
taught me

Three points of contact
make them each time
you climb
and be free.

Three Points of Contact

(My daily struggle with PTSD from my 10 foot fall off an attic ladder that broke my back, continues...)

I made it up the stairs, but trying to get back to writing when sitting is no longer acceptable to my body was another journey. I had wanted to write for months, but every time I tried to begin, I got frustrated with my pain level and stopped. 
Finally, it happened. I was able to not only put scriptures onto photos I had taken, but I was able to once again articulate in a written form.

So, here it begins. Again. 
Thanks for your patience. 

I hope everyone's week is full of the Love and Lighte of Jesus Christ. 

Saturday Night – Herding Oxen

My Saturday nights used to be pretty eventful. Sometimes, in fact, back in the LBC (Life Before Church), Saturday nights went on so long, Sunday morning got involved. Sometimes, there was even breakfast.

When my new friends in my new church explained that the only reason for breaking Sabbath was if the “oxen were in the mire”, I took it to heart. I interpreted that as if something that was life or death for a living being, it needed to be taken care of. 

Being so new in the Gospel; I didn’t want to break my observance of the Sabbath & my reverence towards my Heavenly Father for little things that could be taken care of Saturday or Monday. There are six other days in the week, if it couldn’t be done by Saturday night, it can be done on Monday…. right?!

Thus began my exciting Saturday nights…. herding my oxen away from the mire.

I spend Saturday; most especially Saturday night, making sure that I have taken care of little and big things that could become bigger and more immediately important on Sunday. I also take care of those chores that will eat at me while I would rather be sitting and studying my Scriptures or watching a General Conference talk. Or even sitting in quite meditation, pondering after a prayer.

A floor that is begging to be vacuumed or mopped, or an item of clothing I would like to wear to church not being clean;  is NOT a reason I WANT to break Sabbath. I have NO DESIRE whatsoever to break my observance of the Sabbath. So, I spend Saturday doing those things that may have been annoying me since Thursday; but will definitely put me over the edge of annoyance on Sunday if not taken care of on Saturday.

In this way, I will always have busy Saturdays. My oxen and I have a standing date. Kinda like the one I have with my Heavenly Father and Lord and Savior with the Holy Spirit on Sundays.

Have a Blessed Sabbath!

Faith of a Bishop

A congregation
Files in a bit late --
The Sabbath
after Christmas
Has the benches a bit sparse.

Aaronic & Bishopric
in a quiet, yet slightly
troubled stirring.
An Aaronic
Priesthood holder
quietly motions to the
Bishop at the podium,
"PLEASE delay,"
Desperation and concern
color his young face.
A worried chorister
agrees in doubtful
confidence with the Bishop
as he gives her quiet direction.
I watch my Bishop --
A man full of faith --
Say a silent prayer
Then ponder
for a quiet moment,
as the congregation
sat in vapid anticipation;
Then cue
to begin
the Sacrament hymn.
Those of us
paying attention --
Those of us
in a front row --
Took notice
of the faith
of our Bishop

To begin
the Sacrament hymn
Before the
bread
had arrived.

As we began
the second verse
of the slow
and reverent words --
a door opened --
bread passed through.
Sighs of relief
were heard;
more than a few.
The faith
of our Bishop
burned strong
in my heart,
as I heard
my own
message from God
about a new start:

Have faith -
say a prayer -
Then softly and gently
push doubt & doubters aside --
this one isn't their ride.

But WHY the "Mormon Church"

I have heard people say that they understand my faith in God, but not my decision to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. They don't understand why I chose to be a Mormon.
A Latter-Day Saint.

First, I don't believe it was a choice. Even an ex thought I had already been a confirmed member of The Church six months before I had even read the Book of Mormon!

I have always been on this path. God chose me. It just took me 46 years to open my eyes.

I joke about having been "stalked by Christ", or more appropriately, by His Church. In my journeys across the country, I found myself stopping and pondering God in front of temples I had no clue even existed before happening upon them.

Books about the Mormon Trail fascinated me. A people who displayed their faith. And what faith it was, and is.

There are a few facts that I want to share with others, about some of my beliefs that finally found their home:

• The fact that Jesus Christ and God are separate, immortal beings and the Holy Ghost is a separate spirit entity.  
• That God did not cease communicating with us through prophets in the time of the bible. 
• We have a living prophet that receives revelation for the church in these times; his name is Thomas S. Monson.
• We have the right and the obligation to ask for personal revelation in prayer and to listen to the small still voice that is the Holy Spirit. 

I finished reading the Book of Mormon for the first time (just a read-through, I plan to go back and study it diligently after I finish the rest of the Standard Works) on April 30. I believe it to be another Testament of Jesus Christ. I prayed, and was impressed with the knowledge that it is.


The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is the only church that has ever felt like home. My children and my mother know how long I have searched for the truth. Many of my closest friends have seen my search as well.

I am finally at home.

Faith in the Small, Still, yet Firm, Voice

When the world around me, is saying one thing, yet that small voice inside says another, it sometimes seems difficult to choose the right.  
Even in small things.

I have prayed to my Heavenly Father to illuminate the my path a bit brighter; I acknowledge that it has taken me quite a long time to find the Light that is Christ and my church home, and I feel the need to ask for a bit more enlightenment in regards to the choices He knows are right for me. That doesn't stop me from hearing the world.

So, when the voices of even the most pure at heart conflict with that small, still voice that is that of the Holy Spirit; it is time for me to turn off the world. "Airplane mode" for me, not just my phone. Taking the time to be quiet and ponder. Contemplate. Listen to and for, the Holy Spirit.

I recently watched several General Conference talks about just that: the need to take time to ponder.
Quietly. I find joy and God's touch in the quiet.
My favorite places to ponder, are in the world that He created. The least touched by man's hand, the better. For me, whether they be the Olympics, the Cascades or the Rockies; the mountains of the world are where I feel God's energy to the greatest extent.

My next favorite place to do it, is while driving. Something I am very thankful to have started to do once again. I missed it. I didn't realize how much.
Having seen so much of the country in the past couple of years; for me it is so easy to see God's hand in it all. It is unimaginable for me that some can not see it. I feel sad for them.

The Holy Spirit is there to guide us in EVERYTHING we do.

Holding the hand of our Heavenly Big Brother, Christ; we CAN stand up to any pressure. If we have FAITH. Faith that His hand is and will ALWAYS be there for us to hold.

A friend of mine recently shared with me that for most people, faith is something they strive for, but don't really feel.
My reaction was immediate and profound: Complete and utter sadness. Grief.

But WHY?!?! Don't they see?!

Don't they know that EVERYTHING good is God?! Don't they realize that the atonement is for them?!

I have been guilty of using the euphamism "the Universe" in the past, when I meant God. No matter what words I used, I could see a greater power.

I have been given the blessing of seeing the world through a new set of eyes. I am able to not only look back and see how God has watched over me all my life; but to also see His hand in every moment I am currently living.
When I catch a hold, when I have lost grip; when I put something in a strange place, just where I would need it next; the Holy Spirit is there.
God's own guide.
A gift to me from Him.
How great is His love?!

My journeys these last few years have truly shown me evidence of the Living God. Every time that I "let go" and completely invested my time and my energy "in the moment"; God showed me why I was there.

Nothing is an accident. There are no coincidences. It is ALL part of the plan. Yes, we have our free agency to choose; but that doesn't negate the fact THAT was foretold as well. As were EVERY choice that you and I were and are destine to make. It is this belief that has led me to the faith that I have.

I believe that Jesus Christ is the Only Begotten Son, that God, the Father sent Him here to show us the way and the truth and the light of life.
I believe that the Holy Spirit is the gift I have received through God to guide me in my each and every decision that I make.
I have faith that everything will happen exactly when and where it is meant to happen.

We ALL have our paths. Not one is the same.  That is why God has given us each the posibility of having our own personal guide through the darkness we can find on this side of the veil. Our own personal lighthouse.

I think of the Holy Spirit as my own personal lighthouse that shows me the right where ever I am. When I am not obeying God's commandments, a dark fog surrounds that light, making it difficult to make out. When I follow the commandments and make and keep new covenants with God, the light becomes brighter and brighter. It illuminates my path.

That was my prayer. I prayed to my Heavenly Father that the path that I should take would henceforth be illuminated a bit brighter, since it has been difficult in the past for me to see, or choose the right that I did see. He has answered my prayers in abundance!


I have experienced many trials in my life; I know that my trials won't be over until my time on this side is done. But I have faith that the Holy Spirit is there to guide me.
All I have to do, is what I am told. Keep God's commandments. Pray for guidance when I lack the knowledge. Keep reading The Gospels of Christ daily. Remember where the true light comes from.

Have FAITH; He is there to guide and direct us.