Thursday, December 13, 2012
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Goal Sheet
My Dreams
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Goals
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| Control Depression/Anxiety | Daily:
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| Sell artwork as a fine artist | Daily:
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| Graduate with a 3.9 or higher GPA | Daily:
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A good quote: “Life has its disappointments, but there is no reason to be one of them.” It is very frustrating to me when people know what’s right and they just don’t do it. The people who suffer most from those mistakes are the ones who love them. I don’t want to be a disappointment to the people I love.
My family history: My family has a very well documented history, at least in the last few centuries. Much of my work is already done. My patriarchal blessing specifically mentions family history work, though, so I know it must be very important for me. I do feel a special closeness to my ancestors that I know many people don’t feel. I enjoy family history work as well. I really feel like it needs to be a big part of my life.
My biggest goal: I need to get my health firmly under control before I can do much good in any aspect of the Gospel and my life. Depression and anxiety disorders are debilitating. They, combined with their many symptoms, rule my life right now. To make myself as useful as I can be to the Lord, my family, the world, and myself, I need to come to a point where I control my depression, rather than it controlling me.
My family history goals:
-Keep a scripture log/journal daily
-Attend the temple once a week
-Index at least one batch a month
-Attend Church meetings and serve in the Church
-Keep strong relationships with my family, extended and immediate
-Keep and build a strong testimony, including family history
-Be married in the temple
-Teach my children the Gospel, including family history principles
-Work on my family’s needed research
-Serve a family history mission (or eight) with my husband :)
Obstacles to those goals:
–scripture log: it takes time, and the best time I’ve found for scripture reading is also when I am most depressed, so it’s hard to make myself do anything
-temple: again, it takes time, and I’m already anxious about my busyness
-index: again, time
-Church activity: ? I honestly can’t think of obstacles to that
-family: I live far away from all of my family. On my dad’s side, there is a lot of contention and sensitivity that is very hard to deal with, and it’s extremely depressing for me to work with it
-testimony: Depression. How do you have a testimony if you don’t have emotions?
-marriage: I have to be patient and not let my anxiety rule either my emotions or my logic
-children: the world is so hard for them to live in, and I can’t control them
-research: time, this will be something for later on, and it may be hard to find a place to start
-missions: I guess the Lord may have other plans for me and/or my husband, finances
How to overcome those obstacles:
Like I said above, the first thing I need to do is get my own mental and physical health under control so that I can be productive. That is my number one priority right now, before school, even. As I’m working on that, some of these other goals will happen.
For scripture reading and log, the most important thing is to just keep plugging away at it. I often don’t feel like doing it, but I need to have the self-control to do it anyway.
To go to the temple, I need to set aside a specific time every week and refuse to push it off for other things. I have a set time, but I often end up pushing it to the next day, and then the next and end up not doing it.
For indexing, I also need to set a specific time. Sunday evenings may work well for that, but they may be too full. I will try then and if it doesn’t work I will try Friday nights, probably.
As far as Church activity goes, I really don’t have a problem with this. I am pretty good at that. Sometimes, though, my depression says “I don’t want to go to church” and I can never let that become a feeling I follow through with. I have to guard that one closely.
To keep my family ties strong, I do a pretty good job. It just takes a lot of patience and prayer and forgiveness. I am working on that, but it is slow.
My testimony is strong, but I have a hard time holding on to it all the time. I mostly just need to control the depression for that.
Marriage, I mostly have to wait for and be patient. I am not good at being patient. I need to be temple worthy and be social, which is again hard for anxiety. I am trying to go out of my way to be more social.
To teach my children, I need to be righteous and knowledgeable myself. I am always learning more, of course, and I try to teach people around me now. I also need to be looking for guys who have those qualities so that whoever I marry can teach our kids well.
To do family history research and serve a mission(s) is a long way off. The most important thing I can do now is save money and get a good financial base, because to have the leisure and money to do either of those things, I need enough money to be stable. I am certainly trying to do that now, but since I don’t have a job I can’t really do a whole lot now. I will get a job and save a few extra thousand dollars over the winter.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Charles Coulson Rich
Charles Coulson Rich was born on
August 21st, 1809. His family was historically from England. They
lived in Kentucky when he was born, but eventually moved to Illinois where he
and both his parents were baptized into the newly organized Church. He almost immediately
was assigned leadership positions in the Church. He was a large man, and very
sturdy in personality and in body. Some of his first assignments were military
in nature. The Church was weak and persecuted and needed protection. He was
soon a captain in the Far West militia. After the Saints moved to Nauvoo, he became
stake president, and then the major general over the Nauvoo Legion. His
physical skills were hard to outmatch, and his diplomacy skills were just as
strong.
With the revelation of polygamy,
Charles chose six wives: Sarah DeArmon Pea, Eliza Ann Graves, Mary Ann Phelps,
Sarah Jane Peck, Emeline Grover, and Harriet Sargent. His first marriage was
not until he was 29. His families, with 51 children in all, were treated with complete
justice, and none of them ever complained of bad treatment. His descendants are
many, and most are now strong in the Gospel still.
Elder Rich was serving the Church in Michigan when Joseph and Hyrum Smith
were assassinated, and he rushed back to Nauvoo quickly. His level head and
firmness helped keep the Saints together and calm in the weeks following the
martyrdom. He and his family, like most other Saints, were forced to leave
Nauvoo soon after. He led the 9th company from Winter Quarters to
Utah. Once in Utah territory, Elder Rich and his families were assigned to
colonize in California. He helped settle San Bernardino, but just as the
community was stabilizing, President Young called the settlers back to Salt
Lake to help protect the Saints from threat of military action from the US
army. The call to return to Utah was sudden and left the settlers in California
with little money after disposing of their property quickly. Upon return, some
of Elder Rich’s wives were forced to live in wagon boxes until houses could be
found for them.
He then left his families for some time to serve in England on a mission,
along with his oldest son, Joseph. When he returned home, he was again called
to help settle new ground, this time in Bear Lake, Idaho. While there, he
served in the Utah government until a land survey was taken and it was
discovered that Bear Lake was actually in Idaho, not in Utah. It was a hard and
cold life there. It was Elder Rich that held the little group of settlers in
Bear Lake when many wanted to give up and return to Utah. Elder Rich had to
travel to Salt Lake often on business, and eventually some of his wives lived
in Salt Lake while some stayed in Bear Lake.
In 1880, Elder Rich had a stroke and was confined to his own home for the
last three years of his life. He had always had a life full of action. He
enjoyed sports and hard labor. He was constantly traveling and fulfilling
various Church and political functions. He was unable to do any of those things
in those last years. During that time, he called together each of 6 oldest sons
and saw them peaceably distribute all of his belongings evenly among his 51
children and 6 wives. At the age of 74, he died peacefully. He had an
incredible testimony, energy, and dedication to the work he loved and believed
in. His descendants now look up to him as a great contributor the Church the
Lord.
My Mom
Valarie Merrill was born on
February 13th, 1973. Her parents chose the name Valarie because she
was born so close to Valentine’s Day. She was the 4th child in a
line of 7. The family lived in Cache Valley, Utah, near Logan. They were a
close family, and spent a lot of time with their grandparents in the valley.
Valarie remembers playing “Bones” (Dominoes) with her mother’s parents. Her
grandpa loved games, but especially that one and Skip-Bo. He sang her the traditional
song “Valdori,” filling in her name in place of “valdori”. Her dad’s mother
lived in a little trailer home nearby, and there they would watch shows like “Lawrence
Welk” on the tiny black and white tv and play “Annie-I-Over” over the top of
the little home.
Valarie’s dad, Ross, had a rare
disease called Stiff-Man Syndrome. Because of the symptoms, it was hard for him
to hold a job. He worked a variety of jobs during her childhood, including
printing and raising rabbits for their fur. She watched as he skinned the
rabbits, which her family then ate. Valarie still loves the smell of ink
because of her dad’s love of printing. When she was 11, he died from the
illness. Valarie’s mom, Sandra, had to return to school at Utah State
University to get a degree which would support the family. The family was very
poor, since Ross couldn’t hold a steady job, and they were paying medical
bills. They were a strong LDS family and they were blessed by the Bishop’s
Storehouse and the organization of the Church after Ross’ death. It was a very
hard time for the family, but it also strengthened them as a unit. Sandy got a
degree as an elementary school teacher and taught 2nd grade until
her retirement.
During her teenage years,
Valarie served as her school’s choir president, an officer in the Spanish Club,
and a member of Show Choir. Rather than babysitting for an income as many
teenagers, she would be paid to clean bathrooms or scrub out garbage cans, which
she preferred to babysitting. Also during her teenage years, she started having
symptoms of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, a very painful mental illness. She
did not diagnose or treat the illness for many years, but the symptoms had a
large effect on the rest of her life.
When she was 18, Valarie
graduated from Mountain Crest High School as one of several 4.0 valedictorians
in a class of 300. She lived at home while attending Utah State University. During
her first semester, she met Shayne Rich, who was in her ward and several of her
classes. Though they had never met before, their fathers had served on the
Stake high counsel together and they had graduated from the same high school
several years apart. They dated, and then he had to leave for military Basic
Training in Missouri. She knew she would miss him, and to distract herself she
spent one semester at Brigham Young University working. Soon after she and he
both got back to Logan, they were engaged, and they were married in January, a
month before her 20th birthday.
Valarie graduated with a
bachelor’s degree in information management and Shayne followed several years
later with a master’s in mechanical engineering. By then, they had 4 kids, and
they soon moved from their little house near Logan to a brand new one about 15
minutes away. Valarie says that living in that house was the hardest time of
her life. Soon after the family moved in, the basement began flooding. The
contractor was not competent and had built the house unsafely, but although
they pressed for reimbursement, he would never suffer any consequences.
Finances were very tight. They did everything they could think of, but nothing
helped with the water problem. Shayne was working long and stressful hours. Extended
family problems added stress as well. After three years, that house finally
sold and they moved. Two years later, because of stressful work situations,
they decided to move the family to Des Moines, Iowa.
The move was hard on the family,
but Shayne’s new job with John Deere was a great blessing. In Iowa, Valarie
served as the ward Relief Society president for several years, and is now
serving as Relief Society president in a brand new branch. Three of her four
children are still at home, and one is attending Brigham Young
University-Idaho. Valarie has a solid and deep testimony of the Gospel. She has
a gift for service and for organization, and has been successful at everything
she has attempted in life. She says that the best thing in her life is her
family, both her parents and siblings, and her husband and children, whom she
is very devoted to. She sets a great example for her children and for others
who she lives and works with.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
My History
I was born in the covenant in Logan, Utah, in June of 1994. When I was
born, my parents were both still attending college at Utah State University. My
mom graduated with her bachelors soon after my younger brother, Joe, was born
about 18 months after me. My dad stayed in school to get his masters a few
years later. He was in the military, so he had to travel fairly often. He was never
sent overseas, although his unit was weeks away from that when the war ended.
He left the military when I was four or five, to my mom’s relief.
My family and I
lived in a small apartment for the first few years of my life. By the time I
was nearly ready for kindergarten, I had a brother, Joe, and a sister, Rachael.
Just before my kindergarten year we moved to a house in Providence, Utah, just
a few minutes away from our old apartment. I started elementary school at
Providence Elementary, and I loved my kindergarten teacher. I remember one
school day in particular. My aunt Cyndi taught elementary school in a nearby
community. She knew my teacher, and one day my teacher asked Cyndi to come read
an original book to my class. I was so excited! After reading the book, Cyndi
handed me a letter as she left. I felt like the star of my class. Cyndi and I
exchanged letters through the mail for years, even though I lived ten minutes
from her and saw her often. I exchanged letters with my cousins Heather and
Erika, too. They lived a few hours away from me, but when we saw each other we
were inseparable. Thick letters would arrive for me in the mail, smothered in
glitter, colored paper and crayon.
By the time I
finished 3rd grade, my sister Katie had been born and our little
house was getting crowded and a little rickety. We sold our house and moved in
with my grandma and Cyndi while waiting for our new house to be built in
Wellsville, only 15 minutes from our house in Providence. For all of my dad’s
tools, we built a shop out back of the house, an enormous steel and concrete
building. My uncles and grandpa and other family showed up to help us many
times. Many times we worked late into the night by floodlight. Once the shop
was finished, I spent a lot of time woodburning on the floor below my dad, or
curled up in his chair listening to his Celtic music while he worked.
I had a few good
friends in that town. I had severe social anxiety as well as some
obsessive-compulsive disorder and depression. I always had, though I had no
clue at the time. I hadn’t had any good friends in my old town, and I was happy
to finally make a couple of good friends. One of them, a year older than me,
lived across the gravel road and a hay field from me. We walked to the dam and
to church together, babysat together, and shared favorite colors and books. One
of those friends, a Star-Trek and theater fan, decided from the day we met to
call me Lauren. She thought that’s the name I looked like, I guess. I wore my
guy cousin’s hand me down clothes and carried a knife. I fought battles with
pvc swords against my brother and cousins and usually won. I insisted that my
friends never call me a girl. Then, in 6th grade, I met someone new.
We were opposites. But we had to read a book together for class. We both fell
in love with the book, and from then on we were best friends. She was girly,
fashionable, and pretty. I was a tomboy who was afraid to walk down the hall at
school. But, we did everything together. It was the first time I felt like I
had place at school or socially. Then, for reasons I still don’t know, she
suddenly wouldn’t talk to me. She left hate mail in my friend’s locker because
she still hung out with me. Three weeks later she acted like we were best
friends again. I knew better, though, by then. I still don’t understand, but I
remember those few months as happy, although they ended oddly.
I slept in the
unfinished basement of that house, and soon after we moved in, my sister and I
woke up in the middle of night to find 2 inches of water on the floor. The contractor we hired to build our house
neglected to check the water tables in the area. Our house had essentially been
built in the middle of an underground river. We sawed holes in the concrete
floor to install pump after pump. We looked into every possible solution. My
things molded if I let them stay on the floor. My mom cried and worried, and
finally, after only two years of living in our house, we put it on the market.
It took over a year for the house to sell. Nobody else wanted to deal with our
river, either. Eventually, though, our house was sold and we moved again, this
time to River Heights, just three blocks from our first house in Providence. We
built another shop for my dad—smaller this time—in the backyard. I only lived
there for two years, and they were not good years. I was crippled by social anxiety,
though I thought it was just me. I would hyperventilate in class just thinking
about everyone around me. It took minutes of self-persuasion just for me to
raise my hand. I retreated into a book series. It became my world, because it
was easier than the real one. It was not a good series, though, and I became
proud and dark, believing that I was better than everyone, but longing at the
same time for a friend or for something,
but I didn’t understand that I was sick, so I didn’t even know what it was I was
looking for. Mental illness is strange that way. Most people’s thoughts trigger
feelings. My emotions float, they have a life of their own, and then I
desperately try to assign some reason to them. My family had no idea I felt
like that, I was really good at hiding away.
The one place I
always did feel good was with my extended family. I have a large extended
family, and we have always been close. Seeing my aunts, uncles, grandparents,
and especially cousins was what I looked forward to all the time. I loved being
with them. Of course, it didn’t make the anxiety go away, but somehow my brain
had a block that said, “you don’t have to be anxious here,” so I felt much
better. With my cousins, I went sledding and ran around and had sleepovers and
talked and talked and had a great time. Most of my cousins are younger than me.
The ones my age lived a ways away, so I saw the younger ones more often. I was
their favorite. I was a completely different person around kids, especially my
cousins. I babysat them and I played with them almost every week. I loved being
with them.
Through all of this,
my dad had switched jobs several times, moving between small companies. None of
them had very good conditions. When we lived in River Heights, he worked for a
company that designed instruments to test for microbes. His degree is in
mechanical engineering. He was playing that part plus two or three others for
the company. The company’s manager often dragged him on trips. One year she
called him on Christmas day and had him go move her fridge to her new house. He
was getting to work early and often coming home after midnight, and using his
own equipment for company business. He had been applying for jobs for a while.
Finally, he got a job programming for John Deere. When my parents told us we
were moving to Iowa, I didn’t even know where it was.
My first year or two
in Iowa was the worst time of my life.
I’m sure you’re
thinking, “This sounds like a tragedy, when does it get better?” Wait a
paragraph or two.
I was still trapped in social anxiety, and the worst
anxiety trigger for me was people who do things that are morally wrong. Well,
Iowa is not the place to go for that. I was bombarded by twenty times more
sexual and drug information than I ever wanted to know. I heard people laughing
at stories of some terrible things that I try not to think about now. The worst
part was that the kids at church were like that, too. They weren’t bad people,
now that I look back. They just lived in a different environment where it’s harder
to do what’s right. I missed my cousins. I looked like an idiot everywhere I
went because I had no social skills. I was terrified of people. When I was
finally starting to feel a little more comfortable, we found out that my dad’s
twin brother was addicted to pornography and had been cheating on my aunt for
half of their marriage. That was really hard.
Finally, though, I
started to pull myself up. (Although I think God was doing more pulling than
me, even though I was pulling as hard as I could.) I felt a little more
comfortable with the people around me. I judged a little less harshly, and my
social anxiety, after 16 years, started to fade into the background. I made two
amazing friends in my ward. I started being able to deal with people more easily.
My social anxiety completely morphed into generalized anxiety, which I would
take over social any time. I still didn’t know I was sick, though. Social
anxiety makes you hide everything. Generalized anxiety doesn’t, at least not as
much. So, finally, I started to show some signs on the outside. My mom, who has
OCD herself, recognized it.
The night before all-state choir auditions I couldn’t
sleep. I cried and cried, but I tried to figure out why and I really didn’t know. Finally, in the early
morning, I climbed two flights of stairs and woke up my parents. I asked my dad
for a blessing. They asked what was wrong and all I could say was, “I don’t
know, I just feel terrible.” After my dad gave me a blessing and went back to
bed, my mom explained anxiety disorders and suggested that maybe I had one. So,
in the following weeks, I checked out some books and read. In a self-diagnosis
quiz, I tested way above the “severe” line. Everything started to fit together.
Everything I read made sense. I could see myself in every paragraph. All of the
descriptions of things that I thought were only in my head. All the physical
symptoms: tension headaches, faintness, dizziness, shakiness, fatigue,
indigestion, blurry vision, odd allergies that come and go, even an unnerving
sense of being disconnected from the world, like I’m suddenly detached from
everything and I feel like everything is
a mile away, even my own fingertips. My mom talked me through some things, and
I finally, finally started treatment.
I was still anxious and depressed. Badly. But, I was not
as controlled by it anymore. I became a great artist and vocalist. I spent
hours and hours in my choir teacher’s office sorting papers and talking to her,
or backstage at events. I spent time with my friends. By the end of high
school, I was fairly well-respected by my peers. I was valedictorian. I was an
all-state vocalist and artist, and I knew what I wanted to do as a career. That
summer, I started taking therapy for mental illness. I never imagined
improvement so fast. By the end of the summer, I felt much better, although I
definitely still dealt with depression and general anxiety every day.
I left for BYU-I and moved into the room next door from
my best friend through high school. That’s about where I am today. I still
struggle every single day with depression. I still pray and cry for an end to
the illness, and just to be happy. But, I am now in control of my life. I know
where I’m going and what I want. I just have to keep working.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Genealogy is a commandment.
Why do people feel like genealogy work is not as important as other commandments, like reading scriptures? I would be ashamed to say, "I'm just not interested in reading scriptures," or, "I just never have time to read scriptures, so I don't do that." But, doing family history work is also a commandment.
I guess I don't know why we feel so differently about the commandment to do family history as the commandment to read scriptures. Certainly, family history is not quite as high priority as reading scriptures, but it still very important. People think that family history is a huge project, that takes a lot of time, and energy, and sometimes money. It often is. And I think that people are right to sometimes say, in early parenthood or teenage years, "I don't have time for big family history projects." We have to be careful not to "run faster than we have strength." Building a family pedigree that goes back 10 generations from scratch may easily be something that it is okay to wait to do until you are older, an empty nester, or retired. But, I think that there are also huge misconceptions about family history work. Everyone, no matter how busy, can do small things to preserve their family history, like keeping a journal, taking and labeling photos of family events and people, and recording what they and their immediate families remember about their family history. The big, time-consuming projects are something that not everyone can do, and the Lord understands that. Though He expects us to commit ourselves to His work, He does not expect us to have resources to do everything at once. For everything there is a season. But, He does expect us to make time for the little things, like doing temple work or keeping a journal. The Church needs to overcome the misconception of what genealogy really is to successfully engage people in the smaller, but important things.
Each person can help overcome the daunting idea of "genealogy" as an enormous time commitment. First, of course, we need to follow the commandment ourselves. When we hear people who have this misconception, it is easy to explain, "Genealogy is for everyone. It's not as big as it seems. All you have to start out with is little things that you can do easily every day." Almost every Latter-Day Saint will have the opportunity to teach classes or lessons, and every person has the chance to raise their hand in Sunday School and point out the truth about what family history work means. With the perspective of the smaller task, it is much easier for people to be willing and excited to family history work. Of course, there are also those who are simply content to let someone else do their family's work. In that case, they need reminded, as we all do with commandments sometimes, that genealogy is indeed a commandment, and of how important having our family's work done will be if we want to see them beside us in the Celestial Kingdom.
I guess I don't know why we feel so differently about the commandment to do family history as the commandment to read scriptures. Certainly, family history is not quite as high priority as reading scriptures, but it still very important. People think that family history is a huge project, that takes a lot of time, and energy, and sometimes money. It often is. And I think that people are right to sometimes say, in early parenthood or teenage years, "I don't have time for big family history projects." We have to be careful not to "run faster than we have strength." Building a family pedigree that goes back 10 generations from scratch may easily be something that it is okay to wait to do until you are older, an empty nester, or retired. But, I think that there are also huge misconceptions about family history work. Everyone, no matter how busy, can do small things to preserve their family history, like keeping a journal, taking and labeling photos of family events and people, and recording what they and their immediate families remember about their family history. The big, time-consuming projects are something that not everyone can do, and the Lord understands that. Though He expects us to commit ourselves to His work, He does not expect us to have resources to do everything at once. For everything there is a season. But, He does expect us to make time for the little things, like doing temple work or keeping a journal. The Church needs to overcome the misconception of what genealogy really is to successfully engage people in the smaller, but important things.
Each person can help overcome the daunting idea of "genealogy" as an enormous time commitment. First, of course, we need to follow the commandment ourselves. When we hear people who have this misconception, it is easy to explain, "Genealogy is for everyone. It's not as big as it seems. All you have to start out with is little things that you can do easily every day." Almost every Latter-Day Saint will have the opportunity to teach classes or lessons, and every person has the chance to raise their hand in Sunday School and point out the truth about what family history work means. With the perspective of the smaller task, it is much easier for people to be willing and excited to family history work. Of course, there are also those who are simply content to let someone else do their family's work. In that case, they need reminded, as we all do with commandments sometimes, that genealogy is indeed a commandment, and of how important having our family's work done will be if we want to see them beside us in the Celestial Kingdom.
Friday, September 21, 2012
My Testimony
My great grandpa, Leland Ostler died just a few months ago. Before he died, he wrote a letter. It was addressed to his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, of which I am one. The letter was not opened until after he died. It simply bore his testimony of Christ and his love for each of his descendants. Though I do not expect to die soon, as he did, I hope that someday, my great-grandchild can read my testimony and remember that we are family, and that someday we can be together again.
I know that the Gospel is the only way to be happy. I am only eighteen, but I have felt the truth of the teachings of Christ, and of his servants, from the Creation until now. Because of my depression and anxiety, which I have had my whole life, it is very rare for me to feel at peace. There is a cloud of fear and darkness in the background of all my thoughts, and it often overtakes them. Sometimes, I do feel at peace, though. It's not at school. It's not even at church or with my family. Those small moments of peace come almost without exception at the end of the day, when I am reading the scriptures, or praying. The only reliable source of hope and comfort I have felt is the knowledge that the Lord is always with me, and that even though I am sick now, someday, whether in this life or the next, everything will be perfect. Because He is in control. Yes, sometimes I have thought how unfair it is that I feel miserable all the time, and have for 18 years. But, at the same time, I have absolute faith that in some way, I or someone I love needs this experience. And that, however confused and hurt I may be, the Lord knows what He's doing.
This may seem extreme, but the reason I bring it up is to show that whatever it may be, depression, or just worry over tomorrow's math test, the Lord is in control, and He will always, ALWAYS, be there and be waiting. And not like your earthly parents or others you love, though they may do the best they can. They cannot go with you to take your math test, or away to college, or to your first job interview or your first date. But the Lord can. Wherever and whenever you need Him, He is there. Without your worthiness, though, all He can do is reach out to you. Christ's plan requires us to make our own decisions.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is the Lord's church. He runs it. He speaks to our prophet. Right now, it's Thomas S. Monson. But, whoever is called to be the prophet is His servant and His mouthpiece. Living the Gospel is the only way to really be happy. Living in sin is miserable. It just doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel clean. And, it ruins relationships, it ruins your attitude, it ruins everything you love and reduces you to misery because you can't see the good anymore.
With all the Church functions and different commandments, never forget the reason for the whole thing. Christ was born. He lived. He taught. He forgave. He healed. Think of all the pain you have felt in your life. Your cuts and bruises from falling off your bike. Your shame and bitterness when you've done something wrong. The seemingly endless grief after you lose a loved one to death, or, worse, to sin. Then multiply all of that by a few trillion. He felt that. In just a few hours, He learned and felt all that you have ever learned or felt. He didn't have to. But He did. Because He loves you. Never, ever forget that. You can never pay Him back. But, you can try. You must try. Or, all His pain was for nothing. He went through all of that for you. Don't let it go to waste.
I know that the Gospel is the only way to be happy. I am only eighteen, but I have felt the truth of the teachings of Christ, and of his servants, from the Creation until now. Because of my depression and anxiety, which I have had my whole life, it is very rare for me to feel at peace. There is a cloud of fear and darkness in the background of all my thoughts, and it often overtakes them. Sometimes, I do feel at peace, though. It's not at school. It's not even at church or with my family. Those small moments of peace come almost without exception at the end of the day, when I am reading the scriptures, or praying. The only reliable source of hope and comfort I have felt is the knowledge that the Lord is always with me, and that even though I am sick now, someday, whether in this life or the next, everything will be perfect. Because He is in control. Yes, sometimes I have thought how unfair it is that I feel miserable all the time, and have for 18 years. But, at the same time, I have absolute faith that in some way, I or someone I love needs this experience. And that, however confused and hurt I may be, the Lord knows what He's doing.
This may seem extreme, but the reason I bring it up is to show that whatever it may be, depression, or just worry over tomorrow's math test, the Lord is in control, and He will always, ALWAYS, be there and be waiting. And not like your earthly parents or others you love, though they may do the best they can. They cannot go with you to take your math test, or away to college, or to your first job interview or your first date. But the Lord can. Wherever and whenever you need Him, He is there. Without your worthiness, though, all He can do is reach out to you. Christ's plan requires us to make our own decisions.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is the Lord's church. He runs it. He speaks to our prophet. Right now, it's Thomas S. Monson. But, whoever is called to be the prophet is His servant and His mouthpiece. Living the Gospel is the only way to really be happy. Living in sin is miserable. It just doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel clean. And, it ruins relationships, it ruins your attitude, it ruins everything you love and reduces you to misery because you can't see the good anymore.
With all the Church functions and different commandments, never forget the reason for the whole thing. Christ was born. He lived. He taught. He forgave. He healed. Think of all the pain you have felt in your life. Your cuts and bruises from falling off your bike. Your shame and bitterness when you've done something wrong. The seemingly endless grief after you lose a loved one to death, or, worse, to sin. Then multiply all of that by a few trillion. He felt that. In just a few hours, He learned and felt all that you have ever learned or felt. He didn't have to. But He did. Because He loves you. Never, ever forget that. You can never pay Him back. But, you can try. You must try. Or, all His pain was for nothing. He went through all of that for you. Don't let it go to waste.
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