I want to share with you my friend Alison’s post from Sunday afternoon. It fits in so nicely with the lesson I taught in Relief Society on Sunday, which is based on one talk from last October’s General Conference and two from September’s annual Relief Society broadcast: one by the prophet, President Thomas S. Monson, one by his counselor, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, and one by Sister Barbara Thompson of the Relief Society General Board. The theme which our stake presidency chose for January was “Joy in These Days”.
Alison has family in my ward. It was comforting to speak with them between meetings on Sunday, to get the family’s perspective on her health, as well as what I read on her blog, and to know that we are uniting our faith and our prayers on her behalf. It is also comforting to read the loving, faithful comments on her blog.
Remember that story in the New Testament about the man who sat patiently by the pool, because once a year an angel came and stirred up the waters, and the first person into that pool was healed? He had been unable to make it into the pool, because he had no servant to assist him. But the Master and Servant of us all, saw him and healed him.
I had a little vision or impression of all these individual prayers that are being lifted up on Alison’s behalf, little eddies of righteousness and selflessness in the general murk which afflicts mortality. People of all faiths and beliefs are praying for her, momentarily setting aside their own pressing needs to stir up the powers of Heaven on her behalf. Her illness is not a good thing; it is an exquisitely painful reminder that we are all wonderfully and sometimes fearfully made, and wonderfully connected. Alison is important. So is the housekeeper at her hospital. So are you. So am I.
When we love one another, and we serve one another, even by something as seemingly inconsequential as saying thank you for a clean floor, we build the Kingdom in preparation for the King. We lessen the power of the Destroyer in our own hearts, in our families, in our communities. Peace on earth is not going to be superimposed from without, though we should certainly work as well as pray for peace. It is going to be established in our individual hearts, by the grace of Heaven, by loving service to one another, and by seeking to comprehend the motivation that underlies the all-too-fallible execution of the actions we observe.
As we pray in faith for others, and as we serve them to the best of our ability, we cannot help but purify our thoughts, our words, our deeds, and our motives.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled whimsy. My friend Lauren sent me this. A few years ago, Brother Karitas and I went to a similar exhibit ~ or would that be exhibition? ~ here in Fort Worth. My two favorites from this one would be “Thelma and Louise” [although I loathe one word in the title], and the political one, which expresses how I felt during the last campaign. Gird yourselves! [Which has to be my favorite line from The Devil Wears Prada.]
I came home last night and turned up the setting on my gas fireplace. We are under an ice storm advisory until noon tomorrow, and I didn’t want my pipes to freeze, or the water in the reservoir of my C-PAP, either. I am hoping that turning the gas up from 1 to 2 does not double my bill. But stoic as I am, I was getting a little tired of being a Momsicle. I am sure my Scots ancestors have officially disowned me now.
However, I am loving the fact that it is cold enough, and my feet seem to be well enough, that I can take my precious handknit socks out of the drawer and put them on my feet. Eleanora went to church with me on Sunday. Anastasia trotted along to work yesterday. Today Swan Song [my Wollmeise socks] will go swan-diving with me. Or possibly just ice-fishing.
When I woke up this morning, the chill was definitely off my bedroom and the kitchen. And the living room was stuffy. So I have turned back the dial to approximately 1.5 and will see how that goes. I suspect that at 3, I could grow orchids if I provided enough moisture for them, and at 5 [where the dial maxes out] I would have to change my name to S’more.
I sat on the couch last night and listened to Sissy Spacek read To Kill a Mockingbird while I finished the first Fetching and nearly finished its mate. I wish there were time to listen to another CD before I have to get ready for work. [I wonder how bad the roads are? It’s 34°F out there, as we speak. And I have to drag the recycling out to the curb. It was raining last night, and it took me an hour and a half to drive home because of the wrecks (others’, not mine), and my teeth were floating. So the last thing on my mind was social responsibility.] I can’t call the weather line at work for another ten minutes or so, to see if we will be opening late.
I am not driving in again today. I am not. Which means that I had better get a move on.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!