Gratitude: The Forgotten Key

There is something lovely about autumn. The days are crisper and there is a sense of purpose in the air. I enjoy the fall color and the gently falling leaves. I breathe deeply. I smell change.

As I watch the leaves fall, I ponder change. I wonder about the future. I look inside myself and enjoy the stillness. I step softly into my heart and take inventory. I embrace my gifts and examine my baggage. It is a good time for letting go.

What will I let go of this autumn? Some of my baggage is old and familiar. Shall I be done with it, at last? Is it time to move on? Can I let it go, like softly falling leaves, and allow it to gather at my feet, where I can sweep it up and carry it out?

Can I let go of judgement? Deceit? Bitterness? Self-Pity? Resentment? Anger?

Some thoughts have lodged in my heart for so long, they seem like family.
Who would I be without these guests? Guests are they, or perhaps intruders?

I examine each piece of baggage, each intruder, and wonder why I have kept it close for so long. In the corners of my heart I find hidden containers. Secrets. Do I know them?

Inferiority. Not good enough. Not smart enough. Not pretty enough. No one likes me. It’s too late. I never… I always… How long have those bags been hidden in my heart? Who put them there?

Not I. Surely not I. Have I just been storing them, then, til someone claims them? Let them fall. I shake my inner tree and let them go.

I sweep the corners and gather the dust of loneliness, the cobwebs of despair, the skeletons of self-judgement, the bones of isolation.

Autumn feels good. With joy, I release things that no longer serve me. I let them go. I sweep up the leaves of yesterday and carry them out.

So much garbage. Did I get it all? Maybe not, but there is more room in my heart now. Room for shiny new gifts. Room for a jar of love, a box of forgiveness, a sack of friendship. Room for a cup of kindness, a tin of tolerance, and a can of cooperation.

With the baggage gone, I see a door that I didn’t noticed before. It was hidden behind the intruders. The word PEACE is painted on the door in pretty script.

What lies behind that door ? A closet? A hallway? An adventure? The door is locked. I search for a key. There it is hanging from a ribbon on a nail. The key is ornate, the ribbon delicate, and it is labeled gratitude.

Gratitude is the key.

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow." (Melodie Beattie)

I turn the key and enter. It’s not a hallway or a closet. It’s a beautiful room. Silently, it speaks the word on the door. It whispers peace.

The room is lovely. Fresh flowers grace the table. A fire crackles in the fireplace. The walls are decorated with things I love, meaningful art and pictures of things I am grateful for. I see faces of family and friends. I see happy memories frozen in time. These are precious gifts.

I explore this comfortable room. I sit at the piano and caress the keys lovingly. A tender melody flows from my grateful fingers. The music of my heart fills the stillness with gratitude. The gift of music sweetens my life.

I am drawn to the bookshelf where I notice my favorite books are mingled with some I have never read. I touch each one, feeling gratitude for the power of words. I am delighted that there are always new words to read. My fingers rest lovingly on the scriptures. I am grateful for the words of life.

Light filters in through a single window. I stand at the window and gaze at a charming garden alive with gracious plants. I throw open the window to breathe in the colors of life—the colors of gratitude. I find joy in this garden.

Inside this cozy room I become aware of my gifts, which are many. They bring meaning and enjoyment into my life. They bring me peace. I gather these gifts in my arms and carry them close to me, as I move toward the fire.

There is a mirror above the fireplace. As I look into the mirror, I am surprised to see not one, but two faces reflected there. I see my own face, and also the face of my Savior. I see that His life is woven together with mine. I see that His love and support makes my life meaningful. Gratitude swells within my heart.

A comfortable chair waits for me in front of the fire of love. It is inviting and has embroidery on the back. I trace the stiches with my fingers. At first the words are difficult to read, but as the fire tosses light onto the chair and fills the room with love, the words become clearer.

I can read the words now. Remember Who You Are. What a gift.

It’s a beautiful chair. I think I’ll sit a while.

Linda Garner

What If I Don't Feel Sorry?

Repentence isn't easy. It's even harder if we don't feel sorry for what we did. Sin can dull our senses and rob us of our feelings. Voices for Virtue posted Maria's question about feeling sorry on their facebook pages. Here is her question, along with some of the answers. I found it thought-provoking. Maybe you will too.

Maria asks: "Sometimes, when I've done something wrong, I do not feel sorry or regretful about it. Because of this- it's hard for me to repent. What should i do about this?"

RESPONSES LIKED

Lisa from Utah
I know how you feel. I am there right now. I know what the answer is, though, I've heard it before from a friend: Pray for the desire to feel the remorse and repent.

Curtis from Texas
Be happy. The purpose of this life is to have joy. God isn't an umpire trying to call strikes and outs. So, although you may not feel guilt you may still have an intellectual knowledge of it as a sin. As you talk to the Lord about it He will gently invite you to change. Then your repentance will be real, sincere and short.

Darin from Utah
Read your scriptures... You'll start feeling godly sorrow and you'll feel the need to repent

Natasha
…. it takes time and sometimes you fall a few times, but just keep trying. Pray to your Father in Heaven and He will guide you. Remember No matter what happens, you are never to far off the path to come back.. But you are still doing awesome because you have the desire to feel remorse :)

Jessica from Canada
Sometimes the circumstances surrounding a sinful act can seem very reasonable ... we must remember that the adversary will tell 1000 truths to tell one lie, and if all of the surrounding circumstances seem truthful, but the act you committed is not, that is one way that Satan can get a hold of you…

Juliana from Brazil
It helps if you keep in mind that you are a special daughter of our heavenly father, he loves and will take care of you and help you be a better person.

Ruby from Ohio
… listen to the still small voice. If we ignore it, and keep sinning, our conscience will grow smaller and smaller and it will be harder to feel regret for what we have done. When we go to church, or serve others, or do something to feel the Spirit, we will want to have that feeling with us always. We will miss the companionship of the Holy Ghost.

Cindra from Michigan
... Your Bishop is the best place to start.

William from North Carolina
Follow these peoples advice dont do like I did and repeat the sin til it swalows your entire life.

Addicted to my TO DO List

Priorities have always been a mystery to me. I’m always making “to do” lists, but I can never do all the things on my list.

As a young mother I was constantly reorganizing my “to do” lists according to priorities. My hope was that if I got my priorities in the right order I could somehow make it through my entire “to do” list. It never worked.

Eventually I learned that priorities were a tool to help me weed out the non-essential items on my “to do list” so that I could focus on the truly important things. There is so much I want to do, but there are only twenty four hours in a day, and I have to sleep sometime.

Wives and Mothers often put themselves last, because so many people are depending on them. You wouldn’t expect your car to run without gas, but sometimes this is what we expect of ourselves. If people are depending on us, we need to take special care of ourselves, for their sake as well as ours. When we allow ourselves to get drained, it is hard to serve anyone.

I admit it. I’m just like you. Sometimes I get overwhelmed and sometimes I forget that taking care of me is my first priority. Here is a fun reminder for all of us. I hope it makes you laugh.



Life Is Just So Daily

A model Mom was Mary Lee,
amazing for her friends to see.
She cleaned the house and fed the fishes,
Walked the dog, and did the dishes.

She drove her kids, plus neighbors, to school,
and lectured about the golden rule.
She wiped half a dozen runny noses,
And always took time to smell the roses.

She was a savvy grocery shopper,
and never gave up. No one could stop her.
She was always busy, and on the run.
But she was happy. Life was fun.

She volunteered at the old folks home
and later took time to write a poem
to go with a home made birthday gift.
She hoped it would give her neighbor a lift.

Her to do list was scary; her calendar? Filled.
She didn’t have time to clean up milk, if it spilled.
But she was organized, and life was a blast.
She knew how to work hard, and run fast.

Then one day… the visiting teachers came…

“…and Mary Lee, the Prophets say
We should read our scriptures every day.”

“I can do that,” thought Mary Lee.
“I’ll stay up half an hour later, gladly.”

The scriptures were awesome. They filled her with joy.
She pondered them often while picking up toys.
She read about service. She read about love.
She wanted to store up her treasures above.

She tended the baby for her best friend.
and gathered her ragged clothes to mend.
She cleaned out the fridge and made friendship soup,
while answering emails to stay in the loop.

She changed the baby again and again,
and paid all her bills with her favorite pen.
She made extra dinner for the sick and afflicted.
Mary Lee loved serving others. She was addicted.

While ironing, she listed to the radio, and heard:

“Daily exercise is a must
If the experts we can trust.”

“I can do that,” thought Mary Lee.
“I’ll get up an hour earlier, GLADLY.”

Jogging is easy, thought Mary Lee.
She jogged through the neighborhood daily.
When her alarm buzzed, she jumped up in the dark.
She jogged past the church. She jogged past the park.

Could anything slow down Mary Lee?
She kept on going, like the energizer bunny.
She still did her service and cheered up the sad.
Once a week without fail she called Mom and Dad.

At Relief Society one Sunday she heard:

“You MUSN’T neglect your kindred dead.
Please do your genealogy,” the teacher said.

“I’ll do it. I’ll do it,” cried Mary Lee.
“I’ll stay up later than ever. GLADLY!”

A miracle woman was Mary Lee,
amazing for her friends to see.
She filled out pedigrees one by one
and family group sheets. “Hey this is fun.”

She diligently worked on her family tree,
and learned New Family Search, and Temple Ready.
She went to the temple for those deceased
and sealed them together, piece by piece.

At PTA meeting, one evening, she heard:

Children need to see their parents read.
“It’s your job”, said the teacher, “Now please, take the lead.”

“I can do that,” said Mary Lee.
“I’ll get up earlier. I’ll do it GLADLY.”

She went to the library and brought home books.
She stacked up those books in corners and nooks.
She read the classics. She read history.
She even tried (gasp) romance, sci fi, fantasy.

She read lots of picture books to her small ones,
and shared current events with each of her tall ones.
She read the newspaper. Some news made her shudder.
She, of course, read the Ensign, from cover to cover.

And then, the home teachers knocked at her door:

“Prepare for the future,” they said. “Are you ready?”
“How is your food storage? Be sure to have plenty.”
“I must get prepared,” said Mary Lee.
I’ll fill all my shelves, diligently.”

“I’ll can, and I’ll freeze, and I’ll dry, and I’ll store.
I can do it. I can. I can always do more.
but where will I find the time,” said she.
“I can go to bed later,” she sighed. “…gladly?”

So Mary Lee bought fruit by the bushel.
She kept her stove humming. Food storage is crucial.
She planted her garden in the pale moonlight.
She watered and weeded, night after night.

She made sure to cover all of her bases,
and brought home more food, by the cases.
She gazed at her bulging shelves with pride.
I knew I could do it, she tiredly sighed.

One day in a magazine she read:

Develop your talents to give your life zing.
She had always wanted to learn how to sing.

So, she got on the phone that very day
and arranged for a teacher, You know what they say…
Don’t put it off, just do it TODAY.


The lessons were great, but there was a quirk.
When could she practice her new singing work?
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” said tired Mary Lee.
“Get up earlier, I guess,” she said miserably.

That night when Mary Lee dressed for bed
and set the alarm, and laid down her head,
just ten tiny minutes and the alarm was heard.
You’d think she’d jump up, but she never stirred.

This part of the story, you may find boring,
for Mary Lee lay there exhausted and snoring.
How long did she sleep? No one knows for sure.
The next several days are simply a blur.

When she finally woke, she stretched and she yawned.
A brand new idea had finally dawned.
“I can’t do it all, though I wish that I could.
I’ve tried, and I’ve tried. I did more than I should.”

I’m only one person. Some things, I can do.
I don’t have to be good at everything. Nor Do You.
I like serving, and doing, and being, you see,
But I forgot one thing, taking care of me.

Linda Garner

The Nominations are Open

The Nominations for the Whitney awards are now open.

The Whitney awards were created to recognize quality work and to help readers become more aware of the fine literature being published by LDS authors. They were named after Orson Whitney.

There are seven different categories: general fiction, historical fiction, romance, mystery/suspense, speculative (sci-fi/fantasy), young adult general and young adult speculative fiction. A book must get five nominations to be considered.

Last year, was my first introduction to the Whitneys. I read all five nominees in two different categories. It was delightful. I enjoyed branching out to new authors and new genres. This year, I hope to start earlier and read more categories.

If you’re looking for something to read that is clean and well-written, take a look at some of last year’s finalists, or previous years. I’ll bet you’ll like them. You can see last years winners here.

Anyone can nominate a book for the Whitneys. All books nominated go through a complex screening process to select the five finalists in each category. Members of LDS storymakers are eligible to vote along with a panel of experts who are invited to participate. We can only vote in categories where we have read all five finalists.

If you have read a book you’d like to nominate, it must have been published in 2011 and must have been written by an LDS author. Only full length fiction is eligible. To find out more click here. To nominate a book, click here.

Happy reading!

Linda Garner

Choosing Light

Where were you on the morning of Sept 11, 2001? Do you remember?

I remember. For most of us, that moment will be permanently imprinted in memory: the moment we discovered that America had been betrayed. What did the betrayal feel like to you? Was it personal? Did you feel connected or detached? Were you angry, confused, frightened, sad, depressed, or all of the above?

A friend of mine who works in the mental health field reports that anxiety became rampant in wake of 9/11. She says that anxiety was relatively rare in the days before the terrorist attack and became widespread in the days and years that followed.

Not everyone gave in to terror. Some shelved their worries in a hidden place and buried them for another day. Some chose indifference. Some hardened their hearts. Others turned to faith.

Many chose prayer. A nation that had largely abandoned prayer suddenly became very prayerful…for a time. In a gesture of hope, my neighborhood displayed luminaries. We lit candles, laid them on a bed of sand in a one room paper house, and placed them near the street. A silent glow of unity lit our street against the ugliness of the day, and the curtain of night and fear.

Things have changed since the day terror knocked on our front door. Security is the new game in town. War is our new neighbor. And for some, a new fear moved in to stay.
Is it a coincidence that ten years later our economy is close to ruin, taxes gnaw hungrily at our paychecks, beefy government fingers poke at every pie, and joblessness lives in the spare bedroom.

We voted for change, but not this change. We hoped for improvement. Government behaves badly, much like a chubby, spoiled, manipulative child. It stamps its feet and cries for its way. It bullies us and kicks us when we’re down.

When I was young, I thought the end of the world was around the next corner. This both thrilled and worried me, for I knew that it would be a great and simultaneously terrible day. Would I grow old enough to finish school? To marry? To be a mother? What kind of world would I introduce my children to?

As a young mother, I stewed about wars and rumors of wars. I wrinkled my forehead over earthquakes in diverse places. I watched for the moon to turn to blood. When I could afford to, I stored food and water and wheat. Lots of wheat. I stored fabric and flashlights. I stored batteries, and candles, and clothes.

I once had a depression coat, a walking to Missouri coat, just in case. It was ugly as sin, but it was sturdy and warm. I knew I would never wear it, unless there was a crisis, yet I clung to it like hope. I knew that it would keep me warm against a dark and sinister nameless storm.

The coat is gone, but I still store food, and also hope, for I have learned that storms are a part of life. The thunder and lightning may frighten me, but I have control. I can choose peace. I can choose gratitude. I can choose faith. The most dangerous storm is the one that rages in my mind. Shall I choose fear or faith? Shall I choose chaos or stillness?

I have learned that most storms pass and that if we are prepared we shall not fear. I have learned that the only true safety lies inside my heart, the hand of my neighbor, the touch of a friend. I have learned that peace lies not in absolute safety but in trust and in my bucket of faith. I have learned to cling to my family, to strengthen my friends, and to share that bucket of faith with those in need.

There are more earthquakes now, and they have moved closer. The voices of war grow louder. Peace is not for sale, but it is abundant even in the growing chaos. Would you like a drink from my bucket of faith? Here, take my hand.

Abundance is mine. Peace, joy, and trust are abundant for those who know where to look.

America has a wonderful way of reinventing itself. We still have a lot going for us. We have a lot to be thankful for. We can make a difference. Be part of the solution. Believe it or not, whining is not a solution. Become the change you long for.

Gather your family. Gather your stores. Gather your courage. Believe. Hope. Trust. Trust in the Lord with all you heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths.

9/11/2011. It’s a perfect day for finding peace. Light a candle of faith in your heart and feel the glow of peace. Hold it out against the darkness surrounding you. Refuse to give in to darkness. Choose light. Choose gratitude. Choose abundance.

Count your blessings. Rejoice in abundance. Share your gifts. Strengthen your faith.

The choice is yours.

Linda Garner

Service...Who Needs It?

What was wrong with Devin?

It was a busy day, and we were all hard at work. The kids were cleaning up a storm. Everyone, that is but Devin. Devin was out of sorts, whining and getting in the way. He seemed to be mad at the whole world.

I stopped what I was doing and gathered Devin in my arms for a hug. As I looked into his sober eyes, it occurred to me that I had given everyone a job to do, except him. He was the only one who was not contributing. Without meaning to I sent Devin a message that he wasn’t needed. I quickly assigned Devin a job, and he cheered right up.

Devin is twenty-seven now. He was four when he taught me the importance of service. Everyone needs to serve. Serving builds our sense of self- worth.

I remember a study that was done at a nursing home. Each of the residents was given a houseplant to keep in their room. Half were told that the staff would care for their plant. The other half was told that the plant was their responsibility. Interestingly, the patients who had to care for their own plants became more alert and experienced measureable health improvements.

Who needs to serve? Anyone who wants a sense of purpose and worth.

What If I Don’t Feel Like Serving?

Serving isn’t always easy and it is seldom convenient. For me, there have been times when I really didn’t want to serve. There have been times when I wanted to be left alone. Sometimes I have felt too busy, too tired, or perhaps just too selfish. Maybe you have felt that.

“Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.” This probably never happens to you, but I must admit that sometimes I get a little weary of well-doing.
King Benjamin taught us that even if we serve our Heavenly Father with our whole souls, we will still be unprofitable servants. To be honest, I don’t know how often I serve with my whole soul.

He also taught that when we are in the service of our fellow beings we are only in the service of our God. Perhaps that thought can strengthen us when we are weary of well-doing.

Finding Joy in Service

Usually, I sign up to help out with ward service projects. I enjoy the work, once I am there. It’s nice to be around people who are serving, because they are usually cheerful and gracious. The atmosphere is friendly and uplifting. Still, I don’t necessarily look forward to service projects. A day at the cannery has never been my first choice, but maybe it should be.

Once while serving at the cannery, I worked alongside a friend that I hadn’t seen in a while. As we visited I learned that she was knee deep in challenges that were troubling to me.

She and her husband were struggling with a son who had stolen money and personal items from them. He had sold family heirlooms for drug money. The list of problems created for them by this son was a heavy one.

“How are you getting through this?” I asked.

She smiled confidently. “This,” she said, indicating our surroundings.

This? I thought, as I watched the cans slide down the conveyer belt.

“Yes,” she said. “Serving is what gets me through.”

I was stunned. Serving was getting her through. Serving at the cannery was bringing her peace.

Who needs to serve? Anyone who longs for peace.

Occasionally we have the privilege of cleaning the temple. This is an extraordinary service project. We arrive late at night when the temple is closed, dress in white jumpsuits, and care for a sacred building.

We speak reverently. We walk quietly. It’s an unforgettable experience to clean surfaces which look as if they have never been used. I am not a night person, but I would not miss this sacred opportunity. I feel close to my Father in Heaven and I feel like I am giving something back to him.

Our Covenant to Serve

Alma gave us a clearer understanding of our baptismal covenants as he taught his people at the Waters of Mormon. He spoke of bearing one another’s burdens, of mourning with those that mourn, and comforting those who need it.

If you desire those things, said Alma, “…what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before Him that ye have entered into a covenant with Him, that ye will serve Him, and keep His commandments, that He may pour out His Spirit more abundantly upon you?”

I love what happens next. “And now when the people had heard these words, they clapped their hands for joy, and exclaimed: This is the desire of our hearts.”

What is the desire of my heart?

Recently, I listened to the sacrament prayers with new ears. The phrase that they may have His spirit to be with them sang in my heart. Those words are familiar to me, but this time, I was hungry for meaning.

That they may have his spirit to be with them, I thought, as I tasted those words. That is the desire of my heart. Like the followers of Alma, I want his spirit to be with me. Who wouldn’t want that?

This is the reason I serve, because I want His spirit to be with me. On days when I feel too tired, too busy, or too selfish, that is my motivation.

Who needs to serve? I do.

Linda Garner

Summer Witness

Ah,summer. Backyard barbecues. Fresh veggies from the garden. Colorful days and starlit nights. Children's laughter. Tangy lemonade. Rhubarb pie.

We spent a summer in Arkansas, where forest was everywhere. Even in the city we were surrounded by gracious trees. We walked daily near a friendly stream where fireflights and locusts entertained us and shy forest creatures sometimes said hello. It was a magic place, and one magic summer day I created this poem.

Summer Witness

What could be so pleasant as a peaceful summer day,
When life slows down a little bit and troubles melt away.
The sun’s a ball of butter and the earth is dressed in green,
While overhead the sky’s the bluest sea you’ve ever seen.
Now and then a puffy cloud floats across the sky,
And all around are buzzing things and things that flutter by.
The stream is just a trickle as it gurgles in its play.
The sleepy river lazily meanders on its way.
The heady smell of blossoms comes softly on the breeze
And all the woodland creatures take refuge in the trees.
Surrounded by this beauty and the joy that’s in the air,
Why do some folks wonder if God is really there?

What could be so pleasant as a starlit summer night,
Watching fireflies dance and flicker underneath the moon so bright,
Stepping in and out of shadows made by giants dressed in green,
Watching for the bashful creatures which by day are seldom seen,
Listening to the chicka chicka of the locust’s rhythmic song,
And the chirping of the crickets, as night birds sing along.
Though the earth is far from quiet, there’s a stillness in the air.
My heart is filled with gratitude. I bow my head in prayer.
I listen for the answer. It comes soft as summer rain.
It warms me and it softens me and fills my heart again.
As summer’s warmth enfolds me, I’m surrounded by His love,
And I know that He cares for me from His heavenly home above.

Linda Garner