Dreamer

Over the last month or two I've had several dreams where I wake up having born my purest, deepest conviction of the atonement. Normally my dreams are a mix of random, unrelated, hopefully never to come true events, but these testimony dreams have been uniquely powerful and real. I have woken up with a bright smile on my face (or maybe it's just in my heart... ;)), and with the desire to have those words apart of my whole day. As I have grown in my conversion and strength in the gospel of Jesus Christ I have had two principles etched unmistakably into my heart: 1) God hears and answers my prayers, 2) the power of the atonement is real and applies directly to me.

After reading Chieko Okazaki's book, "Lighten Up," she has become a spiritual heroine of mine. I want to be like this woman when I grow up. She puts the atonement in personal perspective, because the atonement is precisely that: personal. She expresses:

"Well, my dear sisters, the gospel is the good news that can free us from guilt. We know that Jesus experienced the totality of mortal existence in Gethsemane. It's our faith that he experienced everything- absolutely everything. Sometimes we don't think through the implications of that belief. We talk in great generalities about the sins of all humankind, about the suffering of the entire human family. But we don't experience pain in generalities. We experience it individually. That means he knows what it felt like when your mother died of cancer- how it was for your mother, how it still is for you. He knows what it felt like to lose the student body election. He knows that moment when the brakes locked and the car started to skid. He experienced the slave ship sailing from Ghana toward Virginia. He experienced the gas chambers at Dachau. He experienced Napalm in Vietnam. He knows about drug addiction and alcoholism.
Let me go further. There is nothing you have experienced as a woman that he does not also know and recognize. On a profound level, he understands the hunger to hold your baby that sustains you through pregnancy. He understands both the physical pain of giving birth and the immense joy. He knows about PMS and cramps and menopause. He understands about rape and infertility and abortion. His last recorded words to his disciples were, "And, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." (Matthew 28:20) He understands your mother-pain when your five-year-old leaves for kindergarten, when a bully picks on your fifth-grader, when your daughter calls to say that the new baby has Down syndrome. He knows your mother-rage when a trusted babysitter sexually abuses your two-year-old, when someone gives your thirteen-year-old drugs, when someone seduces your seventeen-year-old. He knows the pain you live with when you come home to a quiet apartment where the only children are visitors, when you hear that your former husband and his new wife were sealed in the temple last week, when your fiftieth wedding anniversary rolls around and your husband has been dead for two years. He knows all that. He's been there. He's been lower than all that. He's not waiting for us to be perfect. Perfect people don't need a Savior. He came to save his people in their imperfections. He is the Lord of the living, and the living make mistakes. He's not embarrassed by us, angry at us, or shocked. He wants us in our brokenness, in our unhappiness, in our guilt and our grief." (Lighten Up, Preface, p. 174)

I love sweet Sister Okazaki. Her faith invigorates my own.

I feel like Sister Okazaki, the atonement is often spoken of in its grander: "The Savior atoned for the sins if all mankind," "the Savior atoned for the sorrows of all mankind." But we seldom look at our lives as very grand, and because of that we feel to wait to call upon the power of the atonement until some grand event does come into our lives.

The atonement was meant to be highly personal and individually applicable. There are burdens and worries too personal to share publicly, and too constant to bear alone. This is one of the many reasons we have the atonement. We need not wait until some grand event occurs to work on finding the balm in Gilead, the peace of the Savior's atonement.

The atonement gives us the capacity to do things beyond our current strength. It gives us hope when all hope seems to have run out on us. It lifts the burdens we cannot carry alone and frees us from personal hellish torment of spirit and mind. The atonement cleanses and purifies our hearts to become more than we are. It enables us to see the good in our spirits, and allows trespasses to be forgiven completely.

We do not need to do anything in life alone. The Savior is there for all circumstances. Through His compassion and healing we can walk each day guided by the Spirit, and with hope of becoming.

God is in the details of my life. I am a simple woman, and He reminds me of His presence and His eternal care through the simple things around me.

I know the atonement is real. Its application is in the every day details of our lives. Though we are just one of many spirits our Father created, we must remember that He created us and has pure love for us, and that that fact alone is reason enough for us to daily turn to the atonement for comfort, healing, and purification.

A Dose of Perspective

I wish I had a constant level headed perspective about me. Occasionally I get overwhelmed by the onslaught of tasks to do– especially the ones I repeatedly do throughout the day: dishes, picking up toys, meal prep, etc. The last few days have been a complete blessing though, because I have been able to see past the to-do list to what that to-do list means.

Rich and I often take on hefty projects... Sometimes knowing the time and effort commitment, sometimes not. Our recent project has been painting our entry way, kitchen area, and half bath. (Ya, this is one of those "we bit off more than we can chew!" projects.) Despite the chaotic mess of it all, I have been blessed with some beautiful "ah-ha!" moments.

Last night as we were working on finishing touches for painting, I stopped to clean up the total disaster William had made with his toys. As I was cleaning I thought, "Wow, Will had such a fun time pulling out all of his toys and playing with them in so many areas of the house." It made me feel glad that he is exploring and adventuring about his safe house. Once I had all the toys put away, I looked at the line up of trucks, stuffed animals, and Lego blocks and thought, "Wow! William is so blessed. Look at all the fun toys he has."

My body was aching and exhausted, yet I felt a strong sense of gratitude and pride. Gratitude that God has blessed us with a great job, home, and opportunity. Pride because we have worked to do our part of the deal to merit blessings and financial freedom. I felt it a blessing all of the sudden to even be able to work on long, laborious home-projects. It means we have a home! I can be sore-bodied over that!

As I sit here typing, I'm looking over at the bathroom mirror that is laying on the couch until it can be reinstalled. There are lip marks, finger marks, and slobber spots all over it. In my mind I know I'll be cleaning that bad boy up, but more prominent is knowing who all those marks are from. William got a kick out of looking at himself in the mirror. He thought he was so funny kissing his little boy reflection, patting his own reflected hand, and trying to figure out where the kid was. He giggled and giggled over it. I'd say it's totally worth the Windex and paper towel.

After putting William to bed, laughing hysterically over a plastic elephant who romps around his crib making elephant noises which result in tickles and little boy laughter, I headed to my bedroom to grab a few things. My check list of "I really need to clean this..." was working over time (I told you, I'm behind from these dang projects!) , I had to stop and laugh as I looked at the toys in my tub used to distract Will long enough for me to get ready. I thought about how he played with all the buckets and cups and thought, "it's totally worth the clean up."

I realize there are prices to pay when allowing William to explore and play in the variety of ways he does. I am thankful for letting go of perfection and letting the messes be made for the sake of one infectiously happy little boy.

I hope that next time my body aches like a 90 year-old, I can remember these moments of perspective, and feel relieved that I have a beautiful home to maintain, a charming husband who is blessed with a job to provide it all for us, and that the toys are because I let a little boy discover that day.