Stronger Through Him

  Joydrops.   As I finish this year of teaching seminary that's how I sum it up.  Nine individuals who made me better. There were plenty of lessons that I wondered if we got anything out of. Plenty of mornings where the ring of my alarm was followed by a groan.   Mornings of more heads down than up.   But also so much joy. So. Much. Joy. Boys showing up in summer clothes with all the girls in winter pajamas and scarves.   Students writing songs and painting pictures and building play dough characters. Our student who goes to an out of town academy so only can pop in occasionally and always does with and warm welcome and bright smile.  So much laughter. Asking questions.  Blowing the ceremonial horns.   Helping each other. Eating the edges of the coffee cake. Making videos.   Answering questions. Praying.  Forgiving. Helping. Studying.   So many rounds of Seminary Telestrations. Singing.  And not singing.   Together.   And then hear

  A big part of elementary school (and life) is learning how to navigate social interactions with others.   So last week when four of our littles in kindergarten got swept up in a moment and began laughing at another student another teacher  immediately called them out.   She emphatically stated that is NOT how we treat people and that they needed to immediately go to their seats and write a note of apology to their classmate as well as a letter to their parents to inform them of what had happened.  I completely supported her moves.  The students had various responses. One immediately began making excuses and blaming the other three. One nervously laughed and said "I don't care". (Psychologists have actually found that this phrase usually means some form of "I wish I hadn't done this." One had no real visual response and seemed to be waiting and following the others for the appropriate response. And one immediately began biting his lip as tears

 With my right arm in a sling, my weaker hand is getting some unfamiliar practice. I was filling in as the school librarian today and after we had read some books the students had time to choose an activity in our maker area (building), coding area, art area or games.   One student asked me to color with her. As my left hand awkwardly grasped the colored pencils it felt unnatural and my coloring strokes were far from perfect.   But with each stroke they got a little better.   I thought about how as our gospel understanding grows we are challenged to do new things, and they may feel unnatural and hard. But hard doesn't mean bad.   Elder Isaac K Morrison taught, "The hard things in our lives should come as no surprise once we have entered the strait and narrow path.  Jesus Christ learned “obedience by the things which he suffered.”  As we follow Him, especially in our difficult times, we can grow to become more like Him."   We can get stronger even if our initial efforts fe

  This morning two of my daughters were taking me out for a Mothers Day brunch. Only we didn't make it to the brunch.   In her inexperience as a new driver, my daughter pulled in front of an oncoming car and we were hit.   Airbags and smoke immediately filled the whole car and the force of the collision snapped my neck to the side and pain seared through my right shoulder.   I pushed that pain aside and began frantically checking on my daughters.   Both were conscious and the driver was crying and apologizing over and over.  I told my older daughter to call 911 and rushed to the other car to insure those occupants were also okay. Upon confirming that, I ran back to our car and unable to open Kyrie's door which has born the brunt of the impact, I helped Ella from the car  and onto the grass where she sat down, obviously going into shock. The officers arrived quickly and helped pry the door open and had Kyrie stand up.  Her face was bleeding and she immediately slu

  I am often awed at the opportunities Heavenly Father allows me to learn and grow. In the most unexpected situations. When I was fulfilling a work responsibility last week I met with another adult for a routine item. In the course of our conversation, she shared some very personal struggles and choices with far reaching consequences (unrelated to work and our school children) she had made.   I had a thousand things to do on my to-do list.   But I stopped. And I listened.  To her and to the Holy Spirit whispering that I needed to be right here, right now.   I tried to be empathetic.  While her sins may have been different than mine, I certainly was in no position to cast stones.  We've been studying about that a lot this week. And then, with tears in her eyes, she asked me this question.  "Do you really believe redemption is possible?" I contemplated her question for a few moments.   Do I? Do I really believe in redemption? In forgiveness?  In the pow