Reach upwards and Take HIS hand

I want to follow Him
Listen to the words
Walk in the path
That leads me…

Things trip me up
Like contention
Greed—anger—sorrow
And a little thing called
Pity

How can it be that I allow these things
To get in the way
They get in the way of HIS love
What I know is
Righteous
And good

I need to take HIS hand
And let Him lead
The way…
It is not an easy path
Nothing worth having ever is
Is it?

Who would have thought that a pedicure could teach a lesson?

Who would have thought that a pedicure could teach a lesson?
I have heard in many testimony and Relief Society meetings of stories about "The Still Small Voice" and heading the call. Oh, I can testify to many close calls that steered me from danger, happy times, or even those deep dark moments when I know, that He has sent the Comforter, to be at my side. I have felt the Holy Spirit with me so many times in my life, even before I was converted a member of the Church of Jesus Christ, of Latter-day Saints.
Now, before I married my sweet husband, I was a struggling single mother, raising seven children on welfare, working as a waitress, and going to college. I could barely afford food, rent, and bills let alone ever anything frivolous. We shopped mostly at thrift stores and bought shoes for two children at a time, I always came last on the list.
After my children were grown and moved away, it took me quite some time to finally get the courage to do nice things for "just me". (I still shop at thrift stores for my own clothes) The one frivolity girly thing I have decided on for myself has been to get my nails done. All my life, I have chewed them down to the nub, and they look hideous. I actually struggled for weeks going back and forth at the salon waling in and out and looking at the prices before I finally sat down, and stuck out my stubby fingers for them to see.
My feet on the other hand are worst yet. I am diabetic and for many years, they were cracking and bleeding and resembled an old scaly worn out dragon. My nails were yellow and brittle; I don’t like anyone to touch then except my daughter, who always rubbed them for me when they hurt.
Well, after going to the same nail salon for over a year, one day, I felt the strangest feeling; an odd impression kept smacking me like a tap across my head. I got the impression to ask about a pedicure? But kept shaking the feeling off like a bad dream; I hated the thought of spending any more money one me!
Dazed I looked at the posters of the pretty hands on the walls, and listened the piped in music playing in the background. But the impression kept getting stronger pounding in my ears, louder and louder! I could not reconcile getting this for me! Something hit me harder than ever, it would not stop, I had to ask about the price of this stupid pedicure and now!
The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a vibrating chair, warm water filling in a tub and my ugly bare feet was soaking in the sweet scent of lilacs. This thin-framed woman with chestnut hair was stooped over me washing my feet not unlike the Savior.
"Do you believe in God?" She asked quietly.
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do." I replied.
"Well, you are an answer to a prayer."

Another Beautiful Day

Dancing in the Rain
On a warm summer day
Playing ball with buddies
All night, no matter what
The consequences be…
Listening to the sounds of crickets
Playing a virtuoso
Butterflies flitting above
Kissing the blossoms
A gentle breeze brushes
My face
Like the hand of God
Saying, my child, good job
A day like this is celebrated
Greeted with a smile!
And when the sun is past the
Mount, and rest for it’s long and weary day
We grateful thank
Him for ALL
Things
Both grand and small
Amen

Christ is the Example—

He calls me in the night
To listen as He speaks
I come not—
Life gets in the way…
He asks me to take a loaf of
Bread, to a hungry sister
I can not, my pantry has barely enough
For me
Sacrifice is too much…
Again, He calls upon me to
Administer to the sick,
But I can not find enough strength
For I am weekend by spirit
My knees have not bent enough…
I cry out for Him
For I am lost and without
His love, My heart feels void
Of compassion, generosity, kindness,
And joy—
He is there, holding me in His loving
Arms….
We need to be more like Him every day
Forgiving, ever loving and caring for another.
Christ is the Example—
He died to show us the way.

Teach Me How To Pray?

How Do I Pray?
Is it very hard to do?
how do I speak
to One so powerful and true?

What do I say or dare ask
or share? Oh please I beg of you...
I'm on bended knee.
in Despair

They say He is my Father, tell me
how can that be?
For to long I've been orphaned
lonely just only me

Please I am asking
I want so desperately to pray
to seek the truth everlasting
and live with Christ some day

Ask and it shall be given Seek and ye shall find...
Knock and it shall open
That's what I've heard them say
oh please teach me I ask you,
Teach me to pray.

You say it's really simple?
Like a conversation to my Heavenly Father?
I Can talk to Him not unlike you,
just start by I thank You...

Oh that sounds so very easy,
To thank him for what I have.
For blessing large, small too
Ask Him to keep us safe from harm, and our loved ones too

help us to know just what to do
to please Him, when in what we do.
And when we end each and every Prayer, it is very clear indeed.
We always say, in His Name, Our Savior, Jesus, Christ, our King

Amen

Our Secret to a Great Marriage

We talk forever
and listen
It’s one of the keys
To our happiness
Just one…

We vowed never to argue
Over the small stuff
"It’s all small stuff"
The time we share
Is valuable

I never waste
A solitary moment
On fights, or tantrums
I’d rather snuggle
And cuddle

We uplift one another
It’s what we are best at
And laugh—
A lot
We pray together, Always

Respect is a must
continuos and honest
so true
in white we promised
Eternal Vows

Gifts of a unique caliber
Non-refundable
Matches like this
Made in heaven
Withstand the depths only God knows

Everyday, I am grateful
With every prayer on my lips
I thank Him who gave you
To me
For all
Eternity

Truly Converted

Being truly converted was the topic in Relief Society on this particular Sunday. I recall I was still angry—angry at the ward, the powerlessness of the priesthood, angry at my decision to make that all knowing change from Catholicism to Mormonism, and angry t most of all at myself.

I had made the choice to give it all up and move into this religion; it seemed like the best thing when I read the Book of Mormon. I did feel that burning in my bosom that is spoken of in scripture, really I did!

Moroni 10:4 "And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost"
[Book of Mormon]

I recall the feeling of assurance and truthfulness felt that day, that I knew this was true. Why not, my life was going great, a new wonderful husband, home, way of life, what's not to love? Soon after, however, my faith would be rocked to its foundation. Just when I thought my life was finally taking shape not only spiritually but in every other facet as well, one after another my foundation started to falter. The day I was baptized it started. I got news that the one person in my life who gave me stability and taught me to have faith was dying, my grandmother. She loved and stayed true to her faith from the moment she converted. I went ahead with my baptism regardless of how I was feeling inside; like a part of me was doing something my grandma would not be proud of. Her funeral was evidence of all that, and then some. I came home feeling as if I was a woman without a family.

Within a month, one more straw would weigh down the back of this already heavily beaten camel. I was soon awakened by several calls and then the pounding of the front door. My eldest son was standing there scared and with a look I will never forget as long as I live. He informed us that his younger brother was in a horrible auto accident just a state away. By the time we made it from Utah to Colorado, my son, Robert, was pronounced brain dead. My only function was to sign papers, take him off life support and plan whatever it is a mother must plan next.

I recall thinking, when I first got the news, this is great! All I have to do is have faith! How many times, in how many ways have I heard time and time again about the great healing powers of the priesthood? So, like a dutiful faithful daughter of God, I called upon my loving husband and asked him to give my son a blessing, through me. He did. He took the time needed to speak with his Father in Heaven, and went to me, placed his hand on my head; those trembling hands just sat there. I could feel the tears fall as he tried hard to force the words to flow. They did not. All that he could say was: "Hold tight, until your mom comes, Your Heavenly Father loves you, your mother loves you." We left and drove there as quickly and as safely as we could, but when I asked Barry why? My sweet husband said. "Sometimes, the answer is no." I never could “buy” that answer.

Back to the Relief Society lesson; the lesson was being taught by a woman, who at that moment, I really didn't think much about. As a matter of fact, I listened to too many other gossipy women in our ward and had developed a poor opinion of her. I am not proud of that either. So when she asked about conversion and what thought about mine verses hers? It was my time to let her have it with all cannons blazing! I became snooty quick! I told her what I thought about her and the Utah goodie two-shoe Mormons.
“You have no idea what it’s like it is to give up so much, and how hard it is to do just that!” I spit like a cobra spewing venom.
I was shaking; everything I ever wanted to say came out except, telling Sister “What's her name” how angry I was. I was angry because she had told me I was not mourning like a Mormon but that I was still in Catholic mode, I was angry because she didn’t know what loosing a child was like, but most of all, I was angry because she didn’t know anything about grief and the process. I knew a Mormon friend who also lost her son; that friend's husband was a bishop and she mourned just as hard as I did! A loss of a child is a loss of a child—it is painful and the pain goes so deep it is unexplainable.

I sat down, took a deep satisfying "job well done" breath and awaited the teacher's reply, if she could... I must say, the Spirit was with her; she was ready for me. Sharon looked at me with sympathetic warm caring eyes I have never seen any like this day and said. "Cathy, we should all feel like that every day."
I shook my head in utter disbelief.
Sharon continued. "Each day we need to look upon our conversion as if it is something to be worked on, it is difficult, it is a struggle. Every day I struggle, I struggle with daily prayer, Family Home Evening, scripture study, and reaching out to comfort those in need”

My heart and soul was overwhelmed with the Holy Spirit, I learned much that Sabbath day; I learned not to take others for granted, to listen to the Holy Spirit and that mostly that He guides us through revelation in the voices of others.

My conversion has not been a simple one, and to this day I still struggle with so many things. I am grateful for Joseph Smith and his divine wisdom and inspiration that gave us this great organization, the Relief Society and the restoration of this church. One sister gently guided me back to church which afforded me the ability to listen to this powerful lesson; that was my Visiting Teacher, while one sister allowed me to realize that we all work each day at our conversion process. So, yes, I have given up much, but oh, what I have been given in return is far grander than these eyes will ever see. It is like the mirrors in the temple sealing rooms—Eternal.