A Bumpy Ride

A bumpy ride

Church News

Published: Saturday, May 16, 2009

After a day at an amusement park, a father and his son were discussing the relative merits of the thrill rides they had experienced that day.

The son's favorite ride, he said, had been an antique wooden roller coaster that had been functioning at the park since the first half of the 20th century.

The father, however, preferred the more modern roller-coaster-type rides. Notwithstanding their loop-de-loops, corkscrew curves and high-banked turns, he found them smoother. The bumpiness of the old roller coaster's track was quite disagreeable to him.

Then the son made a rather curious observation: "The bumps helped me feel safer."

The father wondered how this could be. Upon consideration and further conversation, he eventually arrived at the answer: The bumps and jarring gave the son an assurance that the roller-coaster car was still in contact with the track and, if it remained so, it would eventually bring him safely to the end of the ride. Conversely, there were moments on the modern coasters when he had a most disquieting sense that the car had left the track.

In a limited way, the above incident could be an analogy for life.

While progressing along the path of mortality, we are bound to encounter bumps and jolts. While these are never pleasant, if we view them with an attitude of faith, they can bring us some degree of assurance that our Heavenly Father still cares about us. We thus can feel we are still on the track of His love.

"My son, despise not the chastening of the Lord; neither be weary of his correction," one of the Proverbs admonishes. "For whom the Lord loveth he correcteth; even as a father the son in whom he delighteth" (Proverbs 3:11-12).

This concept is reiterated in Helaman 15:3 as well as in latter-day revelation. At Kirtland, Ohio, the Lord told the Prophet Joseph Smith, "Whom I love I also chasten that their sins may be forgiven, for with the chastisement I prepare a way for their deliverance in all things out of temptation, and I have loved you" (Doctrine and Covenants 95:1).

One who, through personal experience, learned the verity of this truth was Thomas B. Marsh.

Elder Marsh was president of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles during the Missouri period of Church history when a spirit of faultfinding beset him, resulting in his eventual apostasy and excommunication from the Church. His subsequent statements gave enemies occasion to persecute the Saints.

In coming decades, Brother Marsh experienced much adversity. Ultimately, on Sept. 6, 1857, he spoke to a congregation in the Salt Lake Tabernacle, where he humbly acknowledged his wrongdoing and sought readmission into the Church.

Apologizing for the weakness of his delivery, he said: "My voice never was very strong, but it has been very much weakened of late years by the afflicting rod of Jehovah. He loved me too much to let me go without whipping. I have seen the hand of the Lord in the chastisement which I have received. I have seen and know that it has proved he loved me; for if he had not cared anything about me, he would not have taken me by the arm and given me such a shaking" (Journal of Discourses 5:206).

The bumps in the road will not always be a consequence of transgression. Even when we are faithful, we cannot expect that the way will always be smooth and easy. Our growth in mortality necessitates our passing through adversity.

LDS speakers and writers are fond of quoting this analogy from the great Christian apologist C.S. Lewis:

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing, and so you are not surprised. But presently, He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of — throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace" (Mere Christianity [New York: Macmillan, 1960], p. 174).

In time, we will see that the bumps were only momentary. We may survive a financial crisis, wiser and stronger for the experience. The grief at the loss of a loved one in death will fade, and we will be left with gratitude for the association and the hope of a joyful reunion in the hereafter.

At some point in our eternal journey, we may be moved to thank the Lord for loving us enough in the moment to inflict a bit of chastening or edifying discomfort.

Children & their "Title of Liberty"

I had another one of those experiences recently that caused me to look long and hard at the concept of agency. Just when I thought I had this principle well internalized, one of my grown children made some choices that brought back some of the old emotional pain and futile "what ifs." You know the kind, "What if I had set a better example, been a better teacher?" "What if I had been better at consequences? What if I'd been better at providing experiences that develop the ability to look ahead in decision-making? What if we had held more quality family home evenings, had better communication in our family? Would that have made the difference?" Such questions are about as helpful as feathers on a fish. I can't go back and redo the past; all I can do is move forward from where I am. The real challenge is to accept the reality of how things are with faith in Christ and in His never-failing love for me and for my children. I find the AA serenity prayer a good guide in my parenting role: "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Generally, all I can change is myself and the quality of my love and influence.

I have to conclude that I am building my house on sand if the strength of my faith depends on having things turn out the way I want or having children do what I think is best. When I want my will done I am inclined to label myself a failure when it isn't done. When I tune into God's perspective, I have not failed as long as I am seeking and submitting to God's will and pursuing the path of growth. I'm inclined to believe that if, through the course of all the trials and adversities and ups and downs of life, a person turns to Christ and develops a celestial character, everything in that life has been a success, no matter how bad it looked along the way. When I remember and apply that thought to both to my children and myself, peace returns.

If We Could Have Done Better, We Would Have!
One of the biggest traps, that mothers of grown children particularly seem to fall into, is the idea that we somehow should have done better, should have been closer to perfection in our interactions with our children. I submit that we all did the best we could in the framework of our personal emotional, physical, and spiritual challenges. Heaven only knows if we could have done better, we would have!

Interestingly enough, even if we had somehow succeeded in being "perfect parents" there is no doubt that our children would still be making imperfect choices. God the Father was a perfect parent and 1/3 of his children chose Satan's plan. The remaining 2/3 of us, with the exception of Jesus, make mistakes on a daily basis--at least during our mortal probation.

The Implication of Invitation
Christ, with his perfect example and perfect faith converted only a fraction of those he came in contact with to Christianity. What made the difference was what was in them, what they were seeking, what they chose. Jesus honored their agency, gave them the invitation, kept loving them even when they turned away from Him. He lamented over those who wouldn't be "gathered under His wings," but did not fail in his own mission because of their choices. There is great application in all that to missionary work, as well as to our efforts with our children. And perhaps, in our experiences in raising children, we can come to glimpse the feelings of a loving Savior who constantly invites us to the safety of His wings, but whose invitation is so often ignored. Thinking of this I wrote:

Chicks and Gatherings

Dear Savior, I understand so much better now

Your poignant words of chicks and gatherings . . .

"How often would I have gathered thy children together even as a hen gathers her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." (Matt. 23:37)

Still I question: "Why do some children--yours and mine--

Refuse safe places, prefer white water rapids to warm wings?"

God gave them agency, I cannot force,

But make the heart-felt choice to come to You myself.

As I beam to them my shining joy at being gathered

I pray I'll see them follow . . .

Beloved chicks, safe at last beneath divine warm wings.

The Power of Agency
Our stewardship is to do the best we can to come to Christ ourselves and teach our children true principles. Then in age-appropriate ways, if we get out of the way and make it perfectly clear to our children that they can and must choose for themselves and experience the consequences of their choices, they are much more likely to choose wisely than when they are feeling coerced. Case in point: James Jones's son Danny.

The first step of Danny's return to clear thinking and responsible living happened immediately following the conversation I recorded in my last article where James made it clear that he was giving up his efforts to control Danny and turning his life back over to him. Let's return to James's story and see what happened next:

"You aren't going to try to control me anymore? I can live my own life?" Danny snapped. I could feel a great burden lifting off my shoulders. It felt wonderful, like coming out of a deep, dark place into the light. Suddenly I knew again that . . . nobody is really responsible for anyone else's life. Only that person is responsible. Hadn't I learned that a hundred times?

"Yes! You can live your own life. You have been! You're living the exact life you have chosen to live, not the life I would have chosen for you." The words were comforting and revealing all over again.

"I can do what I want?" he asked incredulously.

"You have been doing exactly what you want." I was beginning to see clearly through the fog. I recognized at long last the lie that had driven me to nag and scold, to be angry, to drive Danny farther and farther away from us. It was as though an inner voice was saying 'Now hear this! You are in this painful dilemma with Danny because you have bought into the lie that caring and capable parents can and must control their children.' That assumption had influenced every nuance of how I felt and thought and perceived my role as a parent, even after I had experienced the impossibility of it all. Even after I had rejected the lie with my mind, somehow my heart had hung onto it. But no more.

Danny immediately called my bluff. Danny had insisted on seeing a girl that we strongly disapproved of. We had done everything we could to keep them apart the last couple of years. Of course, the harder we tried to keep him away from her, the more time he spent with her. They were like glue on glue. Danny and this girl I'll call Suzy would walk back and forth in front of the house. Danny told me they were saying, "Oh, if only our parents would let us marry, we could be so happy." I was running from one window to the next watching them and praying for Danny. Lillie and I were terrified, helpless, and angry over his stubbornness about this girl.

At this emotion-laden moment in our counseling session, Danny said, "Dad, you mean I can live my own life? You will let me make my own decisions?"

"You have been!"

"OK, then! If I really can make my own decisions and you won't control me anymore, then give me permission to marry Suzy!" Danny was raising the stakes. I was being challenged. "You want to marry her?"

"Yes! If I can live my own life, then give me permission to marry her!" [Danny was only seventeen]

I looked him square in the eye. "Danny, I give you my permission! Marry her! By all means, marry her--and as soon as possible!" I raised my hands to the heavens and cried loudly, "God bless you my children! You deserve each other! Go forth and be happy!" I liked this new feeling but Lillie was making funny little squeaking sounds like she couldn't breathe.

Danny was stunned. "Dad! You would really let me marry her?"

"Absolutely! Why not? You know everything! If you want her, you should have her!"

I had a big grin on my face; I was happy! "Go get the paper! I'll give you written permission this instant! Go! I mean it! Let's do it!"

"Dad, you've got to be kidding!"

"I'm not kidding! Just live far away from us."

Danny just stood there. He looked at the floor, then he looked at me, then at his mother, then at the floor again. He put his right hand up to his forehead, covered his eyes, and massaged his temples. Danny seemed to be in pain and confused. Then he began to mumble,"Marry her? Really marry her?"

For the first time, he was not pulling against my restraints. It takes two people to play tug-of-war. I had put my end of the rope down . . . and the game was over! It was his decision and he was considering what it would be like to be married to Suzy. He looked up as the realization suddenly hit him. It would be stupid to marry this girl! He said, "Marry her? No way! She's nuts, Dad! I don't even like her!"

Danny and I were communicating honestly for the first time since he was twelve. Now it was my turn to be stunned! I just stood there as the impact of what I had just heard sunk in. I stammered, "What? You don't even like her? What are you telling us? What do you mean, 'You don't even like her'? What are you saying? What has been going on these last two years?"

"Dad, I don't like her. She's an idiot! I'd never marry her! It's the truth, I'd be crazy to marry her."

I looked at my son in bewilderment and slowly sat down. I had just experienced in living color the reality of another principle: When the issue of free choice is at stake, other issues are subordinated.

Title of Liberty Engraved on Every Heart
What James is saying is that our need to choose eclipses all other needs. We hold our freedom to choose most dearly above all else--and so does God. God allows his children to commit all manner of wickedness rather than trample on their right to choose. Each individual has as part of his or her very soul, a love of personal liberty that many have been willing to die for. Helaman said of his stripling warriors, "Now they never had fought, yet they did not fear death; and they did think more upon the liberty of their fathers than they did upon their lives." (Alma 56:47) And so it is with our sons and daughters--they think more of liberty than they do of their lives. When they feel the need to defend their own liberty against infringement by well-meaning parents, they will often go to any length, as Danny did, to prove to themselves and everyone else that they can make their own choices. Perhaps our most important job is to remind our children that the words on Moroni's Title of Liberty (Alma 46:12) began with God and religion, then freedom--that we maintain true freedom only to the extent that we love God and live his laws. Still, if our expectation is that we can teach our children so welll that they will always do right and will have no need to repent we will be dashed. Instead, we teach them how to repent, how to come to Christ for a remission of their sins. In the list of things we are to teach children mentioned in D&C 68:25, repentance comes first! Considering the fallibility of the children of men, no wonder!

To Love is to Desire Growth

In her recent book, Tathea Anne Perry records a fictional conversation--which is symbolically a conversation between God and Satan. The following quotes from this conversation have great application to our topic of agency:

Man of Holiness: "The probation of the flesh has many purposes, but none greater than learning to use power righteously, and none more difficult or more dangerous or beset with as many traps and snares for the soul. He must learn to stay his hand, never to trespass on another's agency, no matter how much wiser he may believe his vision to be or how much greater his own light. He may see the path far ahead and every precipice that hovers on the lip of the abyss, every morass that would suck a man into its bowels and consume him utterly. He may plead and teach, exhort and implore, yet he must not rob another of his right to choose for himself, good or ill. Love does not excuse. Even I must watch and wait, because to do otherwise would begin the chain of ruin which would in the end destroy heaven itself. There must be opposition in all things; without the darkness, there is no light.

Asmodeus: "Man will never understand that! He will not accept loss! It is beyond his concept of morality with its urgency, its blindness to all but the individual and the moment. His small, finite mind cannot imagine so far! The strong will abuse the weak, most of all when the weak believe they love them. They will protect them unwisely because they glory in their own strength. They will trust their own wisdom above yours. Their pride will not allow admission of error in themselves or in those of their blood or their race. They will foster dependence because to be needed is the ultimate dominion. They will demand obedience because in it is the illusion of glory. Thus the weak will lean upon the strong, and both will be damned."

Man of Holiness: "It is the test of the strong that they should help the weak for as long as that need exists, that their patience should never tire or grow short. They should nourish the young, the tender, the frightened, and the weak until they too become strong and no longer need them. To love is to desire growth, that every soul may reach the greatness of all its possibilities."

Our quest is clear, our challenges great. May our love for our children be a Christlike love that desires growth, not ease, that nourishes while honoring the Title of Liberty engraved on every heart.

written by Darla Isackson, Meridian Magazine

Gold Wrapping Paper

Some time ago a mother punished her five year old daughter for wasting a roll of expensive gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and she became even more upset when the child used the gold paper to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree.

Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift box to her mother the next morning and then said, "This is for you, Momma."

The mother was embarrassed by her earlier over reaction, but her anger flared again when she opened the box and found it was empty. She spoke to her daughter in a harsh manner.

"Don't you know, young lady, when you give someone a present there's supposed to be something inside the package?"

She had tears in her eyes and said, "Oh, Momma, it's not empty! I blew kisses into it until it was full."

The mother was crushed. She fell on her knees and put her arms around her little girl, and she begged her forgiveness for her thoughtless anger.

An accident took the life of the child only a short time later, and it is told that the mother kept that gold box by her bed for all the years of her life.

Whenever she was discouraged or faced difficult problems she would open the box and take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.

Our influence is surely felt in our respective families.

Sometimes we fathers forget that once we, too, were boys,

and boys at times can be vexing to parents. I recall

how much, as a youngster, I liked dogs. One day I took

my wagon and placed a wooden orange crate in it and went

looking for dogs. At that time dogs were everywhere to be

found: at school,walking along the sidewalks, or exploring

vacant lots, of which there were many. As I would find a

dog and capture it, I placed it in the crate, took

it home, locked it in the coal shed, and turned the latch

on the door. That day I think I brought home six dogs of

varying sizes and made them my prisoners after this

fashion. I had no idea what I would do with all

those dogs, so I didn't reveal my deed to anyone.

Dad came home from work and, as was his custom,

took the coal bucket and went to the coal shed

to fill it. Can you imagine his shock and utter

consternation as he opened the door and immediately

faced six dogs, all attempting to escape at once?

As I recall, Dad flushed a little bit, and then

he calmed down and quietly told me, "Tommy, coal

sheds are for coal. Other people's dogs rightfully

belong to them." By observing him, I learned a

lesson in patience and calmness. It is a good

thing I did, for a similar event occurred in my life

with our youngest son, Clark. Clark has always liked

animals, birds, reptiles - anything that is alive.

Sometimes that resulted in a little chaos in our home.

One day in his boyhood he came home from Provo Canyon

with a water snake, which he named Herman. Right off

the bat Herman got lost. Sister Monson found him in

the silverware drawer. Water snakes have a way of

being where you least expect them. Well, Clark moved

Herman to the bathtub, put a plug in the drain,

put a little water in, and had a sign taped to the back

of the tub which read, "Don't use this tub. It belongs

to Herman." So we had to use the other bathroom while

Herman occupied that sequestered place. But then one

day, to our amazement, Herman disappeared. His name should

have been Houdini. He was gone! So the next day

Sister Monson cleaned up the tub and prepared it for normal use.

Several days went by. One evening I decided it was time to take

a leisurely bath; so I filled the tub with a lot of warm water,

and then I peacefully lay down in the tub for a few moments of

relaxation. I was lying there just pondering, when the soapy

water reached the level of the overflow drain and began to flow

through it. Can you imagine my surprise when, with my eyes

focused on that drain, Herman came swimming out, right for my

face? I yelled out to my wife, "Frances! Here comes Herman!"

Well, Herman was captured again, put in a foolproof box, and

we made a little excursion to Vivian Park in Provo Canyon and

there released Herman into the beautiful waters of the South

Fork Creek. Herman was never again to be seen by us.

-Thomas S. Monson

Mrs. Thompson and Teddy

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard. Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers. At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise. Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around.." His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle." His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken." Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class." By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to." After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets.." A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life. Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life. Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD. The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference." Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you." Dr. Teddy Stoddard now ownes the Stoddard Cancer Wing at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines.

by unknown