God's Love and Laws

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday afternoon session of the October 2009 conference.

Some of our children were easier to teach than others. One, especially, questioned everything and wanted to know why. Why did we have to obey the restrictive commandments? I often used analogies to explain things. Just as I am older and more experienced than my children, and can see a bigger picture, God is older, more experienced and wiser too. He sees an eternal perspective. His commandments are like our house and family rules, they are to help us be safe, productive, and happy living together.

Elder Oaks talk, Love and Law, reinforced this concept for me.

The love of God does not supersede His laws and His commandments, and the effect of God's laws and commandments does not diminish the purpose and effect of His love. The same should be true of parental love and rules.

One of the things that is hardest for parents is to allow natural consequences to follow the breaking of rules. Too often we extend mercy before the "weight of sin" is felt and we don't allow children to take some time to "come to themselves" and repent. We want to keep the peace, not interrupt or derail our plans. We don't want to get angry!

God's love is so perfect that He lovingly requires us to obey His commandments because He know that only through obedience to His laws can we become perfect, as He is. For this reason, God's anger and His wrath are not a contradiction of His love, but an evidence of His love.

I'm not trying to justify abuse, but there's nothing wrong with letting our children know how disappointed we are, or how unhappy, or upset we are when they deliberately disobey. (I'm not talking about untrained toddlers here. Sometimes we are impatient with a child who just doesn't know any better. We quickly find out where we need to do some teaching and training.)

God's choicest blessings are clearly contingent upon obedience to God's laws and commandments.

I know this to be true better than I know anything else. While I know I have been forgiven of serious sins as a young adult, I also know I have missed out on blessings, and have suffered the consequences of my sins for decades. Maybe God provides miracles for some in removing consequences, but He hasn't for me. I have apologized to my children who also have had to endure the consequences of my choices. 

God does not intervene to forestall the consequences of some persons' choices in order to protect the well-being of other persons--even when they kill, injure, or oppress one another--for this would destroy His plan for eternal progress. He will bless us to endure the consequences of others' choices, but He will not prevent those choices. 

Despite the somber tone of this talk I find it uplifting and hopeful. God's plan is working. And because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ all things will be made right in the end.

Recently I was pondering about our son James and the poor choices he made and how lost he was. Into my mind came his voice saying, "I'm not lost now, Mom." No, he's not lost anymore. The rescue of the Savior extends to all. James is safe from the power of Satan; he is endowed with priesthood power and able to move forward now. God loves all of His children and has provided a way for repentance and mercy through Jesus Christ.

God's love is evident through His laws. Our love should be evident through our obedience. I'm sure that once I make it through this life I will kneel at His feet and thank Him for His laws, and for His mercy in providing a Savior for when I wasn't strong enough or smart enough to obey those laws. 

 

Lesson about Heavenly Father's Love for Me

Last Saturday morning as I was puttering in the kitchen I heard the front door open and someone walk in. I wasn't expecting anyone so I went to the living room to investigate. As I rounded the corner into the room there was JET with a huge bouquet of flowers. I had forgotten that he was coming over. My heart overflowed with love for him. He is tall, handsome and was offering me flowers! He even remembered my favorite colors and had his florist friend make a bouquet just for me.

All through the day as we visited I thought this must be how Heavenly Father feels about us. He loves us! With all the tender feelings of a parent. He may not approve of what we do and be disappointed because of our choices, but He loves us deeply, eternally, and unconditionally. He welcomes us with open arms whenever we approach him. He rejoices when we come home to Him. He must beam when we express gratitude, and must feel joy when we give Him a gift.

Christmas at Our House

Stringing garland and hanging ornaments originated as a way to keep tiny, curious people, (aka children) away from my glass antique replica ornaments. I continue to enjoy the way it dresses up the living room.

This nativity is felt hand puppets, made at a Relief Society Super Saturday activity in Virginia in 2001.

I was delighted to find a holy family ornament one year at an after Christmas clearance sale.

A beautiful ceramic nativity set that I bought when I was single. TopDad brought me a gorgeous Poinsettia from the Agriculture class at his school.

A holy family on a throw pillow (please don't throw the pillow!) makes this little library corner special.

L-R: Glass bas relief nativity with votive candle; (back) framed print, (front) mini nativity; glass nativity set of holy family and three wise men; (back) Angel Moroni; (front) stuffed fabric manger and Baby Jesus. (Someday I'll get the rest of the figures done.) 

Wreath was a gift made by my older sister; manger and Baby Jesus (my favorite!) You can read about it here.

Even the side of my fridge is decorated with a nativity!

My greatest feeling at Christmas time is gratitude--for the great gift of a Savior and Redeemer. I know he is real! I am overwhelmed by God's love for me.

P.S. We do have a tree, I just neglected to take a picture of it!

Stars Were Gleaming

Advent - Day 10

And behold there shall a new star arise, such an one as ye never have beheld; and this also shall be a sign unto you. And behold this is not all, there shall be many signs an wonders in heaven.
                                                                Helaman 14:5,6

The Unexpected Christmas

by Enid O. Ellis

     With wind howling down from the Cascade Mountains, December 1969 was bitterly cold and snowy in  Wenatchee, Washington. As a single mother, I and my children struggled just to stay warm and fed. I worked at minimum-wage jobs and attended nursing school, and often I went two or three days without eating at the end of the month to give the children more food. At times even the children went to bed hungry, and none of us had adequate winter clothing.

     Wendell was in grade school, Brent was in preschool, and my three year old twins, Michael and Michelle, stayed with a state-paid babysitter while I was gone. Just four months before, Wendell and I had joined the church, and as a result my parents, brothers, and sisters wanted nothing to do with us. With the holidays approaching we really had no one to turn to for help; as a new convert, I didn't know I could ask my bishop.

     Ten days before Christmas, after a great deal of whispering among themselves, my children approached me one evening while I was studying. Nine-year-old Wendell tugged my sleeve and asked, "Mama, when are we going to get a Christmas tree and some presents?" Brent piped up and asked, "Or are we going to Grandma and Grandpa's for Christmas this year?"

     These were the questions I'd been dreading. I swallowed a lump in my throat and blinked away my tears and said, "I'm afraid we're not going to have any Christmas presents this year."

     "Why not, Mama?" they asked.

     "Well, Grandma and Grandpa have asked us not to come over since we joined the Church, and we just don't have any money for our own Christmas," I answered.

     "Oh Mama, nothing?" asked Wendell. "Santa won't forget us though, will he?"

     I replied that Santa probably wouldn't be able to stop at our house that year.

     For the next few days the children seemed somber. They often stood by the front window and looked out at passers-by and neighboring festive houses. While their playmates bubbled with excitement about the presents and goodies being prepared in their homes, my children quietly accepted the fact that no packages or decorations or other signs of Christmas were appearing in our house.

     Our ward had a Christmas party planned for Saturday night, 20 December, but we decided not to go because the meetinghouse was a mile and a half away and walking was our only means of transportation. However, a car pulled up at our house on the evening of the party, and our home teacher knocked on our door.

     "Come on," he said. "Let's go to the Christmas party! Get your coats on, kids."

     The party was the first real Christmas flavor to come into my children's lives that year. I don't know what they talked with Santa about, but they appreciated his gifts of candy and oranges, and their spirits seemed much uplifted afterward. Buoyed by my children's renewed enthusiasm, I used their watercolors to paint a Santa face on our front window. Now we had some decorations.

     When Christmas Eve arrived, I had only $1.25 in my purse. We walked to the grocery store, where I bought each child two tangerines and the cashier handed them each a large candy cane. Along with the story of Jesus' birth, that would be the extent of our Christmas. As we rounded the corner on our way home, Wendell shouted, "Hey, Santa came!" The other children echoed his cries upon seeing a beautifully decorated Christmas tree on our porch. Mounting the steps, we saw two large boxes, previously hidden from view, placed next to the tree.

     One box was full of food, and the other was full of presents. I could hardly believe my eyes. Wendell plugged in the Christmas tree lights as soon as we moved the tree inside, and the children pinched and shook each present as they set it under the tree. Their eyes were full of wonder.

     Next we unpacked the food in the kitchen. The children had never seen so much in one place except at the grocery store. Even Wendell couldn't remember having a whole turkey in the house.

     "We won't have to go to bed hungry tonight!" said Brent.

     I fixed the children a special Christmas Eve supper. Afterwards we sat around the Christmas tree and enjoyed the lights while I read the story of the birth of Jesus. "We have a lot to thank Heavenly Father for tonight," I said. We knelt in a circle and said a prayer of gratitude.

     When we opened the presents the next morning, each child received exactly what he or she had wanted. In addition, each child got a warm outfit, gloves and mittens, and money for boots. Someone had made clothes for the doll my daughter received. The food was enough to last us several weeks beyond Christmas.

     I may never know who played Santa that year or how they knew what the children wanted. Everyone in our ward denied involvement, but I'm certain it was some of them. I'll always remember that Christmas as the best of my life, and my grown-up children feel the same way. We felt the Spirit of Christ that day more than we ever had before and realized that our Savior does watch over his children.

I Believe in Christ

Advent - Day 2

For behold, the time cometh, and is not far distant, that with power, the Lord Omnipotent who reigneth, who was, and is from all eternity to all eternity, shall come down from heaven among the children of men, and dwell in a tabernacle of clay, and shall go forth amongst men, working mighty miracles, . . . And he shall be called Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Father of heaven and earth, the Creator of all things from the beginning; . . .
                                                       Mosiah 3:5, 8

The Christmas I Remember Best

by Rheuama A. West

It should have been the worst, the bleakest of Christmases. It turned out to be the loveliest of all my life. I was nine years old, one of seven children, and we lived in a little farming town in Utah. It had been a tragic year for all of us. But we still had our father, and that made all the difference.

Every year in our town, A Christmas Eve Social was held at the church. How well I remember Dad buttoning our coats, placing us all on our long, homemade sleigh and pulling us to the church about a mile away. It was snowing. How cold and good it felt on our faces. We held tight to one another, and above the crunch of snow beneath Dad's feet we could hear him softly whistling "Silent Night."

Mama had died that previous summer. She had been confined to bed for three years, so Dad had assumed all mother and father responsibilities. I remember him standing me on a stool by our big round kitchen table and teaching me to mix bread. But my main task was being Mama's hands and feet until that day in June, her own birthday, when she died. 

Two months later came the big fire. Our barns, sheds, haystacks and livestock were destroyed. It was a calamity, but dad stood between us and the disaster. We weren't even aware of how poor we were. We had no money at all.

I don't remember much about the Christmas Eve Social. I just remember Dad pulling us there and pulling us back. Later, in the front room around our pot-bellied stove, he served us warm milk and bread. Our Christmas tree, topped by a little worn cardboard angel, had been brought from the nearby hills. Strings of our home-grown popcorn made it the most beautiful tree I had ever seen or smelled.

After supper, Dad made all seven of us sit in a half circle by the tree. I remember I wore a long flannel nightgown. He sat on the floor facing us and told us that he was ready to give us our Christmas gift. We waited, puzzled, because we thought Christmas presents were for Christmas morning. Dad looked at our expectant faces. "Long ago," he said, "on a night like this, some poor shepherds were watching their sheep on a lonely hillside, when all of a sudden . . ."

His quiet voice went on and on, telling the story of the Christ Child in his own simple words. And I'll never forget how love and gratitude seemed to fill the room. There was light from the oil lamp and warmth from the stove, but somehow it was more than that. We felt Mama's presence.

We learned that loving someone was far more important than having something. We were filled with peace and happiness and joy. When the story ended Dad had us all kneel for a family prayer. Then he said, "Try to remember, when everything else seems to be lost, the greatest thing of all remains: God's love for us. That's the gift that can never be taken away."

The next morning we found that Dad had whittled little presents for each of us and hung them on the tree; dolls for the girls, whistles for the boys. But he was right, he had given us our real gift the night before.

All this happened long ago, but to this day it all comes back to me whenever I hear "Silent Night" or feel snowflakes on my face, or best of all, when I get an occasional glimpse of Christ shining in my 90 year old father's face.