seashmore

I was born in the Church, but not necessarily raised in it. The missionaries found my parents in the seven years between their marriage and my birth. My mom has since told my sister she never really had a testimony. My dad was excommunicated for cheating on my mom, they divorced, and I have a sister from another mother. (Her parents never married.) He was rebaptized my senior year of high school. Growing up, church was something we did if we had nothing else better to do. I ping ponged between being active and inactive until the spring my junior year of college. One of the reasons I liked my college campus was that, even though it was a Catholic school on a hill, there was an LDS stake center at the bottom of it. Growing up, it had been a thirty minute drive to church; now it was a fifteen minute walk. Even so, I struggled acclimating. There were no single's wards, and I was young. I moved into the dorms on my 18th birthday, so my first Sunday in RS was in a ward where I didn't know anyone. The winter of my junior year, my depression got the best of me and I was struggling with a lot. Probably in March, one of the girls on my floor came down the hall and said someone had called her room phone looking for me. She lived in the room I had lived in my freshman year, which was the phone number I used on Church records, so I knew that it had to be someone calling from there. Turns out it was the ward mission leader. I guess they were doing a directory clean up (my name would have been towards the top) and he asked if he and the missionaries could come over and visit me. My dad had been a branch mission leader for a time (and is one now) so I had a hard time saying no to missionaries. They invited me to General Conference (the next weekend) and to read the Book of Mormon. I went to the afternoon session on Sunday and kept going, and was called as a secretary in the Relief Society before school let out for the summer, which played a large role in my deciding to stay on campus that summer instead of going back home (where I would have lived with my mom and not gone to church). About a year into being back at Church, we had this lesson, which starts with President Spencer W. Kimball feeling motivated to read the whole Bible. While reading that lesson on my break at work, I realized "I've never read the whole Book of Mormon, either." I decided to start. I made incredibly slow progress in my reading, but prioritizing the Church, I decided to move to Omaha instead of back home after college. I started attending Institute, and it was following President Monson's admonition to make Institute a priority that really helped me learn to make the scriptures my own. I'm a tough sell, though. The Swede and the Irish in me fight over who's more stubborn, and I don't always read and do the simple things I'm supposed to. Even though I know with both sides of my brain that doing so brings blessings in my life. Not only because the prophets say so, but because I've noticed and felt it when I was doing those little things.

There's five of your six weeks. The sixth could either be an overarching intro, a follow up on the goals, or an extra week on one of the goals per the needs of your group. Get your class presidencies to help you. They'll know what activities might speak to them and the other girls. Also, they'll be more invested if they've had a hand in planning.

@Star I know you mentioned not wanting to go to your late husband's ward because his sister attends there. I assume that means you live geographically close to them. Would you consider letting your children's aunts/uncles/grandparents teach them the same things the missionaries were? It would be a double dose of allowing your children to feel close to their father, since the family could also share stories about his youth that he isn't able to share with them. If you see them over a holiday or birthday party, just mention that you would like the children to know more about what their father believed and ask if they would be willing to have the kids (and you, if you're comfortable) over for a Family Home Evening, which are just dinner, age-appropriate religious discussion, and an activity/game (that may or may not be related to the lesson taught). Even if you don't find a way to provide other LDS people to come teach your children, you've already done a lot in showing them that you are open to discussing it and having them know more about it. Odds are, they'll meet another Mormon in their life, have questions, and won't feel like they're betraying you if they ask someone else those questions or embarrassing you if they ask you and you don't know the answer. I am sure you are doing a great job at being their mother. Love and prayers to you and your family.

Tattoos are expensive, so I vote no on those grounds alone. I've also heard they're painful; I can't imagine paying someone to inflict unnecessary pain on me. There are other ways besides tattoos to remember life lessons. I had a post it above my light switch in my bedroom for three years because of the lessons associated with it. (It had my plan for the day all mapped out, but my life changed drastically that day, in good ways and bad.) You could make it a pinned tweet or your cover picture on Facebook. Fun Fact: I have a social media friend who I hadn't realized had distanced himself from the Church. When I noticed pics of him having a circular tattoo on his chest (does a lot of CrossFit) I thought it was the Salt Lake Temple. It took me a few years to get a close enough view to see that it was really just a forest.

I highly doubt that an injured hand would prevent you from serving ever. Because of physical/occupational therapy, your date may be pushed back, but these things happen. Trust in the Lord's timing, my friend. I have a friend who had to postpone putting in his papers because his parents (in different states) didn't keep track of his immunizations. Rather than trying to track them down half a continent away, he decided to just get them all at 20. (Took him an extra year to save the money.) He thought he'd be in the MTC by now, but it won't happen until at least September. Another friend of mine recently returned a few weeks early because during the last transfer on his mission, they found out there was some kind of thing wrong with his stomach. He had really wanted to serve his full two years and was bummed about coming home early, but this allowed him to be around for his sister's graduation and fill a couple of calling gaps in our branch. You'd be surprised how flexible mission plans can be when health is involved. As for "wasting time" with the missionaries, I think you're the only one who sees it that way. Missionaries LOVEE having a member with them during lessons and discussions!! It provides the investigator with ties to the ward and the secular world, neither of which missionaries have in abundance (on their mission). It lends credibility to what they're teaching. The investigators sometimes learn more more from a regular Joe than the missionaries. I've never served a "proper mission," and probably won't until I'm a senior (single or couple will depend on what happens in the next thirty years) but I went to a lesson with the missionaries today, in fact. I definitely don't consider it a waste of time. Read D&C 4.

Sounds like the problem is something for the adults to sort out. Really, all you can do is make sure the kids know someone at church loves and cares for them. From the pages of my life: one Sunday during that transitory age between the Primary and Youth programs, I was told by an adult that I was not allowed/supposed to be in Primary. I think they may have been practicing for the program or something. It was very confusing for me since there was someone four months older than me who was there, but I had only been attending church every other week, so maybe they hadn't thought to include me. My twelve year old heart was very hurt. Never one to roam the halls, I went up the stairs to sit and wait outside the Young Women's room until it was time for that to start. Brother T came up the stairs just after the tears had started to fall and invited me to his class, which happened to be the younger youth Sunday School and was in the YW room. I don't know what lesson he had prepared, but I know what lesson he taught me that day. It is a kindness that I will not soon forget.

I watched the second video about his divorce, and both of them made me sad for him. The guilt he felt was not from the Church, that was from God. When he received his own endowment to serve a mission, and again when he entered BYU, he promised that he would live the Law of Chastity. He broke that promise. There are consequences. One of those is feeling guilt, and one was getting kicked out of BYU. With the train question, he was essentially asking his mom who she loved more: her God or her son? Because I've faced times in my life where I felt I had to choose between participating in my religion and participating in my family, Matthew 10: 37 came to mind. Now, I'm not a parent, I cannot say with 100% certainty how I would answer, but I can say that I have chosen God's wishes over my parent's before. Namely, moving to Omaha (Reynold's mission, actually) instead of back home after college.

From a practical perspective, I advise against sleeping nude. Should a house/apartment fire or other sudden emergency happen, I'm guessing you wouldn't want to waste precious time dressing. Any opinions on sleeping "Mormon naked" in just garments?

I do a few words occasionally, like "absotively, posolutely" or "all righty, dighty" There is one that people do quite often that drives me bonkers! "Gradiated" (pronounced grad-ee-eight-ed) I used to call my friend Priscilla "Schpriscilla" Don't know why. We were in college, so it's not like it was an issue with learning a language.

I wouldn't spend it all in one place. $100k to the mortgage, $50k to retirement, and $50k to savings/charity/a fun purchase (family vacation, upgrade vehicle, home reno project, paying for someone's mission, their student loans, etc.)

Ask your fellow puppy raisers if they have a service on Saturday nights. That might be a better option, anyway, as it gives the dog congregation experience while letting you focus on Primary on Sundays. If they don't know, a lot of churches post their worship service times on a marquee. Just drive around until you find one.

No, it was more embezzlement than hands in the till.

Beer brats were a staple of my childhood in WI, so I see no problem cooking with alcohol. Cigarettes are a hard never. Currently I live alone and don't entertain, so alcohol is not an issue. When my mom visits, she brings a small coffee maker and I like the smell, so no problems for me, there. When I live with non LDS roommates (which is happening again soon) I follow George Albert Smith's creed and "seek not to force a man to do that which is right." As long as it's consumed responsibly, it can be in a shared space. Side note: anyone who knows me well enough to have my number ought to know me well enough that I will do anything in my power to prevent someone driving drunk. Including driving the friend of a friend home twenty minutes away in the next town over. (Which I've done for two different friends.)

Daughters in My Kingdom, put out by the Church about five years ago, is one if my favorite books. It's written in a way you can read cover-to-cover or use it as a reference for a lesson. I haven't done much reading lately, but I've been slogging through Talmage's Jesus the Christ for about a year. (I'm a slow reader on top of not doing it as much as I used to.)

Interesting that this got bumped back into conversation. There was, of course, more to the story than I shared. I had felt particularly betrayed because two of my three FT coworkers seemed to have it out for me and intentionally treat me like third string dirt. Our department manager was the only one who reached out to me in any way, and she was the one who was fired. By her brother-in-law. It caused me to question her sincerity in all the times she reached out to me. But she stopped in while I was working at our PT place Saturday (she had the day off) to wish me luck, as she heard I was leaving. She told me she had said to her husband she was almost glad she was fired because, in her own words, "I never would've changed my ways." It's been quite the emotional roller coaster I never would have had to ride if I had listened to the Lord during General Conference when He told me to move.

Going to Sunday meetings. Since April 2006, only once have I missed three consecutive sacrament meetings. The vast majority of those I also attend 2nd and 3rd hour, even while traveling. (Honestly, sometimes I like that. It's like being in an online forum; you get uplifted by strangers who share your beliefs, you can share things you might normally not because these people are unbeknownst to you, and sometimes it's fun to see how other wards do things in terms of classroom set up or opening exercises in RS kinds of things.) My dad says "If God gives you seven days a week, surely you can give Him an hour on Sunday." I have a very strong testimony of God's love, as well as the love of our Savior. It started off with a testimony of divine love for me personally, but has grown into a testimony of love of all mankind. Most of the latter was gained through service in the temple. Seeing sessions being held with just one patron as well as sessions that were overflowing (bringing in folding chairs) were when I felt this the strongest. I guess I have a strong testimony of temple and family history work, as well as scripture study. I say "I guess" because when I'm good with those things, I'm good, but it becomes very easy for me to let them slip down a couple notches in my priority list. A couple of years ago, my roommate was transferred at work and moved out. I could have gone with her, but had puffed myself up with pride. I would be changing jobs to something I expected to be more profitable (wrong) and was living in my dream apartment. This is my kitchen, literally three times as large as my previous one. Plus washer and dryer. PLUS a dishwasher so new it still had the tags in it. All this, plus a garage, for $625/mo. Plus, all my stuff was here. Including a beautiful beast of a dresser that I did not want to move again. It doesn't seem like much to be proud of, but maybe that's why I clung to it. And I had to work hard to keep it. So hard that I couldn't afford time off to go to the temple. And I worked so hard at achieving some worthwhile goals (crocheted 16 blankets in one year) that I neglected my scripture study. As I'm working this week on downsizing so I can move from a spacious 2 BR by myself (my yarn had it's own room, believe it or not) into a small bedroom in a house with three other roommates (who have already been living there for two years), I'm realizing just how proud and not humble I've been. And maybe I could hack it where I'm at if I didn't have the Gospel in my life. Because of the testimonies I've gained, it's not that I "feel like something is missing from my life," it's that I know what that something is: temple work and scripture study. I've been shown in the last couple of years that I'm not as strong or self-sufficient as I thought I was. So, I'm moving back, physically closer to the temple than I've ever lived before. In some of the most humble circumstances I've lived in since college.

I always learn and grow from trials. In 2013, I remember sitting in Gospel Doctrine as we were studying D&C 121, one of my favorite sections. Before I could stop it, the thought crossed my mind, "You know, I always grow closer to the Lord through my trials, and it's been a while since I've had a good, hard trial." Less than 24 hours later, I was called into my manager's office and fired. It was actually hard not to laugh, knowing what had happened the day before at church. (In fact, I did laugh when the security guard called me about lunch time to say I lost my badge in the lobby. "I didn't lose my badge, I lost my job!" I said a little too cheerfully. Like, he might have been wondering if I was going postal.)

Ministering assignments aim to connect the hands that hang down with the hands that may be able to lift them up. Have you ever played the human knot game, where everyone makes a knot with their hands and the group attempts to get everyone into a circle? That's ministering. That exercise works best if there's a leader giving directions. "Suzy, you slide under Sally's arm. Now, Billy, can you step over Steve's arm?" That's the EQP and RSP making ministering assignments. If everyone went about trying to untangle themselves by only conversing with those in their immediate vicinity, it would be a lot less effective. (I realize that's oversimplified.) Sometimes you're the one who needs help, and sometimes you're the one who gives it. Why would you deny someone the blessing of serving you to the best of their ability? For me, I've convinced myself that everyone is too busy to visit with me. Doesn't matter how many times I've said, "Literally, all I do is come home from work and crochet. If you need some quiet, come on over: I've got plenty to spare!" It wasn't until I was called into YW after three years here that I was able to convince people that I wanted to go to their kids' musicals, concerts, games, etc. The best way for someone to serve me is to allow me to help them. I'm just going to leave this right here. Ask yourself if you've ever been a poor, wayfaring man of grief, hungry, thirsty, caught in one of life's storms, beaten, scorned. Then think about it from the narrator's perspective. Lyrics A poor, wayfaring Man of grief Hath often crossed me on my way, Who sued so humbly for relief That I could never answer nay. I had not pow'r to ask his name, Whereto he went, or whence he came; Yet there was something in his eye That won my love; I knew not why. Once, when my scanty meal was spread, He entered; not a word he spake, Just perishing for want of bread. I gave him all; he blessed it, brake, And ate, but gave me part again. Mine was an angel's portion then, For while I fed with eager haste, The crust was manna to my taste. I spied him where a fountain burst Clear from the rock; his strength was gone. The heedless water mocked his thirst; He heard it, saw it hurrying on. I ran and raised the suff'rer up; Thrice from the stream he drained my cup, Dipped and returned it running o'er; I drank and never thirsted more. 'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew A winter hurricane aloof. I heard his voice abroad and flew To bid him welcome to my roof. I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest And laid him on my couch to rest, Then made the earth my bed and seemed In Eden's garden while I dreamed. Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death, I found him by the highway side. I roused his pulse, brought back his breath, Revived his spirit, and supplied Wine, oil, refreshment--he was healed. I had myself a wound concealed, But from that hour forgot the smart, And peace bound up my broken heart. In pris'n I saw him next, condemned To meet a traitor's doom at morn. The tide of lying tongues I stemmed, And honored him 'mid shame and scorn. My friendship's utmost zeal to try, He asked if I for him would die. The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill, But my free spirit cried, "I will!" Then in a moment to my view The stranger started from disguise. The tokens in his hands I knew; The Savior stood before mine eyes. He spake, and my poor name he named, "Of me thou hast not been ashamed. These deeds shall thy memorial be; Fear not, thou didst them unto me." Text: James Montgomery, 1771-1854 Music: George Coles, 1792-1858, alt. Hymn sung prior to the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith. See History of the Church, 6:614-15.

@mara I just went to the temple to do baptisms with my youth, and was reminded of one of my very favorite things about going to to the temple: if you soften your heart, you can get glimpses of people as God sees them. This was also true when I was a temple ordinance worker. As I greeted members, especially youth, I felt like I could catch little bits of their potential. I suggest you work on obtaining a current temple recommend and, if you can, go to the temple and do baptisms and confirmations for the dead. Take a good look at yourself in a mirror, and ask to see yourself as God sees you. If you have a patriarchal blessing, this can also help answer some of your questions. If you don't have one, meet with your bishop or branch president and see what he suggests you do in order to get one. It, too, can help you see you as God sees you. I respect and admire the amount of self-discovery and self awareness you have already developed. I know that as you continue to commune with God, that wisdom and knowledge will only increase. Personally, I'm currently a single gal living a celibate life. It ain't easy, but it's worth it. Good luck and God bless!

Start with your bishop, and ask him to recommend a marriage and family counselor. Strongly encourage your husband to attend with you and follow their advice. You have my prayers.

Sounds like you handled the situation expertly! The only thing I would recommend is follow up. Not just be willing to listen, but continue to initiate private conversations with her, asking guided questions and make sure she has talked to Mom about it.

On the flip side, we have a boy in our scout troop who's not LDS. He comes at least one Wednesday a month, more than some of our YW. I fully admit I don't know any ins or outs to Scouting (no brothers, no sons) and even less about LDS Scouting, but I have noticed that after every Scout campout, we spend a good twenty minutes in branch council talking about how wonderful examples our young men are to the non-LDS troops. And let's not forget that all the other troops know of our influence because we are firm with any campout we plan, we only go through Saturday night. The others are welcome to stay the night to Sunday morning, but our troop will be packed up and gone. And they used to have the Blue and Gold Banquet on Sunday every year, until one year when no one was volunteering to host it. Sister So-and-So said she would take charge if they could do it on a Friday, and wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, now everyone and their brother's dog comes to it when before you were lucky to get anyone. I will be so. glad. when we can stop spending half of our branch council talking about Boy Scouts. (Between the YM monthly campouts and concern for the 11 year olds who aren't really the target demographic for Boy Scouts, it really is half of our council time.) It is going to take all of my restraint to not encourage our unit to loosen the ties before we cut them.

President Nelson has challenged the youth to do the following before he and his wife, Wendy, address the youth of the church on June 3. (Source: LDS Youth Instagram story) 1. Read the BoM every day. 2. Pray for personal revelation.

haha...no, single woman in a tribute post to the van that she sold.

Short version: I work full time at one job and part time at another. There is another person who also works at the same two places. That is, until recently, when this person was fired from the full time job. I have not been told that it was due to stealing, but cash came up missing and ten days later, we were told that person no longer worked there. Due to some special circumstances and my full time employer being an incredibly merciful person, there were no criminal charges pressed for the theft; he considered termination of employment (and resulting consequences) justice enough. Am I under any obligation to inform our other mutual employer? (I don't think my coworker has because my part time manager is the kind of person who would have asked me about it had he heard anything.)