[To read Part I, Click Here.]
[To read Part II, Click Here.]
[To read Part III, Click Here.]

One of my favorite scriptures reads: “But behold, the Lord hath redeemed my soul from hell; I have beheld his glory, and I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love” [ital added] (2 Ne. 1:15).

I know the Lord loves me. I know He loves you. Period. But sometimes I keep him at arm’s length. Close enough, but not too close. Do you ever do that? Or am I the only one? Whether we admit it or not, sometimes we limit His love, by not letting Him love us–all of us.

Do you let him love you, mistakes, imperfections, sins, weaknesses and all? Or do you only let Him love the good parts. Sometimes, we (I) think that because He’s perfect, and we’re not, that He wouldn’t want to love those parts of us. But it is because He’s perfect that He can. And does.

I live with my best friend. And as we’ve grown in our friendship, she’s learned a lot about me–things I sometimes wish she didn’t know. She knows my darkest corners. I remember the day I told her my deepest, darkest, not-one-soul-knows, secret. And as I cried, she moved closer, put her arm around me, squeezed me, and told me it was alright, all the while loving me.

I also remember the day I had to apologize for something I had done–something that in my eyes, warranted an end to our friendship. She had every right, I thought, to never trust me again, let alone speak to me again. But instead, she smiled, moved closer, put her arm around me, squeezed me, told me it was alright, and to never think of it again.

I would imagine most of you have a friend like this, whether it be a spouse or a sister or a friend. Why is it that we allow these people to love even the hard parts of us, and yet, we don’t always allow Christ to do the same? Why don’t we let Him love us the way He wishes He could, but cant, because we stay far, worried that He won’t?

I am here to say He will!

If the people in our lives, with all their own imperfections and flaws and weaknesses, can love us even after knowing all that we’ve done wrong. How much more possible is it that a perfect God, with perfect patience, and a perfect love, can love us that much better? He, like our closest confidant, will always, if we let Him, move closer, put His arm around us, squeeze us, and tell us it is alright.

There is joy in knowing we are loved. There is joy in allowing ourselves to be loved. For His love, will never fail.

[To read Part I, Click Here.]
[To read Part II, Click Here.]

I just want to take a few minutes to share with you where I find my joy. Because after all, “women are that they might have joy.” Do you believe that? Really? Women “are.” Meaning women exist, were created, live and breathe and move, that they (we!) might have joy. I do. I believe in God’s words. All of them. But it doesn’t say women will have joy. It says, might have joy. It’s up to us. We just have to know where to look.

A few years ago, I found myself waiting at the bus stop one morning on my way to work. The long, cold winter was taking its final bow and this particular morning was crisp with Spring air on the verge of blooming. I was serendipitously facing east as the sun rose up behind the dark mountains, rays shooting out from oblivion and spilling down the hillside, soaking the valley floor in its warmth. I closed my eyes, tilted my head, and breathed it in. I couldn’t help but offer up a quick “thank you for the sun today,” to my Heavenly Father. And in return, I got the most wonderful response. I felt the Spirit whisper, “You’re welcome. Today, it’s for you.”

Now some may think that’s awfully ego-centric–to believe that the sun rose for me. But I believe that the reality of our Father-daughter relationship with God is Just. That. Personal.

He knew what I needed. And He gave it to me. An offering from the place He carefully crafted for the raising of His children.

I love the children’s song,
Whenever I hear the song of a bird,
Or look at the blue blue sky,
Whenever I feel the rain on my face,
Or the wind as it rushes by,
Whenever I touch a velvet rose,
Or walk by a lilac tree,
I’m glad that I live in this beautiful world,
Heavenly Father created for me.

I recently posted about another morning when I was reminded again of the value in stopping to recognize the multitude of beauty and bounty of gifts all around us. It was the morning I “caught” President Gordon B. Hinckley taking a mid-day walk around the gardens on Temple Square. Every few steps he stopped and pointed out the flowers to the guards walking with him. Now I know it’s cliché in every way, but when was the last time you stopped to look at, let alone smell the roses? When was the last time you remember hearing the birds welcoming Spring? When was the last time you took your shoes off and let your feet sink in the sand? When was the last time you laid on the grass and watched the clouds passing overhead?

My very favorite poem is by Mary Oliver. It reads:
Everyday I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light. It was what I was born for—to look, to listen, to lose myself in this soft world—to instruct myself over and over in joy and acclamation. Nor am I talking about the exceptional, the fearful, the dreadful, the very extravagant—but of the ordinary, the common, the very drab, the daily presentations. Oh, good scholar, I say to myself, how can you help but grow wise with such teachings as these—the untrimmable light of the world, the ocean’s shine, the prayers that are made out of grass?

May I testify that the earth is full and there is joy to be found in her.

Look for it.
See it.
Recognize it.
And thank Him for it.

[To read Part I, Click Here.]

By no means had I become a horrible person, but I wasn’t who I had been in years past, and I hadn’t become who I thought I would once I “became a grown up.” Life had happened. I’d gotten a real job with real stress and heavy demands. I’d accumulated bills and responsibilities and busyness. And the busier I got, the less I seemed like me. And it seemed like the farther I got from “me,” the farther I got from heaven too. So come January 1, things were going to change. But like I said only one resolution mattered. And so I wrote:

This year I will know the Savior better.

In the weeks that followed, I tried to put a dedicated emphasis on that goal. I listed all the things I should be doing in an effort to know Him better. I reimplimented habits like daily scripture reading, regular prayer, and reading the Sunday School lessons each week. And I felt better about life in small measure. But I still felt as though I was far. I still felt as though I was missing something. The intensity of the Spirit wasn’t permeating my life like it had just a few years before. And so – I continued to clean out the cobwebs. I identified things that had crept into my life that were making it difficult for me to always have the Spirit – things like sins, weaknesses, imperfections, and grudges. I began to offer them up to heaven with the humblest heart I think I’ve ever had. I was so saddened by the weeds I had let overtake my heart.

I think I knew I needed change for a long time, but when I’m honest about why I didn’t do it sooner, it was because I was scared – scared to give the Lord this tattered, broken life. I was afraid piecing it back together would hurt beyond what I could bear. And I think I was also ashamed. I mean He’s the perfect God of the universe. How could I ask Him to fix me, change me, remake me? How could I offer Him anything less than perfection? And so for a long while I tried to rid my life of the busyness, sins, and weaknesses on my own, while trying to add back in the joy, service, and dedication – again, on my own. But with the New Year, the pieces began to come together – I saw that I couldn’t do it on my own. It was impossible for me to fix it alone. And I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted to know the Savior more. It’s never mattered more. And I think that’s because I’ve never been more acutely aware of my need for Him. And I told the Lord so. I would do whatever it took. I didn’t care how badly it hurt or how long it would take. I wanted my life to be different. And I would do whatever He asked.

And as I did so, I felt things changing little by little. I found myself happier and more peaceful. Less burdened and more fulfilled. But something was still not right. Like I had hit another wall, where I had offered everything up – my desires, my sins, my weaknesses – but I still wasn’t feeling complete in the process. I kept praying, “What else do I need to do? What is the way to finally achieve what I’m seeking? I’m so close I can feel it. But I feel like there is one last thing. Is it just that I need to give you more time? Do I need to be patient? Or do I need to do something else? Just tell me and I’ll do it. You know I will.”

Now, you must know that I have always been my own worst critic. And, though I would never allow another person to believe this about themselves, I’ve always thought that I needed to do more, work harder, run faster in order to receive the blessing or find forgiveness. I think many of us feel this way simply because we’re so much more aware of our own imperfections. We tend to be hardest on ourselves.

In fact, I’ve often been known to say in prayer, “I haven’t suffered enough for this. If you need to punish me a bit more, I understand.” Or I’ll think to myself, “I need to do this and this and this and this, before I ask for help because certainly I can’t kneel before God if I haven’t read my scriptures, served my neighbor, gone to the temple, and completed my visiting teaching.” And in regards to this resolution, I think I’d been telling myself that the way to get past the wall is to read more, serve more, try harder. I kept asking, “What more do I need to do?”

But in my studies, I was reintroduced to Thomas. Poor Thomas is often remembered as the “doubter” but really, Thomas was faithful and dedicated. A good disciple.

Thomas asked, “How can we know the way?”, as he sat with his fellow apostles and their Lord after the supper on the memorable night of betrayal. I revisit the question I began with: Is there anything in your life right now that you’d like to change or have different? And to add an additional question: Would you like more joy in your life? If so, “how can [you] know the way” to do so?

Now, I want to skip to the end of my story–to where I am now, and I’ll come back to the guts of what happened next later.

Today, I am living a joyful life. My life today is so different than it was a couple years ago. No, things aren’t perfect. No, I don’t have all the blessings I wish I had. No, my life’s not totally balanced and peaceful. It’s not even blue skies and rainbows every day. But it’s closer. I still sometimes say things I shouldn’t, and think things I shouldn’t, and do things I shouldn’t. And sometimes I feel frustrated or even sad. But despite the difficulties and the mistakes, I am living a joyful life.

And I just want to take a few minutes to share with you where I find my joy. Because after all, “women are that they might have joy.” Do you believe that? Really? Women “are.” Meaning “women exist, were created, live and breathe and move, that they (we!) might have joy.” I do. I believe in God’s words. All of them. But it doesn’t say women will have joy. It says, might have joy. It’s up to us. We just have to know where to look.

Two weekends ago, I was invited to Yuma, AZ to speak and sing for a group of 300 Latter-day Saint women. They were celebrating the anniversary of the founding of our Church’s women’s organization, The Relief Society, and I was lucky enough to be their keynote guest. Millions of women world-wide are members of The Relief Society and to my best knowledge it’s the oldest and largest women’s organization in the world. You can read more about The Relief Society here.

The theme for their celebration was “Women Are That They Might Have Joy,” dervived from a passage of scripture found in The Book of Mormon which teaches that we, as children of God, were created and exist that we might live in joy, both in this life and in the life to come. I have been asked to make my remarks available to the ladies in attendance, so for the next few days I will be posting a series on JOY. Some of what I share in this series has already been offered here in past posts as this blog is a journal of my experiences and lessons learned, and the only way I know how to teach, is to teach from experience. I hope you’ll forgive any redundancy.

***
As you know the theme for your celebration today is “Women are that they might have joy.”

Now there may be some of you, who are totally happy all of the time. You have a life that is filled with joy every second of every day. You never get mad, or frustrated, or angry. You never feel resentful, hurt, or sad. You never get down about life or question why things are the way they are. You don’t yell when you find that an entire box of Cheerios has been poured into the toilet bowl. You don’t get frazzled when the baby bites the dog or when your four-year-old strips in the frozen food section. You don’t feel bugged with yourself when the roast is a little dry or the potatoes are burned into shrivled little nuggets. You don’t even think about having to bite your tongue when Sister So-and-so says this or that about how you ought to be raising your children, because it doesn’t even bother you! You, are not fazed, by difficult things. If this is you … you’re lying.

As for the rest of you, I’d bet that I have a little more in common with you. We try really hard to stay upbeat and positive, right? We try to look on the bright side of things. We try to keep the faith all the time, and in every thing. But sometimes, the laughter doesn’t come quickly. Life deals a lemon and sometimes it takes a fair amount of control and strength to bite our tongues, keep an eternal perspective, or breathe through the anger or pain or hurt. It’s not that we’re ready to deny the faith, or give up, or give in — but sometimes, if even for a moment, we wonder when the sun is going to come out from behind the clouds.

And then there may be others of you, who are more like I was a year and a half ago. Who outwardly, seem to have it together, but are, on the inside hurting, wondering, pleading for something in their life to change, or heal, or disappear so that they can feel the joy again. Now, I’m not talking about the crushing weight of clinical depression. That’s en entirely other, very real sickness. I’m talking about a life that lacks joy.

Whichever category you fall into, I hope with all my heart, something I share or sing today will help you.

As I prepared for this presentation, I read the scriptures and the writings of the prophets and apostles, and outlined what it means to live a joyful life, what brings us joy, and even how to find joy. But the thing is, I think ultimately, you all already know those things. But for some reason, we forget. We allow ourselves to be blinded. At least I do. So what I want to share with you, is my experience. And so I’ve titled my remarks, “My Journey Back to Joy.”

A year, year-and-a-half ago, if you had asked me if I was joyful, if I was happy, I would have smiled, lied through my teeth, and said, “Absolutely! I have such a great life. I couldn’t be happier.” But the truth is, I wasn’t. I was frustrated with my life, where I was, what I was doing, and not at all happy with who I was.

Allow me to ask a couple questions. I hope you’ll give the answers serious thought.

Are you living a joyful life?
Is there anything in your life right now that you’d like to change or be different?

Perhaps you are seeking an answer? Or maybe forgiveness? Or are you holding onto forgiveness that needs to be extended? Maybe you are trying to win the battle with an addiction. Maybe you are trying to reach a difficult goal. Maybe you are seeking greater joy or peace or harmony within your home, family, or self. Maybe you are making big life decisions and are wondering which path to take. Maybe you want to pursue a different profession. Or maybe you are trying to overcome a fear. Perhaps you would like more good friends. Maybe you are wondering when the ache in your heart will finally dull and go away. Maybe you are wondering when the tears will stop. Maybe you are in a relationship that needs healing. Maybe illness and fatigue are currently a part of your daily life. Maybe you are seeking a certain blessing to come your way. The list of changes we each might like to see in our lives is endless.

When December 31, 2007 arrived, my life had come to a point where something had to change. And I sat down to write my New Year’s resolutions just like I always do every New Year’s Eve. I’d been thinking about them for a while, and there were lots of things about my life that I wanted to be different. But when I sat down to write them there was only one resolution that mattered.

I had examined my life much in the preceding months and I had come to the conclusion that I wasn’t who I wanted to be. I wondered where the bright-eyed, idealistic college graduate had gone, along with all the plans and goals and ways I was going to change the world. I couldn’t see the perfect-faith-filled returned missionary anymore. By no means had I become a horrible person, but I wasn’t who I had been in years past, and I hadn’t become who I thought I would once I “became a grown up.” Life had happened. I’d gotten a real job with real stress and heavy demands. I’d accumulated bills and responsibilities and busyness. And the busier I got, the less I seemed like me. And it seemed like the farther I got from “me,” the farther I got from heaven too. So come January 1, things were going to change. But like I said only one resolution mattered. And so I wrote:

This year I will know the Savior better.