The hum of whispered chatter that begins the ladies’ meeting on Sundays is one of the happiest sounds I think I know.

Class began and the woman beside me read, “…Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”

That’s hard sometimes. To love your neighbor, that is. All of them. And without equivocation. Especially the prickly ones.

But as I thought about it, I came to some conclusions.

Loving your neighbor requires that you get outside yourself. You have to sidestep your bubble of life and extend your reach beyond your daily task list. I think we get so caught up in our “busy,” our “hurry,” our “need,” that we don’t see each other sometimes. Sure our eyes generally register that another human being is somewhere within the vicinity of our sight. But. We’ve got to start seeing each other. We’ve got to start looking the people in front of us in the eye, and seek to understand what’s behind the blue, or the brown, or the green. We’ve got to push the edges of our spheres out a bit and position ourselves inside opportunities to love another soul.

Loving your neighbor is easier when you know their story. Each of us is a vast library of collected works. We are chapters upon chapters of events and experiences and education. Some good. Some bad. Some happy. Some sad. And the sum of those stories equals our “why’s” for doing what we do, acting the way we act, thinking the way we think, and saying the things we say. But I have learned that love comes more easily and swiftly when you know those stories. Because the stories bring understanding. And understanding brings compassion. Yes. Loving someone is easier when you know their story.

Loving your neighbor is impossible without extending grace. No one is perfect. People don’t always say what you’d wish they’d say, or do what you wish they’d do. Sometimes they say hurtful things. Sometimes they say stupid things. Sometimes they don’t say anything—when they probably ought to. But. People are human. People forget. People don’t always know. So perhaps a better response to those disappointments or frustrations or annoyances is to simply give someone the benefit of the doubt. To remember that we’re all just trying to do our best. That sometimes our best comes out a mess. And just extend grace.

At the end of the lesson, the teacher made a passing comment that I think went mostly unnoticed, but was perhaps the most profound sentiment of the class. She said, “God makes amazing people.”

And I think she’s right.

God does make amazing people. And to love them is not just a commandment. It is a privilege.

Behold: comes from a Mid English word meaning “to keep”, which came from the Old English word behealdan, meaning “to hold”. The current definition is “to perceive through sight or conception.”

Perceive: comes from the Latin word percapere meaning “thoroughly to take”. The current definition is “to attain awareness or understanding, to become aware through the senses.”

Now the word Desire: It comes from the Latin word desiderare, meaning “long for, wish for; demand, expect.” The current definition is to long for, express a wish for. To request.” The dictionary goes on to say that desire stresses the strength of feeling and often implies strong intention or aim.

So interesting, no? Enlightening.

As I read the scriptures this morning, I found that I was paying close attention to what certain people desired. And then I began noting what they were “beholding.” And in understanding the words more deeply, I understood the Word more deeply.

I beheld a tree, whose fruit was desirable to make one happy … wherefore, I began to be desirous that my family should partake of it also; for I knew that it was desirable above all other fruit. … And … I beheld a river of water; and it ran along, and it was near the tree of which I was partaking the fruit … and I beheld your mother … And … I beckoned … with a loud voice that they should come unto me, and partake of the fruit, which was desirable above all other fruit. (–Lehi, a prophet in the Book of Mormon. Reference.)

And I … was desirous also that I might see, and hear, and know of the these things, by the power of the Holy Ghost, which is the gift of God unto all those who diligently seek him, as well in times of old as in the time that he should manifest himself unto the children of men … And the angel said unto me again: Look and behold the condescension of God! And I looked and beheld the Redeemer of the world … And I beheld that he went forth, ministering unto the people. (–Nephi, Lehi’s son. Reference here and here.)

It’s quiet there, on the beach, at dawn. Just light, and earth, and air, and me. And I find stillness in the solitude. Stillness that centers this whirling mind of mine. Thoughts come and go, just as the waves rush in and out. But they float more like gulls on the wind rather than a storm-tossed ship.

It is here that I feel close to God. Every time I look out at the horizon or up at the atmosphere, to the right, or to the left, I hear His voice reminding me,

Endless adj \ˈen(d)-ləs\ 1 : to be without end 2 : extremely numerous 3 : joined at the ends

This morning, after returning home, I watched this video at the recommendation of a friend,

And I find myself now sitting in peaceful contemplation. With certainty.

There is a God in Heaven. And we are His children, in the very literal sense. He, the Supreme Ruler and Creator of the Universe, is the Father of our spirits. We lived with Him before we were born, together as a spirit family. He knows us each. And He loves us each. Because He created us each.

He is perfect, and kind, and merciful, and just. And forgiving. He is as real as the skin on my body. He is not mystical or unknowable, but is a personal God, ever-ready to come to us, to guide us, and to help us–essentially to be the Father He is.

We can pray to Him, and He will listen. But more importantly, He will answer. This I know. He will answer.

I know these things because I’ve talked with Him. I’ve counseled with Him. And no matter how confused I am or how big of a mess I’ve made, He always is there.

I don’t know if you’re the praying type, or the believing type. But I just want to say, that if you go to Him, you will find Him.

And I hope you will.

On this particular day I was thinking about something I’ve recently decided I want—a “blessing,” if you will. And the notion came to me, what would you give up to have it? Then, one thing that I ought to give up anyway, but don’t for whatever reason (undisciplined, slothful, human just to name a few), listed itself (or perhaps volunteered itself) at the front of the classroom that is my brain. And I thought, That’s not even a question. If I could have this thing I want, I’d give that up in an instant.

I have been taught, and I believe, that when we obtain any blessing from God, it is because of obedience to the law upon which that blessing is based or founded (Doctrine & Covenants 130: 21).

I have also been taught that when we obey God’s commandments that he does immediately bless us (Mosiah 2). He even asks us to “prove [Him]” to see if He will not open the windows of heaven and pour out blessings upon us, so much so, that we won’t have room to receive it (Malachi 3: 10).

Perhaps I am weak of faith, but I’ve often struggled with believing the part about the “immediately bless” and the bounteous blessings pouring from heaven’s windows. I’m not saying I’m not blessed. And I’m not saying I’ve not seen the hand of God in my life. I’m just saying I struggle to see the immediacy and the abundance of which the scriptures speak, particularly when the blessings that I’ve wanted most in my life have never come, let alone knocked. It feels as though I am always waiting.

But what if. What if it’s a matter of obedience and sacrifice?

The last few days, I’ve found myself asking, What parts of me am I really willing to give, based on the belief that I’ll really receive the thing for which I ask in return? Am I holding anything back? What law is this blessing based upon and how can I be more obedient to it?

Unfortunately, this post doesn’t get tied up with a nice little bow at the end. There are still so many questions and sides to ponder, like: Does this mean that whenever we don’t receive a particular blessing, that we’re being disobedient? Does it mean we’re not sacrificing enough? How does God’s will and timing fit into this? How does our will and agency fit?

I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far yet.

But I do think we all know we have things we need to lay down, or rather—offer up. Things that, when we really stop to look, are obviously standing in the way of our ability to receive. And the question I keep asking myself is, why not just give it up?

That being said–they’re still teenagers and they have their moments. Granted … so do I.

On our last night it was almost curfew and I was making the rounds to check in on them, account for all of them, sing a lullaby, and tell them, “Good night my darlings. I love you.”

My eight girls in Cabin 1 were well on their way to dreamland when I made my final bed check (they’re my sleepers). The other eight in Cabin 2 were getting there (they’re my all night talkers/candy munchers)–except two of them were missing.

Exasperated.

I had just seen them and told them I’d be in in 10 minutes! I checked the bathroom. I checked the other cabin again. I checked the nearby amphitheater and wood piles they’d been sitting on the night before when bedtime came. No luck.

I was getting ticked. I was tired. They knew the rules. I had told them all when I’d be in to do head count. I made my way back up the trail to the lodge, checking other campsites and cabins, hillsides, river banks, and amphitheaters along the way, my steam level increasing rapidly and my stomping getting more deliberate with every step.

Then I started to worry. It was dark. Really dark. And we were in the middle of nowhere.

But I was also still ticked. Really ticked.

I got to the lodge and a few other kids were still straggling inside, goofing around, hanging out. I surveyed the room and as I turned around to leave, I saw them. Sitting on the counter, chatting it up with some boys from another ward. Oh, heaven help me. Or rather, help them.

I walked over and pointed my finger at the two of them. “You two. Out. Now.”

I marched ahead of them leaving a trail of smoke for them to follow. When we got outside I whirled around, looked at them, and said, “It takes a lot for me to get upset. But you can’t just up and disappear without telling someone where you’re going.” And I whirled back around and set off for our campsite, clipping along quite briskly.

They followed in silence.

When we arrived at their cabin, I stopped. My heart was racing. I hated being upset with them. I hated having to discipline them. But I turned to face them, both of them staring at the ground. My voice was a bit softer than it had been minutes earlier. “This is the second time I’ve had to come looking for you girls after curfew. The first time I understood–you’d just wanted to look at the stars and you weren’t too hard to find. But you know the rules. You didn’t ask, let alone tell me, or anyone, where you were going tonight. How was I to know you were alright? How was I to know that something hadn’t happened to you. That’s not ok. You know better. Now. I’m not mad–I’m not. I love you both, but you can’t just disappear like that. You can’t. Now get in there and go to sleep.”

They mumbled a couple of “ok’s” and “sorry’s” and walked inside. I headed for my tent, trembling, and quickly called Frit, tears breaking past the rim as I zipped the door shut. “I think that was harder for me than it was for them!” I told her. “I hate having to be upset with them. I hate having to scold them. But I was so worried and so bugged and so tired. And it’s not ok. They know better.” I slowly calmed and regained my composure, said good-night, and hung up.

I layed on top of my sleeping bag for a spell, listening to the river flow behind me, watching the stars come out, one by one, through the mesh window. After a few minutes I rolled over onto my knees to say my prayers, but as I began, I stopped as my heart melted into a puddle on the floor, and I realized. I hesitated in silence until I found the words. “I’m sorry I disappear too,” I told Him.

I stayed there, on my knees, for a while, thinking about the disappearing act of my own that I sometimes star in. Thinking about how it makes Him feel when I don’t check in. How, even though He knows everything and sees everything, He still must worry. He is a Father after all–a perfect Father. And I wondered if, just maybe, it’s as hard for Him to scold us as it was for me to scold them. I determined so. And then I asked him to forgive me for leaving, for straying, for knowing better but doing differently.

And then He said, “It’s okay. I’m not mad. I love you. Now go to sleep. But let’s talk again tomorrow.”

The funeral was Friday. The burial Saturday. If I thought any semblance of composure I had left shattered when baby Sarah started crying “mommy!” when the casket was rolled away, I can’t even begin to describe the feeling I felt as the red Tennessee dirt fell, filling the hole in the ground, but breaking a new one in my heart.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. When you believe in miracles, you’re supposed to get miracles. By Sunday I was drained.

I craved the healing power of Christ’s atonement in the worst way. I needed Him to fix the gaping hole left in my heart, and in my faith. And so yes, I contemplated taking more than my fair share of the bread and water. After all, isn’t that what it’s for?

My heart still questions. My eyes still cry. But life has gone on. It has to, I know. And yet, I want to stop and scream sometimes. “Don’t you know?! Don’t you know that my friend just died? Don’t you realize that while you are worrying about silly, stupid things that a good man just lost his love and three little ones just lost their mother?”

But instead, I bow my head. And I pray. That, just like He fed the 5,000 with a few loaves and fishes, He can fill me with just a broken piece of bread and a thimble full of water.

But then I think, Krista. You know that nothing is hopeless. You know God watches over all. You know that life doesn’t end at death. And you know that families can be together forever. And you know that love is eternal. You know that.

But even though I know all that, I’m still mad. And I’m still sad. And I still cry. And I don’t know how to not be mad. And I don’t know how to not be sad. And I don’t know how to make the tears stop.

And so today, while I believe that Christ is the author and finisher of my faith, I also need Him to also be the author and finisher of my hope. He has to be. He. Has To. Be. Because I need my hopes for her, the ones that are quickly falling to the ground, to stay in the clouds. Way up in the clouds. And only He can keep them pinned to the heavens. And I need to be able to remember that, although our hopes might get interrupted for a minute–whether by life or by death–honest hopes are always fulfilled. Through Christ, they are all fulfilled.

Wow. I am loving your responses to “What Do You Really Want.” Keep ‘em coming! More people have commented and still others are emailing. I’m compiling all the responses (keeping those who want to be anonymous anonymous) and will share them all this weekend. I hadn’t planned on doing that, but it has been such an interesting examination of the desires that exist at the core of our lives, and I thought you’d like to see too. So if you haven’t yet read and commented on that post, I hope you will. I really, truly, with all my heart, want to know what you most want in your life.

So. As you may remember, I am participating in the Smile Challenge with the teenagers I teach at Church, and this morning I read this sermon by Elder Dallin H. Oaks, which was a perfect follow up to the speech I read yesterday, by Elder Deiter F. Uchtdorf. Both are full on inspiring truths about Love, but one particular phrase, mentioned in both speeches, caught my attention.

In Elder Uchdorf’s remarks he says, “[God] speaks to us everywhere. As you read God’s word…listen for His voice. During this general conference … listen for His voice. As you visit the temple and attend Church meetings, listen for His voice. Listen for the voice of the Father in the bounties and beauties of nature, in the gentle whispering of the Spirit. In your daily interaction with others, in the words of a hymn, in the laughter of a child, listen for His voice. If you listen for the voice of the Father, He will lead you…” [italics added]

And then Elder Oaks says, “If only we will listen, we can know of God’s love and feel it.” [italics added]

Listen.
This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about lately.
I need God’s guidance now, perhaps more than I ever have.
And I think we all need His help. To know what to do. Where to go. And how.
And I know He wants to help.
But we have to listen.

In order to do so, we may have to turn off the television, unplug the iPod, put down the magazine, or walk away from the group. To listen for God we must put ourselves in places where He is, where He can speak, and where we can hear Him.

Today, let’s listen.

The blinds are shut. The curtains are drawn. And the lights are out.

It’s cold and gray beyond the front door, with clouds that spell snow’s on the way. The leaves that were red and orange and gold not more than a week ago are now brown and fallen, and crackle into a million broken pieces under foot. The wind blows and carries them away into oblivion, leaving the trees are bare and trembling.

I’m bundled in sweat pants and fleece, huddled under blankets of feathers. My new best friend, Kleenex, (sorry Frit) is sitting on the table beside me with the cough drops and syrups close by. I’m bleary and fuzzy, but unable to sleep. And it is in times like these, when I’m left only to my thoughts, that I tend to wax philosophical.

Last weekend I was in St. George attending a women’s conference–a women’s conference run by the company I used to work for. I wasn’t nervous about going. In fact, I was really looking forward to it. I was excited to see the authors and artists I’d once marketed. But when Kenneth took to the stage and opened the conference with a song from an album I’d given months of my life to (happily and willingly), it was almost too much. And the tears fell.

Frit put her arm around me and asked if I needed to leave. No, I said. I just really loved my job … in the beginning. I really, really, loved my job. I loved the artists I worked with and the message they share was the root of my passion for so long. I just hate how it ended. And I guess it still stings.

It’s not fair, I told Heavenly Father. I know, He said.

Yes, I’m excited. And I’m happy. And I feel free. And something needed to change. I really was so dead at the end. But I’m also still angry sometimes. Really angry. And I’m still confused sometimes. I feel aimless sometimes. There’s still so much I don’t know and can’t seem to figure out. I don’t know if I’ll be ready to launch my own company by Dec. 5. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if it will work. I don’t even know if it’s the right thing.

But I’m just trying to remember, and believe, that when God says, I know, He’s also saying, I’m here.

This weekend I received my November Ensign filled with the talks from October’s Conference. I was beside myself with excitement! Last night I read Elder Richard G. Scott’s talk, “To Acquire Spiritual Guidance.” As he shared a couple of his own experiences with gaining spiritual insight, I noticed certain steps he took in that process. I thought I might outline them here for our benefit.

If you are seeking personal direction in life (I know I am always needing guidance!), perhaps these steps can help you too.

Elder Scott states that, as he felt spiritual revelation came to him, he:
1. sought a private location to recieve it
2. wrote down the feelings that came to his heart and mind
3. pondered the feelings he’d recorded to see if he had accurately expresed them in writing
4. made a few minor changes to what he’d written as a result of his pondering
5. studied the meaning & application of what he’d written in his own life
6. prayed, reviewing with the Lord what he thought he’d been taught by the Spirit
7. felt peace and could then know he had correctly recieved the revelation
8. thanked Heavenly Father for the guidance given
9. asked, “Was there yet more to be given?”

Elder Scott explained that he then recieved more guidance, beautiful insight for his own personal life and situation from Heavenly Father.

He goes on to say, “the Lord, through the Holy Ghost, can speak to your mind and heart. Sometimes the impressions are just general feelings. Sometimes the direction comes so clearly and so unmistakably that it can be written down like spiritual dictation. I bear solemn witness that as you pray with all the fervor of our soul with humility and gratitude, you can learn to be consistently guided by the Holy Spirit in all aspects of your life.”

May we all strive to be guided by the Holy Ghost, who will show us all the things we should do. If we are wondering what to do or where to go in life, this is our answer.

*To read Elder Scott’s talk in its entirety, click here. To watch, click here. To listen, click here.
For other languages, click here.