"You Promised Me Your Best"

 I want to share some thoughts that have truly touched my heart. As I studied the scriptures tonight with some friends, someone shared this video clip from the film "Facing the Giants." As I watched it, tears began streaming down my face. There are so many wonderful and eternal truths in this six minute segment that you would not expect. I am so grateful to the incredible people God has given me to share their light and inspire me in times when I need it most.
Our Heavenly Father knows who we are, and what we are capable of. He sees our eternal potential, even when we don't. Often, as imperfect beings, we have a tendency to look back at the difficult plains we have already crossed and say "Oh, well done. Here I can rest a while, here I can stay." What we don't always realize is that right on the other side of the next mountain range, the Lord has prepared a Zion for us. While it may be true that the valley we have ended up in has taken seasons and seasons of perseverance and faith to enter into, the Lord knows that we have more strength than we may realize, and has given us goals that He knows we can reach-even when we think we have been pushed to the point of breaking. We are stronger than we realize. We are infinitely more glorious than we could ever imagine. Marianne Williamson once made this statement that has stuck with me for years now: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." As I watched this clip and reminisced on this quote, I asked myself whether or not I was truly living up to my divine potential, or if I was selling my self short because I was too contented with what I had already accomplished, or perhaps because I don't recognize or want to recognize what I am capable of. It's an interesting thought, really, to consider that perhaps the reason we don't always achieve as much as we can is because we are scared to realize our full potentials. By opening our eyes to them, it makes us responsible to honor them. That's a scary thought. It's easy to wonder if we will fall short of our dreams and goals and end up disgraced and dirtied up, with scraped knees and a bruised ego. I think about that nearly everyday of my life. But we must not let our fear paralyze us in a static state which undermines our divine heritage and infinite potential. What the coach states in the video clip echoes from our Father in Heaven; "You promised me your best." And we did. Before we came to this life we vowed to do all we could to be righteous and obedient, and to live in ways that would help us to achieve amazing things and thereby bring glory to our Father. In return for this output of effort, which is remarkably small in comparison, He promised us infinite and eternal glory. Who are we to spit upon that promise and live below what we are capable of? Who are we to say the Lord's most "wonderfully and fearfully made"creations cannot achieve what He asks of us? Why would we ever settle for mediocrity when being marvelous is an option? We promised Him our best. That was our end of the deal, and we have a sacred duty to fulfill it.
Now something important I want to touch on here is that we promised our best. Not someone else's best. It is well known that we have all been given different gifts and talents to bless the lives of others; yet all too often I think we find ourselves demeaning and neglecting what we have because we long after those skills that our fellow men possess. In doing this, we undermine our divine self-worth. God did not create a lesser people. You are no less marvelous than anyone else, and it is not necessary or desirable to think so just because you excel in something different than everyone else. We will not always be masters of all we attempt, that is why we have been given one another to lean on. We must not compare what we personally are able to do with what someone else can do. Why? Because we did not promise to do Sally's or Henry's or Johnny's best. We promised to do ours. And that is all He asks. That is good enough for Him. Sometimes our best may be a breath-taking sprint, other times it may be a slow and painful crawl. It is like the tale of the widow's mite; it is not the quantity of what we offer Him, but the quality. If some days our honest level best is to merely struggle to not be drowned in the flood of overwhelming odds, then that is your best and He will accept it. As long as we are always striving to honor our internal strength and infinite potential that He has given us, He will be proud of us. I know that is true. God does not judge as man does. He knows our hearts, and does not merely look on outward manifestations. I am so grateful for a loving and understanding Heavenly Father who expects the best out of us, but understands that sometimes ou best may seem small and insignificant. He truly is wonderful. Live up to your potential. Fulfill your dreams. You are capable of feats wildly more difficult than you can comprehend, and likewise, you are capable of becoming someone more glorious than you could even dream of. Don't sell yourself short. You promised Him your best.

God be with you till we meet again,
Alyssa

Valiant Spirits: Lessons I Have Learned from My Siblings

I've been thinking a lot lately about eternal families and how grateful I am to have one. The peace and comfort I receive from knowing that if I live righteously that I will be happily reunited with my family after this life is irreplaceable. Words cannot describe how badly I wish everyone could feel the way I do. I want to share our dear Heavenly Father's Plan Of Happiness with every person that I meet! If every family was sealed for eternity in the temple, and then lived in the way that allows them to claim that blessing, there would be such joy and harmony in the world. Hopefully one day the world will treasure marriage and family again as it once used to, and protect it accordingly. My family is my rock. They anchor me down in troubling times and they provide me shelter when the storms of life billow around me. Every single family member I have has been given to me for specific reasons, and I wouldn't trade any of them for the world. I love them all so much! I have been blessed with incredible parents, and beyond that, I have been blessed with four best friends; my siblings. Although they are all younger than I am, they have taught me so many lessons, and those lessons are what I hope to share with y'all today. 
Brynne Alexandra- From Brynne I've learned to have joy, no matter what the circumstance. She has been given so many hard, hard trials in her young life, and has born each one of them with a smile in her heart and a joke on her lips. Brynne has taught me to laugh freely, and to sing whenever possible. (Even when doing dishes.) She taught me to just be myself, and to forget the judgments of others. She is a beautiful and unique spirit who is comfortable with who she is, that's incredible for a teenage girl. (That's incredible for any age female, really.) Brynne has never been shy about giving compliments or service, and that is a wonderful characteristic that I am trying to implement in my own life. She sees a need, and she jumps to help. She sees a frown, and she leaps to make that person smile. Brynne has also taught me to cherish virtue and innocence. She does not trifle with anything that is beneath her divine potential, and I am grateful for her presence of mind and spirit to live in this world and not of it. She has the biggest heart and the sweetest personality and I am so grateful to her for her example. 
Erika Elyse- From Erika I have learned to carry myself with grace, and to respect myself. Erika has an incredible inner strength. I don't know where she gets it from. She knows that she is a divine daughter of God, and expects others to treat her accordingly. She does not permit herself to be walked all over, and will stand up for what is right whenever she is called upon to do so. She has taught me to find passions and work toward them with all my might. She has this incredible gift for athletics, but she does not let her natural talent go to waste. Last summer I got to see every single one of her track meets, and let me tell you; this girl works so hard...and it pays off. I am so proud of her and all she has accomplished, and I am excited to see where she goes in life. Erika is also a quiet and gentle spiritual giant. She is truly blossoming into a miraculous and strong young woman, and that makes me more proud than any accomplishment on the court or on the track. 
Lily Kate- From Lily I have learned to be sweet, but at the same time have a little sass to me. Ever since she was toddling around, this girl has been a little fireball...and I love it. She has taught me to stay lively and to keep the boys on their toes. (Yes, you heard me right. I have gotten dating advice from my nine year old sister......and sadly she is still the master.) Something I have loved learning from my dear Lily is to not be afraid to be yourself, let loose, and to get a little dirty every once in a while. She doesn't shy away from fun, even if it requires dirt under your fingernails and bugs in your pockets. She has this beautiful spirit of adventure that I hope she follows for the rest of her life. I know she has inspired me to break out of my comfort zone more often and to just take a breath and enjoy the world God has created for us all. She appreciates His creations more than most people I know, and her love for every living thing has touched my heart and helped me to do the same. 
Brock Jameson- From Brock I have learned to view the world differently, and to be okay with that. My sweet Brock is the most perceptive and deep-thinking little boy I have ever met. He questions the world around him, tests it out, and learns for himself the truths of the universe. I have loved watching him grow spiritually by utilizing this pattern, and he has inspired me to do the same. Brock is also a sensitive, sweet, and loving spirit. He never has any animosity for anyone (except for an occasional spat with Lily.) Even when other children treat him poorly, he loves them. Even when I get short of patience with him, he loves me. I wish I had the sort of unconditional love for others that I could forgive and rebound that quickly. He has a heart for others, and never wishes harm upon them. He is a merciful little boy who will choke back tears and say that something someone else did didn't hurt that bad, just so they will not be punished. He always has kind words for all of us, and when he is not teasing us mercilessly, it's not uncommon for him to say "you're beautiful," just because he can. I hope one day I can love people as deeply as he does. 
I truly have been blessed with the best sisters and brother a girl could ask for. While I am the oldest and supposed to be the example, it's interesting that, in reality, I learn more from the lessons they have taught me than I could ever hope to teach them. They are pure gold in my eyes, and I would do anything for them. I often wish I lived closer so I could be a bigger part of their growing-up process, but they keep making me proud, no matter how many states away I live. I am grateful, above all, that they keep themselves pure and unspotted from the world. If there is one thing I hope they learn from me, it is that I love the gospel and that I want them to as well so we can all be together in Heaven one day. I adore my siblings, and am grateful for each day they are in my life because I always learn some new eternal truth. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for giving me these sweet blessings to guide my on this Earth. They are truly valiant spirits and I am so grateful that I know that they will be my family for eternity. 

God be with you till we meet again, 
Alyssa 

Tying Shoes and Serving Soup: Lessons I've Learned on Service

President Lorenzo Snow once said "When you find yourselves a little gloomy, look around you and find somebody that is in a worse plight than yourself; go to him and find out what the trouble is, then try to remove it with the wisdom which the Lord bestows upon you; and the first thing you know, your gloom is gone, you feel light, the Spirit of the Lord is upon you, and everything seems illuminated." How beautiful the doctrine of service truly is! Last night I had the privilege to go to a food bank and volunteer to serve for a while. The task was simple-we restocked the food pantry and organized it-but the Spirit was immense. I find service marvelously interesting. How is it that helping another tends to end up helping us more? Why is it that in attempting to answer the prayer of one of God's beloved children that our own are answered? It's just incredible.
I have been blessed with incredible examples of service in my life, they are my parents. And the older I get, the more I learn to appreciate and attempt to emulate their wonderful models. I just want to share a few key experiences that have stuck with me over the years, and that have touched my heart.
I remember being young, probably in kindergarden, and watching my mother tie an old man's shoes who was struggling to walk, let alone bend over to do it himself.
I remember countless times my mother took me with her to bring meals, cards, or treats to neighbors, friends, and people in the ward we barely knew, but whom she wisely perceived needed help. Often, when she would ask me to come along to deliver the goodies, I would complain, or go with an unwilling heart; but she would always insist and drag me along with her. I've pondered that lately, and I have come to the conclusion that I am immensely grateful to her for not simply taking the easy way out and letting me stay home. By going with her and watching the absolute love she had for others, I gained an irreplaceable example that I now lean on in my own life. (Though probably not as much as I should. I'm still learning!)
I remember going to a fast-food restaurant with my mom and little sister when I was in first or second grade, and watching my mother buy a couple meals for a homeless man who was sitting by himself in the corner. Beyond that, she sat and talked with him, laughed with him, and listened to his story. As I was sitting at a different table, being almost embarrassed and most definitely scared of the man, my mother was embracing him as a fellow child of God.
I remember my mother always gravitating to the "trouble children" in Primary. While most were annoyed by their presence, she loved them; and those kids could feel it. On countless occasions I have watched her work miracles in these kids' lives, simply by loving them for who they were, not who she thought they should be. And, miraculously, through loving them, she gave them permission to love themselves, and the desire to be a little better every day.
I remember my mom never saying no to the opportunity to help someone else. Even when she had no time to care for herself, she would write a note and drop it by a friend's house that had been on her heart that day. Even when she had no patience, she would invite neighborhood and ward children over to the home so that their mother could have a rest. Even when she was unsure how we would pay our expenses for the month, she would use some of our grocery money to make a meal for someone else. Even when she had no energy, she never denied me when I asked for help, or for love. My mother is truly an incredible woman that I look up to. I hope one day I can be half the instrument she is in the hands of the Lord.
My father has always been another rock-solid example of service to me. He is the hardest worker I have ever met, and tirelessly works not only to improve his business, but to improve his family and the lives of those around him.
I remember one year my father was stuck on a business trip due to inclement weather, very close to a holiday. (I think it was Thanksgiving.) He was distraught and extremely blue at the thought of not being with his family at such a special time of year. If I had been in his shoes, I would have moped in my hotel room, watched a movie, and eaten a half-gallon of ice cream as I wallowed in self-pity. But not my father. As he called to say goodnight to all of us kids (as he always does when he is away,) we asked what he did. My father, being the amazing man that he is, decided to serve. He had found a local soup kitchen and had spent his evening there, giving out meals to the hungry. He said in this act he found the solace he needed. I don't know if he even remembers this story, but I do. It has stuck with me for my whole life.
I remember my dad dutifully doing his home teaching every month, and truly caring about those he visited. He was not a once-a-month home teacher, but truly befriended those he had been called to care for.
I remember my dad always being willing to give a blessing, no matter what time or how tired he was. Beyond this, I always saw him put on a suit to do so. This little extra effort of love touched me.
I remember my dad taking us to the Stake Farm to help harvest or pull weeds. I always complained because it was early, hot, dirty, work, but he always made me come, and he always made it a good time. Instead of grumbling, he would joke around, causing everyone around him to be laughing the whole time, and making the work go a lot faster. Beyond that, not only did he expect me to come, but he expected me to do my best while I was there. There was no pride in a job completed under our potentials.
I remember when there was a tornado near my home town, my dad loaded some of us kids into the car and drove about an hour to get there to help with clean-up efforts. I despised the yellow "Mormon Helping Hands" shirt and I was a grumpy pre-teen who probably made him miserable, but he never let it show. He served with a smile. And you know what? I saved that shirt. It's in my hope chest as a special memory and reminder of my father's example to serve.
I remember my dad shoveling our neighbor's sidewalks and driveways when it snowed. I remember him always being there to help people move. I remember him having an enormous heart for those who worked for him, and earnestly doing what he could to make not only their jobs, but their lives more enjoyable. Maybe one of the most impressing lessons I learned from my father was this: just be kind. I can't remember a single instance in which I saw my father be unkind to someone else. I just always have seen him smiling, laughing, and teasing. No one escaped his teasing. 
I'm so incredibly grateful for the examples of my parents that I do not even have words to express my gratitude. I never appreciated them enough when I was younger, but I am slowly and surely learning to do so now. They are great people who deserve the world....but if they had the world I know they would just give it others. I have learned great lesson from them. I learned to see others eternally, as God does. To see through the dirt and rough exterior and to see the shining gold underneath. I learned to never be embarrassed to serve, even when it may be uncomfortable or awkward in the moment. I learned to perceive a need and to not hesitate to fulfill it. If we have the ability to lift another up, why would we ever deny them that? I learned to always show kindness and love. I learned to make the extra little efforts because sometimes they mean the most. And most importantly, I learned the eternal and divine value of others. No task to be done is ever more important than someone to be loved. Thank you, mom and dad, for being the incredible examples you have been and continue to be to me. I hope one day I can be half the person you two are. I am grateful for your lives of Christlike charity. And I am grateful for the privilege and honor that I have to serve others, and for the confidence God has in us to allow us to help Him answer the prayers of His children. We truly do get more out of it than they do. Victor Hugo's tale, Les Miserables, says it best I believe: "To love another person is to see the face of God."

God be with you till we meet again, 
Alyssa 

The Parable of Rugby and My Twenty-Five Words.

Today I have had a few things on my mind and on my heart. The first is a concept that I have been mulling over for a few weeks, so I will share that first. 

A while ago I discovered the joy of rugby. (It's just a simply great sport.) But as I attended my first match, I was a little troubled. The players were only allowed to pass the ball sideways and backwards. It seemed counterintuitive to me. "Why in the world would you pass backwards when you are supposed to be going forward?" I came home after the game and deeper researched the rules and strategy of the game and came to peace with the concept, but the underlying notion stayed with me. I've pondered on it quite heavily as of late, and I have come to the conclusion that it is a universal concept; one that extends beyond the rugby pitch. There may be times when we feel we are consistently moving backward; but it is during those times that we have the greatest capacity and opportunity to progress and press forward. As part of our experience here in this mortal life, we humans are subject to setbacks, downfalls, and shortcomings. We often feel we are being pulled farther away from our goal of eternal glory, whether by our own actions and decisions or by exterior forces we cannot control. It can be frustrating and disheartening. I know this from experience-I have felt it deeply in my own life. But I can promise to you with all my heart that all is well. Sometimes it is in the descending below all things that we find the strength for the transcending above all things. Interestingly enough, we must often learn to fall short in order to learn to stretch enough to reach our goal. We must take lateral and regressive steps in order to press forward. Often, our anticipated glorious charge to the finish line, is, in reality, a slow and convoluted process in which our final crossing is not a sprint, but a crawl wherein we exert all our remaining strength to simply drag ourselves across the marker. So it can be in rugby, and so it is in life. Attaining a "try," or a score, is often a struggle to achieve in the sport, with opposing forces pulling you down and pushing you back. It takes a nearly inhuman strength to overcome them and breach that painted white line in the grass. Several times, it looks very nearly impossible to do. I don't need to tell you that life is often similar to this. Isaac Newton told us that there are opposing forces that exert upon each other in this universe, and Nephi told us that there must be "opposition in all things." That's just how life works here on Earth. Sometimes we are being pushed back by exterior forces, such a the actions of others or trials and heartbreaks in our lives. Other times, we push back against ourselves as our divine heritage wages a war and battles with the natural man as we attempt to forsake our sins, but continue to be subject to temptation. It has been this way since the dawn of time and it will be this way for forever, but there is a way to push through. Rugby, once again, supplies another great and eternal truth. I have observed two key steps to attaining the ultimate goal of a try-passing, and pushing. There are moments in rugby when the offensive player realizes that they cannot get to the try line on their own. There is a wall of defensive players blocking their way that they know that cannot overcome. Their efforts often look like they may have been in vain. But here is where  an infinite lesson comes in-rugby is not a one man game. In those moments, the player handling the ball can pass it off to their teammate, who will be better equipped and have a better chance of scoring. We too, have a teammate. His name is Christ. He is always right there beside us, waiting for us to hand off our burdens to Him so that He help us achieve our ultimate goals. When we rely on His Atonement, and ask him to take our sins, pains, and fears which may be holding us back, from us, He will do so. And He will take it all with a glad heart full of love for us. For you. For me. It is in those moments that we feel we can do no more; that we have moved backwards, that we have no more hope of reaching ou potential, that we learn to rely on Him and His Atonement, and therefore equip ourselves with the strength and teammate needed to achieve eternal life. How glorious that is to know that at any time, we can cast our burdens onto the Lord and He will face the opposition for us! We have a great asset in the gift we have of "passing." Other times in rugby, a player engages with opposing players, and instead of taking the ball from him, his teammates will join together and help him push, overpowering the defensive team. Other times in our life, the Lord will give us the privilege of "pushing." With our limited and imperfect view, we may see the opposing forces in our life and think that we are being made to combat them on our own, but what we do not see is our brother Christ, right there behind us, exerting Himself to His very breaking point in order to enable us to take on our demons and fight them off. In these moments, when we feel that we have not been given the option to pass our burdens off, we, as mortals, can feel daunted and discouraged. We may feel that we have been given a heavy cross to bear, all on our own. I know I have felt this way before. It is a lonely and bewildering feeling. There have been times when I have thought, "Lord, I am doing all that I can, and I still am not strong enough. I cannot do this on my own. I know that you know this, so why can I not find you to help me right when I need you?" As I battled with these feelings some time ago, a friend suggested that I read the eighth chapter of C.S Lewis' great book, The Screwtape Letters. I followed his advice, and found this profound truth in the correspondance of two demons- Wormwood and Screwtape. "He will set them off with communications of his presence, which, though faint, seem great to them, with emotional sweetness, and easy conquest over temptation. But He never allows this state of affairs to last long. Sooner or later, He withdraws, if not in fact, at least from their conscious experience, all those supports and incentives. He leaves the creature to stand up on its own legs-to carry out from the will alone duties which have lost all relish. It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered in the state of dryness are those which please Him best. We can drag our patients along by continual tempting, because we design them only for the table, and the more their will is interfered with the better. He cannot 'tempt' to virtue as we do to vice. He wants them to learn to walk and therefore must take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon the universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys." This opened my eyes immensely. There are times when the Lord will allow us to hold the burden on our own. He will expect us to try our hardest, even when it may appear that He is not there. But He always is, watching over, and pushing us forward, even though we may not recognize His presence. Just as a child cannot learn to ride a bike without the parent letting go of the handlebars, so can we not learn to exert ourselves against opposition without periods of time where we believe we must fight it all on our own. The parent never forsakes their child, and when the bike tips over and the child falls and skins their knee, it hurts the mother or father also to see the tears well up in their child's eyes; but nothing makes them more proud than, when they are aching and tired and seemingly all alone, that little warrior picks themselves up off the pavement, dusts themselves off, gets on that bike, and tries again. "He is pleased even with their stumbles." Those moments where we feel the most neglected and exhausted, and yet keep pushing , are the moments in which Christ is pushing for us the strongest, even though we may not know He is there. Through the enabling power of His Atonement He is giving us the strength to win our battles, and our Heavenly Father is unspeakably proud of us. I know this with all my heart. We must, at times, move backwards in order to move forward and succeed. I am so grateful for this lesson that I have been taught. 

The second topic to address was something interesting I heard as I watched the Sunday morning session of General Conference today. Sister Rosemary M. Wixom told a story about an airman, J. Hess (who, coincidentally, was one of my relatives,) and how he was shot down and taken as a prisoner of war in the 1960's. For two years, he had no contact with his family. They did not even know if he was alive. Finally, his Vietnamese captors allowed him to write a message home, but he was limited to a meager 25 words. This is what he wrote, not sure if he would ever get a chance to say anything else to them in this life: "These things are important: temple marriage, mission, college. Press on. Set goals. Write history. Take pictures twice a year." This touched me, and I have been pondering on what I would tell my family. What is most important? How would I choose to spend my 25 words? This is what I came up with. Family, pay attention. "God lives. Love Him, serve Him. Improve and contribute to the world. Respect others and yourself. I love you. Cherish the Atonement. Endure with hope." 

God be with you till we meet again, 
Alyssa 

Counting Lightning

I wrote this a few years ago as a way to record a special memory I have about my grandpa, who passed away in 2001. I thought I would share it. I sure love and miss him. Hopefully he is proud of the woman I am trying to become. 

Counting Lightning

A Personal Memoir

By: Alyssa Marie Miller 

Lightning storms fascinate me. I love them. I didn't used to feel this way, as a little girl I remember I would hide my head under my covers, clutch my bear, Woody, tight to my chest, and just breathe in the humid, warm air that surrounded me in my cocoon of sheets. I was afraid that if I did not shelter myself, if I did not focus on existing, the rumbling thunder would simply overwhelm my existence and I would just melt away. Those nights were long, alone in my room. The air around me felt cold, solid, like I had been submerged in icy water. I burrowed deeper into my blankets, my buffer from the world. The insulation felt good. The stark difference between the warmth of the soft fabric and the cold nipping at my nose and ears reminded me I was still there, I hadn't faded away yet, and I was grateful. Crack. The flashes of  blue-white light, the bursts of energy electrified the air. I felt uneasy, there was too much excitement, too much invisible motion. I didn't dare peek out my blinds for fear that the lightning would see me, would sense my presence, and blast it's way into my soul. I wanted to forget it was there. The thunder, a steady boom, boom, boom. I liked that more than the lightning, it reminded me of a heartbeat. Sometimes I felt like it was a living thing. Like a giant, gentle creature accompanying a static tantrum. It was calming, it was not pure energy, it was rhythm. It was predictable. I knew that even though I could not predict when lightning would strike, I could always count on the thunder coming afterwards. Sometimes quickly, like a subconscious reaction, an instinct, like something that tells us humans "Move, get out of the way. Danger." when we are in a desperate situation. But sometimes, my favorite times, it trailed slowly behind, taking it's time. Like an old coon hound lazily trailing it's master through the woods. Flash...one...two...three...boom. These times I liked, it told me the thunder was calm, it wasn't anxious to announce it's presence. It simply let you know it was there when it felt like it. I remember the rain, the subtle backdrop, the piano melody underlying the boisterous forte percussion of the lightning and thunder. I enjoyed the rain. It was predictable. I liked the sound of it, the whispers on the roof, the secrets it had to tell. I liked to imagine that with every drop, the soft pitter patter would tell me where it had been, what it had seen before the water had evaporated and traveled to my sleepy little country town. It told me tales of faraway places, exotic lands. I liked the language of the rain, it wasn't complex, it wasn't haughty, or superior. It was matter of fact, it just said what it had touched. "Pitter....gentle brown cow...patter...rough, brown skin, red turban...drip...large, green leaves...drop...forgotten blue ribbon." The rain didn't put on airs, it simply spoke to me. It didn't treat me as a child. It never said "You wouldn't understand," or "You will find out when you are older." It just said "Look, come experience what I have seen." I felt it treated me the same as anyone, like a friend, although I was only small. I liked the rain. I didn't like the lightning storms though. My grandpa changed that for me. I remember him coming to visit, I don't remember him perfectly, now that he is gone, but I remember him well enough. I remember the warm, moist smoothness of his cheeks when I would touch them with my little hands, I remember the little lines he had by his eyes that told me he loved to laugh. I remember how he smelled; comforting, familiar. I remember the soft, well-worn fabric of his favorite shirts, I remember his "watermelon tummy." I remember diet Pepsi, my forbidden treat that he would secretly spoil me with when my mother wasn't around. I remember his hair, a gradient of black to gray, gray to white. I remember his firm discipline followed by his increased demonstrations of love. But most of all, I remember counting lightning. When my grandpa came to visit, one of the biggest lightning storms I can ever remember struck. I saw the first flashes and scurried upstairs to my room. As I huddled under my sheets, listening, my ears sensitive to every sound, I heard something unexpected. Squeak. Foomf. Foomf. Foomf. The screen door below my room opened and closed, and I heard the familiar muffled footsteps of  my grandfather's well worn shoes. "That door leads outside, to the porch." I thought to myself. I wondered why he would be going outside during such an unsettling time. I couldn't wrap my little mind around it. Creak. The sound of a wooden rocking chair groaning under the weight of his solid frame. Ever curious, I crept down the stairs on my tip-toes, not wanting to disturb him. I peeked out the front door, and lo and behold, there was my grandpa, sitting in the rocking chair watching the skies, waiting for something. I must have made a noise, the door must have creaked while I was leaning on it intently, because he turned to me and said "Let's count lightning." I didn't know what to say. Why in the world would I want to count what terrified me? He said that he loved to do it, to see if he could beat last times record, and that it was a sort of game for him. Being young, I loved games. I agreed to play, and settled into his big, warm lap. Flash....boom. "There's one," he said, "and it's close, less than a quarter of a mile away." I was astonished. How did he know that? How did he know how to measure the unpredictable flashes? He explained to me, in simple terms like the rain used, that after you see lightning you start counting seconds. When you hear the thunder you stop, and divide those seconds by five. I couldn't believe it! Lightning was just a game, a big puzzle, just ordinary. Suddenly, I wasn't afraid. I sat on his lap for hours, I counted, he did the division. Flash...one...two...three...Boom. "That one is a little over a half a mile away from here." I learned to enjoy the flashing lights, the show that Mother Nature put on for us. I was not scared anymore, but it took my grandfather's death not more than a few months later to really make me love lightning storms. For me, counting lightning is a connection to my beloved grandpa, a special memory that only I have with him. It is mine, and it is his, and I can't help but think that every time a front rolls in, and the electricity slices the sky, he is there. I still count lightning, only now I bundle up in my coziest blanket instead of his strong, gentle arms. But I sense him, I feel his love, I know he is still with me in some form or another. And that comforts me. I sit on my porch and count the lightning, and know he is there. Flash...one...two...three...boom.

Being Refined...

Welcome!

So today marks the day that I begin this blog. I have never considered myself the "blogging type," but I wanted a way to share my feelings about the amazing gospel I have in my life with fellow children of God. I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Yes, I am a Mormon. I know it, I live it, I love it. Here is where I will share my journey, testimony, and enlightenments. (And probably a few other things, but they are less important!)

I am not perfect. I never have been. There have been times in my life where I believed I never would be. But as I have grown and become (a little bit) wiser, I have learned a sweet eternal truth; through the awe-inspiring Atonement of our loving brother and Savior, Jesus Christ; I can and will be perfected. My heart is full as I write those words. I can be perfect. I cannot be flawless on my own, but through Him, I truly can be made pure and clean. What a beautiful comfort this is to a soul such as mine that has been scarred from years of sin and neglect.

I have always been a Mormon. I was born into this Church and raised in it by two incredibly strong parents who gave me wonderful examples of dedicated discipleship and strength. I have always had a testimony that this gospel was true...but I have not always been converted to this Church. In high school, I began to wander. Mormons are, in fact, a "peculiar people." We do not blend into the crowd, and we are not intended to. Now, I am proud of being considered different. I am grateful to the Lord for His true and complete gospel when someone notices that I am "unusual," and ask if I am a Mormon. We live in the world, but are not of the world. By holding ourselves to the standard God has set for us, we distance ourselves from moral complacency of the world...and people do notice. As an insecure girl, being noticeably different was the very last thing that I wanted. I desired to be a social chameleon of sorts-I just wanted to fit in and be accepted. I didn't want to rock the boat, I just wanted to be like everyone else. I forgot who I was. I forgot that I was the daughter of a king. I forgot my divine nature and eternal potential. Instead of being proud of my religion, I became bashful and reluctant. My actions were not always in accordance with what I believed deep down. In fact, most of the time they weren't. My heart hurts as I consider how far below my potential I was living, and the poor example I gave to those around me of what an LDS girl should be. I just got caught up in the thick of thin things. Instead of focusing on eternity, I focused on a few years of my life which would be of little consequence in the long-term. I made decisions which cut me deeply and have had consequences and lasting pain. But, alas, this is not meant to be a post of regret, but one of hope. In the darkest of my days, I was lifted out of my misery by my brother, Christ. Finally, after years, I decided that I needed the gospel which I had been raised in. I could go on no longer without it. I could not afford to continue living without an anchor. I slowly but surely started to turn the Lord. I poured countless tears and prayers out unto Him. I asked Him to take my burden, and He took it. He loved me enough to take all of my sins, fears, and pains upon His shoulders, even when I really probably didn't deserve it. And more amazing than that, He did it happily. He wanted to save and embrace me, all He needed was my permission and for me to soften my heart. The road of repentance is one of joy my friends. It is not always easy, and you may not always see the end, but I promise you it is one with the most glorious sights you could ever imagine. Vistas of peace. Valleys of everlasting and true joy. Oceans of comfort and healing. Mountains of love. There are so many beautiful aspects to be beheld that one cannot view them all at once. When you think you have seen all the beauty there is, you round the bend of the path and discover what you have seen is only a tiny particle of what there truly is to see. It's remarkable. I cannot fully comprehend the infinite nature of the Atonement, but I know without a doubt that it is the most wonderful treasure mankind has ever been given.

I have pondered recently in retrospection whether or not I would ever go back and change what I have done. I can answer this with a resounding "no." It is true that I regret the acts, but the lessons I have learned from them and the relationship I have developed with my Savior have become irreplaceable. Without falling short, I never could have learned to lean on and rely on and trust my Savior enough to allow Him to reach down and lift me up. I would not have learned the infinite value of virtue, righteousness, and obedience. I could not be the daughter of God I am slowly being molded into. I could not have felt His perfect and redeeming love as deeply as I now do. One of my favorite scriptures is found in the Book of Job, chapter 23, verse 10. It says "But He knoweth the way that I take: when He hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold." Gold cannot be refined without time in an intense fire. Just as gold becomes purified through hard times, so are we. Am I imperfect and scarred? Yes. But am I infinitely loved and will I be perfected? Yes! I am being refined, even as gold. Jeffrey R. Holland once said "...surely the thing God enjoys most about being God is the thrill of being merciful, especially to those who don't expect it and often feel they don't deserve it."It is never too late to come unto Him. He will always welcome His children back and "encircle thee in the arms of my love." This gospel is so full of pure and absolute joy and hope. I would be lost without it. I love it with all my heart, and I know that my Heavenly Father and Brother love us with all their hearts. One day, I hope I will rely on the infinite Atonement enough that I can be refined like beautiful gold and truly reflect my Savior in my countenance. I hope that as I continue to dedicate my life to my Lord, that I will live in such a way that after my time here on Earth is done, that I will return to His embrace and hear the words "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." 

God be with you till we meet again,
Alyssa