Living my Religion

When Tragedy Strikes

I feel. I feel deep. It is part of who I am. I have no way around it. I am a sensitive person. I am pretty sure I get it from my mom. I cry at the drop of a hat. I really should be an actress. So, when tragedy strikes, it kind of knocks me out for a bit. It really knocks me out. I have to give myself cognitive therapy so that I don’t succumb to the warmth of the sheets in my bed. I have to distract myself. I even lie to myself if necessary. Most of all I have to get some answers.

I think because I feel, I have chosen God consistently throughout my life. I need somewhere to go when nothing makes sense and let’s face it, there is a lot that doesn’t make sense.
Like other people though, I usually vacillate in my own incompetence for a bit before I turn to God. I am trying to change that, but I guess I can take comfort in the fact that at least I get to God at some point. A lot of people don’t have the same luxury.
So after the CT shooting last Friday, these were my reactions, put out there for everyone and their dog to see. Oh the evil of social media. It really shows one’s true colors.

This should not still be happening. Give me your best solutions for the safety of our children. Serious. I am writing Congress. I am so heartbroken.


I refuse to read more than one news report about the shooting. 
I suggest you all do the same.

Use your energy to make the world a better place.

We have the highest obligation to protect the children. The American citizens demand that every school has two armed trained military personnel on guard every day. Repost if you agree.

Pondering again on the words of Mormon leader Dallin H Oaks spoken to the world that would listen just two months ago:

Although I do not speak in terms of politics or public policy, like other Church leaders, I cannot speak for the welfare of children without implications for the choices being made by citizens, public officials, and workers in private organizations. We are all under the Savior’s 

command to love and care for each other and especially for the weak and defenseless.

Children are highly vulnerable. They have little or no power to protect or provide for themselves and little influence on so much that is vital to their well-being. Children need others to speak for them, and they need decision makers who put their well-being ahead of selfish adult interests.

I know one amazing 12-year-old angel with open arms and the most tender heart who is probably cuddling up with some kindergartners tonight and that brings good tears to my eyes. Love you Braxton Wills!

How about we train gun sniffing dogs to guard every school? I seriously can’t stop obsessing for an answer. I grieve by taking action.

Trying to press forward by going out to a movie but it’s hard to move forward when so many fellow Americans are in mourning. God bless.

It just occurred to me that God had even more reason to be in public schools on Friday. I am sure He held each of those victims in the palm of His hand and hugged them as He told them they would never again have to feel pain.

 See how I vacillate? I ended off with this:

Love. Peace. Joy. This world is overcome and the next will have no heartache.

And this: Must read! So touching.


twas’ 11 days before Christmas, around 9:38
when 20 beautiful children stormed through heaven’s gate.
their smiles were contagious, their laughter filled the air.
they could hardly believe all the beauty they saw there.
they were filled wit

h such joy, they didn’t know what to say.
they remembered nothing of what had happened earlier that day.
“where are we?” asked a little girl, as quiet as a mouse.
“this is heaven.” declared a small boy. “we’re spending Christmas at God’s house.”
when what to their wondering eyes did appear,
but Jesus, their savior, the children gathered near.
He looked at them and smiled, and they smiled just the same.
then He opened His arms and He called them by name.
and in that moment was joy, that only heaven can bring
those children all flew into the arms of their King
and as they lingered in the warmth of His embrace,
one small girl turned and looked at Jesus’ face.
and as if He could read all the questions she had
He gently whispered to her, “I’ll take care of mom and dad.”
then He looked down on earth, the world far below
He saw all of the hurt, the sorrow, and woe
then He closed His eyes and He outstretched His hand,
“Let My power and presence re-enter this land!”
“may this country be delivered from the hands of fools”
“I’m taking back my nation. I’m taking back my schools!”
then He and the children stood up without a sound.
“come now my children, let me show you around.”
excitement filled the space, some skipped and some ran.
all displaying enthusiasm that only a small child can.
and i heard Him proclaim as He walked out of sight,
“in the midst of this darkness, I AM STILL THE LIGHT.”

Written by Cameo Smith, Mt. Wolf, PA

The only place for peace is God. I don’t know why it takes me so long to figure that out every time tragedy strikes. I am stubborn. Hard-headed. Prideful. A natural woman. Eventually I’ll get there without vacillation, but at least I am aware of my tendency, and that is the first step towards fixing it.
So, as I hold onto God as tight as I can today. I write this.
I am proud to say that my kids went off to school today just like any other day. I am not mother of the year, far from it, but I made a choice a long time ago to limit the media into my home. We don’t have any TV but Netflix and it makes all the difference. They know something tragic happened and we have prayed for CT, but my babies went off to school today feeling safe. And that is all a mother can do. If by chance some awful thing ever does happen to them, all I want them to have is a feeling of safety and security and love up to the very moment of the unspeakable.

I thank others who have helped me make sense of it all.
Two links were particularily helpful. 
This one gives a plea for the mentally ill.
And my hubby sent me here where he was able to convince me that the answer is not about gun control
or even about guarding our schools. 
The answer my friends is the same answer for all other woes in our life:
Trust in God.
Evil has always been around. Awful things happen every day. We are no worse off today then yesterday. In fact, we are better off because we don’t live in a war-torn country. We as Americans freak out when tragedy strikes, but tragedy strikes much more frequently in other parts of the world.
So what can I do?
I can trust in God.
How can I trust in God?
I can continue to pray with my family.
We can read our scriptures and let God’s word work in our lives.
We can limit the crooked media’s influence in our homes.
We can show compassion to others.
We can stop having stigmas towards the mentally ill.
We can reach out to our neighbors who may be struggling.
We can love more deeply.
We can quit fighting over politics.
And that is what I resolve to do.
And because I have a new resolve, 
I can be grateful to God for the reminder, 
even if it’s in the form of an awful tragedy.

My Brother’s Take on Mormon Feminism
There has been a lot of talk lately
about a movement of
anti-Mormons
who have penetrated the active church-body
by inviting the women to wear pants to church this Sunday.
I’m privvy to these things because I live in Utah.
It was on the front page of the paper.
LG read part of the article to me
when he was home for lunch
the other day.
We discussed the stupidity of it.
Women have always been able to
wear pants to church.
Why would any woman
want to be a Bishop?
We laughed.
Then LG made my day.
“Alice you look so sexy in a skirt.”
So I posted this on facebook.
Feminist Mormons are planning a “wear slacks to church day” 
to celebrate the similarities between women and men. 
I’d rather celebrates our differences. 
Besides my husband thinks I look hot in a skirt. 
If that means I’m objectified, so be it.

It got a discussion going.
Perhaps my favorite part of the discussion
was my ultra-conservative, gun-slinging, Limbaugh-loving,
football-coaching, huge-dog owning, Idaho-dwelling
brother saying this:
(for my non-Mormon friends –
this first question is what is asked of 
the members to determine
worthiness to attend the temple)
(YM is short of Young Men
YW is short for Young Women)

Yes, feminist crazed ladies,
the men of the church
are not anti-women.
In fact,
they are 
what my brother calls
equal diffrencialists.
I am proud to say
that I now
have a great term to describe
what I am too:
an
equal diffrentialist.
And so is 
She touches on some deep
Mormon doctrine here
and I loved her article.
I’m so grateful for the women of the church
who magnify their callings
and bless the lives of my daughters.
Here are some recent photos
that Sister Seale
e-mailed
of Sophia and her buddies
at their 
female only
activity days
held
every other week.
I love how these photos
showcase what we teach
Godly girls.
Choose the right.

Be modest.

Be tough.
Be beautiful.

It’s crazy to me
that scorned
women can
find these things
wrong.

I don’t want my daughters
to be anything
but
equal diffrentialists.

And trust me,
no woman
should ever want to
be in Cub Scouts instead.
I know,
I’ve been a Scout leader
three different times
in my
“mom only to daughters”
lifetime.

A God of Grace
I try to apply
a good
Southern saying
into my life
daily.
It helps.
A lot.
For instance:
when your 13-year-old
has lost yet one more thing.
This time it’s a $30
memory card
that holds all of her photos
for photography class.
You worry that she’s never
going to be organized enough
to get into college.
You start to edge out onto
the cliff of anger
and desperation
and are about to go crazy
with the lecture
and the screaming,
but you take a step back
and pray
instead.
God’s got this.
See how that works?
Worry.
Gone.
Just like that.
It works on the big things too.
Like when you are on the verge
of divorce
because your husband
has quit functioning
all together
(I can say this
because it has been years now)
and you can’t go another day
with a broken man.
God’s got this.
And he did.
And it wasn’t up to me.
It never is.
I am not the healer.
I do not control anyone
or anything.
All I can control is me
and my choice to be happy.
That’s it.
And the best way to be happy
is to know
God’s got this.
Because he always does.

Book Review: The Epic Tales of a Misfit Hero

I received a free copy of this book in exchange for my review, 
but as always all opinions are unbiased.

  The Epic Tales of a Misfit HeroThe Epic Tales of a Misfit Hero by Matt Peterson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

When I received this book in the mail, I quickly snuck a peek at the first chapter and I was immediately sucked into the life of the misfit hero (a.k.a Andrew), the newest Mormon deacon with an issue of “deacon’s collar.” From the first few pages and the way author Matt Peterson described Andrew’s frustration with how his tie always peeked out from under his collar while passing the sacrament at church, I knew that this guy would be fun to read. And I was right. Of course.

I hope Matt Peterson plans to take Andrew on many more adventures because I think every aspiring Mormon deacon out there(and behives)should tag along. This story was suspenseful and inspiring. It was also funny and oh so true. I loved the way that all the characters were portrayed and could imagine all kinds of kids that I know personally in each one. My only critique for future books is that the author try to write in a way that wouldn’t leave Non-Mormons confused. Peterson’s cute stories should be able to resonate with every child and sometimes the “Mormon references” might leave a non-Mormon reader confused.

Although I originally thought this book would be great for a 12 year old audience, after reading I think it would better suit an 8-10 year old reader. (I admit my kids are pretty advanced readers though so if your kids aren’t then adjust the best reader’s age accordingly) That being said, I can still see my 13 year old daughter who reads at a college level enjoying this story as much as I did.

For me the best part of this story was absolutely the plain and simple truth that all readers can’t help but grapple with: “the fulness of the gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and simple unto the ends of the earth.” It was absolutely exhilarating to peek inside the main character’s heart as he pondered on this idea that was presented to him by a Scout leader during a campfire. It was also wonderful to see how this short and simple sermon affected Andrew in such a profound way.

As a reader, peeking inside my own heart to think about what God has been able to accomplish through me, one of His weak and simple, was also a highlight of this book. Isn’t that what they say makes great writing, when the reader can relate to the story? And it’s even better when the reader can learn about them-self through the story. Thank you Matt Peterson. Well done.

Check out Matt Peterson’s Facebook page 
I do believe we will be hearing a lot more from him.
Purchase the book on Amazon

View all my reviews

The sense of a goose
I’ve been watching
The Canadian Geese
for several weeks now.
The seem to want to follow me
wherever I go.
On my run, at my house, on my errands.
They just keep coming.
I love to hear their honking greetings
and watch them change up their formations.
Call me weird.
That’s what my kids do.
One of them said the other day,
“Mom. what’s your fascination with the geese?”
I answered, “I don’t know
they are just so beautiful,
and we are lucky their flight
patterns go through here.”
The other day 
while having a particularly hard married day
(oh c’mon, you have those too),
I was on the phone with a friend.
Outside of Wal-Mart,
crying a bit, is where I stood.
Pondering life.
While getting my pep talk,
tears were flowing freely.
I was in a place of major frustration.
Why?
was running through my head and heart
repeatedly.
Why does it not seem to matter
how hard we try?
Why can we not just arrive
where we need to be?
Why do I have to keep working so hard
just to be beat down
again and again?
Let down.
Again.
and
again.
I watched a large group of geese
and another.
Cried on.
Chatted on.
And then God sent me a sign.
In the form of two straggling geese.
They were all by themselves,
braving the big skies
without their group of friends.
They seemed to be in a hurry.
I instantly remembered a story I read
years ago.
It was titled
“why do we not have the sense of a goose?”
It taught that geese mate for life.
If the mate goes down for whatever reason,
so does its mate.
Couldn’t we have more loyalty as humans?
I looked up at those determined geese
and wondered of their story.
Then I heard God’s voice.
It said,
“Keep going,
don’t give up,
you may fall down,
he may fall down
but just like those geese,
you’ll get there
eventually.
Go the right direction.
Together.
Who cares
if every single other pair
of geese get there ahead of you.
All I need you to do
is
get here.”

Be like a Bee

I have a fascination with honey bees.
Remember this old post
when I took my camera into the shower to photograph them?
Good times back in Knoxville.

Anyhow,
When M. Russell Ballard
gave this address
entitled
Be Anxiously Engaged
during General Conference,
I was delighted to listen.

Today I went outside with my camera
to try and capture something beautiful.
Why not the honeybees across the street?

It’s pretty powerful to think about what we can accomplish when we all focus on the things of God,
even if we, like the bees, each just produce our 1/12th of  a teaspoon it will be more than enough.
On another bee note. 
The BYU documentary that I just saw for the first time on Sunday also inspired me to do more for others.
I love so many metaphors from this documentary but perhaps the one the most lovely is that bees use white clover (a normally discarded weed) as their food-source. The bees see the clover like no one else does.
 If I live my whole life and accomplish all that I wanted it will be in vain if I can’t look at every other person I meet and see the white clover inside of them.

Where Jesus Eats

My friend Amanda is an amazing person. I mean an AMAZING person. I feel so privileged that not only did our paths cross while I lived in Tennessee, but that we became good friends. She, like many other Tennesseans, is exceptionally spiritual and extraordinarily kind.

Back in the beginning of 2012 (yes this post has been sitting in my inbox for that long) Amanda won a contest put on by a local radio station.

“What would she do with 500 chicken
 sandwiches from Chick-Fil-A?” 

Her winning answer will tell you much more about the kind of person Amanda is than I ever could.

“Distribute them to the homeless in Knoxville.”

It was no surprise that her answer won from all the entries. Chick-fil-A is well known as a Christian establishment and I am sure whoever chose the winner of the contest, chose correctly in Amanda. The homeless population is extremely high in K-town.

Here is a photo from back in February, of Amanda’s three kids handing out sandwiches. 

Amanda explained to me that she had romanticized the whole thing thinking she could pray with each individual and tell them that people cared about them.

Instead her mini-van was mobbed until every last scrap was gone (including her kids lunchbox leftovers) in only a minute and that they were then asked to leave by The Salvation Army who informed them that they were breaking some kind of law.

Amanda and I exchanged an e-mail the other day. I wanted to make sure she was still o.k. with me writing about her experience after all the backlash Chick-Fil-A had received lately. Here is her response,

“Thanks for reminding me of promises, I’d made 6 months ago. It’s so easy to let our personal busy take over and not do good on the follow-through. I don’t mind a bit if you blog about it and I’m not worried about any backlash. God’s got this and He will get all the glory. What we did with Chick-Fil-A was not a publicity or political statement it was a chance to love on people in a very real, practical way.” I just LOVE that Amanda. I love how much she cares for others. I love how much she gives her life to others. I love that she is always actively looking for ways to help others and that she goes around constantly making promises to God, even if it will be hard to keep them. I love it that her “fail” is mightier than anyone else’s “success.”

Real quick I wanted to share a funny story that Amanda told me:

This weekend I was privileged to spend 3 days with our Middle School Ministry at our church.  We had this incredible speaker, Acton Bowen.  Acton is a past youth minister, speaker, and Christian correspondant for Fox News.  He was talking about meeting with one of his friends who was a member of the Black Ops team in the US Armed forces and telling of his many missions.  Acton said that they met at Chick-Fil-a which is “where Jesus eats”.

You all can hate on a place because of their stance on gay marriage, that is your prerogative, but please realize that this restaurant is a lot like Amanda. They are always doing a whole lot of good. Oh, and their food is also like Amanda too:
A – MAZ – ING!

Here are a few other good recent news stories about Chick-Fil-A.

Here is a recent car-line in Waynesboro, VA taken by my cousin Jarrett. Chick-fil-A had committed a good portion of their profits to the family of Ethan Blevins, who had recently passed from leukemia complication.

How about the time they opened their doors with free meals to police officers after the Colorado movie theater shootings?

As for me? I love my gay friends. I truly do.
But I want to eat where Jesus eats
and I hope they can be o.k. with it.

For some chick-fil-a funny,
check out this old post.

You’re Beautiful

I’ve been struggling for months.
I couldn’t pin-point what was going on.
I thought it was just part of the grief of losing my nephew,
and it partially was, but it started before we lost Braxton.
I was angry.
I just got angrier.
For months I didn’t want to pray.
I didn’t want to go to church.
I didn’t want to read the scriptures.
I just wanted to stew,
and get angrier about all the unfairness of life.

I spent a night at the cabin with a few friends last week,
and we took the time to have a honest share with one another.
I was floored by the experience.
Just a few moments of humble and honest self-reflection
completely turned me around.

I was able to see a part of me that I already identified long ago.
I was able to see the part of me that went straight
to pride and anger
as to protect myself from the hurt or disappointment.

I was angry because I felt like I could never measure up.
I was angry that people around me didn’t appreciate me.
I was angry because I didn’t want to need God.
I was angry because I was hurt.
I was sad, so I was angry.
My subconscious thinks it’s easier to be angry.
But it’s not.
Pride is destructive.
Anger is a form of pride.

After two seconds of honest reflection,
I immediately felt God telling me it’s o.k.
I am just human doing the best I can.
He wasn’t mad at me.
He was glad that I finally figured it out.
I don’t need to be angry.
I need to be vulnerable
and let God heal.

I most of all needed to re-understand that
I am not alone.
We all need God.
We all need to be told that we are beautiful.

I look to you

I love this song. It’s an old Whitney Houston number
and was recently redone on Glee.
After hearing it on my i-pod yesterday,
I’ve been searching it out on youtube.
I want to send it to my brother
who recently lost his son Braxton.
(I can’t type that last sentence
without my eyes welling up in tears)

I’ve been through some hard things in my life.
I’ve been diagnosed with a mental illness,
I’ve lived through serious poverty,
I’ve come within a hair from losing my marriage,
I’ve experienced cruel prejudices,
I’ve struggled with my weight,
and I’ve lost people I’ve loved.

But right now nothing hurts more than Braxton.
Even though I didn’t spend as much time
with him as I would have preferred
(due to living in poverty half a world away
in Tennessee for a decade)
I loved that kid.
He was a complex mixture of the best of his mom and dad.
He was so compassionate (mom) and determined (dad).
He was so funny (dad) yet smart (mom).
Ha ha. O.k. he could have gotten both of those from both of his parents.
He had an infectious smile (mom and dad).
He was the life of the party (his aunt ali) 🙂
He was and is such a good kid.
The kind of kid that anyone would be proud to call their own.

We all love and miss him so,
and are left with such a huge hole in our hearts,
as we try to make sense of his passing.

I worry for my brother and his family every day,
and I simultaneously try to soothe my own pain.
Every day I send my brother a little message on facebook
to uplift, inspire, strengthen, and happy-make.
It’s been amazing to me how much that little act has been the best balm for me.
Sometimes I end up searching online for hours for just the right thing,
but for those hours I am finding little gems to my own soul.

Like this song.
Wow.
What a great reminder to where we need to look.
In all our troubles.
I can honestly say that God is the only way I’ve survived.
And I proudly say that I have done more than survive.
I have flourished under his tutelage.

I love this singer’s journey to her own health.
It really does boil down to the fact
“I can do all things through God whom strengtheneth me.”
I know that if my brother and his family know anything,
it is to look to God for their strength.
They do such an amazing job at it.
I’m so grateful they have their God.
And I am so grateful that they are my constant reminder
to look to Him too.

Dear people
I know I am a blog slacker.
I’ve been blogging for food.
Literally.
I started working as a social media guru
for a local business.
Not sure if they want me to tell the world
over the internet
that I am their go-to gal,
but they give me free freezer meals.
It’s awesome.
Steak, shrimp, gourmet stuff
in exchange for my internet savvy.
Totally awesome.
Anyhow, I am sorry my bloggy friends.
I love you
and 
I miss you.
I just dug into my drafts 
to try and find something
to give you.
Throw you a bone,
so you won’t completely give up on me.
Here’s a goodie from Sophia.
My kids are serious about their soda.
When they buy it with their own money
they don’t want people backwashing in it.
I love my kids more than ever.
I love my husband more than ever.
They make me laugh,
and I am sad that I am not sharing that on here as much.
Because I will forget it
if I don’t write it.
I won’t forget that I love them
but I will forget the ways that they make me laugh.
I just want to let you all know that
if you improve in one area of your life
 you are bound to revert in others.
I have been doing really good at running.
I’ve lost about 30 pounds since November.
I have been doing really good with working.
(I have two part-time jobs)
I have been doing pretty good in the marriage department.
I have even been a half-way decent mom.
I potty trained Caroline.
I have bought myself some things,
grown out my hair, 
and told myself how much I love myself
every day.
And I am even starting to believe me.
I have accomplished some of my new year’s resolutions:
camping extravaganza, 
attend temple monthly, 
waking up with LG,
staying under budget,
but I have slacked in others:
read 54 books 
(I am way behind,
and really hopeful that 
I can crank them out this summer by the pool)
I have really been slacking with my spirituality.
My prayers and scripture study have not been where I want them to be.
My service to others outside my family hasn’t been enough.
My joy in church service hasn’t been where I need it.
It’s not that I am not doing these things at all,
it’s just that as I have added in more of other things,
I haven’t given it the same dedication
and I miss it.
One thing I learned in the South is to
GIVE MYSELF GRACE.
So I do.
But one of these days
I will be the whole package.
One of these days,
dear people.
But, really,
with giving myself grace,
I am doing magnificently.
Never been better.
Or happier.
Or healthier.
or pleased with myself.
Glory to God
for strengthening me
in all areas of my life,
just sometimes I have to choose which one.
If you want to read more
about how God strengthens us
go here.
So powerful.
and true.