Mother’s Christmas Mouse, by Betty LeBaron Mostert

When I was a child in the 1950s and 1960s, our Christmas traditions were not elaborate—except for the stockings. Because we children enjoyed our Christmas stockings so much, we continued the tradition when we married and had children of our own. Buying surprises and assembling dozens of Christmas stockings, however, soon became too much for my aging parents, especially my mother, who had a serious case of rheumatoid arthritis that limited her mobility and energy.

Eventually, I volunteered to take over the project. Our annual extended family home evening, in which we acted out the Christmas story and opened our stockings, found me exhausted from the demands of being the mother of several small children and juggling the events of an active life. As I watched everyone dump treasures out of the gingham Christmas stockings I had carefully prepared, I was feeling a little sorry for myself.

As expected, my stocking was empty except for the standard candy cane and Japanese orange that I had placed there earlier. But as I shook them out, I noticed a little bedraggled mouse made of a walnut and hazelnuts. One ear was much bigger than the other, and the whiskers were crooked. The tail had been cut too short, and the loop to hang it on the tree was off center. I was confused. Had someone’s kindergarten project ended up in my stocking?

I looked up and saw my mother watching me from her wheelchair across the room. With a gnarled, bent finger, she beckoned to me.

“I wanted to do something for the Christmas stockings,” she said. “They made these little mice in Relief Society, and they were so cute.”

Her tears were close to the surface, and her gentle voice shook as she continued.

“I couldn’t get my fingers to work, so I made only one. It didn’t turn out, but I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

I looked again at the little mouse in my hand. She was right. I didn’t mind. In fact, her little bedraggled mouse became the most precious treasure of all that Christmas.

For more than 20 years, I have tenderly removed the tissue paper from the misshapen mouse crafted by misshapen fingers and carefully placed it on a branch. My angel mother has been free of her crippled body for several years, but her Christmas mouse reminds me of two profound truths.

The first is that my mother honored me by believing that I could look past the mouse’s crooked ears and feel the love and sacrifice that went into its creation. The second is that if I, as an imperfect mortal, am capable of finding beauty in a humble little mouse, how much more is our Father in Heaven capable of seeing past our imperfect efforts and understanding our pure intentions.

I know that when we do our best to give to others and to Him, our gift is not just good enough—it is of incalculable worth.

Read other Christmas stories:
http://lds.org/ensign/2007/12/latter-day-saint-voices/mothers-christmas-mouse?lang=eng&query=walnuts+christmas

Men's Hearts Shall Fail Them

Life, or Trains

“Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he has been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop, most beef is tough, most children grow up to be just like people, most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration, and most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. Life is just like an old time rail journey ... delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.” 

― Jenkin Lloyd Jones

Hold On, or He is Answering

Today was interesting. I felt very anxious and was worried that I am not who I need to be, or that I am not who I desperately want to be for me and for others. I felt afraid and I felt distance growing inside me. I prayed and prayed, but it seemed that the help I needed wasn't coming. As I kept going through my day, I did start to feel a little better. But it was later when I really felt the answer I had been craving. There was a church activity planned that I wasn't sure if I would have time to go to because of a work meeting, but I decided to go and just leave a little early. I'm glad I did. There I felt a sweet feeling of comfort, along with a renewal of perspective. Everything really will be ok. I don't need to be afraid. Things will be wonderful.

God answered my prayers. He was actually listening and responding to my prayers all day, but in ways that I didn't recognize or didn't want, or that just needed some time to develop. I wanted immediate responses and assurances, but today He was setting things up for me so I would really learn some valuable truths in ways that would make a true impact on me. I thought He wasn't answering me; in actuality, He was, and more than I realized: He was leading me to people and settings and ideas that would help me find the relief I was looking for. He knew that, today, I needed to be taught in a certain way.  He does know best.

I know that there are times when we must pray and stand up and keep on going without receiving a clear answer or feeling or response. But, I know that God does not ignore us. He is listening and answering. I have learned that God rarely changes our situations immediately; He changes our hearts and our perspectives. Situations may stay the same for a while, but if we can see things clearly, or see them as He sees them, we can be filled with hope that everything will be ok.  

Guest Post: Julie Meyers

"A few weeks ago, I was deeply offended by someone I love dearly.  I felt positive that this person’s actions were wrong and that I was right.  I wanted so much for this person to acknowledge the hurt he/she had caused and to apologize.  I couldn’t think about anything else except getting this person to recognize the error of his/her ways.  In an attempt to justify my angry feelings, I turned to the scriptures for guidance.  Instead of finding validation for my bitterness, I was gently led by the Lord to the following counsel in the 64th section of the Doctrine and Covenants*:

8 My disciples, in days of old, sought occasion against one another and forgave not one another in their hearts; and for this evil they were afflicted and sorely chastened.

 9 Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.

 10 I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.

 11 And ye ought to say in your hearts—let God judge between me and thee, and reward thee according to thy deeds.

"I was chastened.  I prayed for help to let go of these resentful feelings, and almost instantly, I felt complete peace, whereas holding onto my grudge caused me to feel “afflicted,” as the scripture states.  Even though forgiveness is not the world’s philosophy and is indeed our natural and usually first response to being offended or hurt, it is the only way to find true happiness. 

"I was also struck by the words in verse 8, where the Lord states that his disciples had not forgiven each other “in their hearts.”  So often, I have said, “Oh, that’s okay,” when someone has apologized yet then held on to secret resentments in my heart.  Anger and frustration are destructive and halt our progression, while forgiveness is healing and beautiful and allows us to move forward in our relationships and our own personal growth."

*The Doctrine and Covenants is a collection of divine revelations . . . given of God through his chosen prophets for the restoration of his holy work . . . in these days” (Explanatory Introduction, Doctrine and Covenants).

Guest Post: Lisa Christensen

I have invited some people I know to contribute to my blog. I asked them to share some of their experiences and thoughts about life, God, hardships, etc. Here is the first of a few. This is by Lisa Christensen.

"There are many impressive things in the world. Utah rain is typically not one of them. But on one spring day last year, the clouds opened up and released the kind of heavy, sustained sheets of water that have been the backdrop for many a passionate movie kiss.

"I love rain, and would have been more inclined to celebrate the miracle of substantial precipitation were I not two miles from home and without a car in the middle of the night. The clouds had begun to break just before I left a friend's house. I had loaned out my car, and had the borrowers drop me off for a party. It had not been raining when I had left my car and I did not think to take an umbrella. It also did not occur to me to ask anyone for a ride. For some reason, on that rainy spring night, I simply hoofed it.

"The first several blocks were pleasant, an adventure. Running between the raindrops was impossible, but leaping over small puddles in the sidewalks or streams rushing down the storm drains was fun, and I was enjoying the novelty. By the time I approached a mile, though, my clothes were soaked through and my hair was dripping wet.

"Coming down the home stretch of more than a half mile in length, I finally found a tree big and broad enough to give a little dry cover against the rainstorm. As it happened, this blessed respite was across the street from the Logan Utah Temple. The bright light emanating from its white domes, perhaps made more brilliant in contrasting the angry, dark clouds above.

"Huddling there against the magnificent tree with the temple standing so near, my shivering was suddenly insignificant and my sopping clothes no longer mattered. In the peace that took the place of those temporal problems, I finally noticed the stillness echoing amidst the raindrops.

"Of course, I couldn't stay there forever. It was still pouring and midnight and I was still several blocks away from a hot shower and warm bed. And I realize I should have called someone at some point, which eventually became more a point of pride than forgetfulness, but this is not a story about stubbornness. This is a story about moments of peace amidst storms literal and figurative.

"Life is hard. I don't believe it's much of a stretch to apply the literal raindrops to the figurative bombardment of hardship and difficulty we face every day. And they might seem novel at first, but the torrent of anger and contention and woe that seem to fill most arenas of our modern world wears on the body and soul of a person. Everyone needs a tree under which to stand, if only for a minute, and become refreshed in the image of God and things greater than a little rain. Church or temple attendance are certainly shelters, as can be meetings with good friends or family, or even taking a moment to revel in miracle that is life and the universe and everything.

"And then can we head back into the tempest, perhaps not yet dry but ready again to face and endure for a little longer."