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A sleeper scripture tucked into 1 Nephi 14 became ‘new writing’ for me when BYU chose it for the theme for their women’s conference several years ago. As Nephi saw the counterfeit gathering of Babylon preparing to fight against the Lamb of God, Nephi beheld “the power of God descend upon the saints of His church and upon the covenant people of the Lord, who were scattered upon all the face of the earth; and they were armed with righteousness and with the power of God in great glory.” (1 Nephi 14:14) So here’s some things to wonder: - What does righteousness look like? - What’s the difference between authentic righteousness and hypocrisy? - How can righteousness arm you against evil? - How can righteousness give you access to the power of God and His glory? First - righteousness looks a lot like obedience to God’s law. It’s motivated by love of God rather than fear of God.  There’s desire to do what’s right that starts to become a part of the heart and mind and soul with each practiced act of obedience. In spite of getting it wrong regularly, perhaps even on a daily basis, it looks like which way you’re facing at the end of the day, and which way you’re facing the next morning when you start again. Hugh Nibley said: “Who is righteous? Anyone who is repenting. No matter how bad he has been, if he is repenting he is a righteous man. There is hope for him. And no matter how good he has been all his life, if he is not repenting, he is a wicked man. The difference is which way you are facing. The man on the top of the stairs facing down is much worse off than the man on the bottom step who is facing up. The direction we are facing, that is repentance; and that is what determines whether we are good or bad.” - Hugh Nibley, Approaching Zion, pg. 301-302 Righteousness is a regular target of derision and criticism in the world at large as people often confuse self-righteousness with the real thing. In fact, if anything screams “me thinks he dost protest too much,” it’s a so-called unbeliever hurling the criticism of hypocrisy at a righteous person. Hypocrisy is pretending you’re something you’re not; an authentically righteous person knows what he is not - perfectly righteous.  He fully recognizes he is a work in progress, riddled with flaws in a fallen world. A righteous person doesn’t feel self-congratulatory when he gets it right; he feels gratitude that he did for once. The world seems to use this standard to define hypocrisy: anyone who lives beneath what he believes as part of his value system to be right and true and good.  Hmmph. By that standard, every single human except Jesus Christ is a hypocrite. A righteous person knows full well he isn’t living up to every standard he values, but he is trying every day. But a hypocrite pretends he’s actually pulling it off.  There is nothing authentic or genuine in hypocrisy. From our friends at Google, we learn this about the root word: “The word hypocrite comes from the Greek word hypokrites — “an actor” or “a stage player.” It literally translates as “an interpreter from underneath” which reflects that ancient Greek actors wore masks and the actor spoke from underneath that mask.” An authentically righteous person knows who he is trying to become, and readily acknowledges the distance between where he is and how far he has to go. So how can being a completely messed up human being, who needs and uses the gift of repentance daily, become armed against the combined powers of evil in this world in the last battles? This is the essence of practice, and the beauty of becoming what you practice. As a piano teacher I’ve watched daily practice literally transform piano students into legit pianists. Students worry about making mistakes at their lesson. They don’t realize that in spite of the mistakes, I can tell whether they’ve practiced during the week or not.  Practice simply… shows. I think that’s what it’s like when you’re practicing being a better person than you really are - a more patient person, a more generous person, a more forgiving person. What if, as you practice those things - clumsily and horribly day after day - you begin to transform into a legit patient person, generous person, forgiving person? What if you’re gradually, daily, inevitably, becoming the things you practice every day? What if that’s the oil you’re putting in your lamp in preparation for the Bridegroom? What if the reason it arms you against evil is because you’re turning into a person who doesn’t ever seek after evil anymore, and that gives you protection - because what if God’s natural laws of both the universe and human behavior are such that He is indeed bound when we do what He says (D&C 82:10), and He must give us additional access to His power and glory and protection when we make daily practice a lifestyle? And what do we practice?  We practice listening when the Holy Ghost nudges us to not say this, or do say that. To use a free afternoon this way, or to not use a late night that way. So many things to practice, and if we’re honest with ourselves and truly motivated, it might surprise us how very much more power we have to know what to practice every day - eventually in the very moment. Saying you’re a righteous person is similar to saying you’re a piano student. We are students of righteousness - doing it quite badly on a regular basis. But if we’re facing the right direction every day, and we’re willing to try again every day, using the gift of repentance and the Atonement of Jesus Christ, it’s enough. It’s enough for a generous Father in Heaven, and our generous Savior who paid for us to have the privilege of daily practice.  And in the crunch of the battles of the last days, it’s going to matter that we’ve made practicing a lifestyle. It’s going to show.

Come Follow Me (1 Nephi 16-22) I love that God teaches in patterns. A free associating brain like mine has a much easier time connecting the dots with patterns. Maybe it's a human thing. The word of God is symbolized in this curious ball which mysteriously shows up the morning Lehi's family has been instructed to break camp and go elsewhere. At first glance, an idle observer can't imagine this exotic artifact has such a crucial purpose. You have to open it to get it to work. But so many other patterns are instructive as you watch this family navigate with their new device. Pattern 1 - the ball led the family "in the more fertile parts of the wilderness" (1 Nephi 16:16). The word of God keeps us in the more fertile parts of the wilderness of mortality. To stay in these fertile parts is to remain spiritually focused, not allowing the temporal enticements of mortal living to draw us away from our eternal purpose and mission. A spiritual focus is an eternal focus - intentionally looking - peering hard when we're out of practice - at the goodness of God in our lives - even if temporally we are in the middle of a wilderness of adversity. Spiritual focus makes the wilderness of mortality more rich and abundant. Within days of this valuable tool of help and guidance appearing, the temporal wilderness of Lehi's family gets just a little more fun when Nephi's bow breaks. Ironic timing much? Here comes the family's first test of faith after the liahona appears, and the only one who thinks to use it to help them is Nephi. What a beautiful example of Christ-like love. In all his proactivity of urging the family to remain faithful and creating a makeshift bow, Nephi still turns to his prophet father - a man who shifted his own spiritual focus to temporal for just a little minute (hunger can do strange things to people) - and asked him - as the priesthood leader - where he should search for food. Pattern 2 - the Lord directs us into the scriptures - His word - for answers to our problems. "And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord said unto [Lehi]: Look upon the ball, and behold the things which are written." (1 Nephi 16:26) I wonder how many times I could've received better help and more clear answers from the Lord by being more present and engaged in my scriptures. Or here's one for you: by opening them. Because Nephi makes this stunning realization as his father turns to the ball per the Lord's instructions: Pattern 3 - the scriptures give us guidance and reveal God's will in our lives "And it came to pass that I, Nephi, beheld the pointers which were in the ball, that they did work according to the faith and diligence and heed which we did give unto them." (1 Nephi 16:28) According to faith and diligence. Faith looks like entering with an intention to do something about what you learn. Diligence looks like keeping at it if you don't get an answer as fast as it shows in Book of Mormon videos, and if it takes a while to see if you're serious (see what faith looks like). Diligent also looks like starting over again when you've been less than faithful and diligent. Diligent isn't 100%. Diligence is 100% starting again. Again and again and again. Pattern 4 - we get insight from the scriptures sometimes with new thoughts and ideas. "And there was also written upon them a new writing, which was plain to read, which did give us understanding concerning the ways of the Lord; and it was written and changed from time to time, according to the faith and diligence which we gave unto it." (1 Nephi 16:29) Okay this might be my favorite part. New writing? Changed from time to time? What's all this? From a book with the same words written it from thousands of years ago? The Holy Ghost is able to give us this "new writing" because of our consistent and diligent effort - according to our faith. Savor every word of this eloquent testimony of "new writing" from Corrie Ten Boom as she writes her witness of the power the Bible gave her in a concentration camp: "Sometimes I would slip the Bible from its little sack with hands that shook, so mysterious had it become to me. It was new; it had just been written. I marveled sometimes that the ink was dry." (Corrie Ten Boom, The Hiding Place) My fondest prayer for any human who wants to open our modern-day ball of curious workmanship would be this: to discover the same mystery, and as they journey through God's dealings with His children as they read, come to marvel that the ink is dry.

Friday morning, long hike day. Dale's been doing it since retirement, except for the long months of my illness, hospitalization, and recovery. He craves his hike days like oxygen or chocolate chippers, his finely-honed cookie recipe, which he sometimes takes on his hikes. We say prayers together, and like most hiking days, there are two prayers going on in my head: the one I am saying out loud, and the one I am saying in my head. The one out loud: "Father - please bless us with the Holy Ghost today. Help us listen and recognize Thy voice. Give us the strength to obey what we hear." The one in my head: "Father - please don't let Dale think he's invulnerable on that mountain alone today. Please keep him safe and bring him back to me." Uncharacteristically, Dale kisses me twice - the typical 'see you later' peck, and then a more lingering one, like he's serious. And I had a little catch in my heart that said, "Something's going to happen to him today." Three hours later, I had a phone call from an unfamiliar number. "Is this Mrs. Simper? This is Tyler - I'm a paramedic with Salt Lake County. It looks like you're husband is having a heart attack. We're taking him to IMC." He maybe didn't say that part about Salt Lake County. The words I heard were: paramedic... husband... heart attack... IMC... As I drove to IMC, weeping, I prayed, "Father, please don't have spared my life two years ago to make me do the rest of this alone." I felt peace and the distinct thought that everything was going to be okay. But notice - sometimes Father doesn't tell us what okay looks like. I fully recognized I was not told which side of the veil Dale was going to land on for today's okay. Three hours later, after a frantic rush to the cath lab, two stents had been placed in the main artery of Dale's heart - the one grimly nicknamed the 'widowmaker.' He was in ICU with monitors on his heart. Around this time I got a text from an unfamiliar number. It was the woman in the photo - on the left - Tori. "Hi, I was one of the women trail runners that helped Dale out today. How is he doing now?" Tori and the other women in the photo were trail running on the Salt Lake Overlook Trail where Dale was hiking. They had passed him on the way up. For Dale, two miles up, when he felt distress and knew he was in trouble, he knew unmistakably that he had to turn around to get down that mountain. The same four runners passed him coming back down, and saw instantly he was in trouble. It took asking four times if he was okay before he could pant out, "I think I'm having a heart attack." Miracle 1 - these women were runners. They were trained and accustomed to running this trail. Miracle 2 - there were four of them. Two could run to the trail head parking lot and drive out for cell service to call an ambulance. Miracle 3 - The two who stayed behind - Tori and the one in the white, Camille - helped him get back down the two miles he'd just hiked up. Camille asked Dale if they could say a prayer, which they did. He had been praying for help before they got to him. Miracle 4 - Camille is a nurse. As she could, she started to ask Dale the medical questions she knew the paramedics would ask. She was then able to give all that information to the paramedics, because... Miracle 5 - Dale was completely spent a couple of hours later when he finally reached the ambulance with his new angel friends. Why is that a miracle? To my mind - being completely spent at the moment he hit that ambulance, with absolutely nothing more in him, tells me there were angels helping him from the other side of the veil as well. Dale spent the weekend in the hospital - close to 24 hours in ICU, and another 24 on a general nursing floor. He's now a cardiac patient with serious damage to his heart that needs to heal - presumably from the several hours of exertion while no blood or oxygen was getting to his heart. He went from a guy on no meds to a guy with a pill catcher full of pills to heal his heart. He's keeping track of sodium and carbs, and isn't planning on making chocolate chippers quite so often. To say it's humbling to know both our lives have been spared so we can stay together for now is a whopper of an understatement. What could God possibly be up to? No sense trying to answer but to live in such a state of gratitude that we never stop asking Him what else we can do for Him to thank Him. Knowing that our dearest Father in Heaven is always up to something, I'm quite sure that somehow, as we keep trying to be His little helpers, that question will keep getting answered in both ordinary and extraordinary ways. Last Friday - the extraordinary little helpers' names were Tori, Camille, Cassi, and Erin. One thought to ask God that morning how she could help Him. Look what He did with that prayer. I will never be able to stop thanking her and her friends for being where He needed them.

(Originally given as a talk in sacrament meeting June 12, 2022) I need to give you three images for the story I'm about to tell. The first image comes from the series, The Chosen. After Jesus casts evil spirits from a man, the man lays completely spent from the trauma of the ordeal. As he lies on the ground, Jesus tenderly holds the man’s face in his hands, and tells him, “I know it felt like it would last forever, but it’s over now.” The second image comes from a little girl who survived the Willie Handcart Company, Agnes Caldwell. Though she was rescued, she was devastated that the man who rescued her made her run alongside the wagon for quite a while, nearly past the point of complete exhaustion. Then, when she thought she could run no further, he tenderly gathered her into the wagon, and wrapped her with blankets. During the run, she was certain he was the meanest man that had ever lived. Later, she realized the man had forced circulation back into her very frostbitten legs and feet, most certainly saving them. The third image is from a story in a letter we received home from our son when he was on his mission in Argentina. He received a phone call one night from a young man who had been baptized that day with his wife. The wife had gone to a home to see about taking in their laundry to earn some money for their family, only to learn it was a trap, where she was sexually assaulted. Grant and his companion rushed to the hospital to be with the young couple. Grant wrote home that he took this young husband – not much older than he - by the shoulders and said to him, “These are the kinds of experiences that will either bind you to God, or tear you away from him. YOU are the one who decides which.”  Grant wrote that he could see from the look on the man’s face that he was going to choose God. So - remember these images: Jesus holding a face in His hands, a wagon master saving a little girl’s legs and feet by making her do something she didn’t think she could do, and a young man making an important decision to never leave His newly found God. Now. The story. On October 27, I fell on my morning walk and broke my shoulder.  After spending hours in the emergency room being treated, Dale and I both presented with covid symptoms three days later. I was admitted to Park City’s IHC hospital on November 3. On November 22, I was told I needed to be intubated. I remember thinking that this meant I would most surely die, which surprised and disappointed me. I don’t remember feeling all that sick. On November 30, doctors performed an emergency bowel resection, as heavy sedation had slowed my body systems and a bowel obstruction had formed. The surgery went seemingly well, until December 5 when I went into septic shock and renal failure. It was discovered that the resection had leaked throughout my body. Two more surgeries were performed to save my life in the next three days, and I was put back on a ventilator for another two plus weeks – a total of 25 days of intubation. This still sounds like someone else's story; I remember nothing after November 22. The next cognizant thought I had was on December 18 – a week before Christmas - waking up in ICU and having someone tell me all this. The next three weeks included dialysis, attempts at physical therapy to wake my atrophied muscles up, and horrible bouts of PTSD – usually, in the middle of the night. I was moved to a skilled nursing facility on January 6 – the only one of two facilities in a 4-state area with an in-house dialysis. No other facility wanted to deal with getting me to a dialysis clinic, as I was completely immobile. The next 7 weeks were more physical and occupational therapy and more dialysis. Besides my life being spared, the greatest miracle, to me, was walking out of that facility on February 23 on my own two feet, finished with dialysis. One of the most important nights, spiritually, during this incredible journey, was the night of my birthday, three days before I was first intubated. I could tell I was having trouble filling my lungs, but I still didn’t feel all that sick. And I got the wild idea… to sing. The nurses could hear me; they told me later. Looking back, I think it was more than just trying to fill my lungs with air. I think the Holy Ghost was teaching me, before I entered the pit that was the next three months, that I needed to learn to praise God IN the hard thing. I had so often marveled about Nephi being able to praise God as he was tied to the mast of a sinking ship, or Joseph, praising God as he was thrown in a pit by his own brothers, sold into slavery, and falsely accused and imprisoned. How do you do that?  I could understand being grateful for the lessons after the fact, but how do you praise God in the middle of the Hard Thing? That night I went to YouTube, where I found Dale and 360 of his closest little singing friends, who sang these words with me: Benediction Come to us this night, Console our souls, Becalm our fears, And bless our sleeping. Come to us this day, Awake our hearts, Renew our minds, And bless our rising. Come to us this hour, Restore our hope, Confirm our faith, And bless our living. Come to us we pray, Receive our love, Behold our joy, And bless our praising. (David Warner) I probably sang that song at least 15 times that night. That night was one of the most sacred nights I’ve ever experienced. Looking back, I know the Lord was helping me build the ark for the coming flood, and teaching me a lesson I would need and use for eternity. Elder D. Todd Christofferson’s April conference talk, “Our Relationship with God,” quotes Brigham Young: “My faith is placed upon the Lord Jesus Christ, and my knowledge I have received from Him.”  Elder Christofferson said that it is in building this relationship with God that strengthens our faith, not the receiving of expected blessings or outcomes.  I have learned for myself that this is true. That’s one of the great blessing of trials. The refining process – and who we become in the trial – is definitely part of the blessing. But the greatest blessing is better knowing our beloved Father, His Son, and the Holy Ghost personally. Elder Christofferson promised: “We can anticipate growing trust and faith in the Father and the Son, an increasing sense of their love, and the consistent comfort and guidance of the Holy Spirit.” All three of those promises were realized in what I have come to call my Liberty Jail Winter – which, incidentally, lasted about the same length of time. 1.  I trust my Heavenly Father, my Savior, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost more than before. Elder Christofferson counseled, “Allow Them over time to manifest Their fidelity to you. Come to know Them and truly to know yourself.” I am a witness, and was spared to witness:  the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost are always with us. Their tutelage during this earthly experience is profoundly personal and intimate. They will leave nothing undone for our best good. I do not hyperbolize when I say that They have been with me every single moment of this unusual trial of facing death, losing all my strength, and literally relearning every single thing my body once knew how to do effortlessly. My prayers became constant, with no formal beginnings or endings – just an endless conversation with my most beloved Father in Heaven, who created me to have this experience so I could learn to trust Him and love Him best. 2.  It can be difficult to imagine that adversity – especially pain – is a manifestation of God’s love. But I am a witness, and was spared to witness: God loves us so much, He allows the conditions of the Fall, our own agency, and the agency of others, to provide learning opportunities in a world of opposition.  We could receive these valuable lessons in no other way. We have scriptural evidence that God weeps over the human condition and the suffering of His children, particularly including the suffering of His most beloved and obedient Son. The most loving instructions I received in the darkest days of complete helplessness were these three words: Be. Here. Now.”  As I heard those words so often, I came to recognize that Father didn’t want me to dwell on the what if’s or if only’s of the past. Nor did he want me to become overwhelmed at the seemingly impossible milestones still ahead of me in my future. The instructions to Be. Here. Now. - taught me two valuable lessons. I learned to truly experience all the wretchedness of the experience, so I could witness forever that I wasn’t in that place alone. I was succored and supported by Jesus Christ, because of His atoning sacrifice, particularly because He had taken my name as proxy into the sacred temple of the Garden of Gethsemane. Even more sacred to me – I have learned that if I had wished that sacred place of here and now away, I would have left Jesus Christ there to have suffered it for me – alone – thereby missing out on the opportunity He gave me to Be. Here. Now – with Him. Learning to Be. Here. Now. is what has taught me that He truly wants to always be there with me. 3.  Recognizing the consistent comfort and guidance of the Holy Ghost has always been one of the most tender evidences of God’s love for me. I’ve always fancied I’m a little spoiled because of the personal tutelage that I receive from the Holy Ghost. But learning to do everything over again has meant learning to listen to my body in ways I didn’t know how to do before. The Holy Ghost helped me with every step – from not taking too big a bite when I was relearning to eat, to whether to push to sit up or stand up a little longer, or to recognize it was time to rest. The Holy Ghost also taught me to focus on my caregivers rather than my own pain and discomfort. I learned to ask a really important question: “tell me your story.”  The Holy Ghost taught me of the heroism of these hard-working, overworked angels, and instructed me to testify to them of God’s love for them, and of how heroic their lives and their efforts were to me. Focusing on something besides my own miserable condition was important training to think of others before myself, and in doing so, it blessed us all. Several of my helpers would spend time in my room, saying “It feels different in here. There’s peace in here. There’s light in here.” I am a witness: when God is there, peace and light must also be there. Remember the three images I spoke of earlier. Those images are important to this story, because I was one of those three faces at different points in the last several months. Over these last months, I was the man, at one time or another, spent from the trauma of the experience, whose face Jesus cradled in His hands. I am a witness and was spared to witness: I could nearly feel His hands on my face. I have been the little girl running beside the wagon. There were moments where I couldn’t believe how hard it was to be made to do such a thing, when all I wanted to do was rest. But praise God forever, that besides being the tender Father who cradled my face, He is also the wise Father who placed me in a situation where I had no choice but to run – or in this case - climb painstakingly out of the deep, deep pit, nearly spent with the effort. But most importantly, I was also like the newly-baptized young man, who decided in the midst of the hard, that I was not leaving my God, nor was I blaming Him. That was the beauty of learning to praise Him. One of my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes comes from The Screwtape Letters. Screwtape, a senior devil, writes this warning to an apprentice devil: “Our cause is never more in jeopardy than when a human, no longer desiring but still intending to do [God’s] will, looks round upon a universe in which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.” We aren’t always going to be in the mood to be obedient. Circumstances will make us feel that we have a note from home that excuses us from being obedient. But the truly obedient – are obedient even when they’re not in the mood, or when the circumstances would suggest otherwise - no matter what happens to them. They understand the importance – and the power – of covenants. God’s love isn’t evidenced in the sparing of a life, nor is it evidenced in the calling of a child home. God’s love is evidenced in the lessons taught and learned in each of our personalized curriculums, no matter where they take us. The very most important lesson I learned was to praise Him – to tell Him regularly, with the intent to learn to tell Him unceasingly – that He is good, that He has all knowledge, all love, all light, all power, that His plan is perfect in its power to save His children, and that I rejoice in being a part of it. Praise is more than gratitude – it’s the highest form of gratitude. It implies trust, a sense of God’s love for us personally, and an acknowledgement of His consistent comfort and guidance. Praise can save us from despair. I am a witness, and was spared to witness: praise saved me from despair. Elder Christofferson ends his talk: “In the end, it is the blessing of a close and abiding relationship with the Father and the Son that we seek. It makes all the difference and is everlastingly worth the cost. We will testify with Paul ‘that the sufferings of this present [mortal] time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.’” (Romans 8:18) Francis Webster, a survivor of the Martin Handcart Company, expressed it perfectly:  “The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay.” I am a witness: it is a privilege indeed. I close with these images of praise that come closest to expressing the sure knowledge and joy of my heart that God is my Father, that Jesus Christ is my Savior and Redeemer, and that the Holy Ghost is my teacher and testator, and that these three are, indeed, my truest, my most unfailing and faithful Friends. From the hymn, “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling”: “Finish then, thy new creation; true and spotless let us be. Let us see thy great salvation perfectly restored in Thee. Changed from glory into glory, till in heav’n we take our place, Till we cast our crowns before thee, lost in wonder, love and praise." This is a beautiful reference to one of my favorite scriptures of praise. In Revelation 4:10-11, it speaks of the four and twenty elders, which are not just twenty-four people, but rather, a representation of all faithful people who keep their covenants: “The four and twenty elders fall down before him that sat on the throne, and worship him that liveth for ever and ever, and cast their crowns before the throne, saying, “Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou has created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created.” The pleasure of our God is to see His children happy, and the nature of happiness is to be with our God. We receive those crowns by virtue of the perfect obedience and generosity of our Savior, Jesus Christ, who shared His earned inheritance with those of us who could never earn a crown without Him. How fitting, then, that we should cast those crowns at His feet, in eternal praise for His goodness – and the goodness of our great Father, who would allow that perfect Son to suffer all our hard things with us, so that He could share celestial glory with us. I am a witness, and was spared to witness. I was spared to witness that I know these things by the power of the Holy Ghost, who has taught them to me. For this priceless knowledge, I praise the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Edited version of this talk appeared in the April 2023 Liahona under the same title: https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/liahona/2023/04/united-states-and-canada-section/praise-in-the-hard-things?lang=eng

"The one perfectly divine thing, the one glimpse of God's paradise given on earth, is to fight a losing battle-and not lose it." G.K. Chesterton The second to last chapter in the Book of Mormon is a letter written by Moroni’s father, Mormon. At the beginning of the letter, Mormon expresses frustration over the behavior of his army. Attempts to discipline their base behavior causes anger. Saying nothing brings even more unrestrained debauchery. And then he writes what has become my Reason to Fight for Lost Causes: “And now, my loved son, notwithstanding THEIR hardness, let US labor diligently; for if WE should cease to labor, WE should be brought under condemnation; for we have a labor to perform whilst in this tabernacle of clay, that we may conquer the enemy of all righteousness, and rest our souls in the kingdom of God.” (Moroni 9:6) True disciples of Jesus Christ do the right thing, and don’t alter their behavior or choices because of someone else’s behavior or choices. The disciple of Christ leaves an unmistakable record of where he stands with this independence. Our choices reveal our character, our desires - and WHOSE we really are. They reveal the principles we value the most. As the letter progresses and the army’s behavior sinks ever lower, phrases like these are tragic and sobering: - “they are without order and without mercy” - “ I cannot any longer enforce my commands” - “they delight in everything save that which is good” - “THEY ARE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE AND PAST FEELING” (Moroni 9:18-20) That last one jumped off the page this time. Not because it’s surprising that a nation who has rejected God has become past feeling for mankind. That’s simply a test-and-measure statement of natural law. What really got me was why: the people were without principle. And then, perversely, I shook my head and laughed ruefully over the clever sophistry of the destroyer. How do you get a society to completely abandon law and order - become past feeling? By getting it to abandon its principles. BUT - how do you get a society to abandon its principles? By focusing ONLY on feelings. At first. Ironic much? But the greatest thinkers and writers and doers of the ages know this one great truth: principles are for the very times when our fickle human feelings cannot be trusted. Principles are to prevent our feelings from betraying us. They’re for clinging to in the storm. They’re for keeping us from becoming beasts. Principles are what drive us to fight for a lost cause, because in the end - fighting for God - and the rights of His children - is NOT a lost cause because it’s fighting WITH God. And God wins. This book is exquisite. The people in it are noble and heroic, and testify of Jesus Christ. The principles in the Book of Mormon can prevent individuals - and nations - from succumbing to fickle feelings - abandoning those principles - and becoming past feeling. I would commend you to seek this Jesus (Ether 12:41) who walks the pages of this book, and changed forever the lives of those who followed Him. He’s changed me, and continues to. I’m so grateful I’ve learned that even awkward and clumsy attempts to follow Him… count.

(Edited from original post October 22, 2022) A plea to my Utah friends: please, please, please break up with KSL News and the Deseret News - two of the most damaging political influences in Utah. For years, we were subscribers to the Deseret News, and believed KSL to be an unbiased, trusted local news source. Typing that makes me sick to my stomach today. Trusted? Um. No. Unbiased? Not even close. I cut my teeth politically on the likes of Thomas Sowell and Walter Williams – both syndicated and carried in Deseret News for years. So I assumed what I fear far too many still assume - that Des/KSL, if not conservative leaning, are at least moderate. If they were, they are no more. The thing that makes Des/KSL dangerous to the Utah political landscape is the fact that so many believe they’re getting their news from a conservative source. Or worse – far too many believe that because of the Church’s connections to these news outlets – these news sources, if not endorsed by their church leaders, are at least unimpeachable. Sadly, nothing could be further from the truth; they are reading or listening/watching their news mingled with scripture. Like the scorpion who stings the frog in the old story, with the Trib, at least you know what you’re getting when you pick it up. But far too many of my friends are regular consumers of Des/KSL, and regurgitate bald-faced lies as truth – lies I know came from these Utah media wolves in sheep’s clothing. The longer I’m away from regular exposure to them, the more glaring their lies are – often, simply lies of omission. I continue to be astonished, mystified, and even terrified at how successful Des/KSL has been in driving a narrative that is damaging the state of Utah. Those of you who know me well, know I don’t care at all if we disagree. As I’ve spent the last 14 years of being more wakeful – not woke – about the world around me, this is something I’ve learned from my own experience. The idea - ‘maybe I’m wrong about Des/KSL…’ led me to look at all the news I consume with a more critical eye. And that idea led to an even more important discovery: news is a product, and everyone who produces it has an angle. You’d best figure out everyone’s angle and assume nothing about anyone’s motives without your own due diligence. All that has led me to this personal axiom: friends don’t let friends consume Des/KSL.

(Original post January 2023) It's just an ordinary plate from a Mexican shop in Ensenada. Probably didn’t even cost $20. I bought it on a cruise we took with some friends several years ago. As I got it out after putting Christmas away, I realized how much I loved it. The day we bought it, I’d laid the bag it was in on the top of my open suitcase when we returned to the ship, hoping to insulate it with clothing before packing it. I don’t remember the heavy item Dale was carrying, but he tossed it on top, and we both heard the smashing ceramic pieces at the same time. Then we both did something extraordinary, given the years of imperfect practicing that has been our marriage. He instantly said he would try to fix it. Was it even worth it, given the fact it was not worth a lot to begin with? Before it was even out of his mouth, I had already made the decision to not be angry or cross. I felt deep disappointment, but my first instinct was that he was more important than a souvenir. If you look closely, you can see all the places where Dale painstakingly glued this not-worth-very-much souvenir back together. Across the room? It looks absolutely lovely doesn’t it? Up close? You can see the evidence of the scars. It’s the most beautiful metaphor for our marriage - and reminder of how much we’re growing together - that I own. So. Basically, it’s priceless.

(originally posted June 3, 2017) Slice of life story: We all know what we are supposed to do when life hands us lemons, BUT… do we know what to do when life is in a mood and simply will not hand them over? What then? Tomorrow is our extended family’s monthly Sunday dinner, and it’s my turn to host. My parents, Auntie Denise, and my brothers and their families will all come for a monthly FHE.  Besides the BBQ’d chicken tenders, we will also be making my mother’s irresistible homemade lemon ice cream, and no, I will not tell you what time dinner is. Much as I love you all, I just can’t feed you all.  ;) Clearly, lemons will be on my grocery list. Friday morning is traditionally the day I take my mother to get groceries. The first Friday of the month, we also hit Costco. Yesterday was the first Friday of the month, so yes – we hit both Winco AND Costco. ATTEMPT ONE: I’m at Winco, where there are plenty of lemons. But no, I need many lemons, because I also drink this potion every morning with the juice of half a lemon in it. This potion has affectionately been nicknamed the Kevorkian drink, because we’re pretty sure it was his idea. So, in the presence of the lemons, I make the conscious decision to reject them all in favor of the large bags of lemons I know await me at Costco. ATTEMPT TWO: I’m at Costco, where there USUALLY plenty of lemons. But no, not today. There is not a single lemon in the store. When I asked the lemon guy, he said they’d sold out in one day. When I expressed mild surprise, Lemon Guy gave me a look that clearly communicated, “You do know you’re in a Costco, don’t you?” He hastens to tell me they’re getting more lemons, but not until later in the day – 5:00 or 6:00. You know – the time we all love to go to Costco. ATTEMPT THREE: After unloading two trips of groceries at my mother’s house, and two trips of groceries at my own house, I’m feeling fainthearted about going back to Costco for a big bag of lemons. Stacie’s a good sport; maybe she’ll come with me. We set out for Costco a little after 7:30 p.m., because seriously – go to Costco around 5:00 or 6:00? – are you nuts?  And I kid you not – NO. LEMONS. Lemon Guy #2 affirms, yeah, none came in today.  By now, thanks to flowering pear trees (DO NOT ASK), it’s too late to go to Sam’s Club, where Stacie has a card; why don’t we just run over in the morning after we walk in the park? Super idea - the Quest for the Holy Grail Lemons continues. ATTEMPT FOUR: It’s Saturday morning, the walk in the park was everything it should be, Stacie is proud to have remembered her “cards”, and we are off to Sam’s! We get there, jump out of the car, this mission is finally down to search and destroy mode, when I hear Stacie gasp from the other side of the car. I walk around to see her standing there, staring in disbelief at: her driver’s license (I am driving) and… her credit card.  That’s right. No. Sam’s. Card. Stacie is now apologizing profusely, taking complete responsibility for my lemonless existence, insisting she needed to come back over and fill her car with gas anyway, and I am laughing my head off, remembering that naïve moment, 24 hours earlier, when I was in the presence of lemons, and cavalierly walked on by. ATTEMPT FIVE: Stacie kindly sets off, without me this time, to get MY lemons. Knowing they’re for me, she just for a little second forgets that she hasn’t actually gotten back to Sam’s to get the lemons, and starts to come to my house to deliver my lemons, begins a quick U-turn in front of my house so she can actually GO to Sam’s for gas. Oh, and the lemons. It’s really, really good ice cream. That is all I am saying.

[Originally published January 4, 2014] It's taken quite a while to figure out what I want to do with this blog, but I was so happy to get on here this morning, look around at what I'd already put here, and realize that I knew, subliminally, at least, from the beginning. I'm learning the importance of intent. Too much living takes place unintentionally, and it's usually where we humans get ourselves in trouble. When I taught YSA Institute a couple of years ago, the first semester's curriculum was entitled "The Gospel and the Productive Life". That's when the notion of living with intent first started to percolate. When I saw the lesson topics - ranging from paying tithing and living debt free to physical fitness and good health - it struck me how easy it is to slide into a path of least resistance, in almost every aspect of our daily living. It became the connecting thread of the lessons for that semester in an attempt to paint a picture for the students: living the gospel of Jesus Christ transforms a schlepping, scrubby Natural Man who is generally acted upon, into a true Saint - an agent who chooses to act, rather than wait to be acted upon - a Child of God who, because of conscious, intentional actions....IS, who steadily, daily practices and imitates developing the attributes of his Creator...the great I AM. THAT...is some pretty high living. No wonder it inspires so many of us to.....nap. But yesterday, I came across a quote I had put in the front of my planner about 10 years ago. It had great meaning for some major life changes and shifted a lot of negative energy to positive energy at the time. It's from a sweet little book called Hope for the Flowers, by Trina Paulus: "How does one become a butterfly? You must want to be able to fly so much, that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar." That really explains symbolically the purpose of this life: we were born as the children of the Creator, and must go through a metamorphic process to go back to Him. We work, and practice, and fail, and start over...and make progress, and backslide, and try again, and start over...and strive, and succeed, and fall again, and start over...and over...and over...and over...as we struggle to break free of the chrysalis that binds us. It's easy, from the perspective of inside the chrysalis, to forget that the chrysalis is not all that there is to life. There's soooo much more. There. Is. FLYING. Being a butterfly is soooo much better than being a caterpillar, but it's easy to forget that the chrysalis, which feels so restrictive and binds us down, is the very thing that facilitates the change. The work and intentional energy required to break free of it is the very process that makes the transformation from caterpillar to butterfly possible. As you may or may not know, I am not Chinese. Nevertheless, I am dubbing 2014 The Year of the Butterfly. When my little scrubby self wants to keep crawling along its usual path of least resistance, the reminding, nagging, coaching, encouraging question must override: Would you rather crawl....or fly?

[Originally published March 17, 2017] I was privileged to share this essay with UN delegates at the annual Commission on the Status of Women in March 2017: A societal movement to diminish motherhood has been in the propaganda mills of elite central planners for generations. This is spelled out in new policy being considered at the UN, and calls for "measures to recognize, reduce and redistribute women's [and girls'] disproportionate [burden] of unpaid care of care and domestic work..." Apparently, the propaganda has culminated to this bold moment of honesty, or, the central planners have decided they can wait no longer to win you over with spin. Bottom line: the State wants your children. For over a century, the most forward thinking elitists have prepared for victory on this point: a well-ordered State can raise a child to serve the State better than its parents can. The State is right. If the end of raising a child is to see it serve the collective well, then the incubator of cradle to career oversight is perfect. Devoid of any real nurturing, the State can raise serfs to its service much more efficiently when love, nurturing, and family loyalty are removed. But, if the world still wants thinkers, innovators, and people with a sense of humanity, they still need homes with mothers and fathers. Children still need to see adult human beings - appropriately sacrificing for them - to know that this is the surest way to have a life of purpose and joy. The elitists have made a fatal mistake: they say "burden" like it's a bad thing. C.S. Lewis once said that homemaking was the ultimate career that made all other careers possible. Policy crafters and influencers forget something as they deride and dismiss motherhood and family life: once upon a time, someone took on the burden of raising...them. It's a glorious burden to lose your figure, your sleep, your mind - so you can bring another human being into the world, sit up with her when she has croup, help him get his science fair project finished, and teach him to ride a bicycle. It's a glorious burden to lose all dignity as you leave your house in sweats that have spit up on them because you're out of milk, and wear last year's dress to a piano recital - your stomach in complete knots as if you were the one performing. It's a glorious burden to read a seventh bed-time story to your children, the words slurring into near-drunken incoherence, as you are the only one who gets sleepy in this night-time ritual nearly as sacred as the family prayer. It's a glorious burden to be given a necklace made of macaroni, a sloppy kiss that smears spaghetti sauce on your cheek, and a tiny wad of a love note that says, "I love you, Mom - you are the BIST!" It's a glorious burden to wander, sleepless, through a darkened house, stopping at the beds of each of your sleeping children, pouring out wept prayers of gratitude and pleading that God will watch over them when you can't. Here is what the elitists don't know, or have forgotten, so far removed from such realities as humanity can be: the very thing that makes motherhood glorious is the fact that it is a burden - a back-breaking, mind-wracking, heart-stretching, soul-forging burden. It's a glorious burden because it turns us into better, higher human beings for having taken it on. Every human on this planet started life with a mother and a father. Not everyone takes to parenthood, and tragically, there are still too many children who don't have the love and sanctifying sacrifice of present parents. But through the millennia, there is no alternative way of raising children that can hold a candle to it. To buy the lie that this is a burden that should be "recognized, reduced, and redistributed" is absurd and dangerous. The glorious burden of motherhood is most definitely to be recognized - as the highest thing a woman can choose to do with her life. Motherhood should be recognized, but it should be reverenced - and protected - for the endangered species that the central planners are trying to make of it. In spite of the spin, this is the cold hard reality: in spite of the imperfect execution, there are still more parents, around the globe, that freely choose to take on parenting, because it is a glorious burden worth shouldering. Civilization depends on it. #MomStory #EmpowerMothers #LoveIsNotABurden #CSW61

[Originally published March 17, 2018] As we embrace our divine roles as mothers, it’s natural that we will suddenly find ourselves in proper awe, respect, and gratitude for our own parents. As we serve our children in soul-stretching and sanctifying ways, we can see with fresh eyes the same service that was given to us. And suddenly, the 5th commandment to honor our parents takes on the divine mandate it should: we owe our parents everything. As we speak of the responsibilities of family life, it’s important to remember to look in both directions, generationally. We speak incessantly of the joys of mothering - as we should - but I am in the season where I am learning the joy of ‘daughtering’. My 87-year-old father lost his balance permanently with a life-threatening bout of meningitis 6 years ago, and while he’s not completely helpless, my 86-year-old mother does nearly everything in running their humble little home. She has had nearly constant and debilitating back pain for nearly 40 years. She also has macular degeneration, and a minor stroke several years ago has diminished the fine motor skills in her dominant left hand. She actually functions much better than all of that would suggest, but my parents’ increasing needs has made me most tenderly aware of the terror my mother feels about moving in this fast-paced world with diminished capacities. As my parents’ needs have become greater, my opportunities to serve them have naturally increased. It’s made me realize that it’s not just an opportunity to increase service to them - it’s a duty. These are the people who gave me my life. Serving them in this last season of their lives has taught me that family life is created because of covenant connections, stretching both forward and backward into the generations. Covenant relationships create safety. For children, going forward to future generations, it’s covenant relationships between husband and wife that provide the safety of two committed parents, and a stable, predictable home. But now, with increased service to my parents, I am learning that these covenant relationships create the same safety for the generations before us. Covenants matter because they say, very simply, “I’m not going anywhere when this gets hard.” One day, as we were entering the grocery store, my mother was leaning heavily on my arm, and we were moving slowly to accommodate her pain. She apologized for slowing me down. A wave of gratitude washed over me. I told her, “I’m quite certain my short little legs slowed you down once upon a time, Mom - don’t you worry about it.” What a beautiful type - coming home to serve and sacrifice for our parents, to repay them for their service and sacrifice in giving us life and raising us. And even greater - what a beautiful type - that in coming full circle back to them, we realize how much more we owe our Heavenly Parent - for the same? -Laureen Simper (Gathering Families) #ComeHome #GatheringFamilies

[Originally published October 7, 2019] We got a new furnace last week. It was relatively painless on my part, until the last hour and a half of piano lessons in the afternoon. At that point, it wasn’t painful, so much as loud. Drilling, drilling, sometimes RHYTHMIC drilling - during three MUSIC lessons. It was super fun, especially for those three piano students. Well, and their ADD teacher. Each of the three students struggled to keep their head in their piece - even more than a normal piano lesson. Piano lessons are terribly distracting all by themselves. This is why, after playing something in a manner less than hoped for, piano students will continue to mutter, until the end of time, “It sounded so much better at home!” At Piano Teacher’s house there are so many things to distract you from the task at hand: the smell of something cooking in the crockpot, new Halloween decorations that weren’t up last week, still decompressing from being at school all day. Meanwhile, teacher is sitting right there, and a new goal suddenly emerged: Impress her. There was an abundance of sub-par playing during that hour and a half last week. Poor dears. They don’t realize: after teaching for thirty-six years, I can filter and extrapolate to get a true sense of what kind of practicing really went on during the week - just as surely as a dentist can peek into your mouth and determine how faithful you’ve been at flossing for the past six months. I kept murmuring encouraging words throughout, but it wasn’t until the last student that the inspiration came. I stopped Lucy mid-measure, and these words came wisely bubbling out of my mouth: “Don’t listen to the drill; focus on the music.” Lucy paused for a few more seconds, then continued with far fewer mistakes, and far more musicality. She could hear the difference, and here’s how I could tell: the satisfied grin she cut me at the end of the piece. I have a theory. However randomly noisy a concrete drill may be - drilling sometimes intermittently, sometimes rhythmically, and always unpredictably in its pattern - is nothing compared to the intentional noise of the world, initiated by the destroyer who would do anything - and I do mean ANYTHING - to keep us from ever having a still, quiet moment where we can focus on the music of the Spirit. Boyd K. Packer taught: “The world grows increasingly noisy.... This trend to more noise, more excitement, more contention, less restraint, less dignity, less formality is not coincidental nor innocent nor harmless.” [The implication is that if this trend isn’t coincidental, it’s intentional; if it’s not innocent or harmless, it’s insidious and dangerous.] “The first order issued by a commander mounting a military invasion is the jamming of the channels of communication of those he intends to conquer. Irreverence suits the purposes of the adversary by obstructing delicate channels of revelation in both mind and spirit” (“Reverence Invites Revelation,” General Conference, October 1991). Irreverence is a huge objective of the destroyer; such is his despising of all things sacred. But if he can’t get us all the way to irreverent, he’s more than happy to take us to just plain old, ordinary, common... noise. And I don’t mean common in the ordinary sense. In yet another attempt to get God’s children into a collective, unworthy lump to prove his point, Satan is thrilled with the commonality of the noise - the noise we all hear, collectively. Consider these thoughts of Arthur Henry King, author of An Abundance of the Heart: “Continuous background noise, from the radio or television, for example - discourages the development of perception and discrimination. Something that is there the whole time no longer draws proper attention: it dulls; it becomes a kind of drug; it floats us sluggishly along. It is like a stream of dirty, lukewarm water, a kind of inferior bath taken disgustingly in common.” [Isn’t that a grim image, the thought that the background noise of the culture is like taking a bath in the same bath water as everybody else?] “Whatever encourages our inattention diminishes our ability to make wise choices; because of all the things that are required to make wise choices, a delicate and sensitive attention is the most important” (An Abundance of the Heart, p. 210, emphasis added). You have to consciously seek out silence in a world of spiritual concrete drills. There are TV’s or background music in every waiting room. There is hold music in every phone system. It’s as if the world, collectively, is happy to whistle in the dark, as long as they’re doing it together - terrified of it, yet maybe even more terrified they may unwittingly stumble across the Light if it’s quiet for too long. And the Light - you know... There are pesky expectations! Wouldn’t want that... To be intentional disciples, we have to tune out the noise of the drill - the commonality of the world swirling around us - and focus on the music of the Spirit. We’ll “play” with fewer mistakes, and far more musicality. Our living will look more and more like the Savior’s living. Just like piano, it’s definitely a Thing to practice.