The Journey to the Temple--Keeping Your Word

In the midst of a heated discussion
with the fifteen year old,
I was feeling exasperated.
Just then,
the nineteen year old came home from work.

I called to her to come upstairs to the loft--
to save me from spontaneously combusting
all over her sibling,
who'd just stomped downstairs
without a resolution.


I relayed the situation
from my point of view,
and just about that time,
the fifteen year old stompin', steamer
came upstairs.

With a forced-calm voice,
I challenged her,
"Tell her what's going on here
from your point of view. I won't say a word."

The fifteen year old, with her hands on her hips,
bristled at my challenge,
lips pursed so tight,
as though she is reining in a team of wild horses
with her tongue--
she opened her mouth to let loose the reins,
and then

nothing.

The horses were stalled--
she couldn't put a spin on the situation
that would cast an innocent light on her side.

My nineteen year old,
as I've said before,
has taken up residence in Wonka Land--
unpredictable,
indecisive--
has had a different countenance since the weekend.

Last week,
I would've never asked for her counsel
in this situation with the fifteen year old,
because she wasn't in a place where
she could've offered much of anything.
It might be compared to asking
someone who is lost on a path,
which way to go.

She and I had a heart-to-heart on Friday,
and since then,
I saw her regain her focus.
Seeing that change in her,
I knew she was exactly the person
to bring into this situation.

She began with relating her own feelings,
about being a fifteen year old,
and the struggles she too faced--
what helped and what did not help.
Then she could convey the way only
one sibling to another could convey--
"why Mom is upset with you.":

"Mom loves you. She wants to have a relationship with you now,
when your problems are little, so that when you are older and your problems
are bigger, you can go to her for help.  But you have to be honest. David Scott told me
I have to be transparent with Mom to keep her trust--cuz when you mess up--and you will,
she can still be there for you.
And you have to keep your word.  If you say you're gonna do something, you gotta do it.
Otherwise, she's never gonna believe you about anything."
She continued: "You need to be reading your scriptures every day, twice a day,
and saying your morning and bedtime prayers. That's the only way you're going to be happy.
You need that protection from Satan, who likes to get into our backpockets n' mess with us.
I know it sounds cliche, and all that, but it's the truth. It's the only way."

She continues to teach her sister in such a way that I am speechless.
 I'm listening to this nineteen oracle with awe.
She gets it. 
She has the Spirit with her so strong,
I say outloud,
"Do you feel that? That's the Holy Ghost.
Here's the deal, Sis.  Learning to keep your word is important.  Not just to me
or to other people, but when you go to the Temple, you're going to make promises
there, between you and Heavenly Father.
Important promises.  Eternal covenants.
You have to be able to give your word and keep it, before you're ready to make those covenants in the
Temple.
Does that make sense?
Can you see why I'm concerned when you blow me off or act like you
have forgotten to do what you said you would?
Because how well you keep your word says alot about
your maturity and integrity."

When all was said and done,
well were calm.
"I love yous" shared...
another level reached today.

Something one daughter said about a situation from last week,
stuck in my heart--
"I knew [she] was mad at me because I wasn't living up to her expectations.
But when she stopped being mad at me,
and showed she loved me,
then I knew I could trust her again and try to be better.
We can change when we know people love us."

Another day in Momza's house--
the road to an eternal family is long
and demanding.
It can be exhausting to keep the channels of communication open,
when you'd rather just shut down,
plop into bed and cover your head
waiting for the kids to grow up and learn their lessons,
but this is the thing:

It's not wasted efforts.
Those tears are not wasted.
The prayers are not in vain.
The three hour talks at the dinner table
or
the long talks in the wee hours of the night
are worth what they cost.
It's my family I'm pouring my heart into--
there's nothing nothing nothing
more important than them.
Us.
Lessons come daily--
by example,
by discipline,
by love --repeated over and over again, even when they least deserve it,
or when I least deserve it too--
by service,
by spending time...much much time
with these people I call
My Family.