Boredom is a large part of the gift I give to my children as a homeschooling mom. Homeschooling does not take as long as public school does—it generally takes as long as I hear other parents spend helping their children with homework. I try to limit television on school days and keep computer use to tool time instead of play time. That leaves a beautiful, open day! Time to pursue their interests. Time to lay on the grass and watch worms. Time to write and write and write. Time to draw. Time to dance. Time to build a life-size spider web out of yarn. Boredom can be a very messy gift.

I first began to understand the gift of boredom about five years ago. My oldest child was complaining bitterly about her complete and utter lack of library books. This was an emergency. This was an injustice. I was failing her as a mother. She needed to go to the library. I don’t even remember why we hadn’t gone that week, and it had only been one week, despite her dramatic protestations to the contrary. She could not possibly be expected to survive one more day. She was bored. I must have had a good reason for not going. (I needed a reason back then.) Maybe another child was sick. Maybe I was sick. Maybe the car was dead. I don’t know. All I know is that we couldn’t go.

Up until that point, my standard reply to “I’m bored” was a long list of chores. Since they seemed incapable of thinking for themselves and making plans, I was perfectly happy to think and plan for them. This particular child was quite vocal in her explanations as to why chores would not satisfy her particular problem. She then started pacing around the couch where I was sitting, hoping I would sprout wings or change magically into something interesting.

The Miracles That Can Happen When a Child Gets Bored

The other children were playing quietly. The baby was asleep. The only thing standing between me and booked bliss was this bored child. Sigh. At the time, I was reading Shakespeare. I can’t remember what play, but I had my big Shakespeare book out with its beautiful green monogrammed cover and full-page pictures.

As I looked back and forth from my pacing daughter to my book, the baby woke up. That was the end of my “relaxing” for the day. The baby’s diaper was particularly exciting and necessitated a bath and laundry and possibly a sanitation crew for her crib. It was more than 45 minutes before I walked back through the living room. I noticed the quiet first. In all of the intervening time, not once had my daughter pestered me. Perhaps she had been afraid to come too close to the disaster area, lest I enlist her aid? I found her sitting on the couch committing a cardinal sin in our family: she had stolen my book.

To read more of Britt’s articles, click here.

Why do we think it’s bad to be bored, anyway? I want my children to be comfortable with themselves. Empty time is a gift. What is time to study the path of an earthworm to a budding biologist? What is time and paper to a writer? What is time to study the feeling of movement to a dancer? What good is an empty sketch book to an artist who is constantly entertained or over-scheduled? I don’t know what the life-size spider web of yarn taught anyone, but it was definitely creative and that child was no longer suffering from boredom. When my children say “I’m bored,” I no longer feel that I am lacking as their private entertainment committee. I don’t wonder if we should have a more scheduled life. I do say, “I can’t wait to see what creative things you are going to think up to do in this gift of time!”

This post was originally published in January 2014. Minor changes have been made.

Britt Kelly

Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.

With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.

She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.

She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.

I decided to apply that same approach to the religious document. After two months, I’m almost ready to move past the first phrase. Most of that time, I was ignoring one little word that begins the document. It has been wandering around in my brain waiting to be noticed. That word is “we.”

What could I possibly study about the word “we”? It’s a powerful little word.

Ask my 13-year-old daughter who currently doesn’t feel like part of the “We” and you’d get an earful. Have you ever felt like a “they” or a “them” when you wanted to be part of the “we”?

The meaning and power of the word was brought to my attention as I began to read the Christmas story in Luke 2:

1 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.

 

2 (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) [—He started it!]  

 

3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. [Remember, this is Joseph’s family!]

 

4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) [Mary and Joseph were a poor couple from a very rich and noble heritage.]

 

5 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. [This is not the cute little baby bump stage, this is the “I waddle and am huger than a whale and it takes a crane to roll me over and I just feel SO done!” stage!]

 

6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

 

7 And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

 

[Commentary and emphasis added.]

Them. What would it have taken for Mary to be a “we”? Was it the poverty? Was it that she conceived during their engagement instead of after they were married? Was it all the challenges and needs and mess of childbirth—including the ritual cleansing and such that would have accompanied a birth? Was it the financial stress everyone was already feeling with taxes and holidays? Did Joseph’s extended family not like Mary or was Joseph already on the outs with his family? 

I know it was crowded. The concept is always that every room is already full.

It’s just… 

If it were your sister, your daughter, your best friend—where would that birth have taken place? Still over there? With the animals?

Contrast this with my favorite bishop’s response to a person seeking shelter.

We, the readers, know that a felon stole a loaf of bread to feed his hungry nieces and nephews when, at age 14, he found providing for them to be more than he could handle. He is a felon because he repeatedly tried to escape. Bishop Myriel welcomes him into the house and this is their discussion in the entryway:

“Monsieur le curé,” said the man [Jean Valjean], “you are very good. You don’t despise me. You have taken me in and lighted your candles for me. But I have concealed from you where I come from and what I am.”

 

The bishop, seated at his side, laid a hand gently on his arm.

 

“You need have told me nothing. This house is not mine but Christ’s. It does not ask a man his name but whether he is in need. You are in trouble, you are hungry and thirsty, and so you are welcome. You need not thank me for receiving you in my house. No one is at home here except those seeking shelter. Let me assure you, passer-by though you are, that this is more your home than mine. Everything in it is yours. Why should I ask your name? In any case I knew it before you told me.”

 

The man looked up with startled eyes. “You knew my name?”

 

“Of course,” said the bishop. “Your name is brother.”

 

(Excerpt from Les Misérables by Victor Hugo)

Who is your brother? Who is your sister? Who do you identify as “we” and who as “they” or “them”? Is it by political opinions? Where you live or worship? Is it by what music they like or what team they cheer for? How they parent? Where they work? Is it by birthplace or skin color? Who are “they”? Who are “we”?


At Christmas we frequently talk about making room for Christ—the Christ who has saved us from all sin and pain and sorrow. The Christ who has already proved He is willing to die for us.

I hope we do make room for Christ.

To read more of Britt’s articles, click here.

I also hope we look around us and make room for, as Mother Teresa identified people, “Christ in all His distressing disguises.” Consider, “How can I change my perspective to see those around me not as an imposition, but as a loved one to be cared for? What if that was my sister? My brother? My daughter? My son?” Learn a name so the impersonal “they” cannot be so easily applied. Listen to a story. Look into eyes.

With the late poet Edwin Markham, use all your intelligence and power and mercy—and create a society without any “thems.”

He drew a circle that shut me out-

 

Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.

 

But love and I had the wit to win:

 

We drew a circle and took him In!”

Britt Kelly

Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.

With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.

She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.

She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.

1. Together, You and the Lord are Enough

Maybe you feel like you are not knowledgeable enough, organized enough, a good enough teacher… Fill in your own insecurities. You feel with Moses that your task is too great and that you are not “something” enough: 

“And Moses said unto the Lord, O my Lord, I am not eloquent, neither heretofore, nor since thou hast spoken unto thy servant: but I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue. And the Lord said unto him, Who hath made man’s mouth? or who maketh the dumb, or deaf, or the seeing, or the blind? have not I the Lord? Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee what thou shalt say” (Exodus 4:10-12).

God made YOU! He knows your unique gifts and abilities. He didn’t make a mistake. He wants you to serve Him as you are. Nothing is too big for Him to handle. Your weaknesses may be exactly what He needs in your situation!

God worked with humble people to make extraordinary things happen!

God did not choose Moses because he was naturally good at parting seas OR public speaking. He didn’t choose Noah because he was great with animals or boat building. He didn’t chose Esther because of her fabulous debate and leadership skills. He chose each of them because they were willing and faithful. They loved the Lord and His children enough to try. The question is not and has not ever been if we are “something” enough; the question is, do we love the Lord? Let that motivate you to try. And try again and again.

We are not meant to do this alone. Come to the Lord. Offer your five loaves and two fishes. Offer your last drops of oil and your handful of flour. See what God can make of your offering.

“God does not begin by asking our ability, only our availability, and if we prove our dependability, He will increase our capability” (Neal A. Maxwell, “It’s Service, Not Status, That Counts,” July 1975 Ensign). 

2. Start with Yourself! 

We have been given this gift of time in the next few months to prepare ourselves. The prophet has suggested a few things women can do to prepare: read the Book of Mormon, engage in a 10-day social media fast, attend the temple, and participate in Relief Society. Let each of the commitments strengthen your faith and help prepare you. 

Read. Study — and do so as if you were going to teach! Read and study enough that the gospel starts seeping out of you. Have you ever met someone who is so passionate about something that they can’t help themselves; it will just overflow out of them them? Read and study the gospel enough that you can’t wait to talk about what you are learning. Keep reading! Keep studying! Keep trying! The Spirit will help you. I marvel at the great faith of the Holy Ghost that His power overflows into each of us! 

As the gospel pours out of you, who will it bless?

Start where you are. We can’t start anywhere else! If you have never finished a single book of scripture, notice that even one line is a start.

“I will give unto the children of men line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little; and blessed are those who hearken unto my precepts, and lend an ear unto my counsel, for they shall learn wisdom; for unto him that receiveth I will give more” (2 Nephi 28:30).

If you feel your faith is barely the size of a mustard seed, God can move mountains. “Help thou mine unbelief” (Mark 9:24) is a legitimate plea upon which God can work miracles. 

“Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened to you” (Matthew 7:7).

3. Be Patient with Yourself

Remember how learning and change works. Remember the toddler learning to walk! When they stumble and fall, we never say, “Stupid baby, you’ll never walk! I KNEW you couldn’t do it! So-and-so walks so much better than you!” We would never do that! We have every bit of confidence that they will walk! We encourage, as we help them back up. Likewise, let’s treat ourselves lovingly as we learn.

Repentance is God’s ever-accessible gift that allows and enables us to go from failure to failure without any loss of enthusiasm. Remember:

“No one is more on our side than the Savior. He allows us to take and keep retaking His exams. To become like Him will require countless second chances in our day-to-day struggles with the natural man, such as controlling appetites, learning patience and forgiveness, overcoming slothfulness, and avoiding sins of omission, just to name a few. If to err is human nature, how many failures will it take us until our nature is no longer human but divine? Thousands? More likely a million.

 

. . . Repentance isn’t His backup plan in the event we might fail. Repentance is His plan, knowing that we will” (Elder Lynn G. Robbins, “Until Seventy Times Seven,” April 2018).

4. This Challenge is Meant for You

This challenge to have a gospel learning home is not only for the fictional ideal family. Whatever your situation, this is for you. The Lord has a plan for you! This new focus is ultimately to inspire each and every individual to increase their faith in Christ. He has a way for you to learn and to focus more on the Savior.

To read all of Britt Kelly’s articles, please click here.

The Lord does not expect you to instantly somehow conjure up a perfect family any more than He expects me to. It may not be in your power to change the environment in which you live yet. Jonah recommitted himself inside a great fish. The Jaredites had their center of gospel learning under the sea as well, though in far more comfortable circumstances than Jonah. Great men and women in the scriptures have found places for themselves in caves or mountains, or forests, prisons, or closets! They have been surrounded by faithful family, people wanting to kill them, and frequently they are all by themselves. In the scriptures we have seen many individuals rise above their situations and families and cling to their faith.

Abish lived away from her family. As a servant to the queen (the wife of King Lamoni), she was not in control of her time, her environment, or her own life. Her environment was extremely hostile to her faith… She would likely have been killed had she been discovered. Yet she kept her faith alive, in private prayers, perhaps in closets and whenever she could. Her faith was vibrant and powerful. She was ready when the time came to testify of Christ and serve Him.

Search the scriptures. Get to know the many men and women and their unique circumstances. Find how they increased their faith. Remember the many times God has helped you throughout your life. He will help you now. Where you are. How you are.

“My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Britt Kelly

Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.

With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.

She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.

She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.

My mind exploded with connections from this story about how to love in hard situations. Rereading the first chapters of Joshua with this application in mind has lead to interesting insights on what ministering to your own child can be like.

1. Make Friends

Joshua sends spies into Jericho; when the king nearly discovers them, they are saved by Rahab, the harlot. She was quick-thinking and full of faith. Even living in Jericho, a land of idol worship, she recognized the God of Israel as the God of heaven and earth. She was willing to lie, even to the king, to save them. She was devoted and loving to her family and eventually joined the Israelites with them. I wonder how hard it was for the children of Israel to accept Rahab.

Observe the friends of your loved one. Go beyond what they look like and even bad choices they might be making. Go deeper. Who is actually loving? Who is loyal? Who has a kind heart? Perhaps they aren’t who you would have chosen, but they can be strong allies in saving and connecting with your child. Learn about them. Make friends with them. Find out what your child likes about them. Be grateful for loving friends.

2. Expect and Remember Miracles

Joshua and the children of Israel crossed the river Jordan on dry ground. They then carried 12 stones to form an altar to remember the miracle. It didn’t gain them Jericho, but it got them much closer, far easier than any other possible way.

Actively look for tender mercies and major miracles in your life.  Celebrate evidences of God’s power and love. While on the other side of the Jordan river, very close to Jericho, God wanted the people to pause and celebrate Passover. Remember miracles from long ago. Celebrate them. Feel the joy of knowing that God has been loving and full of grace in the past. Let that knowledge fuel your faith and hope. His love, grace, and power will always be there.

3. Sanctify Yourself

The children of Israel are asked repeatedly to sanctify themselves. They are told to be holy. They are asked to follow Joshua, listen to the scriptures, and increase their faith. They are asked to circumcise all the men (even as they are camped right by Jericho).

Find ways to sacrifice to show an increased dedication to God. Fasting, attending the temple, increased prayer, more scripture reading, changing your media and music… Choose to seek God more.

4. Your Spiritual Surroundings May Appear to Change for the Worse

Shortly before crossing the Jordan miraculously, Joshua is told to command the people to “prepare victuals”. At this time, they were still receiving manna. During the second Passover recorded with food they prepared, they ate “old corn.” Then, at the end of passover, the manna stops. After 39 years and 11 months of gathering manna each day, on the eve of what logic would tell them would be a siege, it changed.

This change occurred at the end of the Passover, a sign of the Messiah’s power to save. Instead of manna, they will rely on the bread of life. God created plants and animals. He provides the sun and water for them to grow. Likewise, He provided His children with strength to care for and gather food. For the children of Israel, manna stopped when they were by a water source, and they were in an oasis amidst a desert.

Perhaps the way you normally expect your home to feel changes. Perhaps the way you feel the Spirit changes.Your family dynamics change. Perhaps you wonder where God is after all you’ve done. Maybe you start second-guessing everything you’ve done and feel you don’t deserve blessings.

But remember that God is still good. He is still providing for you. His grace is still there. There may be different things you need to do to receive His grace. It may even feel harder harder or different. But His grace is still there. It’s not there because you earned it. It’s not there because you are perfect.  It’s there because you are His child and He loves you.

5. Do What is Yours to Do: LOVE!

Joshua and the Israelites walked around Jericho for seven days. For six days, they stayed silent as they walked and listened to the shofar. Then on the last day, they shouted and the walls came down.

We don’t know the exact distance around Jericho. Did they get blisters? Was it hot? They weren’t to touch the wall or say much. What were they thinking during that time? We know that a shofar generally signals celebration that the Savior is King. It signals God’s victory. It can signal to awaken the people to call them back to God. Therefore, the shout as connected with a shofar was likely a shout of gratitude and celebration at a victory won. How can we use music and priesthood and hope in our interactions with our children?

I’ve thought a lot about the silence of walking around the city. Was it a lonely silence or could they feel each other’s strength? It reminded me of my favorite St. Francis of Assisi quote: “Preach the gospel, if necessary, use words”.

Love. Sometimes love is quiet and lonely. Sometimes it doesn’t feel powerful. It frequently feels like it’s not enough. We are not asked to fix other people. We are COMMANDED to love them. How long? Until God says we are done (even, as he told Peter, seventy times seven). Seven is a perfect number, so we should love them the exact right amount of time. Until we are complete. It may be decades before we see walls fall down.

When you want to fix something or someone, it can be hard to love. I’m sure some of the army of Israel would have rather gone with a battering ram at the gate. It turns out that wasn’t their job. Changing someone is God’s job. When we love someone fully, we may discover that we needed more changes ourselves than we realized.  

To read all of Britt Kelly’s articles, please click here.

The story of Joshua and the battle of Jericho is so powerful. The realization that God announces that Jericho is already theirs before they even take a step around the walls; that by small and simple things, great things will be brought to pass, like listening, waiting, keeping your heart open, loving.

Maybe your struggle comes in the form of parenting, a college education, or scary things that are happening in our world… Whatever it is, don’t underestimate what is YOURS to do. And don’t underestimate what God will do.

Britt Kelly

Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.

With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.

She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.

She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.

I decided to study scriptures that talk about light using the Topical Guide. I found some gems. Some were familiar: “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path” (Psalms 119:105). Some were visually beautiful: “And He shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds; as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clearing shining after rain” (2 Samuel 23:4).

Some verses were intensely thought-provoking, like this one:

“And the light which shineth, which giveth you light, is through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understandings; which light proceedeth forth from the presence of god to fill the immensity of space– The light which is in all things, which giveth life to all things, which is the law by which all things are governed, even the power of God, who sitteth upon his throne, who is in the bosom of eternity, who is in the midst of all things”  (Doctrine and Covenants 88:11-13)

My favorite included the word light in a new (to me) name for God.

 “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning” (James 1:17).

This was fascinating to me. I love the idea of God being the Father of lights.

Burdens Made Light

Truthfully, I was sad when I had finished reading all the scriptures in the Topical Guide, so I reviewed them. I wasn’t ready to let go. As I sat looking at all of my sticky note tabs, I noticed the older ones I had used when i studied burdens sticking out in their now dull orange and green (compared to the purple I had used for light).

I sat thinking about other uses for the word light (like when it refers to weight as opposed to visual light) and how it can relate to burdens.

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:30).

I imagined all the things weighing me down as boulders in a large knapsack. I could feel their weight. My concerns for my children and family. My fears for people around me and their choices. The pain of missing family members who have died. Pregnancies lost. Children sick. Children who have been abused. My worries about people suffering near and far away. I imagined myself attempting all of my daily tasks while carrying these heavy burdens. I could feel at times one more than others as it poked into my back. The weight was more than I could possibly bear.  How was it possible for this to be made light?

I was instantly reminded of the brother of Jared. I have never built a submarine-like boat to carry my whole family across a sea, but I have looked ahead at what is to come for my family or others and wondered, “O Lord, wilt thou suffer that we shall cross this great water in darkness?” (Ether 2:22)

I raced to the book of Ether to see how the brother of Jared took his rocks to the Lord to receive light.

I could see me preparing my own rocks to take to God; choosing prayerfully what I really should bear and what was not mine at all. I could see myself studying them carefully so that I could see them and understand, through God’s light, what they really were. They were clear, but still so heavy. I could see myself climbing the mountain with my rocks in my own hands, approaching the Father of lights. Through the love of His gracious Son, the Light of the world, each of my rocks was transformed. Perhaps I read too much science fiction, (though that is NOT possible!) but  I could imagine my stony burdens being made not just physically light, but into light. Beautiful, shining, swirling  orbs of marvelous light. I gratefully and tearfully placed each orb back into my sack.

The Journey to Light

As I floated down the mountain and throughout the days ahead, I still had much to learn. Bearing light is a skill. Sometimes my faith wavered and I could feel my orbs lose their light. I needed to return to the mountain often. At first, each trip was arduous, but slowly, I was becoming stronger. I learned to not pick up rocks that were not mine. New burdens came and I would again have to return to the mountain. Some burdens were corrupting and could change every orb back to stone at once. The journey up the mountain became familiar and beautiful to me.

To read all of Britt Kelly’s articles, please click here.

As I’ve continued to study light and ponder my inspired imaginings, I’ve realized how far I have to go before I can gracefully hold on to light. A friend said that even blessings can be heavy and hard to bear. Sometimes it’s not just trials or struggles, but blessings that we need made light These imaginings remind me that the effort is worth it.  The effort to climb to the Heavenly Father and learn to bear light

What if we need our specific burdens made light to become who God know we can be? What if the light of that burden changes the way we see ourselves and others? We may become more sensitive to others and we can gain specific knowledge that can help us serve. Our burdens made light can help us prioritize. I imagine the Father of lights allowing us to have burden at least partially because He knows He has the power to make them light. Just as the brother of Jared needed light on his journey, we need light throughout our lives. Our burdens can become the light by which we see.

Britt Kelly

Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.

With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.

She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.

She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.

Tuesday- August 29, 2017

We wake up to a little bit of blue sky!  It’s BEAUTIFUL!  Of course the clouds quickly close in and it starts to rain again…but still. Hope. Last night was the first night without tornado warnings!!  I don’t miss them!  The storm continues to move towards us..which puts us increasingly IN the storm, but no longer on the rainy side of it.

Lisa had woken up the night before and stayed up for more than an hour…with all the little girls in the living room, I try to keep the little lady quiet and wake no one else.  She begs to …watercolor. Rocking surrounded by little girls and listening to the sound of constant rain and having them close.   I finally get her back to sleep and keep the other children miraculously stay asleep.

Much later she wakes up and gets to paint.

We’re still all centered around the power strip connected to the generator. We plug the toaster in to make toast. We have all the devices and everything in one little corner next to the fridge. This is at Lisa height. Lisa gets curious about all things plugged in about 20 times a day.

Chris sneaks out to a store and gets spinach.  After a LONG weekend of all things bread, some color is VERY welcome! While Chris is out he sees the power lines down at the end of our street….definitely a very localized outage. He sees all the flooding in our town.  We hadn’t had a great way to get to the freeway…which is closed anyway.

The storm is definitely moving on and starting to break up.

Tuesday late afternoon, our power comes back.  HOORAAAYYY.  After a very short while it is off again. Ahhh.  Another hour and it’s on.  We hold our breaths. And YES. We have power.

Rebecca is thrilled to have electricity for her birthday and starts writing a birthday list for food and presents. I have NO idea if there will be stores open or roads or…well they’ll have electricity!

Wednesday- August 30, 2017

And on…and on, and on.  We come out of our little hovels and talk with neighbors and compare stories and…begin the real hard work. About 30 houses in our town of  5,200 are flooded. Chris’ school district had more than 70% of the schools take on some water or have some damage.

Raymond and I head out to help at a shelter in a nearby town where more than 10% of the houses are flooded. They are gathering donations and giving them to people who have been evacuated.

One little family comes to mind. By their states of partial dress, they obvious evacuated quickly and probably at night. There are HEAPS of clothes. They need diapers and formula and food and pillows. They would appreciate underwear and socks…but we have no new underwear and only sparse socks.

Blessedly there were many volunteers to seek out and find most of what else they needed around and behind and beneath the piles of clothing. They took only a small amount of what they needed…very conscious of there being many people in need.

A trend I noticed…most of those in need were so aware of what having nothing felt like, they were not at all greedy. They also frequently only had their cars to store anything-which limited what they could handle. They had much to do: just getting food and taking care of basic needs was taking a lot of their time.

They had houses that demanded attention, FEMA and insurance to deal with. Transportation problems and it was hard for them to communicate with their family (and keep phones charged-almost none had any computer access). The only people who had time to look for clothes were people off the street who misunderstood the purpose for the donations and were still in their dry homes.

Another woman comes in, who works in the elementary school, she was used to be the one giving, the person able to help. Her house was a total loss. She cried. We just started gathering what she would need and loading her car while she cried in a friend’s arms.

Our wonderful leader in this donation center was also flooded and hadn’t been taking great care of herself. In the crazy timelessness of a crisis, it’s VERY easy to forget to eat. I never forget to eat, and I skipped meals. There was such great need and so much to do.

This woman fainted, probably dehydrated and that was exacerbated by other pre-existing health issues that didn’t disappear with the storm. Blessedly one of the volunteers was an EMT and he quickly got her comfortable and stable until the ambulance came.

An army truck came. They brought heaps of water and hard-working soldiers. One of the young men, about my height (5’10), talked about carrying a baby out of a home and having to raise the baby above his head so the baby stayed dry. They worked at one point for 48 hours straight.

Chris went out to visit an older couple to hear their stories of storms past. MANY many stories. They have a family home that is over a hundred years old and talked about all of the storms it has weathered.

Courtesy of abc13.com

More than 100,000 flooded and each house will take about 50 man hours to muck out. There is so much to do, and so many immediate needs. Yet still laundry and meals and children in our own house. The next few weeks and months will be a new kind of balancing act.

After the storm for the first week, I tried everything I could to help. I volunteered at a shelter in our town run by a Baptist church.  I sorted through heaps and heaps of clothes looking for the donations we needed: diapers and water and bleach and mops and earplugs (for rescuers attempting to sleep at all hours).  We took our twins, on their birthday, shopping for things the shelter needed with some money that had been donated. They also each chose one present and some birthday food. It’s going to take us weeks to celebrate them.

Each day at that shelter involved new adventures with ever-changing needs.  A young girl came with her mother. She had broken her arm a few days before Harvey in a normal child adventure. Evacuating and all that entails had left her with an aching arm and her mother had no children’s pain medication to give her. One woman from the shelter ran home and gave her a bottle from her cupboard.

Mormon Helping Hands helps displaced families after Hurricane Harvey.

After the shelter brought a weekend of mucking out houses with our older children. Moving piles of belongings by the side of the road and ripping out sheetrock is hard physical work. Each day after finishing a house, I couldn’t imagine how people worked construction day in and day out.

I started doing the math in my head of how many volunteers were needed to muck everyone out in 30 days!  I know of a group of women in one ward who are taking on the weekday mucking as their husbands and fathers go back to work.

Meeting the beautiful people who owned the homes was heartbreaking. A wife who needed to feed her disabled husband and manage his care away from their home and all their comforts. A man who had spent his time evacuating other people, joining with neighbors to carry a man in a wheelchair into someone’s truck which then drove out over the lawns of the neighborhood… until that man needed to evacuate himself.

His efforts for others meant he had not at all prepared his own house. Dozens of pieces of art were ruined. A mother trying to stay in the upstairs of their home to be close to jobs and school, while helping her asthmatic son with all the new irritants.

We mucked out on weekends with our fellow yellow-shirted Mormons.  Chris worked and I at times mothered while also carving out time to help others. Stores were starting to open more (Walmart only open for a few hours a day and stores with empty shelves was the norm for the first week and a half).

To read all of Britt Kelly’s articles, please click here.

Schools somehow opened with a gigantic effort by administrators to figure out where children were and where they would be going to school (with 100,000+ homes, evacuated that’s a lot of children!).  They had to balance that information with what schools were available and what teachers or subs could make their way to school. It was and still feels, like a limbo moving towards a new normal.

To round out our Harvey experience, we had the minor but real…good and bad. The bad…the football game Chris had tickets to go to was moved from Houston to Louisiana. We wouldn’t be going. The good? We found a teensy kitten in our yard on Wednesday.  We couldn’t find any of his family…so now we have a little kitten named Harvey.  

Britt Kelly

Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.

With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.

She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.

She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.

Sunday- August 27, 2017

Hurricane Harvey gave us lots of lightning and rain and little sleep. I discovered my first bucked I had put out to measure rain had a crack in it…the next bucket I had put out overflowed. Let’s just say…a LOT of rain.  No more math of volume and dividing the volume by the area…just lots or water.

No church.  We had decided to have a family church meeting. We were late to church in our own home (kinda…we made an executive-easy decision to just relax..but I still found it funny). We had asked for volunteers to give 2-minute talks and we sang and talked about storms and a Savior who walks on water and parts water. We sang “Master the tempest is raging”. After our little meeting, we had decided to do family history.

Children and various screens were scattered about on couches and chairs reading journals or finding out how closely related we are to George Washington  (6th cousin 7 times removed…relative finder…it’s fun!). I gathered all of our scrapbooks and labeled them and looked at pictures. It rained. Flash flood warnings. More flash flood warnings.

Our first tornado warning. That’s no fun.  We have 9 children at home. We don’t fit in one closet or one safe space. We don’t have heaps of safe spaces in our home. We checked the sky a LOT. We did talk with the children about where we would go. We didn’t actually go anywhere. Extending the tornado warning. Another extension to the tornado warning. We watch and wait and watch and hear of tornadoes touching down in other areas. Still a beautiful grey sky above us with fluidly moving clouds.

We baked.  CARBS.  It’s like I was trying to hold the flooding back with gluten…or possibly ensure we’d be more likely to float. Our house smelled terrific! This hurricane let me have such baking fun.

We still felt so comfortable it was guilt-inducing knowing that other people were desperately facing the brunt of the winds and rain in far less comfort. Evacuations. Emergencies. As we sat and looked at pictures and read. Chris and I took turns looking for updates…trying to keep the news away from the little children. We watched local weathermen and texts…we saw hardly any other tv or national weather. That afternoon, we had some lights blinking and lost power for about an hour. When it came on I started baking again…then we lost power finally at around 5…I had bread in the oven. We kept playing games…now by candlelight. I lose miserably.

I came face to face with how much meat we would need to eat in the next day or so. How do I redo my menu?  How long can I make everything last AND eat up the food before it spoils? How do I retrain my children from opening the fridge when they are used to getting water from in the fridge?

Losing power is an adventure. Especially in a hurricane. We could power our phones through our cars which were both full of gas. The children LOVE candles. So much. At this point, we realized that of course, Lisa (or 2-year-old) had only one association with candles. Birthdays. So we lit a candle, she started singing and wanted to blow it out. Ad nauseum.  We ended up handing her a tea light to hold. She started sucking on it.  Bouncing balls and candles, out of control little bodies and candles.

We are told they will fix our power in under an hour.  A few hours later we are told that only 30 homes are affected.  They will get to it as soon as possible.  Basically, we aren’t a priority. This might be a few days.

We were getting more reports and pictures of the damage along the coastal towns. It’s just. SO much. I felt so helpless. I waded out into the rain to the car to charge my phone and I sat and prayed and listened to the news and cried. I stayed out there for about 2 hours not wanting to go back into the rain and needing a break from adulting. I needed to not look into the eyes of my lovely children and knowing what’s happening to other families outside. Blessedly there is another adult in our home. When I came back in I found the little girls snuggled up on all the couches with my husband reading aloud by candlelight.

We join our city and church and everyone to pray that the storm moves away from us, or towards us…or just MOVES.  There is talk about the storm staying on until Thursday. I adjust my menus and wonder how long we will be all home-bound.

Monday- August 28, 2017

Can we all just assume that we are going to extend the flash flood warnings and just let us know when it’s done?  PLEASE stop waking us up to tell us it might flood. We’ve figured that out. Tornado warnings off and on all night as well, so we were checking the sky as the rain kept pounding down. We attempted to sleep…that doesn’t work so well in this hurricane. Heaps of rain.

We wake up to no rain. A few of my early birds and I go for a walk. We check out the puddles and discover that the drains on our side of the street are working better than the other side of the street. Water is draining into our neighbors’ yards. There is talk of the storm moving. I think of our prayers last night.

Although the public schools were cancelled until Wednesday we decided to home school in an abbreviated form. I focused on an attempt at normalcy with the children and Chris focused on a generator for the refrigerator.  Our neighbor loaned us a generator Chris discovers that although we just mowed the lawn Friday, our gas can is completely full! Fueling the generator won’t be a problem…assuming we get our electricity back in a few days. Our food is fine and all my stressing about menus dissolved very quickly and comfortably back into my original plan. Lots of food. All the time.

On the home school front, my 7 year-old has decided that reading is going to click…today. She goes from tortured sesame street “HHHHH  AAAAAAA TTTTT”  to “hat”. Done. She races through her little books. I’m amazed. I was just trying to have a schedule and have fun. My heart was definitely not in home school… but minds are amazing things.

We started hearing about friends not far from us were needing rescues. Two families we know walked out of their homes through chest deep water, walking for up to a mile to where they could be picked up. We are sober. We do the math. Chris, Raymond, Lydia, Ben and I could all carry someone. That leaves my little 11 year-old twins…who would not be tall enough to wade. We talk about why we didn’t evacuate again.

Can you imagine a sinking vehicle and trying to get that many car seats and buckles undone? Can you imagine us ALL trying to get out through a few windows?  Most people who die in hurricanes, die  IN water and the vast majority of those are in their cars.   We talk with the children (because they have overheard some amazing rescues) about what we would do…sit on the roof. The 13 year-old revels in the prospect of breaking through the roof climbing out and getting to ride of a helicopter.

That all sounds MUCH safer than us wading OR us driving anywhere.  Then we focus on where WE really are. High and dry. AND  we only have little puddles around the yard. The road isn’t flooded, except a small part down the way. We still have a way out.

We help our neighbor with her generator…her husband works in Houston and is necessary for keeping power going so he’s been sleeping in town. We help her with her horses…one of the gates fell…we slosh through mud happy to help.

We play games in the afternoon.

Just FYI Risk doesn’t go well by candle light either.

Rebecca and Susan wonder if they’ll have electricity for their birthday (they will turn 12 on Thursday). I wonder.

Time stretches out as if there is so much stress and worry that the normal 24 hour day cannot contain it. I wish the land could stretch like time seems to. The children play on, while we watch and wait to hear about the next people being evacuated…or worse…not yet being evacuated. Our older children are a great help playing and generally joining in our facade of  calm.

To read all of Britt Kelly’s articles, please click here.

We no longer notice flash flood warnings.

We hear word that the Houston Temple has flooded. One of my favorite thoughts on the subject was that allowing that flooding is as if God was saying, “It’s okay.  My house was flooded too.  We’ll get through this together”.

There is finally talk of the storm MOVING.  Yes it’s towards us…but MOVING!

The little girls sleep in the living room again and Chris reads to them by candle light. I wish nights were like this, if only I could carve out the storm and the stress and the lack of electricity…).

A full day of no power in the books.

And the adventure was far from over.

(Stay tuned for Part 3 of our adventure.)

Britt Kelly

Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.

With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.

She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.

She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.

Our small family of 13 (except for two college-aged daughters in Utah and Virginia) lives a little west of Houston. My husband and I grew up in southern California and then transplanted to Texas from Utah, so we are more familiar with earthquakes than hurricanes. The following are some of our experiences with Hurricane Harvey:

Thursday- August 24, 2017

Raymond (son) and I spent a heap of quality time together. We were looking for pants that were long enough for him, and we were finishing the back to school shopping. We were paying attention to tropical storm Harvey and listening to the educated guesses and the wonders about if or when it would re-form. I thought it would most likely just mean a lot of rain for us. I wasn’t that worried. By afternoon it had formed into a category 1.  That’s not worrisome, but It did have our attention.

We ended the day with meeting his Eagle Project adviser and discussing his project. We headed home and recovered the house a bit after the long day.

Friday- August 25, 2017

Friday morning we paid attention to the weather. Harvey was now a cat 2 and would likely strengthen through the day before making landfall that night. At that point, the predictions of where Harvey was going were spaghetti on a map.  There was not a consensus on where it would go or how long it would stay around. We had always said the children and I would evacuate from category 4 or 5 hurricanes. Our most likely evacuation path was always into San Antonio.  That was in the direct path of the storm.

The unique situation of having 2 high-pressure zones was making the predictions very complicated. We were researching and attempting fluency in hurricane-ese.  It was clear that the coast NEEDED to evacuate.  They needed to be out of the way of what would likely be cat 4 force winds. They needed the roads clear and with heaps of rain coming…we didn’t want to be in a car on the road. We had heard about Rita and the disaster of an evacuation that was.  We learned about what it meant that we would be on the “dirty side of the storm”.  As the storm turns counter clockwise it picks up moisture from the gulf and dumps it all on the east side of the eye. Lots of rain.

We have an acre and our property is fairly high. Chris had checked floodplains before we bought. Last year in the memorial day flood we only had some expanded puddles in our yard. We were confident in our home in regards to flooding. We were less confident with high winds. We didn’t know what gusts we would get or possible tornadoes accompanying the swirling winds of a tropical storm.  Our roof isn’t stellar as is.

All of this was kept at the parent level. The children knew a storm was coming, but the day was mostly normal. After having Thursday away from home, Friday was very focused on our house and children. Chris went to work as usual. The children and I cleaned the yard. We mowed the yard. We cleaned the porch…we didn’t expect hurricane force winds but leveraging a storm for cleaning the yard is never wrong. Harvey’s first impact was cooler weather. With a high in the 80’s I quickly found my first thing I loved about Harvey.

I also baked. We have lots of food storage but much of it involves electricity.  Anticipating possibly losing electricity I made bread and cinnamon bread and cheese onion bread. Heaps and heaps of carbohydrates. I didn’t feel like we really needed food or water even for a week of being homebound so I didn’t race to the store.

Friday evening in anticipation of Harvey making landfall my husband’s school district canceled volleyball and SAT testing. That did get my attention. Cancelling sports in Texas is serious business. Chris picked up some fruit from the store and a little water.

Saturday- August 26, 2017

For us, Harvey’s landfall was anti-climatic. We saw it on screens…following its progress while watching Netflix. We had trouble sleeping. We knew the coast was getting hammered. Harvey was in Texas. We had a little light rain all day. In the unique physics of family life, because we had spent much of the previous day outside,  the house was magically messy. We cleaned in anticipation of spending lots of time inside. Harvey quickly downgraded from a 4 to a 1 by that morning.

The initial push of the storm (at a cat 4) meant it had gone inland further than anticipated. There was still some debate as to where it would go once it hit the upper high-pressure front. We did know the dirty side of the storm meant lots and lots of raining unless the storm dissipated or could push away.  We baked more and ate more and filled up buckets of water. 1 gallon of water a day for 11 people is a HEAP of water. We ended up with enough for 4 days.

To read all of Britt Kelly’s articles, please click here.

We play in the rain. The young girls announced it the best day ever. They loved the big puddles…even the ones we wanted them to stay out of (our irrigation includes grey water).  We aren’t close to rivers so the other water is just rain water…no alligators around.

The smell of the baking bread, the sound of the rain, freshly showered children, and football in the background made for a cozy day. Saturday night the rain intensified and the phone emergency warnings began.  Flash flood warning. Flash flood warning extended. Flash flood warning extended a little longer. We’re thinking it might flood.

We measured the rain…about 9 inches. I thought it was more.

Little did I know what lay ahead….

(Stay tuned for Part 2, and Part 3 of our adventure.)

Britt Kelly

Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.

With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.

She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.

She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.

I tried everything. I’ve problem solved for many a friend with bread baking. I tried different wheat, tried store bought flour, I tried white flour, I tried different yeast, I measured the ingredients (something I never do normally), I checked my oven, I let the bread rise more…every single time it fell and turned into a dense brick.

I went from making 9 loaves of bread a week, to …making 6 bricks then making 3 bricks…to a halfhearted attempt every other week.

I kept trying because I don’t like store bought bread. I like to make bread. I like the flavor the feeling of the dough. I love the smell when it comes out of the oven.  I like to see my little children playing with dough up at the bar. I love the whole experience.

One day on the phone with my mom, I explained everything I’d tried and she related a story about bread not rising while we are in mourning. The end of my bread making success began right around my brother’s death. We joked about us not wanting to get up and do much so why should the yeast have to?

That percolated in my mind. The logical side of me doesn’t hold to it much, so I kept trying. I tried again with different combinations of flour and new yeast. I bought new bread pans. I dug out my old bread pans. It’s been almost a year.

Every few weeks I made a few bricks, partially out of habit, and partially thinking that although I was doing nothing different, maybe I would get bread this time. I tried other recipes.

My muffins and waffles and cakes were all fine. But bread…just wasn’t happening.

The other day after making buttermilk pancakes for breakfast, I had some extra buttermilk and I had determined to make bread that day. In a moment of desperation I gave up on my recipe again. The recipe I’ve made so often, it’s a part of me. My body could make this recipe on autopilot. I’ve shared it countless times…I changed it.

I added buttermilk and adjusted the flour a little to accommodate the difference in liquid. It baked for 5 extra minutes. It’s beautiful. It was airy and light. The children ate 2 loaves in an hour. The flavor is slightly different. I haven’t gone back to the old recipe.

I am far from the most affected by my brother’s death. I’ve watched my mom. I don’t know how my sister in law and nephew and nieces are really doing. Grief is a very weird thing. Sometimes I can talk about my brother, others I can’t. Sometimes little things come up and remind me of him, some music, an offhand remark…and I smile.

Other times I can be brought to tears. I can’t figure out the difference. There is not an “everything’s back to normal” state. Sometimes I want there to be.  I am mostly around people who don’t know my brother at all. His death was not even a blip on their radar.

To read all of Britt Kelly’s articles, please click here.

As time passes, grief is generally less intense. The waves of grief are gradually smaller, the big storm is over. There are still infrequent sets of waves of grief. There is still ambush grief…random moments of suddenly feeling the loss. There are anniversaries and holidays and times when you would normally expect greater happiness and the contrast brought by the loss is harder.

There is so much good in my life, most days are good. I don’t want this to appear that the entire year has been bleak. It’s just , in some ways I still feel, like the bread, that from now on…I might need an extra leavening agent.

Britt Kelly

Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.

With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.

She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.

She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.

Perhaps you’re not imagining snorkeling and following turtles through the ocean.  Perhaps you’re worried about your thighs. Maybe you’re studying the newest diet, the newest fad, the newest exercise, the newest style. We focus on our relationship with gravity more than we focus on our relationship with God, or with each other.

In the immortal words of the man my children call “the airplane guy” (Dieter F. Uchtdorf)  “STOP IT!”

Erich Fromm wrote “To Have or To Be”.  I fear we have moved on to “To look or to be”.  As if the color of our lips is more important than what we say. As if what size we are is more important than our character. As if the cover is more important than the words in the book.

We are told in Genesis that our bodies are made in the image of God. We know little about what His body looks like. We have the entire scriptural record filled with what He DOES. He LOVES. He leads. He is all powerful and all knowing and all loving. He is perfect. We are made in His image. Can you imagine if He gave us perfect dimensions but none of his love?

What do we value? What God values is clear: “Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.” (Samuel 16:7). YOUR HEART!  Your character, your ideas, your dreams, your virtues, your plans…THAT’S what God is looking to. That’s what HE sees in you. That’s how HE defines Himself!

His great plan to allow us a body, is so we can love and be loved. It is so we can perform ordinances and learn.We NEED a body to do these amazing things. They should be the focus of our lives. We can hug, and serve, and travel and create and learn languages and physics. Jesus spent His life healing and helping and serving. He ate. He rested. He honored the needs of His body.  Something He could be baptized in. Something He could cry with Mary in.

He could break bread and water. He could wash His disciples feet. Ultimately He died for us. Heavenly Father was very specific in giving creating a body for His son. It needed to be able to die for us, yet live again. Christ’s body needed to be able to atone for our sins.

His death would allow us to return back to Heavenly Father HAPPY to be in His presence! The atonement was in no way diminished because  “he has no stately form nor splendor; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.” (Isaiah 53:2).

Heavenly Father chose a body for His son that would never grace the top 100 best looking men of the century. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t an either or. It’s not like good looks would have made Jesus less perfect or more perfect. It truly did NOT matter.  God looks on the heart. He knew when we met Jesus as our Judge and Savior we would completely rely on His heart and His sacrifice…not His looks.

How do we look at our bodies?  When we look in the mirror and see our grandma’s “birthing hips” do we think of how wonderful our grandma is and her amazing tenacity throughout world war 2 as she held down the fort (even when the “Fort” was more in the line of fire than her husband as a marine ever was)?  Do we think of the blessing it is that our bodies can create life? Truly miraculous and a feat of biology that is unmatched! Somehow we can nourish a human life!  Yet whether we fit our JEANS…is the important thing?  WHO are we kidding?  

I promise you the baby you are cradling and singing to, and loving and changing and nurturing, doesn’t care about your pant size. The development of her brain and heart and lungs and body and her ability to love and function all depend on you.

They do NOT depend on how you look in that dress!  They depend on what you do at midnight in sweats and a t shirt with your hair a mess!  

You singing “the wheels on the bus” barely coherently  for the 20th time is far more meaningful to your child than whether you have great abs. Do we look at what our choices and genetics have done to our body and let that blind us to what our body has done for others and for us? I get that it’s not an either or…kind of. We can care for our bodies AND care for ourselves AND others. But think.

What was your body made for?

A pedicure? Or mucking out someone’s house after a flood.

A great workout? Or packing someone up for a last minute move?

We create life and we sometimes allow ourselves to feel like a failure if we don’t fit our pre-pregnancy clothes in a few months? Our bodies are AMAZING!

I’m not saying eat donuts and soda. I’m not saying pedicures and work outs are bad. I feed my body well because it has taken me amazing places. I like celebrating what my body can do and test it’s limits with a good workout. My body has helped me learn languages. It has brought me the most amazing moments.

The long kisses. The babies. The books read. The mountains climbed and rivers canoed. The people served. The hard stories listened to. My body did that! It deserves the best food as a reward for all it has done for me. It deserves the most colorful foods. I’m worth the time to chop and cook great food. My body deserves that!

Now sometimes our bodies disappoint us. We’re sick, sometimes for months and sometimes for our rest of our lives. Sometimes we have a great desire to do good and can’t physically manage it.

Sometimes our dreams and goals involved a body that is different than ours…not because it doesn’t fit into a size 8, but because it can’t walk, or see, or do what we think we need it to. “For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.” (Galatians 5:17).  

Now maybe it is your role to not be the friends who carry the lame man’s bed…but to be the person who cannot walk. Maybe you are not the friend who leads the blind man to the temple, you are the one who cannot see. Maybe you have been trapped in your house for years with anxiety or crippling disease and identify more with those who need.

To read all of Britt Kelly’s articles, please click here.

How does God look on that body of yours? “Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.”  (John 9:3)  Do you want more than that the works of God can be made manifest in you?  

I promise that whatever your body size or shape or limitations…God has a plan for you. You are able and worthy to love and be loved. You can do great things for God.

You are not limited in God’s eyes in ANY WAY. What you most hate about your body might be exactly what God will use to show his greatness and mercy and power. Receive and appreciate the miraculous gift that is your body. Live. BE. Think. Serve and LOVE! You are not  something to be posed and posted and objectified, you are the temple of God. Believe it until you can see it and live it!  

Britt Kelly

Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.

With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.

She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.

She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.