Soggy Lion

It's snowing. Again. On March 28. I just left a church activity called "Bloom Where You're Planted" and drove home in a whiteout.

This reminded of possibly the greatest thing Bonnie Dixon ever said: "March comes in like a lion and goes out like a soggy lion."

I remembered buying a little lion card for Archer after his baby blessing because Greg blessed him to be "bold as a lion". To make sure I didn't misplace the precious lion card I rummaged through his SAVE BOX. It was right where I left it. I love remembering Archer's birth; it was one of the happiest times in my life. It was also when I learned that putting an iPhone flashlight face down on a white Huggies wipes box makes a perfectly-wattaged lantern to nurse and change size 1 diapers to. 

Little lion card also reminded me of this story I saved for Archer's book:

While our family was in Argentina on assignment from the Church, our son and I often visited sites of interest in our free time. Among them was a zoo unlike any zoo we had seen before.

Rather than wander past cages of sleepy animals, visitors were invited to enter the pens and pet the animals. Following the trainer, we made our way into the enclosure prepared for the large lions and petted them while they seemed to ignore us.

I asked the trainers how they had convinced those giant beasts to not eat us. They called my attention to several little dogs that likewise inhabited the pens. When the lions were small, those yappy dogs chased the lions mercilessly and nipped at their heels. The lion cubs became accustomed to cowering in the corner, afraid of the dogs.

When the lions grew, they continued to cower in fear. With the flick of a paw, they could easily have sent those dogs flying, but the lions didn’t see themselves as they really were. They were unaware of their regal identity and potential.

We have God’s spiritual DNA coursing through our veins. We are His sons and daughters and His heirs. Swat away any deceiving messages, beliefs, or habits that cause you to cower in the corners of your life. Don’t let them nip at your heels and make you feel fearful or hurt. Rise to the level of your eternal stature. You are royalty. (Clayton 2016)

Isn't it sad that it's a dog-eat-lion world sometimes? My oldest often feels like a soggy lion and needs constant reminders of her royalty. Greg and I are bewildered as to why she can't see the obvious (her worth) but we've come to the conclusion that Satan is relentless. Fortunately, I'm a mama bear hidden inside a scraggly, knock-kneed lion and Greg is basically Mufasa with pouncing quads and perfect teeth and RELENTLESS is our middle name. We can try harder. We can be intentionaler (made that word up) parents. We must get more daily messages to her than the yapping dog does.

Parenting, prompts, prayers. What else can we do? Cue the village! There is power in people who send good, true, and happy messages to kids who aren't their own. We parents need all the help we can get.

Lion card from Harmony boutique in Provo

Photo quote by Elder Neal A. Maxwell, Ensign, November 1986, 53. (Do I quote anyone else?) 

Lion article by Kathy Kipp Clayton, "You are Royalty," Ensign, August 2016, 23.

Icebreaker

Right after we moved, our old neighbor Mitch sealed Chateau's new concrete for the price of a homemade chicken pot pie. He's a bit of a concrete expert and advised us to not salt our driveway for three years while it was "green" (curing) or salt would tear it up. We promised we wouldn't use a grain of evil salt and waved him goodbye.

Two winters later (well, almost two if this one would ever end) I'm rolling my eyes at Mitch. Suncrest's 6,140-foot face-off with the north wind + an inclined driveway + my gutless, snow tire-less van = a recipe that demands salt. In fact, our concrete baby better hurry it up and mature into a tough concrete toddler by October 2020 because I'm ready to sprinkle salt like there's no tomorrow.

Keeping our salt-free promise to Mitch has been possible only if one is inclined to shovel till one's rotator cuff falls apart. Hence, we were forced to "invest" (another eye roll, but to be fair, it was Greg's rotator cuff on the line, not mine) in an Arctic-approved snow blower just smaller than a Smart car after the three of us shoveled the remains of the last storm for five hours and still couldn't clear the driveway. We named her Bigger Bertha and for what she cost we will have to decide which child we love the most and bequeath it to them in our will.

Now that Greg has a balaclava and ski goggles for snow removal and I have operated Bertha twice by myself we feel confident here in No Sodium Narnia—unless we have to step foot on our front porch. It is a wind-whipped ice block of a death trap. It is always screaming for salt, and from its cries I discovered a hidden treasure in this oft-quoted New Testament scripture:

Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. -Matthew 5:13

In the margins of my Bible I have written PRESERVATIVE, FLAVORER, ANTISEPTIC (PURIFY) and the name CARLOS ASAY, which is a nod to the famous "salt talk" given by Elder Carlos Asay in 1980. A few excerpts:

This white substance occupies an important place in our lives. It is essential to health; body cells must have salt in order to live and work. It has antiseptic, or germ-killing, properties. It is a preservative. It is an ingredient in many foods and products. And it is estimated that there are more than fourteen thousand uses for salt.

According to the historians, “Salt at one time had religious significance, and was a symbol of purity. … Among many peoples, salt is still used as a sign of honor, friendship and hospitality. The Arabs say ‘there is salt between us,’ meaning ‘we have eaten together, and are friends’” (The World Book Encyclopedia, 1978, 17:69).

Let me stop here and say how awesome it is to find a solid encyclopedia reference in this 80s time capsule. Takes me back to my Dewey Decimal card catalog days in the school library, where I'm wearing Velcro sneakers (with the zipper pocket on the side for my milk money) and carrying my rainbow Trapper Keeper. *happy sigh* Let me also add that as a hostess who has her special guests sign a tablecloth after eating in her dining room I love "having salt between" my friends and loved ones.

I think it's generally understood if the Savior compared his disciples (us) to salt then our remaining unspotted from the world affords us power to preserve, enhance, and purify important things in this life. The way we sprinkle our salt can make things in this world last for worlds without end. Salt's power seems to focus on outward purposes, for the betterment of mankind. But what about mankind who could do so much better?

Today, in the aftermath of the season's 398th blizzard, I realized I've been overlooking one of salt's fourteen thousand secret powers. Salt melts ice! That has to mean something, right?

Does salt help icy people? Does it warm those with cold shoulders? Free those who are frozen in fear? Heat those who are numb? Is there anyone that authentically shared and lovingly applied salt can't help?

What of my own shivering? I really, truly want to be good but sometimes ice runs through these veins and I come off as the understudy for the White Witch. When I'm frosty toward my fellow men and sliding down my own slippery slope can I salt myself? Is that even possible? I don't think so, not when being unsavory is so clearly defined as "good for nothing". If hell is literally freezing over my only hope is rock salt; my only help is Christ. Salt isn't just for me to toss on everyone else; it's what I need to kill my natural man.

The salty life is a cycle of being qualified and clarified. Honestly, it involves a lot of thawing. In other words: Behind every savory salt seeker is a lot of repenting.

If a disciple of Christ is salt, and disciples aspire to become like Him, then He must be a perfect form of salt. Maybe The Rock is salt, not stone. How else could such mighty change be wrought in the souls of men?

Photo from ChurchofJesusChrist.org

Issue

WOMAN WITH AN ISSUE OF BLOOD 

[Mark 5 account]

And Jesus went with him; and much people followed him, and thronged him.

And a certain woman, which had an issue of blood twelve years, and had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse, when she had heard of Jesus, came in the press behind, and touched his garment. For she said, If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole. And straightway the fountain of her blood was dried up; and she felt in her body that she was healed of that plague.

And Jesus, immediately knowing in himself that virtue had gone out of him, turned him about in the press, and said, Who touched my clothes? And his disciples said unto him, Thou seest the multitude thronging thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me? And he looked round about to see her that had done this thing. But the woman fearing and trembling, knowing what was done in her, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth. And he said unto her, Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace, and be whole of thy plague.

For obvious personal reasons I love this story. I, who cycled through 12 years before getting pregnant, can relate to this poor woman who spent all she had with doctors and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse. Her predicament brings back every receipt, single stripe, wasted month, and raw emotion that brought me to my knees but I, too, reached in faith from the dust.

This woman touched the hem of Christ’s robe and was instantly healed from the inside out. She stretched and caught a miracle. I, too, was eventually healed from the inside out by an ultrasound print I stuck on the fridge like an Olympic gold medal but only after years of clutching the Savior’s robe as I bled. Those years of constancy, of being faithful and true every 28 days, were full of issues.

WOMAN WITH AN ISSUE OF BLOOD. Sometimes I like to omit the “of blood” and simply read it as WOMAN WITH AN ISSUE. Who among us doesn’t have issues? Ugly, lasting, deep issues? Pains so private they can only be fixed from the inside out because we’d never let them surface anyway? I have those issues.

So many of us are desperate. For those of us who have the faith to be healed, who sprint to town and lurch through the crowd, who shadow the Man in the Robe and summon everything we’ve got and reach—but remain the same—I feel you. Yet I am here to testify there are still miracles when nothing changes. Sometimes the miracle isn’t that your issue dries up; the miracle is that you’re holding the Savior’s robe. There is peace in that kind of proximity. Be still, and know that I am God.

I think it’s possible, while casting a burden at His feet, to accidentally brush His hem after the release. Perhaps letting go of an issue is another way to reach in faith. Letting go frees up a hand that can now seize solace, right?

Is it a coincidence that after she tells the Savior all the truth she is whole of her plague? I’ve certainly felt better after unbottling and admitting all my issues to the Wonderful Counsellor. Is an honest, heartfelt prayer all it takes at times?

Is it the hem or the reach that makes the difference? Which is greater: being healed and changed in an instant, or being healed when nothing changes? Either way, the Savior possesses the power to do both and reaches our reaching.

I remain confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me.

Photo quote from Emma Lou Thayne's "Where Can I Turn For Peace"

Cindy Bean's link; this print is on her Etsy site (It's a long smiracle story how I got this print but Bonnie Mortensen is to blame. Cindy roamed the halls of the Brimhall the same time I did. She has evolved into quite the artist. I think this print is perfection. The way she portrayed the issue of blood, the negative space, the direction of the composition. So good. So, so good.)

Other "Issues" art: Kate Lee, James C. Christensen (I'm gaga for any depiction of this story.)