"I still believe."

if you want to read a sweet little post about childhood innocence...and get a sweet little reminder about the power of believing,

read my little brother's post on his family blog.
(I loved this!)

I saw God this morning

Last summer on the way home from my trip to China, I read the best-selling Christian novel THE SHACK.

It's a great little gem in which the main character is dealing with something horrifically difficult and ends up in a place where he meets and spends time with God (who is depicted as a big black woman), Jesus (who if I remember was a Gardner) and the Spirit (his physical form is escaping me right now).

This books fascinated me for many reasons:
a.) it portrays the Godhead as three distinct beings...something Mormons believe but most of the Christian world does not
b.) actually, that was the main point of my fascination.
c.) it made me more aware of the ways God really does manifest Himself in our lives. I still know He is a physical God of flesh and bones. I really do believe that. But because He is God, He has the power to manifest Himself through others. No question.

The book changed me a little. It didn't do anything to change my beliefs but it did help me think more about having conversations with God and seeing evidences of Him more often. I feel like I've spent the last year of my life doing just that.

And so, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised this morning when He showed up at my house.
He tried to call first, at 6:02am but I didn't want to pick up.
The next thing I knew there was a knock on my door.

"You can't hide from me," He said. "You're getting on your treadmill. Talk to me."

And I did.

For 35 minutes I walked and then ran and then almost threw up...while I talked and cried and couldn't breathe.

And He just listened.

He yelled a couple of times when He needed to knock some sense into me.
But, He also cried with me and said things I needed to hear.
"You can do this."
"It's not too late."
"You're not the same girl you were before."
"You ARE doing this."

And I ran harder and longer than I have any of the other mornings since I became "a runner".

It's been a fascinating week for me full of some of the best highs and some of the hard lows. he who does not deserve to be named (and doesn't even deserve a capital "h" in "he") has delighted in confusing my heart and my mind with lies he has spent much of my life whispering to me. And the tragedy of that is that I was believing him...and I was getting defeated...all in a matter of about 36 hours.

But, he will not win.
he can't.
he never will.

Because
This morning, "God" showed up out of the blue.
She had followed a prompting when she was awakened at 5:30 am.
And she didn't think twice about grabbing the baby and driving to my house.
And she said everything He needed her to say.
And she listened to everything I needed someone to hear.
And she pushed me.
And I needed it.

I saw God this morning.
He was a 5'8" white woman with hair in a bun, holding a 1yr old, standing at my door in pajamas at 6:05am.

Who knew?

God knows Jordan.

I rushed out the door to get through the traffic to get to the canyon. I felt the need to turn off the radio and put in the heaven cd.

And then it started.

Thoughts and images of girls.
None of it made a lot of sense and the timing was horrible.
I knew I wouldn't have time to write a new message before getting to the camp.

So, I told the Lord that it would be so much easier if I gave the message I'd been giving the last few weeks. Surely I could make it work. Was He sure it needed to be different? (note to self. don't question promptings like that.)

And then more impressions about the girls.
One in particular.
I couldn't see her face.
But, I knew she was up at the camp.

******

I was so nervous when I stood up to speak.
I felt unprepared and unsure of what I would say and how it would all fit.

"I promise if you'll listen, Heavenly Father will talk to you tonight through the Spirit. I hope you hear something from Him. It will likely be something you don't even hear me say. My job is to just stay out of the way so the Spirit can give you the message He wants you to hear."

After my typical intro, I realized my little card with some notes and an outline had fallen off my scriptures and blown from outside my easy reach.

"Okay," I said. "You're in charge."

I told stories and shared things I haven't shared before in that setting. We laughed together and cried together but I didn't know where it was going.

I looked around the entire time, trying to make eye contact with each girl.
I wondered where she was.
But, I never saw her.

And I just wasn't sure if I had done what He had asked me to do.

******

I had the chance to meet many of the girls.
I love talking to them. They are really incredible.
I love asking their names and guessing their ages.
I love making them pinky swear that they'll take the prayer challenge.

As they made their way down to the pavillion, the Gardners made their way to me.
We must have talked and caught up for 30 minutes.

As we turned to walk down the hill from the amphitheater, I noticed again the two girls who I thought had been waiting for their leader who had been talking to us. I said, "You girls stayed here and passed up the ice cream down at the pavillion? You're crazy!"

And then she said, "Actually, can I talk to you for a minute?"

I was horrified that she had been waiting for me. I don't ever expect anyone to want to talk to me, let alone wait.

The others quickly walked down the hill.

And we were left alone.

I've had the privilege of talking to a lot of girls in my experiences with these opportunities. And I've even had moments of feeling impressed to say certain things to them.

But, when "Jordan" began to cry, I said a little prayer.
"Please Heavenly Father. If there's something I need to say or do, make it clear."
"I already did" was the reply.

And then I realized I was in the presence of the girl.

The girl He cared so much about that He had gotten through my crazy head and my insecurities and my need to give a polished presentation...and prompted me to give a different message.

It was for her.

She started to tell me her story. "It feels so good to say this out loud to someone." She tried to tell me all the reasons she doesn't go to Church anymore. How hard it is to get there when her parents have decided none of it matters. And then, what I had felt compelled to share made so much sense.

We talked and talked.
Well, mostly, she talked and I listened.

"It's so hard" she said.
"But, He knew it would be," I heard myself say. "And if He thought He would lose you by having you in this situation, He wouldn't have let you be here. Jordan, He knows you can do this. He knows everything that's going on right now."

She just nodded.
And there were more tears for both of us.

I felt compelled to take her by the arm and look her into her 15-yr old eyes.
And I made her a promise right then and there.
Even as I said it, I was questioning myself.
Who was I to say what I said?
But, that's just it...it wasn't about me.
He needed to get a message...a promise...to one of His daughters and He was going to get that message to her inspite of me.

I don't quite have words to express what I feel even as I type this experience. I've gone back and forth about posting it. I find myself praying that you'll see the message of this experience for what it is...a testimony that God knows each of us. This wasn't about me. It was about one girl who needed to hear His promise. I was just blessed to be in the right place at the right time. He used me. I got to be used by Him because I was there.

I love knowing that God knows Jordan.
I love knowing that He would orchestrate an experience just for her.

It's a confirmation the He knows me.
That even now, He is orchestrating details of my life too.

It's true for me.
It's true for Jordan.
It's true for you too.

So, just in case you need a reminder.
He knows you.
He does.
I promise.

a true full circle moment

It was the summer of 1988.
The family moved from KY to MO. The 16 year old was forced to leave her friends and the safe life she knew.
She was not a happy girl.

She was an overweight insecure girl who didn't know who she was
And who she thought she was she didn't like.
She had a vision of her life that didn't go far.
It was such a hard time for her.
She was so sad.

Her first friend was Mary Gardner.
Or rather, Sister Gardner.

Sister Gardner was her Young Women's leader and must have known how desperately this girl needed to be reached out to. She convinced the girl to go to Girls Camp, the last thing that girl wanted to do. But, she went because of Sister Gardner.

In fact, she would do a lot of good things the next two years because of Sister Gardner. Sister Gardner saved this awkward insecure girl in so many ways.

That is not an overstatement.

I often think of this story when I go to girls camps now.

And tonight, as I spoke at yet another camp (and it was one of the single best experiences I've ever had and I'd love to tell you about it and I will but I'm too tired to do it tonight) it was as if time stood still when the leader introducing me said at the end, "I understand that the last time Laurel went to Girls Camp as a girl, she spent much of the time at a laundromat."

WHAT?

And then in an instant, I had the memory of that 1988 Girls Camp when a flash flood went right through my tent...ruined everything. And my tentmate and I went to a laundromat to salvage what we could...with Sister Gardner.

So, imagine my total joy and appreciative little heart when the next words I heard tonight were, "and the leader who was with Laurel then is here with us tonight."

I turned around and there at the top of the little amphitheater was Sister Gardner and her husband. They are serving as service missionaries at Heber Valley Camp. There are 52 missionary couples serving at that camp and yet the Gardners were assigned to the very spot I was speaking at tonight.

It was so surreal.
22 years ago, I was a girl at Girls Camp who knew so little about who I was...what God thought of me...how my life would play out.

And here I was tonight, trying to share what I've come to know with a group of girls...some like I was oh so long ago...in the presence of a woman who blessed my life during such a significant time.

She tried to help me understand who I was.
And I was trying to do the same for these girls.

It was one of the sweetest "full circle" moments I've ever had.
God is good, eh?

So, to all the Sister Gardners out there...
Don't stop loving the girls around you.
Don't stop testifying to them.
Don't stop encouraging them.
You just don't know what they are meant to do and how much their mission will be directed and impacted by your love and your leadership.

You just don't know what their full circle moment might be.

Storytime: Rejected by God

I decided it's time to start telling the "did you know?" stories.

And first up...Seminary.
(Most high school age youth in the Mormon church participate in a daily religion class early before school. Yep...every school day...all four years of high school. Depending on the time school starts, classes can begin as early as 6am; which means you can be getting up as early at 4:30.)

When I returned from my mission, I just knew I no longer wanted to be a Speech-Language Pathologist (my major in college). And actually, I knew I wanted to go back to my original plan of being a teacher. As I thought about it, studied it out and prayed about what direction my life should take, I felt strongly about being a Seminary Teacher. (in Utah, seminary happens all throughout the school day and the LDS Church actually hires teachers. In other places, teachers serve on a volunteer basis.)

I enrolled in the program at BYU and took the first class. The end of the class included a week of student teaching. I had been teaching at the Missionary Training Center and I felt confident in what I could do. I worked so hard to prepare the lessons and I was so excited to finally put it all into real practice.

And it just felt right.

I remember my first day of student teaching. I watched the current teacher with the students. My impression was that he wasn't connecting and the kids seemed disinterested. I wanted my shot.

It was one of the best weeks of my life at the time.
I felt totally alive with those kids.
I loved teaching the Old Testament, Kings specifically.
The whole experience fascinated me.

When I left the classroom on Friday, I knew it was just the beginning of what I was meant to do.

Like I said, it just felt right.

I was able to see my student evaluations. They were really good. It seemed what I tried to do worked. I was excited about what was ahead.

So the day the letter came from the program, I couldn't open it fast enough. And I distinctly remember the comic sans font on the envelope. It was so cheery and whimsical. Surely one would only use "cheery and whimsical" for sharing very happy news.

"We strongly encourage you to pursue other endeavors."

That's the only part of the letter I remember.
They didn't even have the backbone to come right out and say, "You aren't good enough and we will not be offering you a position."

I called my dad with the letter still in my hand.
I cried.
Oh, I cried.
I was in the middle of a college love heartbreak and I said to my dad, "It's one thing to be rejected by a boy but it's quite another to be rejected by God."

I mean, if I was trying to be hired to teach His word, the rejection felt a little personal.

I really was devastated.
Funny, I rarely think of it now.
But, at the time, it seemed like my life's biggest disappointment (oh that that could have actually been the biggest.)
I couldn't imagine what my life was going to become...
what I was going to do...
where I was going to go.

I ended up graduating and moving to Connecticut to live with my sister and her family. It was the beginning of a whole new journey.

I've learned enough since then to realize how unhappy I probably would have been in that program. And now that I've seen where the Lord has led me and the opportunities He has given me in other ways, I couldn't be more grateful. It simply wasn't right for me.

Sometimes closed doors really do create open windows.
Sometimes "rejections" end up being invitations.

Even when it looks like the rejection came from God.
Maybe especially when...

When God was just around the corner

(Someone shared this new video with me today and I can't shake the feeling to share why it means so much to me. So...I'm sharing.)

It was September 20, 1999.
A Monday.
I was at work late, as I often was in those days.
I was tired. I was spent. I was done.

And at about 6:30 p.m. when the printer jammed, I completely lost it. The kind of "lost it" where you begin to sob. Right then and there.

I don't think I even turned off my computer. I just got in my car from my downtown office and drove out to Sandy to see my Grandpa and Grandma. I sat on the couch and cried while Grandma held me in her arms.

Grandpa asked what was wrong and I couldn't tell them.
I didn't know for sure.
I just knew I was sad and that I had been for a while.
And I was mad, though I wasn't quite sure at who.
And I felt completely alone, even when in a sea of people.

Grandpa gave me a blessing and hoped I would be okay.

But the next day I didn't want to get out of bed.
And I didn't.
The day after repeated itself.
I spent the week isolated and sad, getting myself out just to go to the temple or take an ocassional walk.
I missed a friend's birthday.
I didn't answer my phone.
I didn't go back to work.

Eventually, the Lord helped me in the form of someone who really was qualified to help me. I've talked about that help a little bit before.

But, the sweetest form of help came that very next week.
It was Saturday, October 2nd.
I opened the blinds in my little 400 sq foot studio cottage.
The sun was shining through.
I remember the sun.
And I sat through two sessions of General Conference.
I don't remember feeling anything.
I don't remember crying. I had long run out of tears.

But, I remember to this day how I felt when the world stopped during the very last talk of the Saturday afternoon session. And Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, an apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ, gave the most masterful talk.

He was speaking just to me. I KNEW he was.



I learned that day that God knew me and He knew what I had endured the previous two weeks. He heard every prayer and watched every tear.
And He knew what was ahead; some might say just around the corner.

That single talk has blessed my life many times since then.

There truly is "an high priest of good things to come".
And SO MUCH GOOD has come into my life because of Him.
I'm not even close to the girl I was that day.
God was in the experience and in the journey.
For me, He was just around the corner.
And so was a lifetime of "good things to come".

I POLISH-ed my blog

I told you I was tired of my blog design.
And I got some help.

But, I just couldn't wait for "post 500" to do the unveiling.
How could I hold out on something this perfect?

I ADORE the new look and the kudos go to POLISH DESIGNS.
The creator over at Polish also happens to be insanely creative when it comes to all things for girls. She has a great little blog that I love where she always shares the latest great idea she has found or developed...Activity Days, Young Womens activities and lessons, birthday parties. She shares free templates and handouts. She's clever with a capital "c".

Oh, and she also happens to be my cousin.

She is VERY talented and has super competitive pricing for logos, blog designs, and other branding materials.

Check. Her. Out.

Thanks, Miss Angela, for the blog make-over.
I love love love it!

Would you vote for me?

A guy at KSL heard A WOMANS VIEW yesterday on KSL Radio.

Said he to Amanda Dickson (the host of the show who just told me about this interchange), "There was one woman on your show yesterday who was so articulate and interesting. She had a view about the death penalty that was really compelling and she had a great opinion about BP and deep-sea drilling. You know, she should run for office."

Click on the link above if you want to be mildly entertained by my opinions...some that are thought through...some that are made up on the spot.

I know.
I'm cute like that.

Just about the one

I spent today in Malad, Idaho.
(Just saying "Malad" makes me grin. I also want to say "Ma-lady" after it. Get it?)
A city that my BlackBerry GPS says doesn't exist.
But, my heart sure knows it does.

I was there to meet a couple of times with some young women and then finish the day with an evening fireside for the girls and their moms.

Well, that's why I THOUGHT I was there.

In all of my travels, I have the chance to enjoy Sunday worship in lots of different places. And every now and then, I can't help but feel that the Lord has orchestrated a moment...in a city I don't belong to...just for me (like in Kansas City, remember?).

Today was another one of those days.

There was a missionary returning to report on his mission experience so the chapel was full and into the overflow. As the Sacrament water was being passed, I noticed two of the priests at the Sacrament table having a quiet discussion about whether or not there would be enough of the little cups of water for each member of the congregation. I could tell one was worried and one was sure what they had prepared would be sufficient.

As the deacons returned to the table with their trays, one by one they each took their turn to pick up a small cup of water from the last tray with cups.

But there weren't enough.
They were short.
By one.
One little deacon was standing at the table in line with all the others.
And there was nothing for him.

The two priests walked back into the room where the Sacrament is prepared.
They filled one little cup.
They brought it back to the Sacrament table.
One priest knelt and recited the prayer.
And then the little deacon partook of the water.

In that moment, it was as if the entire congregation was assembled just so one little 12 yr old boy could partake of the sacrament and renew his covenants.

And it was as if I heard in my mind:
"Sometimes it's just about the one."

That experience stayed with me all afternoon.
Through the rest of the meeting.
Through dinner with some of the most remarkable girls I've ever met.
Through a drive back to the church past the beautiful lush green hills of Malad.

And as I walked into the chapel and sat on the stand before the fireside began, those words came back into my mind:
"Sometimes it's just about the one."

I had this overwhelming sense that while I thought I knew why I had come to Malad, I did not.
But, the Lord did.
And it was for one girl.
I told them about the experience with the sacrament.
And then I shared my impression.
I invited everyone else to just sit there and listen if they'd like.
Only the one girl would know who she was.

I wasn't sure of her identity until the very end.
Our eyes locked in a moment of testifing that God knew her.
And then it happened.
He was testifying to me too.

I knew He had heard my prayer on my drive up to Malad.
I knew He was aware of what was in my heart this morning.
And I knew He knew I knew.

Sometimes it really is just about the one.
And sometimes that one is me.

I've fallen in love

I wasn't expecting things to work out.

I mean, I've tried this before...
but the timing has been off
(or there wasn't the needed compatibility or the possibilities were represented to be something other than reality).

But this time...
this time it's different.

Don't get me wrong.
The first couple of times we were together it was awkward.
It was requiring something from me I hadn't really had to do before.
And it didn't come as naturally as I had hoped.

I felt out of practice.

And I discovered it wasn't as easy as some people made it look.

But, I was determined to make a go of it.
I had to know I had done all I could.

And then, something just clicked.

I knew it was a good sign when I found myself thinking about our time together while I was driving back from LaVerkin yesterday (AMAZING group of girls that I got to be with on Thursday night, btw. It's going to be a great summer of girls camps).

Now, I realize that in some ways it hasn't been very long but it's doing something for me.
In fact, I was so excited about spending time together today that I got on my treadmill last night when I got home.
I don't do that.
But, I knew we'd be together this morning and I just wanted to feel stronger and a little more steady on my feet.

Some of you have asked about it.
And I'm sure you'll all have your own opinions.
But, I'm ready to talk about it openly.

Are you ready?









Are you sure?







You promise not to think I'm crazy?
Or that I've come to a conclusion too quickly?








I seriously love my WAVE.
No. For reals.

I know it's only been a couple of weeks, but it is challenging me AND it's actually fun. THAT is a good combination.

I actually look forward to the days I get to do the workouts.
The dvds are great.
(though I was horrified the 2nd time when I realized the "beginner girl" I was following was PREGNANT...nothing like that to help you step it up).
I'm dying when I'm done.
But I feel stronger.

And I LOVE it.

Best "only 2 easy payments of $29.99" I ever spent.

God waits too

You know that little "waiting" study I did?

Turns out, God waits too.
And I knew that.

I know He waits for me to get my act together.
I know He waits for me to figure things out.
I know He waits PATIENTLY for me to move forward in trust.

But, I don't think that concept has ever been expressed better than this:

"God expects you to have enough faith
and determination
and enough trust in Him to keep moving,
keep living,
keep rejoicing.
In fact,
He expects you not simply to face the future...
He expects you to embrace and shape the future—
to love it
and rejoice in it
and delight in your opportunities.

God is anxiously waiting
for the chance to answer your prayers
and fulfill your dreams,
just as He always has.
But He can't if you don't pray,
and He can't if you don't dream.
In short,
He can't if you don't believe."

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland
"Terror, Triumph, and a Wedding Feast", CES Fireside, Sept. 2004

*****

What has God been anxiously waiting for with you?

My Toblerone Mountain

"It's not the mountain we conquer,
it's ourselves."
-Sir Edmund Hillary.

Since yesterday at about noon, I've been looking at a mountain of Toblerone. I received it as a "thank you" gift for speaking to that great group of women. It's one of the hazards of speaking...people feel compelled to give you a "thank you" gift...and too often the "thank you" comes in the form of "yummies".

I don't need a gift and I REALLY don't need the chocolate.

You'd think I would just throw it away, but seriously, how can I throw away a perfectly good mountain of Toblerone? Who does that? That's crazy talk, I tell you.

Anyway, I've been thinking about it all day.
Not the Toblerone really.
But, what the Toblerone represents for me right now.

I know it's only been two weeks since my crazy commitment to not eat chocolate for a year (well, 2 weeks and 1 day...or the equivalent of 360 hours...but really, who is counting?), but it's been a really great two weeks.

What started as just a casual conversation was actually the impetus to a serious commitment that I have been needing to make for a long time. And it's not ABOUT the chocolate...but the chocolate is representing what it's about. (I know I speak in veiled language...just bare with me.)

And that is what I love about this quote by Sir Hillary (the first successful Mount Everest climber, in case you're trying to place the name).

This isn't about me not eating chocolate for a year.
I mean, it is...of course it is.
(& I'm totally doing it, btw.)
But, it's bigger than that.
This is about me conquering something that has always seemed bigger than me.
This is about me being in control of my life.
This is about me taking risks.
This is about me trusting promises.
This is about me being...ME.

The me who conquers mountains.
The me who conquers...me.

My name is...

This morning I was with a group of real live adult women.
You'd think with my job, I'd have my fill of time with women.
But, I don't often get to formally talk to them.
And while I love being with teenage girls and feel passionately about those opportunities, there was something really invigorating about openly and honestly sharing what I believe with a group of my peers.

I was asked to talk about "Understanding Your Divine Potential".

Interestingly, that is essentially the same topic I'm often asked to address with teenage girls.

Which got me thinking.

Are we, the "adult women", really that different from our younger counterparts?
Do we really know more than they do?
Do we understand any better who we are?

I think life does something to us.
I think on one hand, we do know more and we do undertand better--life's experiences help create deeper wells.
We've likely had more reasons to get on our knees and talk to our Father.
We've have more instances of needing to call upon the power of the Atonement.

But.

We've also known more disappointment and more heartache.
We've had more time to make mistakes and beat ourselves up.
We've failed more because we've attempted more.
Yes, life does something to us.

Teenage girls are just at the beginning of learning some of the things we already know but they are also just at the beginning of a life full of hope and dreams and happinesses that some of us have already lost.

Early on in our gathering I had the women write down the first word that came to their mind when they thought of themselves.
The very first word.
I saw the look on their faces, knowing that for some of them it was a painful exercise.
Later on I had them write one positive word they wanted to believe about themselves if they didn't already.
Then, I had them stand and introduce themselves using this word instead of their name.

The first woman stood and cried, needing to gain composure before she said,
"My name is heart."
The next woman said she didn't have anything written down and asked if she could pass.
"Of course," I said. "But, you can't leave here until you have written something down. You don't have to share it, but you owe it to yourself to write it down."
Something about the exercise struck a chord for her.

Then, one by one...
"My name is funny."
"My name is determined."
"My name is loving."
"My name is kind."
"My name is secure."
"My name is try."
"My name is healthy."
"My name is Mom."
"My name is pretty." (This woman added, "And it's taken me a long time to believe that about myself.")
And on and on.

I've done that little exercise with a group of teenage girls. And you know? I think in some ways it's easier for them.

While it is true that some of them struggle with their identity, a whole lot of them haven't yet been convinced by the world that they are anyone other than who they believe they are.

Like some of us have been convinced.

Life just does something to us.
But, I am oh so grateful for what life does.
And what it's teaching me.

*****

By the way, my name?
My name is courage.