BOOK NOOK REVIEW

WOMEN of the BOOK OF MORMON
by Heather B. Moore


Only a few woman are named in the Book of Mormon. A few more are noted in regard to their husbands, sons and lovers. Despite their anonymity, no one can deny that the powerful men of the the Book of Mormon had equally noble women by their sides, comforting them, bearing and raising their children, and waiting for their return from war. What lessons do their lives hold for us in our day?

Heather B. Moore is a prolific author of scripture-based historical fiction, but her newest book, "Women of the Book of Mormon," is a scholarly piece packed with splendid research and astute analysis on these oft-forgotten scriptural women.

I consider myself fairly well-versed in the scriptures, but Heather B. Moore has again done what she does so well--humanizing her subjects with cultural and historical details that illuminate their lives, making them real to us in ways this reader never before considered. Moore draws from the research of anthropological and scriptural scholars to recreate the locations and times in which these women lived. We weigh their sacrifices and feel the burden of their struggles, while the power of their influence for good or evil is also powerfully felt.

For example, Moore's depiction of the privileged life a wealthy matron in Jerusalem helps us empathize with the changes that likely occurred in the women's lives of Lehi's and Ishmael's households once they headed into the wilderness. Their lives of luxury were over, their beautiful clothing, jewels and household goods were now gone. I understood this, but Moore goes on to explain that without the benefit of servants, the responsibility for cooking, cleaning and serving the men fell to these once-privileged wives and daughters. The nomadic lifestyle required their pampered hands to set up camp, raise tents, toil, spin and weave. According to tradition, the women would have walked the long distances from site to site while the men rode. I saw brave, noble Sariah through new eyes.

The chapter describing the wife of Mormon also moved me deeply. Moore reminds us that Mormon's wife was alone most of her married life, raising at least one noble son while her husband led a fallen, depraved people in battle. I had just finished reading Moroni nine when I reached this chapter, recalling Mormon's horrific details of depravity and torture, and then Moore connected the dots, reminding readers that these were the times and circumstances under which this hero's wife likely lived and died. The heroism and courage of this this unnamed woman leaped off the page at me.

Moore also notes that one fallen women has the distinction of being named in the Book 0f Mormon--the harlot Isabel. Moore again pulls in fascinating research to explain why this woman's actions likely warranted her name being held in remembrance.

"Women of the Book of Mormon" is filled with wonderful insights that make these women and their stories come alive. These were women who understood sacrifice and who had their eyes fixed on eternity. As I read each chapter my mind kept drifting to Relief Society General President Sister Julie Beck's recent conference talk about the need for women in the Church to "live so that we qualify for, receive, and know how to follow the Spirit." Heather B. Moore's book is filled with such women . . . strong, tender, remarkable, and under-considered women.

"Women of the Book of Mormon" is a treasure to add to any family's library. Though the research is solid, Heather B. Moore wrote the vignettes simply, making this book a comfortable, easy read that will satisfy young readers as well as Gospel Doctrine students.

You will learn, and readers will never again gloss over the contributions of these great women. But more than that, careful consideration of this volume could improve one's overall scripture study habits, reminding us to pause as we read, to draw lessons from each character's life and circumstances. This is a book I'll refer to often. Bravo, Heather B. Moore!

"Women of the Book of Mormon" is available wherever LDS books are sold.

THE GIFT OF OPPOSITION

I've mentioned before that one of my all-time favorite stories is about a king who sends his three sons out on a quest to return with a picture of peace. A year passes, and when they return, two of the sons present sketches of serene settings. The third returns with a sketch of a solid rock face marred by a crack. Emerging from that crack is a tenacious little branch upon which rests a tiny bird. The king's eyes moistened as he looked upon the image, for he knew that a man who understood that true peace must be found despite opposition would make a wise ruler.

I think of that image often. I'm in a relatively quiet stage of life right now. My husband and I are basically quiet people. I'm a little more animated than he, but life is peaceful--we eat what and when we choose, we nap when we like, and we play when we want. I'm free to write most days now.

It sounds lovely, but I miss the chaos of family life from time to time. My memories are rose-colored, I know. I see cherubs racing home from school with with stories and adventures to share, forgetting the pushing and shoving as they dove into the pantry for after-school snacks, and completely ignoring the hectic rush to prepare and serve dinner to four busy kids who had practices, homework and games to attend.

I'm visiting grandkids now, and life is noisy, busy, messy, chaotic and sleepless. Today my four-year-old granddaughter and eighteen-month-old grandson pulled all the pots and wooden spoons out and held a kitchen-band jam session. I aged five years in twenty minutes. But a few minutes later, after that joy lost its thrill and the floor was littered with abandoned cookware, my grandson toddled over to the shelf, pulled down the family's illustrated Book of Mormon, opened a page and searched for the page he loves best--the picture of Jesus. "Ashus" he said with a reverent timbre befitting an angel.

Yes, Christian, "Ashus" is here.

Like the bird on the tenacious little branch, we have to find peace in the storm. It's there. Because of Ashus.

WISDOM FROM FOOTBALL AND WAR

Vince Lombardi is credited with saying, "Fatigue makes cowards of us all." The same words have also been credited to General George Patton. Irregardless, the truth remains that if manly men of football and war know that fatigue can break our spirits and cause us to cower, we can admit it too.

We've all had those days when the laundry list of life overwhelms us and instead of beginning at the top and working through it, we slump in a chair and whimper, unable to organize our thoughts enough to even choose where to start.

I remember day five of a siege of illness that plagued our family. The laundry backed up with fetid linen--the refuse of the children's illness--the dishes were piled like Mount Vesuvius and you could have turned my stove top into a Science Fair contender. Still, meals needed to be prepared and well-intended classmates kept stuffing make-up work through the doorway, despite my complete disinterest in participles, dangling or otherwise. It had been days since I had had more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep, and REM was a distant memory.How did I handle it? I sat in a chair and stared at the greasy water marks running down the front of the sink cabinet, the residual by-product of the well-est of the children's attempts to do the dishes. . . and then, good soldier that I am, I cried.

Tom was out of town as I recall, but other help was available. It almost always is, but I was too stubborn or proud to ask. And so, determined to stay in the pocket, to march on, I wore myself to a frazzle. I'm two decades older now, and I'm still that way to a degree. I'm buried by obligations right now and pressed against a wall of deadlines, but experience and wisdom have taught me to recognize when it's time to accept proffered help. And help is coming in abundance this weekend.

It's Conference weekend for members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I will sit and listen to the voices of modern day apostles and prophets of God, and feel the Lord's peace. And next week? Some of the things I pushed back today will still be there, but they'll concern me less. I'll remember what few things really matter, and I'll be still and remember that God is ultimately in charge.

Sometimes we get ourselves into trouble. But sometimes stuff just happens. Stuff is happening to a lot of people these days, but help is still at the ready, if we will accept it. Comfort? Peace? Could you use some of that? Then push the debris back for a few hours, and come listen with me. Their counsel isn't just for Mormons. It's for anyone hungering for a pocket of quiet and hope in the storm.

(Links above for internet feed. Also available on Directv 374, Sat and Sun- 10-12 Mountain , 12-2 Eastern; 2-4 Mountain, 4-6 Eastern.)

ONE OF MY FAVORITE STORIES

I was visiting fellow-author, Anne Bradshaw's "Not Entirely British" blog today, and her post reminded me of one of my all-time favorite stories. The following is an excerpt from Elder Hugh B. Brown's personal tale, "The Currant Bush". You can click the link to read it in its entirety, or just enjoy the short version below. It's truly a gem, and a lesson we all need from time to time. Enjoy!

THE CURRANT BUSH

by Elder Hugh B. Brown

I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush.
So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?”

You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.”

I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’ ”

I wanted to tell you that oft-repeated story because there are many of you who are going to have some very difficult experiences: disappointment, heartbreak, bereavement, defeat. You are going to be tested and tried to prove what you are made of. I just want you to know that if you don’t get what you think you ought to get, remember, “God is the gardener here. He knows what he wants you to be.” Submit yourselves to his will. Be worthy of his blessings, and you will get his blessings.

PERSPECTIVE

One measure of an author's gift is his or her ability to articulate and maintain the story through a clear perspective or point of view. Through whose eyes is the story being told, and in what position is the reader placed? Simply put, is the story written to make the reader feel he is the main character, able to see from the main character's point of view, or from many characters' point of view? It makes a difference in the intimacy the reader feels between himself and the characters.

Art draws from life. In life, perspective matters deeply. And perspectives change. Last Thursday I was puttering around on Face book contributing some inane banter about something nonsensical or at best, unimportant. The next day, after receiving some tragic news from dear friends, my Face book wall seemed almost obscenely irrelevant. My heart was in first person mode with my friends. The world seemed at best to be in distant third mode or even more removed. At that moment, such notations as, "I took the 'What Kind of Cookie Are You?' test, and I'm Oatmeal Raisin!" seemed a ridiculous waste of our limited time here on earth. The day before? Well . . . I wasn't rushing out to determine what my cookiness was, but the quiz didn't sting or annoy.

There just are some points of view that matter more, some moments that cause crystal clarity about the exquisiteness of life and its purpose. At such times we feel the world should halt for a moment and note that life has altered monumentally for someone, but the grass still needs mowing, the socks need matching, meals need to be prepared, eaten and cleared, and life moves on. It's how it is. It's how it must be, I suppose. The Lord seemingly knew that and gave us a permission slip to move on past grief or pain or sorrow or work. It's written in Ecclesiastes 3:1 and immortalized in Pete Seegers "Turn, Turn, Turn".

So I returned home to find my little two-month-old grandson sleeping in my family room. I never wanted . . . needed to hold a baby more than right then, to shift perspective back to life and joy and routine again.

I doubt I'll ask you what cookie you are today, or even tomorrow for that matter, but it is again a time to smile and seek joy, while always remembering and reaching out to those whose perspective will be one of sorrow for quite a while longer.

The Title of LIberty is Raised Again

I've spent quite a bit of time lately, listening and reading wonderful talks in preparation for a women's conference at which I was recently invited to speak. I've also been thinking a lot about the election and the Prop 8 results. Some people are still angry about the election. Some are filled with hate and no longer feel America is their home. Conversely, some are angry with the Church because of Prop 8. After all this thinking and pondering, what I've concluded is that I have no place for hate or anger in my heart. Resolve? Yes. But hate? Anger? Bitterness? No. My heart has no place for these. There is simply too much work to be done to allow ourselves to be crippled by these feelings.

I think the Title of LIberty was raised again by Elder Packer in October's Conference during his talk entitled "The Test". Americans who understand Democracy also understand that sometimes the pendulum swings away from their position, but the examples Elder Packer illustrated about the Saints and their love of America, despite being denied the protection of her principles, seems prophetic now.

Perhaps it was.

Is there any question that the Brethren knew about the battle to defend the family long before we did? I believe they knew this firestorm was coming way back before 1995 when they drew the line in the sand, defining marriage as a union between a man and a woman and asserting that gender matters. The Proclamation to the Family was as much an effort to align us on these principles as it was to teach the world. And in these last weeks, we discovered how critical it was to have unity among the saints on this.

Likewise, I don't think it was by accident that Elder Packer spoke about love of country and passing the test of patriotism, especially during times of adversity. The media foments what they will to drive their numbers up. But listen to the voices of the Brethren who advice us to find happiness in our circumstances, to be unified, to seek peace and to remember that God is at the helm.

Still, there is much work to be done. While Prop 8 passed this round, new battle fronts are being raised in new states. Like Captain Moroni's relentless efforts to rally and protect his people, I don't think we will ever be able to rest from this fight. The American Revolution was a young person's cause because those who began the fight knew they would be long dead and gone before the dust settled on the new republic. Likewise, this battle we fight to defend the family is also going to be our children's battle, and our grandchildren's.

But we must remember what our end goal is. In the words of Elder Holland, "Something is going to be asked of this dispensation that has never been asked before. [We] must be prepared to present the church of the Lamb, to the Lamb. And when that happens, we must be looking and acting like His Church."

As we rise to the task before us, we must look and act like members of the Church of the Lamb. We must be positive and joyful, and we must use our talents, which are many, to allow the Spirit, not force, to change hearts. I am going to work harder on this. I hope we all will.

I discovered this lovely song on youtube. Thank you, Barry Hansen, for inviting the Spirit to teach better than words alone. May we all be united in our cause, which is the cause of love.

Laurie


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ez0vgS5UDdg

SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

Elder Enzio Busche delivered a beautiful devotional to the students at BYU on 14 May 1996. Some talented, inspired person set his exquisite remarks to music, placing images alongside that drive the messages deep into one's heart. I hope you'll enjoy it as I did and share it with others.

It occurs to me how faithfully the members are heeding Elder Ballard's request that we spread the Gospel by using the Internet. It may not be the feet of full-time missionaries that take the Gospel message to far-flung continents. It may, instead, be the fingers of member missionaries, who use their talents to reach the minds of people in places now denied association with the Church.

Thank you Elder Busche! And thank you to whomever created this vehicle. Enjoy, and share.
http://www.youtube.com/swf/l.swf?video_id=snAjZ8mfoYw&rel=1&eurl=&iurl=http://i4.ytimg.com/vi/snAjZ8mfoYw/default.jpg&t=OEgsToPDskI53sHab9mjkmdHiKOJV8NF&use_get_video_info=1&load_modules=1&fs=1&hl=en