Christ's Healing Power

A few months ago I broke my wrist at a ward combined youth activity (Feb. 2010). I fell while ice skating. It was a bad break, I believe I had 8 fractures all together. I felt blessed to have wonderful doctors and the best medical care to put everything back together as it should be. During the time when I was preparing for orthoscopic surgery, my parents came up to help out, and my Dad gave Becci and I blessings concerning out health. The thing that struck me most powerfully in my blessing was a statement that Dad made to me. He told me that I needn't feel pain from my broken wrist, that Christ had already suffered this pain for me, and that through faith in him, I need not suffer it. I found this amazing, and enlightening. I had sometimes heard that Christ bore all of our sins and infirmities, including health and physical pain upon Himself through the atonement, but I had not actually internalized this concept before. I found, indeed, that I did not feel any significant pain in my wrist from this injury, neither when the accident first happened, nor when they set the bone, or after the surgery. I was weak, and the cast was sometimes uncomfortable, but there was no wrist pain. This experience made me begin to ponder the healing powers of the Savior, and how they apply in our lives.

I began to think about how often the Savior healed people in the scriptures. Almost all of Christ's miracles in the scriptures have to do with healing. I remembered the serpent on the staff that was raised up for the Children of Israel to look upon to be healed from the poisonous bites of the serpents in the desert—I pondered how this was a symbol of Christ and how his atonement heals us. . 41 And he did straiten them in the wilderness with his rod; for they hardened their hearts, even as ye have; and the Lord straitened them because of their iniquity. He sent fiery flying serpents among them; and after they were bitten he prepared a way that they might be healed; and the labor which they had to perform was to look; and because of the simpleness of the way, or the easiness of it, there were many who perished.

I began to think of Christ as the great healer. I began to ponder on the ways that Christ heals, and the manner in which we access this healing power. It was obvious to me that everyone who goes through this life experience will encounter earthly trials that will leave them with physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual scars or wounds. These wounds may be the result of one's own sinful behavior, or the sinful behavior of another. They may be the result of physical or mental illness or injury. They may be caused by grief or tragedy. There are endless possibilities, but we are, I believe, all injured in some real sense by the experiences of this earth life. How then do we heal?

Many of our wounds are deeply buried in our hearts, minds, and souls. They are not all quickly healed by any means, but with patience and faith, with hope in Christ, and through His power to heal, we can become whole, clean, and without blemish. I recognize that not all healing will occur in this life. Some illness and handicap will linger with us throughout this earth life, but all sin, emotional trauma, and physical pain has in fact been atoned for by the Savior, and through His power we can become free of it. Most of it we can eliminate through faith, over the course of our current life's time. We can speed up this process by working towards it through accessing the Lord's atonement and using the repentance and forgiveness processes. What is our role in these processes?

He sent fiery flying serpents among them; and after they were bitten he prepared a way that they might be healed; and the labor which they had to perform was to look; and because of the simpleness of the way, or the easiness of it, there were many who perished.

I think that we expect it to be hard, or perhaps, even impossible for us to be forgiven, or to forgive another. I think that we lack understanding and faith in this matter. Indeed healing requires a process that can take time and effort on our part, but I think it is much simpler than we may lead ourselves to believe, and it is always possible. The key is faith. We have to have the faith to “look.” To believe enough to take the most simple of actions. The Lord is willing and able to take the pain away. He has already borne it for us. He has already paid the price. He has the power in his hands. He will heal us.

3 Nephi 7:22

. . .”they had been wrought upon by the spirit of god, and had been healed.”

Alma 15:8

. . .”If thou believest in the redemption of Christ thou canst be healed.”

Mosiah 14:5

. . .”But he was wounded for our transgressions he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”

I am grateful for the healing power of the Atonement, and I find that in my own life, I have been supported, strengthened, and yes, healed, by the power of Christ. I witness that it can be the same for each of us, no matter what our circumstances are. . .His hands are stretched out still.

3 Nephi 18:32

. . .”for unto such shall ye continue to minister, for ye know not but what they will return and repent, and come unto me with full purpose of heart, and I shall heal them; and ye shall be the means of bringing salvation unto them.”

Study on the Holy Ghost

I have been interested in the Holy Ghost and how he acts in our lives for some time. Of the members of the Godhead, he obviously is most accessible to us in this life. It struck me rather profoundly at one point that when we are talking about receiving the Gift of the Holy Ghost, that we are actually talking about the opportunity to have a member of the Godhead as our constant companion. That is pretty incredible when you stop to think about it. I have read a little about the Holy Ghost and find that he has many ways that he can be an influence in our lives. He can be a guide, a revealer of truth, a confirmer of truth, a comforter, a warning voice, and a cleansing fire. He also is referred to by many names reflecting those influences: Comforter, Spirit of Truth, Spirit of God, and Holy Spirit.

When I was a child and a youth growing up in the church I remember a point when I wanted to “gain my own testimony of the gospel.” We often hear our leaders talk about this and I wondered how this was supposed to occur. When I was 13 or 14 years old I started reading the Book of Mormon on my own for the first time. I was seeking a testimony of the gospel, of Joseph Smith, The Book of Mormon—all of that. As I read Alma 32 about faith, it began to dawn on me that I may already have a testimony—or at least faith. The seed had been planted in me from my earliest memories and had been swelling and starting to grow all through my childhood and youth. I was expecting some kind of profound revelation like Joseph Smith had---maybe my own Angel Moroni or something—but that never happened. Instead I had a personal revelation through my father, who was my Bishop at that time that confirmed what I had begun to suspect, that my testimony was already in place.

I was in an annual interview in the bishop’s office and my father asked me about my testimony. I may have said something like I was unsure if I had one, I don’t recall, but I do remember his answer. He said that sometimes we are asking the Lord for an answer that we already have. He compared it to standing in the rain and asking the Lord if it is raining. “Please Lord; I must know if it is really raining.” I started crying. I realized that the Lord was answering my prayers. He was telling me that I already had a testimony. When we grow up with the light of the gospel shining all around us, we are not going to notice the light go on in our lives like a convert might—we are already there. We just need to realize and recognize what we have.

So anyway, a few weeks ago when I was learning about personality profiles and I was reading some of the different ways that people perceive or process their world I wondered if different personality types sense the influence of the Holy Ghost in different ways. That is when I sent out the question to some of my friends and family about how the Holy Ghost feels to you. I got some interesting answers, and I think there are some differences—maybe tied to personality type—who can say with my small sample—but here are some of the responses I got. Maybe you can recognize how the Holy Spirit speaks to you in some of these. Maybe you have another way to feel it. I would still be happy to compile more responses.

These quotes may be a bit out of context, but I wanted to focus on the way a person feels the spirit, more than on a specific experience. This is what the spirit feels like to people I know:

“A profound sense of calm and peace, that where I am physically and mentally at that instant make perfect sense.”

“feeling the will of God and the sense that you are doing right by him in how you live your life”

“feeling of thanks to God”

“It feels like an absence of conflict and contradiction with no need to explain why.”

“I cannot help but feel the truth within them (the scriptures) manifesting itself to my soul.”

“The first thing that comes to mind is the tingle I feel through out my body.” 

“ A neat experience we had while on our mission:  after helping some sister get dressed after their Baptism, one of them asked what was it we put in the water.  I was somewhat surprised with that question.  The others, a mother and young daughter, said they felt it too.  The only answer I would give was the nothing was added to the water, but the tingle they felt was the Holy Ghost confirming that what they had just done was right and good.”

“Sometimes I have promptings to do something, and have ignored it, only to find out later that it would have been better if I had listened.  All I know is that He is there when we need Him, but we have to be ready to feel, listen, and obey.”

“The spirit feels like a warm glow inside my chest—like the heart light from the ET movie.”

“The spirit sends instant messages to my brain. A sudden thought will flash into my mind that will be the answer to something I have been pondering or praying about. It will usually come as I am thinking about the problem, but often while I am doing something else. Sometimes it will be a scripture that comes to mind, but not always.”

“ I may get a flash, like a instant preview of what will happen if I make a certain choice or give someone else permission to do something. This usually happens when dealing with my kids asking permission to do something.” (warning: this is your mom speaking)

“Sometimes the Holy Ghost will send a warning. At times it is a nagging doubt or worry that won’t go away with reasoning. At other times it is just a dark feeling of foreboding.”  

Kirby

Kirby had a blessing from my father before he left for Iraq this time. In it my father mentioned a little bit about Kirby’s role in the pre-earth life and his words rang so true. He said something like: Kirby was a very outspoken advocate for Jesus in the pre-existence, I don’t remember exactly how he said it but I got the impression that Kirby may have  ticked off some folks on the other side of the exchange. Kirby is very straight talking, and he doesn’t back down when he feels he is right. He is impulsive to a fault, but most often to a good cause. He is also generous in the extreme. He will lend a hand and fix a problem if he sees it. He is the guy that, when driving alone, will pick up the hitch hiker. He will stop and help the guy on the side of the road. He once took a lady from Salt Lake to Provo after his night shift at a pizza place because she needed to go to the airport and didn’t have a ride. He is the proverbial force of nature at times, and I can imagine that Satan’s side has been after him big time for a long time.

Kirby grew up in Othello, WA, a little town in the rich farmland of the Columbia Basin. He learned to work hard at a young age. His grandpa had a farm where he moved sprinkler pipe. He had a paper route. He worked in a grocery store. He always had a job and worked. His family consists of Mom, Iola Smith, descended from Joseph’s uncle; and Bob Crowley, first generation LDS who was converted as a teenager. Good folk. They live in St. George now. Bob is a worker—still, never happy unless he has a project. He helped us put in our basement. Iola ran her own fabric store when I met her. She is the managing director and last word in that family, super nice people.

Kirby is the second of five children, like me in that way, he has an older sister who is one month younger than me, a brother Marty, a year behind him, and then 6 and 9 years later another brother Jim and a sister Patty. Marty, Kirby, and Jim have become great friends over the years and they are Kirby's four wheeling buddies who Kirby loves to go get dirty with. Jim lives in Vegas, and Marty in Reno, NV. Jim is a doctor, Marty a lawyer. Patty teaches High School, Cheryl is a nurse.

Kirby is extremely adept at almost anything he puts his mind to do, from cooking breakfast, need a short order cook anyone? To barbequing, (yes I have enjoyed his love of cooking) to making shelves and coat racks for the house, to creating a management spread sheet, or teaching a class, and he actually likes math. Can you say right brain attracts left brain now?

He can be sociable, but he has to work at it. He says he used to be really shy, and he still has that in him too. He can be the strong silent type, but he can also be the raging bull. He can be the tower of strength, but he can also be the guy with the little boy eyes that wants attention now.

He is smart, did I already say that a couple of times? He was really trying to a get a group together back in the early 90’s to get an invention idea of his off the ground. Have you ever heard of Ti-VO.? He thought of creating that little machine while working at hgm laser and tried to get a group together to start something on it, but we just didn’t have the ways and means. 

He likes to read, when he has time, but usually he will listen to books on tape while he is driving. He prefers spy thrillers, crime dramas etc. anything where the good guy wins in the end. Tom Clancy, Clive Cussler, Robert Ludlum, that kind of thing.  He collects things, DVD,s CD’s, tools, kids, We had to get a bigger house just to fit all of his collections into it. He has done a lot of driving in his life. He used to come home over a weekend when he was in Monterey and I was in Vegas—driving—long distances don’t bother him much. He likes to be with me. He will cross the distance to be there for a short time.

Yeah, he’s a good guy and I love him. 

Mom

Moms are harder to describe, don’t you think? They are the child’s comfort, the teenager’s confidant, the steady heart and hand.

Like my dad, my mom also grew up in Orangeville. She was the oldest of 5 children by 4 or 5 years, three of her siblings were born after she was 12. She was the princess, and the mother’s helper. When she was young, her father ran a saw mill in the summer months up in upper Joe’s Valley. Their family would live in a small cabin up there most of the summer. There was a spring for fresh water, and they had cows and horses. When I was a child we would almost always spend a week in the summer up at the “old saw mill”, which was nothing more than a site and a overgrown road into the hills at that point. We would hike and fish, and drink water from the spring. We would usually borrow my Grandpa’s camper to stay in. I loved going there, except for the drive, because I would get carsick on the switch backs and the narrow dirt road up to the high mountain was scary and had steep sides.

My Grandpa VanBuren built his own house on a piece of land next to his parent’s house. They had a big garden, fruit trees, and a barnyard. When I was young, my grandparents had chickens and cows and pigs, and a tractor, which I got to ride on, and even got to learn to drive once. They harvested a lot of their own food. I loved eating the apricots and crab apples, raspberries, and fresh peas at Grandma’s house. My mom and grandma were always canning something when we were there.

When I was twelve, we moved from Bountiful, UT to Santaquin, but there was a delay in our new house being built, so we spent a summer in Orangeville. What an amazing summer that was. We slept out under the stars, spent hours floating in the canal until our lips were blue. We slid down slippery wet rock water falls. We played “Run my Sheepy Run” at night wandering through the town, and we turned in pop bottles for penny candy at a store with wooden floors. My grandma used to have an old washing machine that was two open tin tubs with an agitator in one side and a ringer which was two rollers that pressed the water out of the clothes on the other. I loved watching her use that. Spending time at Grandma’s was pure Americana.

Some memories are associated with smells. I’ve got mint growing in my yard. That smell reminds me of Grandma’s house, as do blackberries and asparagus, which grew along the ditch banks. Crickets also remind me of Grandma’s house, you could always hear them outside. All of these memories are part of my mom. This was where she grew up, her family.

My mom used to sing us lullabies, old songs that her father used to sing to her, like “Far Away Places” and “Lavender’s Blue". She would tell us stories that she listened to as a child, like “Little Black Sambo” and “Epimandus.” She always had us pray at the side of our bed at night, and she would bounce a little as she sang bedtime songs sitting on the side of the bed and rock me to sleep. I have always loved to rock and swing because of that.

My mom is a quiet person. She loves to read and she loves to be at home. She keeps an immaculate house. She cooks simple but delicious meals. She gardens and cans and quilts. She has been Relief Society President twice, Primary President twice, Stake Primary President, once. She has been a temple worker, and served with my dad in the Provo Temple Presidency for a time, as well as serving a mission with him.

Mom and Dad were a couple from the time they were about 12. She waited for him while he served a mission. She went to BYU for one year and worked in a bank in Provo for a few years before, and just after she was married. She is a devoted wife and mother.

Mom always listened to me. She never rushed me. If I was sad, she would let me cry and stay until I was finished and comfort me. She was my best friend through my growing up years, and is a steady support and listening ear whenever I need her. She is never too busy to help someone out.

Mom is the one who visited the widow neighbor and took her hot meals every day, who visits Grandma daily, who babysits the grandkids without pay. Hers is the house that people stop at to stay the night when they are passing through because you always are welcome and well fed while you are there.

Mom is my Dad’s treasure. She worries about things. She prays for people. She is my mom.

My Dad

June 7, 2009

My father, Asahel LaDue Scovill, he goes by LaDue. LaDue grew up in the very small town of Orangeville, Utah. He lived on a farm outside of town. When he was a young lad, his family was inactive, but his dad, who made the boys clean out the chicken coop on Sundays, was willing to wave this chore if Dad went to church. So my father decided to walk the couple of miles to church each Sunday to get out of cleaning the coop. He found he liked going. As he got older and would come home later at night, he began to stop at the bridge that spanned the creek to pray; in the dark, under the stars, he grew to know God.

My father started liking my mother when they were about 12. They were steady dating all through high school, but Dad wanted to serve a mission. So he did. Mom waited for him. They got married upon his return and started a family. Dad got a job with UP&L and started working his way up the promotion ladder. He also started serving in the church. He committed early in his life to serve Jesus Christ, and he has always made that his first priority in life.

My dad loves people. He loves serving the Lord. He has been a bishop, a counselor in the Stake Presidency, and in the Temple Presidency of the Provo Temple. Dad and Mom served a mission to Montreal Canada after they retired. My Dad taught me the gospel from the earliest time I can remember. I loved going to church with my dad. He is the kindest, most loving and patient person I know.

I choose to go on a mission, in part, to comfort my Dad. He had three sons, three potential missionaries for the Lord. None of them chose that path at 19 years old. He was so sad about that. I went, for me, but also for him. He loved being a missionary. That was part of his legacy to us and part of the strength of who he became. I never thought that the opportunity would be mine, because I thought Gary would be going at the time I went. Gary didn’t go, so that opened the door for me to do so. I am so glad I went. It has been a strength to me every day of my life since then and a place where I learned so much about myself and faith and courage and perseverance.

Pet Saga

Diesel and Shadow

I believe I wrote this in 2009.  Since that time more animals have come and gone, but this is the story of our animal collection over a few years' time.

The story of the pets would have to begin about 12 years ago when we were living in Orem. Kirby came home one day and said that a co-worker of his had puppies to give away, wouldn’t we like a puppy? I clearly remember telling him that since we were living in a rental and I had allergies, that surely puppies wouldn’t be the best thing. Kirby however went to see these cute little puppies and promptly decided that they were perfect for the kids. All kids love puppies—especially grown ones. So we ended up the proud owners of 2 dogs. Shadow, who is a black lab and something, maybe Dalmatian, and Speckles, his sister, who had spots. Speckles, sadly, died in the first year, but Shadow came with us to Vegas and lived in the backyard.

One day in Vegas Kirby came home from work with a mini pincher. One of his coworkers had this dog, Candy, and she couldn’t keep it in her apartment. Candy was a good companion for Shadow, though a little temperamental, and they both lived happily in the back yard where they ate hoses and dug holes. My children, however, weren’t quite satisfied with 2 pets because they had to live outside. They wanted something that they could have in their rooms.

Thus the pet influx began. Michael inherited a fish tank from our neighbor, Bryce, who was upgrading to a larger tank. Michael started to have fish. He still has fish, they live at his house now. Michelle went to her Sunday School teacher’s house one day to help her clean, and came home the proud owner, (with mom’s permission of course, did I mention I am a softy) of a cockatiel. Included in the deal were the cage and a bag of food. Seems like an okay thing, again, it can live in her room. Did you know that cockatiels can live for 40 years? Yeah, neither did I. I know now though. Michelle of course moved on to those blissful college days, but the bird, another Speckles, lives on upstairs. “Speckles is a pretty bird.”

Now Kyle and Caryn had hampsters, but they only live about 2 years, not a problem, and I never gave in to Kyle’s pleas to have a snake, as we had had, at one time, a bad experience with a lizard, which put me off of the idea of reptiles for pets entirely. You do know that they need live food. . .

Well, not so many months ago the dearly beloved Kirby came home with an iguana cage complete with heat lamp. One of his students had left it after the course was completed and so of course Kirby, thinking of how much Kyle had always wanted a snake, brought it home. Guess who got a snake for Christmas from his girlfriend, (she’s just a friend mom),--you’ve got it, Kyle. Monty, the python, next takes up residence in the basement. Every Friday the guys and their girlfriends come over to watch Monty eat mice. Kyle’s friend Brandon, on his 18^th birthday decides that he too should own a snake, so he bought one, but he failed to notify his mother of this decision, thus his snake took up residence in Kyle’s bedroom as well. Brandon did try taking his snake home one day, but found that this snake was not a welcome member of the family, so it ended up back here. Brandon was coming over once a week to feed it, but that eventually stopped happening, so Kyle used Brandon’s snake to trade for a larger snake-- in comes the red tailed boa, approximately 6 feet long and growing. This snake eats rats—oh brother. . .

Since Christmas we have started breeding mice in the guest bedroom downstairs, to make feeding the snakes more cost effective.

Last winter Candy died. Making Shadow lonely and pathetic in the backyard. Kirby and the girls decided to get another dog to be a friend for Shadow, but they picked Holly Molly the hyper manic Border Collie. After picking her up from the pound about 4 times for digging out under the fence, I finally gave up and surrendered her back to the pound. Her escapes from the backyard seemed to inspire Shadow however, who also began getting out under the gate. A few weeks ago Shadow disappeared and we didn’t hear from the pound. I thought that our dog was lost and gone forever, so determined to start over, this time with cats, to keep the mice out of the backyard, and also because cats don’t have to be licensed. .. Kyle, dear boy brought us home 3 kittens, Diesel, Turbo, and Duramax, who now live in the garage. They are very cute, but amazingly enough—Shadow was eventually recovered, from the pound of course. And thus concludes our slightly condensed version of the Crowley pet saga.  

Compiling of selected scribblings from the past

I have some prior writing that I am going to slip in here to my blog.  It will be easier for me to find it and collect it here I believe.  Such a handy little tool this is.  Cheers.  .: D

Sherri Crowley, Journal entry 8-2-2009

It is almost overwhelming to start here again a habit that I abandoned years ago. There are reasons for the abandoning and there are reasons for the resuming of this practice, but those reasons are complex and deep seated, and so I will not begin there.

I will begin instead with today. Today I know that God loves me and that each time that I have been in deep need of something and I have begged for his help or called out to Him from inside myself, whether or not that prayer was said on my knees, that He has come to my aide. His response has been quick, sure, and often miraculous; and so I have seen His hand in my life—how He has guided me and cleared my way.

I have learned that above all things physical or earthly that men would aspire to to make them secure, that He is the rock and the anchor and the only thing that we can truly find hope and security in.

This has been the lesson of my life between the journals of my past and the journal of today.

I have learned to trust Him.

I have several favorite scriptures, but one that I have come to rely on is Proverbs 3:5-6

Trust in the Lord with all thy heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding,

In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths.

This has been true for me for many years.

Another scripture that I love is Ether 12:4, especially vivid in my mind is this line:

“which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast.

The image of an anchor of faith holding me fast through wind and storm has keep me “in the boat” holding on for dear life through many of life’s storms.

And my last scripture is one of comfort:

D&C 50:40-44

Behold, ye are little children and cannot bear all things now; ye must grow in grace and in the knowledge of the truth.

Fear not little children, for you are mine, and I have overcome the world, and you are of them that my Father hath given me:

And none of them that my Father hath given me shall be lost.

I am in the Father and the Father in me; and inasmuch as ye have received me, ye are in me and I in you.

Wherefore, I am in your midst, and I am the good shepherd and the stone of Isreal. He that buildeth upon this rock shall never fall.

I am far from perfect, but one thing I do know. God knows me, He knows and understands my needs. He will come to my aide when called upon. He has never left me alone.