Right-Sizing Life: Growth, Acceptance, and Love

 

 

Dear Reader,

There is a quiet wisdom in learning to “right-size” our lives—finding balance, humility, and perspective in the way we see ourselves, others, and God.

Camille Pissarro reminds us: “Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing.” The right size is not grandiose or self-diminishing—it is learning to see beauty where others overlook it, to value simplicity, and to accept life as it is given to us.

A simple example from my early adulthood comes to mind: enjoying the laughter of my son while spending time together in our backyard, or while walking back from town at Put-In-Bay, Ohio on South Bass Island in Lake Erie. My life as a father and teacher felt perfectly sized and simple—before the ravages of alcoholism clouded those precious memories.

Even though that memory is in the past, it still reminds me of what is possible now that I am in recovery. Carl Jung wisely said, “We cannot change anything until we accept it. Condemnation does not liberate, it oppresses.” I accept the choices I made back then, and I give thanks that today I can learn from them—both the good and the bad—while living a transformed life where I can once again enjoy the laughter of little children.

It would be nice to say that the transition from intoxication to sobriety was easy or final. But as Antonio Brown reminds us, “The journey is never ending. There's always gonna be growth, improvement, adversity; you just gotta take it all in and do what's right, continue to grow, continue to live in the moment.” The same idea is echoed by Tony Jaa: “Never be afraid to fail. Failure is only a stepping stone to improvement. Never be overconfident because that will block your improvement.” Growth is not about perfection—it is about persistence, courage, and humility.

Even in sobriety, I remain at times challenged to do the “right” or best thing. I am daily humbled by the fact that the relationship with the son of my youth is still damaged. Yet here too, I accept the present reality and continue to strive toward a more open, inclusive future with him.

Scripture places this lifelong journey in its truest light. Paul counsels: “Be not fashioned according to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God” (Romans 12:2).

Transformation is not measured by worldly standards, but by our willingness to let God reshape us daily. In my current life, I strive to embrace a manner of living grounded in the prayer: “Not my will, but Thine be done.”

As an active member of Alcoholics Anonymous and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I seek to maintain faith in miracles and to keep my heart open to the hope that I may again know relationships of love and caring.

Jesus Himself gave us the guiding principle: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. … And … you shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:37–39). On these two commandments rests all growth, all service, all meaning.

True right-sizing means aligning our lives with Christ, loving God and neighbor, and walking the path that leads to eternal life. The Book of Mormon supports this call as we read: “Look to the great Mediator … and choose eternal life, according to the will of his Holy Spirit” (2 Nephi 2:28).

When we accept what is, embrace growth through failure, and root ourselves in love of God and others, we find our proper place. Not too big, not too small—but right-sized.

Amen.

Making Suffering Worth the Trouble

 

Dear Reader,

When my mother died of cancer, I felt something break inside of me. The days and nights I watched her suffer seemed unbearable. I remember wondering, what kind of God would let this happen? Like the man Francine R. Bennion describes in her talk on suffering, I was not looking for a medical report on cancer or an explanation of how pain works. I wanted to know why. Why would God let a small, frail woman endure such misery?

For me, that loss became the beginning of a long journey into anger, blame, and escape. I blamed God, and I tried to drown my grief in alcohol. What started as a coping mechanism became a prison. Addiction stripped away joy, clarity, and hope. In my darkest moments, I felt completely abandoned.

But the God I thought I was running from was quietly placing people and paths in front of me. One of those paths was Alcoholics Anonymous. In AA I learned honesty, surrender, and the power of service. Carrying the message to others in recovery helped me find meaning in my own suffering. AA gave me a framework for life — one that acknowledged pain but also showed me how suffering could be transformed into compassion and connection.

Later, I found another gift: the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Through the teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I discovered that my suffering was not meaningless at all. As Bennion reminds us, “Our birth is evidence of courage and faith, not helplessness, shame, and disobedience.” I began to understand that before this life, I chose to come. I chose to face hunger, loss, heartbreak, and trial because I trusted that with God, even sorrow could lead to growth.

This truth changed everything. What once felt like punishment became evidence of divine trust. The God I had accused of cruelty was instead the God who believed I could endure, overcome, and serve.

Today I find joy in service — whether in AA, sharing the message of recovery, or in the Church, serving as a missionary and feeding the homeless. In these moments, I see that the very suffering that once drove me from God now draws me closer to Him and to His children.

Bennion teaches that the point is not to escape suffering or imagine heaven as a place free of problems, but to meet reality with courage, peace, love, and agency. My life has shown me that suffering, though painful, can indeed be “worth the trouble.” It can lead us into deeper compassion, greater service, and a truer understanding of God and ourselves.

Thanks for reading.

link to Bennion's talk: https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/church-historians-press/at-the-pulpit/part-4/chapter-43?lang=eng

Finding Joy and Stillness in Our Gospel Journey

 

Dear Reader,

The restored gospel of Jesus Christ gives us something the world cannot offer: clarity of purpose. Elder Gary E. Stevenson reminded us that “the gospel gave [Joseph Smith] a clear picture of the purpose of his life,” and through his faith we also know who God is, who the Savior is, and who we are as God’s beloved children. We are here on earth to be polished and prepared, to learn good from evil, to love and to serve, and to overcome the world through Christ. With this eternal lens, the very things that make our mortal lives meaningful—faith, obedience, service, and love—are the same things that prepare us for celestial glory.

Yet walking this path requires something more: stillness of soul. Scripture reminds us, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Stillness is not emptiness; it is the fertile silence where divine truth takes root. Wayne Dyer observed that all creativity comes out of silence, while Mother Teresa reminded us that God Himself is “the friend of silence.” Aldous Huxley wrote that the hunger for God must be paired with quiet strength, or else it can become restless striving. The prophet Jeremiah testified, “It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord” (Lamentations 3:25–26).

Elder David A. Bednar recently invited us to seek “a higher and holier dimension of stillness in our lives—an inner spiritual stillness of the soul.” Such stillness allows us to remember eternal truths: that God is our Heavenly Father, that we are His children, and that Jesus Christ is our Savior.

In a noisy and hurried world, the gospel calls us to both action and stillness. We act with faith, love, and service—but we also pause to listen, to remember, and to let the Spirit teach us. In that balance, we find joy in our gospel journey and peace in the promise of eternal life.

Amen

Finding Justice through Innocence

 

A friend recently shared deep fears about the direction of our government, convinced disaster was certain. As I listened, I wondered if we were assuming guilt before evidence appeared. Isn’t that contrary to the principle of “innocent until proven guilty”?

Rather than debate policy, I want to reflect on the words innocence and justice. Innocence often represents purity, humility, or childlike faith. Justice represents law, fairness, and accountability. These two ideas, though different, belong together.

In recovery, I have experienced both. In Step 5, innocence is rediscovered when secrets lose their power — when we confess our wrongs to God, ourselves, and another. Light begins to shine where shame once lived. In Step 9, justice is expressed not through punishment but through healing, by making amends and setting things right. Innocence restored and justice served become the bridge to a new life.

Biblically, Christ embodies both. He is the innocent Lamb of God who also brings perfect justice (Isaiah 53, John 1:29, Alma 34). Gandhi once said: “A man who was completely innocent, offered himself as a sacrifice for the good of others, including his enemies, and became the ransom of the world. It was a perfect act.”

We may never see perfect justice in mortality, yet we are invited to believe in our restored innocence through Christ. In that belief, we can live with hope, guided by His goodness, and become bearers of His love to the world.

Nothing Is Final—Only the Beginning of the New

 

Dear Reader,

Have you ever reached a point where it feels as though you’ve done it all—that nothing new could possibly come from life’s experiences? I have felt this often. Though I have maintained sobriety for a significant time and found a home in my faith and church community, the challenge now is to take that foundation and build something even better—something happier, fuller, and more alive.

This past week, I carried the message of recovery to a detox house, went to a movie on a whim, and even considered a stronger commitment to the gym. These may seem simple, but to me they are new adventures—things I once denied myself after my husband passed away. Each aligns with my core values, yet brings a much-needed variety and vitality.

Leonardo da Vinci once said, “Obstacles cannot crush me; every obstacle yields to stern resolve. He who is fixed to a star does not change his mind.” That resolve is what allows me to step into the new. Friedrich Nietzsche echoed this truth: “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” I know this by experience. When I accepted life without drugs or alcohol, I began turning hopelessness into small successes, one step at a time. Those small steps became springboards to rebuild my home, reconnect with family, and restore integrity in my work.

But none of it came instantly. Nearly three years after getting sober, I was finally able to build a bridge of communication with my son. Together, we learned to stop staring backward into the shadows and instead turn toward the light, where shadows fall behind us. Søren Kierkegaard’s words remind me: “It is not the path which is the difficulty, but the difficulty which is the path.”

AA’s Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions speaks with equal power: “Indeed, the attainment of greater humility is the foundation principle of each of AA’s Twelve Steps. For without some degree of humility, no alcoholic can stay sober at all. Without it, they cannot rise from their falls.” Humility stripped away my false pride and made me teachable. As I began to follow suggestions, my sense of self-worth grew, and the saying “Fall seven times, stand up eight” became real in my life.

My faith has strengthened this pattern of rising after every slip. The Lord has become the staff I lean upon when standing feels impossible. These words in particular have carried me:

• “Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me.” — Micah 7:8

• “Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.” — 2 Corinthians 4:9

• “Our destiny is not determined by the number of times we stumble but by the number of times we stand up, dust ourselves off, and stride forward.” — President Dieter F. Uchtdorf

• “The Lord loves effort, because effort brings rewards that can’t come without it.” — President Russell M. Nelson

I testify that falling is never final. Through grace, endurance, and the Savior’s help, rising again is not only possible but transformative.

Amen.

Hard Sayings and Hidden Truths

 

Words by a Prophet who learns from scripture

Dear Reader,

In the New Testament we read of a moment when many of Jesus’ disciples turned away. After feeding the five thousand, Jesus stood in the synagogue at Capernaum and taught that He Himself was the true Bread of Life. His words cut deep:

“Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you” (John 6:53).

To Jewish ears, this was more than puzzling — it was offensive. The crowd who once sought Him for bread now cried, “This is an hard saying; who can hear it?” (John 6:60). And John records soberly: “From that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him” (John 6:66).

Yet when Jesus turned to the Twelve and asked, “Will ye also go away?” Peter answered, “Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life” (John 6:67–68).

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Nearly eighteen centuries later in Nauvoo, Joseph Smith expressed a similar struggle. He confided:

“If I revealed all that has been made known to me, scarcely a man on this stand would stay with me.”
“Brethren, if I were to tell you all I know of the kingdom of God, I do know that you would rise up and kill me.”

Why would he say this? Because in Nauvoo he was entrusted with truths that challenged every tradition and assumption his followers had known. Among them:

• Plural Marriage — The idea that eternal marriage, under God’s authority, could sometimes include plural wives. Even to devoted Saints, this was difficult to accept. To outsiders, it was scandalous.

• Baptism for the Dead — A doctrine that salvation could reach beyond the grave through ordinances performed on earth. To many Christians, this contradicted centuries of teaching about heaven and hell.

• Exaltation — The teaching that men and women are children of God with the potential to become like Him. This went far beyond traditional notions of salvation and sounded like blasphemy to some.

• Temple Ordinances and Covenants — Sacred rites of endowment and sealing, revealed in secrecy, which bound families for eternity and symbolized heaven’s order.

Each of these teachings was like Christ’s words about eating His flesh: a hard saying, impossible to grasp without faith, and offensive to the expectations of the day.

Brigham Young, sitting nearby, captured the heart of Peter’s faith when he replied to Joseph: “Don’t tell me anything that I can’t bear, for I don’t want to apostatize.”

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The Lesson for Us

The parallel is striking:

• Christ offered His disciples a truth that tested their loyalty.

• Joseph Smith carried truths he knew would test even his most faithful friends.

Both moments remind us that discipleship is not built on how much we understand, but on whom we trust. Some truths are only grasped in time, as hearts grow strong enough to receive them.

The question still comes: “Will ye also go away?”
And the faithful still answer: “Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life.”

The Value of What We Obtain

 

Dear Reader,

In a YouTube video I listened to today, a quote from Thomas Paine stood out. The full passage reads:

“What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as Freedom should not be highly rated.”
— The American Crisis (December 23, 1776)

Paine’s words remind me that the costliness of freedom gives it its worth. This is true not only in the story of nations but also in the journey of the soul. Yesterday, I reflected on obedience, suffering, and salvation. These two messages are strikingly similar. The path of obedience often calls us to surrender pride, the weight of suffering forces us to trust beyond ourselves, and salvation — the freedom of the spirit — comes only through sacrifice and grace.

In recovery, we learn the same lesson. Sobriety is not cheaply won. It requires honesty, humility, and daily commitment. Yet because it is costly, it becomes precious. A life rebuilt from the ruins of addiction shines brighter than one never tested, for its value has been forged in trial.

I remember a time in early sobriety when I needed to end a dating relationship because the person I was with refused to give up marijuana around me. It was a difficult decision, but it was a choice I had to make to protect my recovery and remain drug free. The outcome of that decision opened the way for me to meet someone in recovery — a relationship that lasted 33 years, part of which we were married. The struggle was real, but the reward was priceless.

Today, I have faith in Christ as the ultimate example of sacrifice for change. Our salvation was not purchased lightly but through His suffering and obedience unto death. The price was great, and so the gift is beyond measure.

Paine’s words and the gospel both teach us this: what we hold dear — freedom, recovery, salvation — is not cheap. It is in the very struggle, in the fire of obedience and suffering, that its value is revealed.

As Jesus taught, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Matthew 6:21). Grace is freely given, but living a faithful life requires sacrifice, which in turn deepens our appreciation for salvation.

History also echoes this truth. Abraham Lincoln reminded the nation in 1861:

“And this issue embraces more than the fate of these United States. It presents to the whole family of man, the question, whether a constitutional republic… can, or cannot, maintain its territorial integrity, against its own domestic foes.”

Likewise, Winston Churchill urged perseverance in 1941 with his famous words:

“Never give in — never, never, never, never — in nothing, great or small, large or petty — never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.”

These voices remind us that freedom, perseverance, and salvation are treasures that demand sacrifice.

So, find your mountain and climb it. The climb may be steep, but the summit will not disappoint.

I testify of this truth in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.