He Shall Open the Windows of Heaven

Often I wonder, "Why am I such an unprofitable servant to the Lord?" It's always bothered me. Those of you that know me know that I can't stand being indebted for anything. I don't like loans, and avoid them whenever possible. I don't like owing someone a favor, or an egg, or anything else that could be avoided by any other choice. But then I think of the Lord, and all I owe him. I try to "pay him back," and have no success.

Good morning world, how are you today? I think. Okay... How can I work to repay my debt to the Lord today? I know I need to pay my tithing, so I'll do that. I need to [teach/visit teach/sing in choir/whatever my current calling is]. I need to take care of my family, so I'll make dinner, and try to be more present for my husband and baby. And maybe I can invite a new ward member over for dinner?

Sounds like a basically good day, right? Lots to do, lots of people to bless, lots of hearts to cheer. So let's do this!

But by the time I can pay my tithing, I have discovered an extra $20 in my pocket. I fulfill my calling, but find that my [lesson] blesses me far more than anyone else. I try to be more present but immediately realize the incredible blessing I have in having a wonderful husband and precious baby to be present for. And I invite the new ward members over for dinner, only to be blessed by a loaf of homemade bread, and a dear new friend.

This is only a tiny example. The Lord promises us that as we obey him, he will "open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it" (Malachi 3:10). And that has been my experience over and over again. So many times it is even literal. He just pours blessings for me, and there is not room for them all.

Matthew 19:29 reads, "And every one that hath forsaken houses, or bretheren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life."

This scripture greatly helped me during a difficult time in my life, when my family moved far from the home I love (high five if you get my reference!) partway into my first semester of high school. I felt a reassurance that the Lord would continue to bless me, and that as I had given up my friends and home for Him, that He would someday bless me an hundred fold, and give me everlasting life.

Another time comes to mind. A story I will probably share more fully in a future post, but I can sum it up here. I had just returned to school for my third semester, and realized that my financial aid had not come through. The school assured me that it would be in within 4-6 weeks, but I knew that I only had about $20 to get me through until then. I begged the Lord for help, and then chose to pay my tithing, even though I needed every penny I had. The first day of the semester came, and one friend came over with bags and bags of groceries for me (totally out of the blue), and my roommate came home with a big box of food, from "some guy" that asked her to give it to me (yes, she lied about not knowing him, yes, I figured out who it was by the end of the semester, but that is not what mattered). The tiny pantry shelves that were assigned to me were literally overflowing with food. I had enough and to spare. As a side note, my financial aid came in very quickly--I think it was by the end of that week.

When we sacrifice for and trust in the Lord, we are blessed beyond measure, and often more than we have room for. The moment may seem totally hopeless, we may feel lost and confused beyond saving, but he still will save. He still will bless us, and he still cares.

And I am coming to find peace in the fact that I can never pay him back. I continue to try to be somewhat worthy of the blessings that he so generously bestows, but I know that I will never really be worthy. And that's okay. He loves me anyway, and delights in blessing me. And he feels the same way about you.

Help Thou my Unbelief

In Mark 9 we read the story of a desperate father, pleading with the Lord to save his son. His son was possessed by an unclean spirit, and had been since he was "a child." This makes me wonder how old the boy was? Perhaps a young teenager? This spirit was constantly plaguing this poor family, throwing the boy in the fire or the water to kill him. I cannot imagine the stress as a mother! Trying every moment of every day to protect your son, who is no longer a tiny baby. However old he was, I am sure it was physically taxing as well, to constantly pull him out of trouble, and try to restrain him for his own safety. As a 2 year old, that would be really hard on either parent. If he were a teenager, it would have been nearly impossible, even for both parents!

This father had obviously heard of Jesus, and had come to find him (possibly even traveling a long way with his son), knowing that he could heal him, and thus bless the entire family. He met with the disciples, as Christ was not there at the time (he was on the Mount of Transfiguration), and, knowing that they also worked miracles, he asked them to heal his son. I'm sure that having heard of the miracles that had been performed, he felt like his long journey was finally at an end.

But the disciples could not heal him.

Amidst the chaos and (I'm sure) frustration that ensued, Christ arrived. People ran to him, and the father was among them. He begged our Savior to save his son. He told him the whole story--all that happened to his son, what the spirit did to him, the fact that the disciples couldn't heal him... I can only imagine the hope that this father felt, and yet the fear he probably had. When this is the very last hope you have in the world for your son, and the rest of your family, to every live a happy normal life, how do you not quake in fear that it won't work out?

"Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." (Mark 9:23)

"And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief." (Mark 9:24)

The part that has always struck me in this story is the humility of this incredible father. He didn't hesitate, he "straightway" responded. He did believe. He didn't doubt his faith. As Jeffrey R. Holland said, "I am not asking you to pretend to faith you do not have. I am asking you to be true to the faith you do have."
https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2013/04/lord-i-believe?lang=eng

Then, this father followed up quickly by recognizing that his faith may not be enough. He knew it was there, but he did not know if it was enough.

Our wonderful, loving, faithful Savior cast out the evil spirit, and lifted the boy up, returning him to his father, whole, for the first time in a long time.

While I am still profoundly struck by the humility of this father, something else caught my attention this time. The Lord told him that if he could believe all things were possible. This man did believe, but still had unbelief. Jesus did not say, "Okay, you don't believe enough, but I'll let it go this time." He knew that it was possible according to this father's faith. We are also told that if we ask we can receive. I can only assume that, quietly, and without fanfare, or too much of an audience, the Lord did exactly as this man asked, and helped his unbelief.

All things are possible if I believe. But if I have any unbelief, but I want to believe fully, Jesus Christ can (and will) help me with that first! I simply have to ask.

So many times throughout my life I have questioned things. I have wondered if this gospel REALLY is true. I have wondered if Heavenly Father really loves ME. I have wondered if I can really make it back to Heavenly Father's presence, and if the Atonement is really enough for ME and MY sins. (Spoiler Alert: It is. He does. I can. It is.) I want to believe it. I want to be enough. But something in me (or an evil spirit, whispering in my ear) says I am not enough, and I can't do it. I can't believe enough.

Especially when my depression was at it's worst... I knew that I had a lot to live for. I knew that I have a wonderful family who loves me, and that I have promise and potential. Alas, in those dark, hellish moments, I didn't really believe it. But I did want to believe it.

And in that desire to believe, and that wanting to even want to live, the Savior was able to save me. My depression is far from behind me, but the worst seems to be past. And I didn't believe enough. I know I didn't. But I wanted to.

As I asked the Lord to help my unbelief, and to save my very life, he did. It wasn't a fast recovery. It wasn't an immediate help. I didn't feel better immediately, or I guarantee you my depression would be long over, and would have lasted about 5 minutes, rather than 5 years. But he helped my unbelief, and he saved me. He did all that and more for me, and I know he can and will for you too. You just need to want to believe, and ask for his help. 

Catastrophe Turned Blessing

Every day, in a million tiny ways, we have the opportunity to be the Lord's hands in helping those around us. 

While I have heard that concept countless times, it has been on my mind a lot this week, following a beautiful experience that the Lord gave me through some incredible mothers I have the privilege to associate with. 

On Monday I went into Little Man's closet to grab another can of formula. I was shocked when I realized that it was the last. We have plenty of money budgeted for food each month, but because I had purchased a LOT of formula the month before, I somehow thought that I had enough to get me through to the end of the month. I was wrong. 

Immediately came the self-doubt and criticism. Immediately came the voice of the adversary, telling me I wasn't enough. 

We made a decision this month to start eating more healthy, but for anyone that knows me, you know that bothering to eat at all is usually not on my mind. So we deliberately splurged, going out and buying a lot of good, healthy food that was easy to prepare and sounded appealing to me, so that I would actually bother to eat it. Because of this, our food budget was gone for the month, but we knew it was plenty to get us through. But I forgot to check how much formula we had left...

 When I realized that we were out of formula, I immediately thought of this shopping trip, and all of the money we spent on food for us, and specifically food to cater to me. "I chose to feed myself over my son." The words echoed in my mind, torturing me, condemning me, and refusing to let me go. Of course this was ridiculous. I had thought of our son, and I did plan ahead. I was just wrong on my amounts. But, as we know, Satan uses whatever tools he can, and this one worked well. The next painful thought was that this would never have happened if I were only breastfeeding. As a lot of you know, I walked through hell for 6 months, trying to make breastfeeding work. We worked with at least 9 different health professionals, put baby through 3 tongue tie clippings, and spent countless hours praying and researching. We finally stopped trying the night I ended up in the ER for my depression. I had to choose between breastfeeding and living. But still, if ONLY I had "stuck to it," I would have not been in this position! I spent a lot of time sitting by the closet crying at what a terrible mother my poor baby had been cursed with. 

Eventually I got up, dried my eyes, and started thinking. There was enough formula to get us about 2.5-3 days. We needed about 6. I knew we had two gallons of milk in the fridge, and wondered how bad it would be to give Little Man 50/50 formula and milk for just a week. He is 10 months old. I knew it wasn't recommended until 12 months, but I wondered if a week could hurt. I also knew that if it really came down to it, I could pull money out of savings. Of course, that would hurt, but I would much rather drain some of our small savings than have our baby go hungry! Still, I hoped it could be avoided. 

In desperation, I reached out to some of the parenting groups I am in on facebook. All I wanted to know was if I could give my baby 50/50, or if there was something else I could add to make my own "formula." I deliberately didn't post in any local pages. I didn't want to worry any friends, and I wasn't looking for a handout. I simply wanted direction and answers. 

Over the next hours (and into the next days), my facebook exploded with love. There were so many ideas (talk to local bishop/food bank, call pediatrician for samples, do 50/50 milk and formula, etc.), and so many offers to mail out samples that they had. There were even a number of requests to know what formula we used so people could buy us some on Amazon and have it shipped. I sat with tears streaming down my face at all of the good in this world. 

These were mothers I had never met. People that I had never seen and never contacted. They didn't know me in any way, shape, or form. But they stepped up in love, and offered their help and friendship. 

Over the past few days I have received private messages informing me that samples and even full cans of formula are on their way. I even received one message making certain that my husband and I had food too. 

I am simply overwhelmed by the goodness and love that these people have shown me and my family. People from totally different walks of life, different stages, different parts of the world. People who don't know me. But they all stood up and made a difference. 

One of the moms on the group that had by far the most responses and help offered summed up the situation quite well, and with her permission, I quote, "This is why I love this group. In a "mommy wars" world, there's something so very touching and special about mamas coming together. We're meant to be this encouraging and supportive, and it's a beautiful, beautiful thing. Proud of you, mamas!!" 

Her words rang true to me, even outside of the world of parenting. I would like to add to what she said. In a world at war with itself and the adversary, there's something incredible about people coming together to take care of one another. And as she said, "We're meant to be this encouraging and supportive, and it's a beautiful, beautiful thing."

This is a huge part of what we are meant for! In Doctrine and Covenants 81:5 we are commanded, "Wherefore, be faithful; stand in the office which I have appointed unto you; succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees."

I testify that as we do these things, we will have the privilege and blessing of being instruments in the hands of God. Even if something seems small, like sharing that formula sample in the back of your closet, you may be literally or figuratively saving a life. Don't be afraid to follow in the footsteps of our Savior, step up and make a difference. 

Is It Enough to Know?

This is a question that we don't hear very often, but that I have pondered frequently.

It is not uncommon to hear someone say that they "know" something. Whether it is someone they know, a subject they are familiar with, or even just that they know that they should start exercising more.

In my church (the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints), we have a testimony meeting every month, and it is open for anyone to go up and testify of the truths they know pertaining to the gospel. We always hear that you, "know the church is true," and that you, "know Joseph Smith was a prophet." We know that you, "know that God loves us," and that Jesus Christ lives.

I, too, know these things to be true. I know that the church is true. I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet, and that he restored the same gospel and church that Christ revealed and formed while he was on this earth. I know that the Book of Mormon is true, and I am thankful for it's teachings. I know that Thomas S. Monson is God's prophet on earth today, and that he leads us to Christ. I know that families can be together forever through the sealing power available in holy temples, and I am so grateful to know that my family has been sealed. I know that our Heavenly Father loves us, and wants us to return to Him. I know many things, but most of all, I know that Jesus Christ lives. He lived to show us how. He suffered and died for us, and atoned for our sins so we can be worthy to live with Him again. And He LIVES AGAIN! He was resurrected that we too, may live again. I know that Jesus Christ lives. I testify of these things with all of my heart. I know them to be true.


But is that really enough?

Does it really matter that I know those things?

Does it really matter what you know?

Let me ask you a question. Does Satan know anything?

Does he, for example, know that God lives?

Does he know that God loves us?

Does he know that Jesus Christ atoned for us?

Does he know that our Savior lives again?

Of course he knows these things! He once lived with God! He knows the plan! He knows that God loves us! He knows what Christ did, and the significance of it! He knows it all!

So let me ask you again. Is it enough to know?

Obviously not.

What else has to be there?


A long time ago, I was taught about two very important virtues: sensitivity to truth, and love of truth. Sensitivity to truth is exactly as it says; being sensitive to and able to recognize truth. This is the "knowing" part, if you will. But I would like to propose that what is missing is love of truth.

While Satan is certainly sensitive to and aware of the truth, he does not love it. In fact, he hates it with a horrible, burning passion. This is how he has fallen, and this is what we must fight against if we desire to come back to our Father.

When you love someone, you want to spend time getting to know them, coming closer to them, and talking about everything. When you aren't together, you think of them, come up with new questions for them, and wish you were together. What if we loved truth in the same way? What if we loved the things we know? What if we wanted to understand truth better, come closer to it, and be in line with it? What if we sensed when it was missing, and mourned it's loss? What if we strove to find it again, and to keep it with us always?

When we apply this to the gospel, and the truth that we know and believe about the Lord, and about the people we must be to be closer to Him, strength comes. We are able to grow closer to God, and to the truths that He sends us through His prophets. We are able to become "that guy"/girl (as my husband puts it). That person you see when you think of who you want to be, the person that God intends for you to be.

Close your eyes, and picture your soul. Who is he/she? What does he/she look like? How do they carry themselves? What does their face tell you of who they are? Do they have joy? Wisdom? Confidence? This person is who you can become, and the person (or as close as we can imagine--obviously the Lord knows more than we do) that we must be in order to return to the presence of our Heavenly Father.

As we pursue truth and grow to love it, rather than to just be sensitive to it or know it, we will be able to grow closer to the Lord. We will not just know. We have learned that it is not enough to just know. Rather we will love truth. We will fight for it, search for it, pursue it, and RUN to meet it. And as we search, we will find.

There is Always Hope

Looking back, I realize how long it has been since I last posted. My heart is full as I write. So much has happened, and so much has changed.

Our sweet son was born on March 31, and is growing like crazy. My darling husband just got a job, and we are both working on school. As Christmas approaches, we are excitedly gift shopping, decorating our home, and sharing the joys of the season with our little angel. We are living life, smiling, and enjoying this beautiful time together.  Life couldn't be more perfect.

Or so it may seem.

It amazes me how little people see. It makes me wonder how much I miss in other people's lives.

It is really hard for me to share this, but I think I need to. There is such a stigma, but... there shouldn't be, and I want to help remove it.

The birth of our little one was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I really mean that. I will have to write his birth story later for those of you interested, but for now, let's just say it was incredible!

The next 6 months or so, however... Not so much. It started with our little hiccup being unable to nurse. At all. I kept thinking he was latching on, but within seconds he was pulling away and screaming in frustration. I felt like the worst mom ever. I couldn't even feed my own son. After a day and a half of this, we finally had a lactation consultant come help. By this time Hiccup was too weak to do much. I had to pump a bit, and he was offered his first taste of colostrum on a spoon. After a few spoonfuls he gained enough strength to try to nurse again, and finally he was getting something--although it was very hard for him, and extremely painful for me.

I do not wish to detail the nightmare that the next months brought. If anyone reading this needs to feel understood in difficulties with nursing, please feel free to contact me. For the rest of you, let me just explain that we tried.

Hiccup had a tongue tie that was clipped not once, not twice, but THREE times. He is now terrified to let anyone try to see or feel anything in his mouth for fear of being hurt again. We dealt with thrush for 6 months. We dealt with his tongue and lip ties, as well as his extremely high palate. We worked with 4 lactation consultants, a doctor, an ENT, a speech therapist, a physical therapist, and a chiropractor. I spent hours and hours studying the problems for months. After about 3 months of absolute, tear wrenching, sobbing agony every time he nursed, I finally started pumping, but only during the day. I continued nursing all night (between 3 and 8 times a night). This gave me a bit of time to heal, but not enough. He was gaining weight really well, and was very healthy, but it was still not working for us.

When he was 4 months old, I gave in, and offered him some formula. I cried my eyes out while he drank his first few bottles. I felt I had failed as a mother. We continued nursing all night, but eventually I stopped pumping and started giving formula all day. This ended when Hiccup was 6 months old, and I ended up in the ER.

No, this was not because of nursing. Oh no, much more was going on. You see, between the agony of nursing, the sense of failure, the sleepless nights, and the physical and hormonal changes and pain I was going through, I developed a very bad case of clinical depression. Nearly every minute of every day was spend thinking of death, and wishing there were a way to make mine sooner without hurting my family too badly. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I didn't want to be out of bed. I didn't want to be a wife, or a mother. I didn't even want to be.

I lost all of the weight from the pregnancy, and then another 15-20 lbs (I was on the low end of healthy to begin with). I started losing my hair by the handful, and... life was pretty bad. I was working with my doctor, and taking a tiny pill every day to "help me feel better." I was even working with a counselor, which seemed to be helping a bit, but not enough. Nothing was enough. My sweet husband had to stop working and stop school in order to be home and keep me alive. My wonderful mother had to have the three of us come stay for a week at a time over and over again, hoping to help, and ease some of my husband's burden. She even had to drop everything to come and help me a few times.

Finally, it all came to a head, and I was prompted to text a dear friend of mine about my discouragement with nursing (which obviously was only the tip of the iceberg). She had a prompting that something more was wrong, and without hesitating, drove directly to my house. We sat on the couch for a few hours as I cried and told her what was going on. By the end of this Heaven-sent visit, we had a bit of a plan. I was going to stop nursing entirely, as it was taking too much out of me physically and emotionally. I was also going to talk to my doctor about getting a different prescription, as this one wasn't cutting it.

After I left, I texted my doctor, who insisted that I go directly to the ER (it was a Saturday). I thought he was overreacting. Little did I know. They very nearly hospitalized me that night, but agreed to let me go home if my mom and sister could come help for the next few days.

This was the start of my healing. Sadly, it was also the start of the worst of my depression and anxiety. The next day I met with my counselor, and with an NP who specialized in mental health. It was a busy day, and caused a lot of stress. While the NP was very helpful, he didn't have any solutions for NOW. This meant that I left the appointment with him telling me that he thought I would be doing a lot better in a few months.

After that appointment I determined to kill myself that night.

There was not enough hope. Feeling better in a "few months" is all well and good, but I knew I didn't have the emotional stamina to make it that long. I no longer wanted to live, and no one had given me any immediate help.

The fact that I survived that night is a miracle. Honestly, looking back, I'm not even sure how it happened. The Lord prompted my sweetheart to say and do certain things, and it ended in me telling him my plan, and begging the Lord for help.

I don't even know how to explain the couple of months that have followed that experience. I went through a lot, dropping off of one medication and starting on another, slowly increasing it until it finally seemed to help. I took a few medications that I seriously regretted, and finally found one that works for me. I have worked with my counselor weekly, and we finally feel that things are a lot better. We are planning to meet another time or two, but when Christmas break comes, our visits will end.




This was NOT an easy journey. All of it. Not just the mental health aspect. I truly feel that I have walked through hell in the past months, but I finally feel hope, and that things are getting better. My moods are evening, my baby is finally sleeping more (I swore I would never sleep train, but, again, please ask if you want details. The Lord has taught me a lot), I am finally sleeping more, my medication is working pretty well, my weight is coming back, and I am not as terrified to drive or be around people anymore! My sweetheart got a job that he is enjoying, and I am actually enjoying and utilizing the time with just me and our hiccup. The house is in better order, we are actually getting food, and I smile a lot of the time. I actually am enjoying my sweet little one, finally!

I recognize that this post is mostly catch-up, and that it may not seem to have much of a purpose, but I guess I just want you to know that there is always hope. Always. Whether your problem is lack of sleep, hoping for a baby (I've been there too), dealing with agonizing pain, poor health, mental illness, or whatever it may be. There is always hope through the Lord. He understands you perfectly. And you may be surprised to learn how many other people also understand you, and have walked a similar path. Don't be afraid to reach out for help. There is always hope.

The Magnificence of Consistency

I recently read a talk by Elder David A. Bednar entitled More Diligent and Concerned at Home. It is a wonderful talk, and I highly recommend you read or watch the whole thing!


Perhaps my favorite part, however, is in the last bit of his talk, when he talks about being consistent. He speaks of many discouraging Family Home Evenings, scripture studies, and prayers, when he and his wife despaired that their children were so busy arguing that they weren't learning anything from the experience. He informs us, however, that what they discovered was that what was most important was the consistency.

He told about a painting of a wheat field that hangs in his office. He says that up close, it looks like a bunch of random brush strokes--nothing pretty or special about it. But as you move back, you can see the bigger picture, and it forms a beautiful painting.

He then ties together his analogy; "Each family prayer, each episode of family scripture study, and each family home evening is a brushstroke on the canvas of our souls. No one event may appear to be very impressive or memorable. But just as the yellow and gold and brown strokes of paint complement each other and produce an impressive masterpiece, so our consistency in doing seemingly small things can lead to significant spiritual results."

This has given me great comfort lately. It is true that there are a lot of things I can't do from bed. It is true that the things I can do for my family seem small and insignificant. But it is comforting to me to know that the Lord is the Master Artist. I can't see what he is doing with my life, but he knows. And someday, perhaps I will get the blessing of stepping back, and being able to see the beautiful masterpiece that the Lord has been making of this chapter of my life. Each brushstroke may seem small, haphazard, and even ugly next to the other strokes. But as I consistently work to do my best for my family, and as I trust in the enabling power of the Atonement, I have faith that someday, every stroke will make up a glorious painting by the touch of the Master's hand.


https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2009/10/more-diligent-and-concerned-at-home?lang=eng
Image retrieved from https://www.lds.org/media-library/images/wheat-field-901719?lang=eng&category=

Am I Really Enough?

We've all wondered that at some point. Let me tell you, you are not alone. 

Yesterday I was reading a wonderful talk by Linda S. Reeves (Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency) for a class I am taking. It is entitled Protection from Pornography - a Christ-Focused Home. If you haven't seen or read it, you really should. It is full of wonderful insights and ideas. 

Anyway, there was one main part that stood out to me, nearly causing me to weep. 

"Some of you have heard me tell how overwhelmed my husband, Mel, and I felt as the parents of four young children. As we faced the challenges of parenting and keeping up with the demands of life, we were desperate for help. We prayed and pleaded to know what to do. The answer that came was clear: “It is OK if the house is a mess and the children are still in their pajamas and some responsibilities are left undone. The only things that really need to be accomplished in the home are daily scripture study and prayer and weekly family home evening.”

I cannot even begin to express to you the overwhelming relief I felt at this statement. I don't even have kids to be keeping up with yet, and I am very aware that as of yet, I know very little of the "demands of life." While I do feel the burden I carry, certainly, I know that it is quite light compared to the burdens of many other people. For me, the challenges lie in getting the house in order, caring for my sweetheart, doing homework, and even getting myself out of bed, and into something other than my pajamas. These are small things, and yet I feel great if I have accomplished them all by the end of a day. Sadly, the days are few and far between that all (or any) of these things get done, much less any deep-cleaning of the house, last minute preparations for this little one (what do you mean we are due in less than five weeks!?), or any of my other projects. 

Because of this, I found great hope in her statement, and the things that the Spirit taught her and her husband that day. It really is OK if you don't accomplish everything that you needed to. It truly is not the end of the world. What matters most is daily scripture study and prayer, and weekly family home evening. These are doable things! It has always been easy for me to feel like these things are "just one more thing" to add to my never-ending to-do list. It is relieving to see that these things can BE my to-do list. At least in the "Must Do" column.  

It reminds me of the beautiful story of Mary and Martha, found in Luke 10. Martha, being

the incredible woman that she was, invited the Savior into her home, and busied herself making him comfortable. She worked hard to this end, and was discouraged by her sister who simply sat at Jesus' feet, and listened to him. Martha, still trying to accomplish the things that she saw as making her a good woman (hm... similar to my thoughts of what make me a good wife. Intriguing. I never thought of that.), asked the Savior to bid Mary to help her. The Savior responded with love and respect, honoring her efforts, but still giving her a gentle reminder.

"And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." (Luke 10:41-42)

There are many things in our lives that trouble us, and things that need to be done--even very good, honorable things. But "one thing is needful" (italics added), and that is to turn to the Savior, and focus on him. Everything else can fall by the wayside if it must. 

As I turn to the Savior, trusting in him, and focusing on the "one thing" that is needful, I am really enough. And so are you. 

https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2014/04/protection-from-pornography-a-christ-focused-home?lang=eng#watch=video

Mary and Martha, by Del Parson (62527); GAK 219; Luke 10:38–42