Thanks for giving me another chance for this lesson.

Thank you all for the earlier comments, too. My oral presentations don’t always flow as easily as my typed ones, and your reactions make me feel like I’ve connected better here than in class.

I also taught a Gospel Doctrine class that turned out in a similar fashion. It was on Jonah and my intent was not to get bogged down on whether Jonah was swallowed by a whale or a big fish. I wanted to discuss the symbolism and when I suggested that we do so instead of discussing if it was a literal story, hands shot up. So we missed the points of the lesson.

I guess when it comes to biblical interpretations I just keep in mind that we understand the Bible as far as it is translated/transmitted correctly and not necessarily literally.

Great lesson, Ardis. And wonderful handling of those problematic “conversations” in the first few chapters. Thanks for the insight.

And thanks to Researcher for that comment. It is so easy for us to think “Why me?” when things go wrong, and the quoted story is a wonderful cure for that from a wise physician.

Another approach I try (sometimes successfully) is to ask “Why me?” about all the things that, through no fault of my own–everything, in other words–go right. That question is equally un-answerable, and that helps me to avoid agonizing over the same question about things that go wrong.

I’ve been mulling over this concept a lot in my own life, trying to not let the seeming injustices shake me. That whole ‘turned on its head’ reality is there for all of us. It’s a hard lesson to learn that efforts toward righteousness do not mean a painless existence.

I’m reminded of Elder Maxwell who talked of when he was diagnosed with cancer, and then said something like, “Of course. I shouldn’t have been surprised.” Discipleship is a demanding journey. The gospel just helps us keep a perspective on the pain…just as you captured so perfectly in your personal experience.

Thanks again for that. It’s a beautiful way to end my day.
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As some of your regular readers may know, my youngest son was born with a major heart defect. It is called HLHS and the only way of treating it is by a series of open heart surgeries, starting right after birth, or a heart transplant. I belong to a very helpful online support group. It can be a sad place sometimes; it is today, since one of the oldest HLHS kids, a 20 year old named Andrew, just had a major medical emergency and is fighting for his life in a children’s hospital in the Upper Midwest.

The cause of HLHS is unknown, but it may be partly genetic, partly environmental. Consequently, when children are diagnosed with the condition, many if not most parents spend a lot of time wondering, “Why me? Why my child? Did I do something wrong?”

One of the dads shared an experience recently. I hope it’s okay to quote a large part of it. I’ve edited just a bit.

The day we found out about [my son] I was devastated. I thought it was ALL my fault. I cried and cried because I had passed a heart condition on to my son, and this heart condition pronounced itself in a major [heart defect] for him. Then when I was at my lowest point, when I was convinced my son’s illness was my fault a doctor who has never seen my son, who had never seen my charts told me that I could drive myself crazy, or even sick worrying about whether this was my fault, or I could accept this was [my son]‘s journey and I could take his precious little hand and walk with him. He asked me why it mattered where the heart defect came from, or if my heart condition had anything to do with it. He asked me why I was so entranced with what caused this, and why I was not overjoyed that my son was so beautiful. He walked out of the NICU, and I never saw him again, I never even got his name, but what he said to me stuck. It does not matter why or how or even when it happened, [my son] is here, happy, vibrant, and so full of love that the scars and pain fade … I tell him all the time that he inspires me and that his scar is daddy’s reminder of how lucky he is to be with him everyday. I guess what I am saying is there are 2 ways I see it, I can either rack my brain and expend my energy with the what ifs, or I can just be present in the day I get with the son I always wanted.