Be where you should be

Kristin Fry
Kristin Fry

Last Monday night we had Family Night—a family gathering we try to hold weekly. The plan is usually to play games or do something fun together. That night we had a job to do first—mulch the raspberries. Manure and straw were being ferried to the raspberries via tractor and four-wheeler and shovels. We worked steadily, then we all cleaned up our part of the operation and everyone—except for me—went inside. It was a lovely evening with a light breeze and lengthening shadows. The dandelions in the peonies beckoned me and my weeder and I hacked away in peace. I savored the quiet and lingered, eyeing my progress with satisfaction. I felt a whisper of a thought: “Where should you be?” but I ignored it easily.

When I finally went in an hour later, everyone had retreated behind their screens. It was close to bedtime. Then it struck me: my choice had prevented us from having Family Night. My husband and children had waited patiently for me, but now it was too late for the promised games and laughter. Scheduling problems wouldn’t allow this gathering again for a few weeks. We missed our chance because I wasn’t where I should have been.

This seems to happen regularly with me. I get distracted or disinterested or discouraged. I don’t keep my promises. It’s not on purpose. I just forget. So, in an effort to clarify my thinking, I have decided to add a new reminder phrase to my collection: Be where you should be. I’m hoping that as I use this phrase, I can make better choices. Should I read stories to the grandchildren or mow the lawn while someone else reads? What kind of grandmother do I want to be? One with mowed lawns or one with a good relationship with my grandchildren? Crazy as it sounds, often my to-do lists get in the way, and my driven personality choses to push that mower around. Be where you should be. Should I go out to the chicken coops and work with my husband or pull out a quilting project? (You should know I love to sew and dislike dusty chicken barns.) Sigh. Be where you should be. My prayers sometimes become casual and cursory. I have to remind myself that even my mental state should be in the right place for the task at hand.

As I have worked in my garden, I’ve noticed that my plants do best when they are in the right place, too. I plant them so they will be near the soaker hose, and get plenty of sunshine. The plants that aren’t where they should be are usually the struggling ones, far from moisture or in a weedy spot.

Christ, as in all things, set a perfect example of being where He needed to be when He brought the widow of Nain’s son back to life (Luke 7:11-16). The backstory to this miracle is instructive: Christ traveled from Capernaum to Nain the morning of the healing. But this wasn’t a simple stroll to a neighboring town. Nain is 30 miles uphill from Capernaum. (This hike takes modern college students 10 hours to complete.) Christ met the funeral bier as it exited the city of Nain just in time to perform the miracle and deliver the young man to his mother. He certainly had to start early. He might have had to walk fast. But ultimately, He was where He needed to be to make a difference.

So how do we know where we should be? I have found that I must listen to the quiet voice of Truth that answers prayers, reveals insight, and brings peace. The Holy Ghost, as a member of the Godhead, is a gentle guide that takes practice for me to hear. But if I pay attention what He tells me, He will share more. He whispers the best place for me.

I love that my God wants me to grow, and will help me along the way. I’m hoping that my new mantra will help me sort out the good choices from my best choices. I have found, over time, that as I choose wisely, the secondary choices get solved or fall away altogether. Like the lilies of the field (Matthew 6:28), if I am where I should be, He clothes me beyond the glory and wisdom of Solomon.

Kristin Fry is savoring our Alaskan summer with her family, her cow and 1000 chickens. She is happy to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

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