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I could absolutely have written this post by Emily in 2008. I’m not an elegant decorator. My china has been unused in boxes for 26 years. But I have been learning (slowly) over the years the lesson she discusses in this essay. What about you?

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I served on the Enrichment committee for a few years. This was a “stretch” calling for me. I loved working with the other women on the committee. I did not love Making Things Beautiful. I stink at it, and yet it’s a hallmark of Relief Society. Ask me to speak in church with ten minutes’ notice, or with no notice at all. I’d do it happily, relishing the chance, even. Much more happily than if you wanted me to create a lovely display table, or decorate for the Relief Society Birthday party. I chafed at the fussing over Beauty Details.

For one of the first activities I helped with, I was assigned to bring china to our August garden party. We would have called it a tea party, but there was no tea. Therefore, garden party. “China!?” I told Matt at home. “Why china? Why not plastic? They make nice plastic dishes these days. Who needs china?”

“How am I going to carry it?” I asked the Enrichment leader in our next planning meeting. I was a little passive-aggressive: I would do it, but along the way I pointed out all the difficulties of getting it done.

“Wrapped in cloth and towels, it’s not too far,” she said. “There are lots of women who would volunteer their china.”

We used mine, its first use since I got married, and the china of several other sisters. I packed it carefully in towels and laundry baskets, and brought it for the committee to set up. I couldn’t stay to help, but I come back later just as they were finishing the preparations: eight round tables, lavender colored linen tablecloths, tiered hors-dourves centerpieces. Each place had a china place setting. The warm air smelled of basil and tomatoes. There was a little gazebo in the garden, and a few paths to explore.

I watched the sisters’ faces as they entered. They seemed to relax here, to visibly soften in a response to this beauty.

All these little touches don’t come naturally to me. They are not things I would think of on my own: the centerpiece arranged just so, the tiered servers on each table, the ironed tablecloths. I balked at them: is this really necessary? Do we have to add this detail? It’s good enough, it’s beautiful enough.

But this was beauty creation in a pure form: not to be better than anyone else, but to serve. To make the women in my ward feel honored, special. I was surprised at what a difference china made; I would have been content with paper cups and plates. It would have been much easier. But it would not have been the same.

Angela Schultz’ essay Red Satin Sheets explores the way that consecrating surprises us: consecrating may mean red satin sheets instead of plain cotton ones, buying a bag of potato chips instead of eating rice and beans, making the sacrifices that stretch and challenge us, sometimes in funny ways–God has a sense of humor.

I loved her essay because it’s both hilarious and deeply true: God does not always ask us to sacrifice the things we’re inclined to give. That’s the reason He called me to serve on the Enrichment committee: so that I could gain a testimony of china and centerpieces.

Go read her (very funny) essay and tell me how consecrating has surprised you.


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