Posted on

Spiritual Leadership in the Home: leadership through love and example

We’ve all had ‘moments’ in our lives that influenced us for good; perhaps defining moments that altered our life trajectories, or foundational moments that awakened some sense of who we really are.

Some of my fondest early childhood memories involved our bedtime routine. My mom would come to each of us individually to tuck us in. She always said something nice about our day, and pulled our blankets up nice ‘n’ snug under our chins. It was a safe, comfortable way to close the day. She taught us to say a little prayer.

Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake, I pray thee Lord my soul to take.

It was a comforting little ritual, and the words themselves caused me to ponder God as I was closing my eyes. I considered what they meant. . . . .

“I pray thee Lord my soul to keep” sounded like I was asking Heavenly Father to take care of my soul while I was sleeping, since I couldn’t do it myself. I was sleeping.
“If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take” made me hope that God would take my soul and give it a good home since I wouldn’t be needing it anymore – if I were dead.

I never really understood them, but the ritual and repetition brought comfort to me – the words inspired godly thoughts that helped shape the beginning of my understanding of who I was.

When I was older and learned that prayers should be more personal, I still opened them with that little rhyme. It was a prayer my mother’s mother taught her, and I assume it was one her mother had taught her, since it’s been around that long – and much longer.

Though both my parents were born into it, we weren’t raised in the church. We were, however, all four of us baptized. I have often wondered what propelled my parents to make sure that happened, but I’ve always been grateful they did. Clearly, there was something that pulled them in that direction. I am ever SO grateful they followed through. Some of my aunts and uncles did not.

I admit when I was asked to speak in church on Spiritual Leadership in the Home recently, I wasn’t thrilled about the topic. I told the person who asked me if he’d have asked me 15 or 20 years earlier, I might have felt that I was rockin’ it, but lately I was feeling very inadequate. As I have been thinking about Spiritual Leadership in the Home, though, the spirit began opening new things for me to consider. Like the little prayer I told you about.

Like me, neither of my parents was raised in strong LDS homes, but they and all their siblings were baptized. In both their homes, it was their mothers who were the spiritual leaders.

My mother’s father was not a good dad, and not a good husband, and certainly not a spiritual leader in his home. He abdicated that responsibility to his wife, and he died at the age of 42 years, the father of 8 children. Though his death affected them all and caused great financial hardship, the older four did not miss him, the youngest never knew him, and the others had varying memories of him.

I’ve often wondered about him and the legacy he left his family. I assume from his vantage point in the spirit world, he has many regrets. I imagined he was not unlike Jacob Marley’s ghost, wishing he could undo a bunch of terrible choices. But lately, the spirit has me looking at him a bit differently.

The Hand of God by Yongsung Kim

It was his job to take care of his family. He was a good provider, but he should have done better on the home front. Leaving this earth did not take that responsibility away from him. Families are eternal. And when we die, we don’t get released from all our responsibilities to them.

I believe it may have been Jeffrey R. Holland who taught that guardian angels are real and that they are most likely family members who came before us, intimately connected with us and highly invested in our spiritual well-being and progression. Russel M. Nelson taught that the most important job any of us could ever be involved in is the gathering of Israel, on BOTH sides of the veil.

What if those of our family members who’ve passed away continue to be interested in us?
They know us. What if they truly love us?
What if they see the good in us and also the challenges we currently struggle with?
What if my grandfather repented of the things he did in this world? Repented of breaking the heart of his wife and losing the confidence of his children.
What if he is sorrowing for the generational trauma he caused?
What if he truly wants to make things better for his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren?
What if he were given the chance to do that?

So this Spiritual Leadership in the Home thing . . . . .
Whose job is that anyway?
Dads? Moms? What if it’s both of our jobs?
And what if we don’t ever get released from that calling when we die?

It wasn’t my dad who took the spiritual lead in the family I grew up in.
It was my mom who made sure we blessed our food and said our little prayers at bedtime. We didn’t go to church often in my young years, but when we did, it was she who took us.

We didn’t live the “Word of Wisdom” or read scriptures. My mom smoked the whole drive to church (and then popped a piece of gum in her mouth so nobody would know lol). My dad spent a lotta time in the bar with other dads who should have been home. We had a Bible, and I liked to look at the pictures in it. I didn’t know any of those stories, and neither did she, but I’m confident it was she who made sure we were baptized. It was she who spent her evenings with us, read to us, tucked us into bed and made us oatmeal for breakfast.

It was she who planted the seeds of love we would come back to.

My father’s brother entered our lives when I was 10 years old. He was transferred to CFB Cold Lake, where we lived – both these brothers being in the Royal Canadian Air Force (as it was called then). It didn’t take long for me to notice that my dad was a better dad when my uncle was around. Over the next two years, it was my uncle’s family who influenced me and quietly tutored me in my values, my character, and my understanding of what a strong, caring family could look like. It was my father’s brother who, after having left this life many years later, continued to work with my dad from the spirit world, until we were sealed together as a family in the temple.

I asked my dad as we walked out of the temple that day “Why now? …. After ALL this time, and after all the things we tried, why Now?”
He said, “It was Uncle Merlin’s death.”
He meant that for the first time in his life, he stared mortality in the mirror and decided he had better start cramming for his final exams, but I came to realize that he was ‘righter’ than he thought. Though my uncle was the younger brother, he was a great example of what a GOOD MAN looked like. I had four girl cousins, three of whom were all within a year of me: one a year younger, one the same age, and one a year older. So I spent more time in my cousins’ home than my siblings did. I saw what a faith-filled home looked like and felt like. When I was only 11 years old, I consciously knew that when I grew up, I wanted to marry someone like my uncle, not someone like my dad (bless his heart). That was one of those defining moments I mentioned earlier, and even from that tender adolescent age, it changed the course of my life.

Uncle Merlin had done all he could for my dad in this life. But after he died, he had different ‘access’. They were no longer miles apart. I don’t pretend to know how things in the spirit world work, but I know Uncle Merlin was with us in the temple that day. There was no way he wouldn’t have been. He literally changed the trajectory of my family’s life and relationship forever – through love and example. And his family did the same.

To be clear, that change of course wasn’t a sharp turn. It wasn’t a right angle.
It was a very slight shift—almost imperceptible at the time—that took decades to fully reveal itself.

But it was pivotal.

Let the Children Come by Liz Lemon

And along the way, I learned an important lesson:
If you’re ever going to come back, it helps to have something to come back to.

Sometimes we might get impatient when things aren’t moving quickly enough. There were times I didn’t believe anything in my family could change. But I knew I was baptized. I was on the records of the church. I belonged. I had received the gift of the Holy Ghost, who never let me down. And when I decided I wanted to come back, there was a place for me.

~

When I married Dan, he was not a member of the church. He had been attending church every Sunday for the year we dated, because that was where I was. He committed to baptism a time or two, but then changed his mind. His family was not happy with this whole “Mormon thing,” and they didn’t like that Dan seemed to be changing right before their eyes. He wasn’t resolute about the gospel, but he was resolute about me. And the good people in the Cherry Grove ward (which was where I went to church) were kind and welcoming to him. You could even say they were loving. They modelled what a ward family was and what life with the gospel could look like. Among them, and in my Uncle Merlin’s home, he felt the spirit for the first time.

A year after we were married, Dan was baptized.
A week or two later, he started smoking again—and so began a roller coaster.

There were times he felt deeply loved by God, and others when he felt like a dismal disappointment. Such is the nature of addiction, pulling a person back and forth, between hope and shame, between resolve and relapse.

That pattern lasted for over 30 years.

During that time, we raised five children. One by one, most of them came to realize that their dad smoked. And one by one, they came to me—each carrying the same difficult question in their own way.

I would ask them, “Are you trying to tell me that you think Dad smokes?”

“YES!”
“And you want to know that I know?”
“YES!”
“Okay. I know, And I have one thing to say. Your dad is a good man.
He has an addiction that none of us can fully understand, and it beats him up sometimes. It’s between him and God. But here’s what I do understand…”

“Charity is the pure love of Christ—and it endures forever. Moroni taught that if we don’t have charity, nothing else we do really matters. It all counts for nothing. Because charity is greater than all. Your dad has charity. He would give the shirt off his back—I’ve seen him do it, and so have you. God counts charity.
In the meantime, we’ll support him. As long as Dad stops one time more than he starts, he’s still on the right road.”

Spiritual leadership in the home is not about doing everything right. It’s not about never making mistakes. It’s about being real. It’s about knowing that God loves us—and choosing to love Him.

It’s not about being better than anyone else, but about knowing who you are.

It’s about being a window to God’s love. Julie de Azevedo wrote a song by that title –

“I want to be a window to His love
So when you look at me, you will see Him.
I want to be so pure and clear
That you won’t see me standing here
‘Cause His love will shine brightly through me.
…
I want to be a doorway to the truth
So when you walk behond, you will find Him.
I want to stand so straight and tall
That you won’t notice me at all
And through my open door He will be seen.”

Spiritual Leadership in the home when you have young children involves training and teaching and modeling. And sacrifice.
It is about protecting your home emotionally and spiritually.

When your kids get older, it also involves letting them see struggle and faith, and letting God prevail. It involves a lot of humility and hoping you did right when you had the chance, because the years have flown by and you need to start letting go. And it involves MORE sacrifice.

When they become adults, there is an added dimension, and it becomes quieter.

Spiritual Leadership now means worrying about them—and praying for them—more than you ever have before.
It means trusting that your God is also their God, whether they recognize Him or not.

It means understanding that your job as a parent will never be over.
And you continue to love. You continue to sacrifice.

And you hold onto one quiet, steady hope:
That if they ever choose to come back, they know they have something to come back to.

As I reflected on all of this, I asked a friend this week for her thoughts on spiritual leadership in the home. Her words are a fitting way to close.

She said, “Love makes everything else work. There is always room to love better and deeper; always room to be kinder and softer; and always room to try to see things from another’s perspective, rather than just our own.”

I whole heartedly agree.
I’d love to hear your thoughts and feelings.

Warmly,

Cindy Suelzle

Posted on

he knew the Author

I recently came across this beautiful true story . . . and wanted to keep it close at hand, so I’m sharing it with you. I’m quoting it as I read it.

“Many years ago Charles Laughton, the famous English actor was touring America, giving Bible reading demonstrations.  He was a Shakespearean actor with considerable dramatic skill.  I personally never had the privilege of hearing him read the Bible, but indications were great that it was a very moving and spiritual experience. 

Once, after reading in a small midwestern community in a large rural church, Laughton’s audience was totally and completely silent.  It was almost as if God had made a special trip and was there among the congregation.  After what seemed like an eternity but probably involved no more than a minute, an elderly man stood up and asked for permission to read the Bible.   It was granted and as the old man started to read, it was apparent he was no Shakespearean actor.  He did not have the voice, the elocution, or the diction of the great Charles Laughton.   As he read however, it became completely obvious to everyone present that if this had been a Bible reading contest, the great actor would have finished a distant second.  

When the evening was over, a reporter went to Charles Laughton and asked how he felt about having participated in such an event. What was his rection to the old man’s reading of the Bible?   The English actor thought for a moment, looked at the reporter, and said, “Well I knew the script and I knew it well, but this old man knew the Author. 

The point is clear and very simple.  The old man had the added advantage of being totally sincere, and totally convincing because he had that deep personal belief.” 
– Zig Ziglar

I do not know if this actually happened or if it’s just one of those urban legends — the kind of tale that grows into something larger than life. In fact, I’ve heard and read several versions of it. But I’ve decided it doesn’t matter.

It could be like the parables our Savior used to teach. I don’t doubt they were crafted on the spot, not to recount facts, but to reveal truth. The story Zig tells speaks of deep personal conviction – investment in the words. You could say the old man truly “understood the assignment”.

When we merely relay information, we cannot hope to move people. We only pass along data. But when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable—when we speak from the heart and share what is sacred to us — we can influence for good. We can even change our world.

If we genuinely believe that what we have to share could help someone else, might even solve a real problem, then we speak with intent. And in doing so, it ceases to be about us.

In those moments, we know more than just the script.

You could say—we know the Author.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Warmly,

Cindy Suelzle
May 7, 2025

Posted on

HAIL, that great equalizer

I had just laid my head down after spending another few hours in the garden that spring evening ….. finally got most of my herb plants and a few more flowers IN . . . when I heard it.

ARGHHHHH HAIL!

Hail. I hate hail. That great equalizer. Natures way of reminding us who is in charge, and that we are always dependent on Him. Big mistake to rely solely on “the arm of flesh”.

I timed it.

From beginning to end less than six minutes. But I knew it wouldn’t take more than that. It never does. It doesn’t have to. I mentally went through my garden beds and realized there was no one or two places that I could reasonably even hope to cover. If I had had warning. I was completely at the mercy of hail. My thoughts turned, as they often do, to my great grandparents who repeatedly got hailed out on the prairies after putting in all their blood, sweat and tears. I thought of them standing there, at the door, watching the hail fall, weeping. Not much else to do. . . . . And as always, my heart went out to them. My people. Most of whom I’ve never even met.

early family garden in the city when the kids were little, around 1989

For me hail means frustration, disappointment and inconvenience. For them it meant everything! For them it could have cost them their entire year, and they would have wondered how they were gonna feed their family in the winter to come. I knew there was nothing I could do but hope and pray. Just as they knew there was nothing more they could do.

I went out the following morning to check my gardens. Fine. I checked each plant I put in last night. Fine. All fine. If I hadn’t heard the hail storm the night before, I likely wouldn’t even have known about it. I am relieved. And I am grateful. And again as I do so often, I wondered “why I am so favoured?”. And I love and appreciate all the more, those people who came before me, to this land. And paid such a high price, so that I could have what I have, a long time after they’re dead and gone. Thank you. Thank you to Charles and Sarah, to Alonzo and Elizabeth, to Andreas and Inger, Pearl and Leland, Heber and Capitolia, and all the others who sacrificed so that my children could be born HERE in this place, NOW in this time. The fullness of times.

And I thank my Heavenly Father again for the bounty we enjoy in this land. And I recommit myself to Him, with the reminder that I am nothing without Him. All I can do for myself can be wiped away in 6 minutes, or less. Yes, I will continue to work hard. But in Him alone will I put my trust.

Warmly,

Cindy Suelzle

Posted on

Come Grow Old With Me

“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, ‘A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!”
– Robert Browning, a 19th century British poet, and famous for the poetry he and his wife Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote together, still often quoted today.

Many things he wrote touch my heart. But this: “Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be . . .” this one is my mantra. I first heard it when I was 17, recited by a television character in an episode of “Marcus Welby MD”, and it imprinted in my brain. I thought it was the most wonderful and idealic expressions of love I’d ever heard. Although I couldn’t really visualize a life that wasn’t youthful, I knew already that I wanted to grow old with Dan. And I completely trusted that “the best was yet to be”.

Robert Browning

Well, over 45 years have come and gone – nearly half a century. (Sheesh right 🙄). And I have realized for years that I am living my dream. Although it hasn’t always been a picnic, and we’ve certainly waded through much struggle over those years, I am indeed growing old with Dan. Ironically, Robert Browning outlived his wife Elizabeth by 28 years, never remarrying. He grew old without her, dying at the age of 77. How very, very sad. But not sadder than the hundreds of similar stories we see unfold all around us. Loving marriages, cut short here on earth by the passing of one. How grateful I am for the promise I have absolute faith in: that families are forever. Because of the atonement of Jesus Christ, families can be sealed together for eternity, and live together in family units forever.

Dan and I are approaching retirement. We hope and we pray for, and we truly look forward to the time to finish growing old together. We have many productive and wonderful years ahead, to spend together and to enjoy our family as they grow old too. But if not. If, for some reason that neither one of us will understand, that is not to be – then we can lean on the knowledge that we have chosen to seal ourselves to each other, with our family, and that we will be reunited in due time, and continue our life together in another place.

– warmly,

Cindy Suelzle

Posted on

Remember When Jesus Gave You a Present and He Said SURPRISE!?

One day whe Luke was three or four years old, he said to me “Remember when Jesus came to our house Mom?”
hmmmm, I was a just a little confused …. “Nooo Luke. I don’t remember that.”
“Mom! He came. Remember?”
I racked my brain trying to recall some bearded man who had recently come to visit us. But couldn’t. “uh, no Luke. I am sorrry. I don’t remember.”
“Mom! You were there!” Had Brother Blommaert come to visit? He had a beard.
“Mom! He ringed the doorbell!” Had Brother Blommaert dropped something off recently? When I wasn’t home perhaps?
“And he gave you a present.”
…. oh my – this was getting very mysterious. “Jesus gave ME a present Luke?” Brother Blommaert MUST have been by.
“Yes! And the present was all wrapped up in a blanket.”

Feeling very sorry to disappoint him, but not recalling any recent event that might fit into the description he was giving me, I admitted defeat. “No Luke. I am sorry. But I cannot remember when Jesus came to our door and gave me a present.”
“MOM! And he said SURPRISE! and when you opened it up, it was ME!”
The light went on.
“Oh Yes! I certainly do remember when Jesus gave me a wonderful surprise, and you’re right, it WAS you. Best surprise ever. …… But Luke, Jesus didn’t actually ring the doorbell.”

Luke couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t heard the wonderful story of how he came to our family. “A long time ago, there was just Mommy and Daddy, and Jacob, and Sarah, and Zack and Joseph. But no Luke. We thought everybody in our family was home. But you weren’t with us yet. You were still living in heaven. You were waiting for your turn to come to us, but we didn’t know that because it was a surprise. And we were just going about doing our stuff. And you were saying “Wait! Wait for me.” but we couldn’t hear you. We were having a picnic, and riding our bikes, and eating dinner and reading stories and you were saying “Hey! Wait for me!” And then one day, Heavenly Father said “its time to go join your family” and you were so happy. And Heavenly Father told us “Surprise!” and He gave you to us. And we were so surprised! And so so so happy.”

Well that boy is almost thirty years old. And just about three decades ago Heavenly Father really did tell us “Surprise!”, and a few months later, Luke joined our happy family, completing that generation of it. April 7 1990. A Happy Day for all of us. Luke gave Jacob the chance to re-find his tender-big-brother-side, Sarah the chance to practice being a mommy on her own real-live doll. He gave Zack and Joseph a little brother to play with and to take care of. And he gave Dan and I another chance to put into practice all the things we learned from the other kids. Another chance to get it right. Baby Luke was a delight to us all. Never was there a little boy more loved and cared for, and cuddled and read to. He was always in someone’s arms. Sitting in church became a political problem …. he was three years old and everyone still wanted to hold him. I am amazed he ever learned to sit on his own, let alone walk on his own.

Why the story? Because at one point, before 1990 we thought we were finished having children. The doctors had strongly advised that my fourth caesarian should be my last, and after months of confusion, and praying for guidance about such an important decision, we decided at length to follow the doctor’s counsel and leave the details up to the Lord. We never had that conclusive feeling that our family was finished, but we knew with God all things are possible. We had good examples of adoption in our extended families. We had fostered briefly. We had provided a home for two years for the teenaged child of a friend. We knew there were numerous ways a child could join a family. It didn’t need to be traditional. We figured that if we were open and receptive, then one day, when the time was right, Heavenly Father would find a use for these parents who still had years to give. We trusted that one day – we might be surprised, and that if we would just be watchful, and receptive to the promptings, that we would respond appropriately when the time came, and the Lord might be able to work through us. It never occured to us that a child could come to us through the normal means after we had taken measures to ensure I didn’t get pregnant again. We didn’t think that was possible. Well, guess what? It is. With God – ALL things are possible. He knows us. He knows our hearts. He knows what is best for us. And He was patient with our decision five years before – knowing afterall, that He was in control. “You do the best you can until you know Better.” right?

My fear was that one day Luke might hear the word ‘surprise‘ from another source,and another perspective. All of our friends and family knew the miracle by which he came to us. I was afraid that at some point, he might overhear a portion of his story out of context, and he might deduce that ‘surprise’ meant something else. I wanted him to always know he was important, and loved and welcomed to our family with open arms and open hearts. I wanted to make sure that he never had a reason to doubt that, and I concluded that the only way I could ensure he never thought differently was if he heard it all from ME first. So from before the time he could talk, he heard his story. About how we didn’t know he was going to come to our family, but we were so happy when we found out. I told him in a way that I thought he could absorb. Funny how kids fit truth into their own reality. They sort it out in the way that they see the world. In the way that makes sense to them. I was okay with that. I knew that as he grew and his understanding developed, he would sort out the details. The only thing that was critically important was that he always feel loved.

Somewhere along the line, Luke grew up. And now he has two babies of his own. Very wanted and welcomed and loved babies that he shares with his lovely wife Pam, and with the rest of us. Cause that’s what families do. But he’s still my baby. And I still refer to him as my baby. And sometimes the grandchildren feel the need to object. “Uncle Luke isn’t a baby!” they say.
I tell them “oh yes he is. Don’t ever fool yourselves. Uncle Luke will always be our baby. And you know what? He likes being the baby. Don’t you Uncle Luke?”

“Yup.” (that’s how he talks)

And the world continues to turn. And babies grow up. And mom’s get older too. But some things should never change.

Warmly,

Cindy Suelzle


Posted on

Who is the Most Important Person in This Room?

Michael McLean said something to me years ago that has reframed my life.

It has helped me hundreds of times, when I needed to come out of my personal comfort zone and do what needed to be done.  He said simply this: “Its never about YOU.”  Then he added the following, summarized in my own words, and edited over more than a decade of implementation, but the essential concept in this post came from Michael McLean.

Woman at the Well by Liz Lemon Swindle

His counsel:  Every time you walk into a room (or situation) you have a decision to make.  As you stand briefly in that threshold, before you actually walk through the door, you should ask yourself one question.  That question is “Who is the most important person in this room?” If the answer to that question is “ME!” then you are completely justified in all kinds of self centred thoughts like “I am uncomfortable here …. This is awkward for me … No one ever sits beside me … Why bother? … This is soooo out of my comfort zone …. I’d really rather not be here …. ” etc etc – because after all, you ARE the most important person in that room.  However, (and this is the clincher), IF the answer to your question today is . . . . . “that woman over there!” or “Laura!” or …. then suddenly, as soon as you’ve made that decision, your thoughts become all about her.  “I should go sit beside her – I should tell her how I LOVE her new hair – I should tell her how much I enjoyed her son’s talk last week – I should tell her how much I appreciated that comment she made the other day, and how much it helped me” etc etc.  Notice how all your previously self centred thoughts and feelings, turned 180 degrees to focus on someone else.  I really think we all want to BE nice.  We all want to BE the kind of person who makes other people feel good about themselves.  What that boils down to, is that we want to BE more Christlike.  More like Christ.  Well, if that is genuinely true, then think for a moment.  WHEN was it about Him?  When did He put himself first and say “nobody likes me”, “They’re not gonna like what I have to say” “I am so stinkin’ sick and tired” … Even when He hung on the cross, it still wasn’t about Him!  “Father forgive them.” and  “Woman, behold thy son” (John 19).  When?  When there are other people involved, when should it be all-about-me?

The fact is – sometimes it IS about me.  Sometimes I really have to say “this time – I just cannot do that“. And those times are okay.  But they should be rare exceptions, not the rule.  Most of the time, no matter how you’re feeling, when you’re in a place where you see someone who might need a kind word or wave, or even more – simply ask yourself – “WHO IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THIS ROOM?”  I cannot tell you how much that has helped me be a better person and get over myself for the moment. Thank-you Michael.

The only time it backfires is when you raise your children with this philosophy, and then one day when you’re really struggling and feeling sorry for yourself, your daughter says “So why is this all about you mom? Who’s the most important person here anyway?” Stupid kid!

Warmly,

Cindy Suelzle