Directing Energy- BOB Part 2

 BOB does not stand for "Bring Your Own Beer" though I suppose I could put this entry into my other "Bottles of Beer" blog centered on relationships. It serves the same purpose in trying to purge myself of all the angst related to my most recent involvement in Ascent Corporation's semi-annual "Battle of the Bands"...if even just to get the stupid songs off repeat in my brain at night.  

This entry would also nicely fit into my recent gratitude journal where I try to recognize the hand of the Lord in my life and in the lives of those around me.  Surely, it is a miracle when we even participate.  There are so many things out of my control and the stress comes as a frantically try to control it.  

I cannot control if students are open and willing to engage in groups with their already existing music abilities and intellect.  If they are willing, I cannot control if students will focus enough to learn basic, basic music skills.  I cannot control if our best musicians will manage their unsafe action impulses throughout the day/night to qualify for participation.   I cannot control if they can use the same skills and play cooperatively instead of fighting. I cannot control how they handle performance anxiety to sing on key or on beat.  I cannot control what they wear and how that might influence others.  I cannot control if they will have appropriate boundaries with others when interacting with the opposite sex.  I cannot control if they will manage their emotions successfully and not blow out during the event when things don't go their way.  In other words, I cannot control their behavior.  However, I sure try to use whatever tools are available to influence behavior- even if it is perceived as frantic, frenetic direction.  

Perhaps frantic, frenetic aren't the right adjectives regarding my direction.  I direct with all the energy of my heart and soul.  While observing this directing energy, one student asked point blank, "Erin are you autistic?"  When I said, "No, but I'm sure I have some type of ADHD".  That seemed to appease her a bit and explain why I was being "so energetic."  So weird. So extra.  Or as they would say in the 80's, "Erin, you need to take  a chill pill."

This same "directing energy" sometimes comes off as being too stressed out as evidenced by feedback from peers and supervisors. During the last two weeks, I've neglected other responsibilities in order to hyper-focus on the objective. I'm clearly not handling my responsibilities with serenity and grace.   But if I lay back and tone down the energy and chill, I can assure you, we just wouldn't go. Which is not some great devastating loss, but I don't want the students to miss out on such an amazing team building experiential experience! 

Surprisingly, once I'm at the event, I radically accept whatever outcome. I'm super chill, even "crazy cool."  Perhaps it's because it's too late to do anything.  I sit back and watch and appreciate the miracles or God's hand in this rock event. 

Miracle #1:  The off-tune student sang on tune and the last minute drummer kind of kept the beat.  The song wasn't horrible.

Miracle #2-My problem-solving compromises to keep the peace and stop the constant bickering between the "Swifties" and "Punk Rockers" seemed to appease everyone.  We did shortened versions of the songs and the organizers allowed it.  

Miracle #3- We didn't have any extreme dysregulation at the event.  Everyone kept their cool, even though F-words and threats flew, therapists helped, students were incentivised, and returned to their seat. 

Miracle #4- We didn't stand out as being the worst music program.  Through the advent of new leadership in several of the other programs, they weren't as prepared as usual-which worked to our advantage. (since we are never prepared.) This allowed our students to really feel like they belonged at the event and had something to give.

Miracle #5  The amazing male drummer was safe enough to attend, not only winning him the "Best Drummer Award" but allowing our Green Day song to win "Best Band Performance".  

Miracle #6:  Our boys program really came together to encourage all other performers.  They cheered loudly, raised their hands and swayed to each song.  They even tried to start a crowd wave.  They made it extra fun through their enthusiastic support. 

There are two personal miracles or at least memorable experiences to note as well.  The day before, we rehearsed our Linkin Park song, "Numb."  I was really trying to direct the newly eligible, awesome drummer to stay with the band (which he did NOT do the following day) using my over the top gestures, tambourine and dancing. I was all over the place like a frenetic orchestra conductor.  BUT it was FREAKING AWESOME!  And to boot, the CEO witnessed the song.  I will never forget how I felt. 

The second memorable experience was a passing comment by a bystander staff from another program.  While putting instruments back into our van, she came up to me in the parking lot and said how she has watched me over the years and thought to herself, "I want to be THAT lady."  That gracious comment warmed my heart.  

Throughout my life I have used enthusiastic energy to direct.  Some find this energy obnoxious and annoying.  Some students are so turned off by it, that it affects their willingness to participate in my groups.  How I miss them!  And they miss out on some great experiences and value added to their treatment.   Yet, if enthusiasm suggests, "God within", perhaps I'm trying to tap into his energy to influence outcomes. It is another evidence of how God works through ordinary people to let His Love, His Light, His Life shine through a cracked vessel.  I want to be THAT lady.  

Crying Out Loud

 I can hear the voice of my father exclaiming in frustration, "For Crying Out Loud Erin, Will you please ...(fill in the blank.)  I'm sure like most children, I did things that made my parents' job more difficult.  But lately, I've had some experiences in the last couple of weeks that have given new shape to this exclamation, "crying out loud."  

I am a loud person but most of the time when I cry, it is a silent expression.  Crying is one of my frequent expressions when I feel something deeply in my heart. Something triggers the emotion.  It pierces my heart, like an arrow-a good arrow hitting a spiritual nerve.  Something that feels true.  Something that feels right.  

Last week I participated in the nationwide "hand off" protest with my daughter.  She was meeting up with her friends at the Utah State Capitol.  They gave me a sign I was happy to hold saying, "We the people..in order to form a more perfect union- establish justice, ensure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare.  I had never been to a protest and found it pretty impressive to gather with so many others and read their very creative signs giving voice to their concerns.  

As a former cheerleader, it really just felt like a  glorified pep rally as we shouted in unison,  "Yay! or "Boo!" and waved our signs high in the air.  We listened to various speakers, listened to music, sang, and chanted.  I don't remember what the exact words were, but when our side of the mass yelled, "Just Fight!" I found myself crying out loud.  

I may have been extra sensitive to the concept of fighting for rights as I had just finished the mini series, "Sons of Liberty" and was reminded of the greatness in spirit, even the fighting spirit of our founding fathers.  But more than that, the whole protest experience reminded me of a familiar scene from my past. Long before my mortal birth I believe I stood in some type of mass gathering, fighting or adding my voice, crying out for freedom.  I didn't believe in Satan's plan forcing me to do what's right.  Rather I fought with  my brother Jesus as the leader representing my Father's plan of happiness and my freedom to follow if I so chose. 

The last few weeks I have also had the privilege of watching the season 5 theatrical release of "The Chosen."  I cried when watching the people on the screen waving their palms shouting, crying, "Hosanna, Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the Lord."  I would like to think that I could have joined in.  I would like to have cried out loud.

At least that's the reason why I went to our ward's celebratory walk to celebrate Palm Sunday.  I didn't show up prepared with something to wave but I was happy to join the procession while singing hymns through the neighborhood.  I cried while feeling the spirit of those great words about the Savior.  I walked beside a friend as she strolled her adult son who has suffered from serious physical and mental disabilities throughout his life.  I've seen her take him walks through the years and have always been so inspired by her loving care as she tends to his severe needs.  But today I was inspired by him.  

Near the end of our procession, my friend asked me to take the stroller because her son wanted to walk the rest of the way.  I followed behind them while witnessing as she steadied her son as he took confident yet clumsy steps.  I cried again. What bravery!  What determination!  He was fighting his body and manifesting his will.  Through his actions, I know he too believes in the great healer, Jesus Christ.  One day he too will be raised up and walk perfectly.  I will be able to understand him when he talks.  He will be whole.  He was a great example of faith in Jesus Christ and his trust in his glorious promises.  It also provided a powerful reminder of my own halting, clumsy steps on this planet as I try to follow the Savior.

  One day we too will be raised up.  No more sickness. No more aging.  No more pain. No more death.  Resurrected!  So I will raise my voice.  I will stand firm and fight, manifesting my will and desire to join the masses of all creation crying out, "Hosanna!  Blessed Be the Name of the Most High God!" 

From the Heart

 This morning, I was thinking about one of my favorite experiences in 2024 and what I wanted to carry over to 2025. It was back in November while watching my grandchildren practice for the children's primary program.  I set a realistic goal to teach them the chorus of one of the songs from the program list.  I also selected the song as it aligned with my values of becoming love.  It was a primary song I had never heard of before entitled, "The Tree of Life." Here is the chorus:

"Come to the Tree of Life- Partake of the Fruit- I Feel the Love of God and you'll Feel it too When you Come to the Tree of Life-There's joy here and peace-The greatest place in all the world to be...Is at the Tree!"

I first had to learn the song myself. I remember singing it aloud while walking to the park with my grandbaby in the stroller. I remember teaching it to the other grandchildren while driving in the car. There wasn't much time, but I wanted them to know something to contribute alongside the other primary children.  I wouldn't be in Utah during the program, so I slipped into the chapel for the practice the Sunday prior.  I sat where my grandchildren could see me.  I mouthed the words as they sang as if to feed them the lyrics. 

I was so touched as Lennox sang the song from his heart.  He was the loudest, most enthusiastic, primary child singing out to the familiar words of the chorus as his eyes sparkled with recognition.  He really stood out! It was my own personal primary program, just for me. Tears streamed down my face as I felt the power of the song's message.  The words represent my greatest desire for my children and grandchildren to come to the Tree of Life and feel the "love of God."  It felt like electricity and power coursing through my whole being.  I did feel the love of God.  This was it!  And I wanted these sweet, sweet grandchildren to feel it too!  And not just them, but all my family. 

Fast forward to yesterday morning.  I sat in a playpen with my two 14 month grandchildren watching them interact with each other.  I was crying pretty hard, feeling the emotional wounds from a prior conversation with my son.  Though the babies didn't understand the tears, they completely understood when I removed my attention from them briefly to get a tissue from the bathroom.  They panicked and cried until I returned to give them my undivided attention once more.  Attention is such a gift of presence!  So when it is removed, it's hard not to take it personally.

That is what happened with my son earlier in the morning.  I divided my attention in a way that triggered him to the times he felt devalued by his mom, not important not understood, not seen.  Though he loves me, he gets upset when my actions dismiss him in any way and he feels like trying to connect with me is futile.  He wants me to understand how I hurt others and take accountability before moving on. To learn new ways of relating with others instead of helping others NOT feel the love of God. 

That certainly isn't my intention.  I try so hard to show love to each person in my family.  I admit, that my attention has been divided over and over again.  Every time I had another baby, it divided my attention. My work divides my attention as well as my other non-family responsibilities.   Even in my relationship with God, my eye isn't close to being single. I show love in messy, imperfect ways.  Ultimately, MY love is not enough to heal the wounds but HIS love is!   

So how do I channel God's healing love?  How do I "sing from the heart" like my sweet grandchild, Lennox?  One of the reason's why I centered my Christmas around Thomas McConkie's book, "At One Ment" is because it provides some great ideas about "seeing from the heart".  For me, it's a great follow up to Steve Young's book about "being love." I have to mix my former imperfect mommy heart love with something greater and infinitely more powerful.  

The book talks about human vulnerabilities including the need to be valued and esteemed, as wounds.   I need to really feel and deal with bodily pain with great compassion rather than distract from it, remove my gaze or escape it.  I accept it, let it flow through me, let is pass through me. I can use the pain as an act of consecration, I can accept the cup like the Savior accepted His cup.  And yet I don't have to wallow in sticky emotions and unhelpful thoughts to continually suffer.  God can anoint my wounds as I seek greater awareness of my presence and His presence through contemplative practice, I can connect with His life, love and light.  Connecting with his love and light will allow me to see everything with the heart. 

 It's still a little unclear and far too nebulous right now, but perhaps in 2025, I can make it more concrete. The book also provides many audio meditations worth repeating to help with this process.   My goal is to not only sing from the heart, but see and respond from God's heart.  If I feel the love of God, I want others to feel it too!    

Tangible Proof

This morning I was thinking about the big pile of RT stuff  I need to move tomorrow to a new campus.  I already filled up a 15 passenger van with one load and dropped it off.  After assessing what remains,  I think it will take about 8 more loads.  Luckily, I think there will be a moving van to help tomorrow.  Why am I holding on to all this stuff?  

Our possessions are sometimes linked to our identity.  Right now, part of my identity is as a recreation therapist.  Part of my job is teaching DBT skills and pairing them with recreational tasks.  Since "recreation" is a broad term, this task can be anything related to movement, art, music, games- "everything but the kitchen sink." Well and in some cases, if I could figure out how to use a kitchen sink in an experiential activity, it would be in the pile too! 

Do I really need the pile?  Why can't I just bring myself?  Aren't my ideas for recreational tasks inside me anyway?  I remember one recreation therapist turned entrepreneur said he could keep a group engaged for hours with a single rope.  He is great!  Me?  Not so great.  I need props to compensate for personal insecurity.  I need props to enlarge my memory.  Seeing and touching an item helps me remember what I did in the past and what I can potentially do in the future.

I learn best through hands-on experiences-something to touch, something to hold in my hand. Being close enough to touch puts me in relationship with people, places, and objects. I form an emotional attachment to them. Material possessions also provide tangible proof of physical reality. But proof of what?

Proof we are successful financially.  Proof we are a winner.  Proof we are important.  Proof we are happy.  Proof we are good-looking.  Proof we went places. Proof people liked us. Proof we are amazing people.  Proof we exist and make a difference.  Proof we matter.  

Memorabilia sometimes provides tangible proof or worth, or at least that we existed. But so does every single item ever purchased by self or others.  Getting rid of anything can potentially assault a person's sense of worth.  But take it all away, what remains? 

 If we're still here on this planet, we have our body.  Our body is a form of physical proof.  Our body is the greatest storage unit of all. It has unlimited space. It is also a dumping ground.   Our body stores our collective choices over the years, our good and bad habits. Our body stores our collective experience both good and bad.  It stores our memories of relationships, both good and bad. memories of  Our mind, heart, and gut store our values and how we feel when we violate them or they are violated by others.  It keeps a perfect record of our transactions.  It is physical evidence, tangible proof of who we are and what we have chosen to become.  And others can see it-they see the external proof as well.  

But even the body will eventually be taken away.  And then what is left? What proof will we have that we existed,  especially if our ashes are scattered somewhere on the planet? 

Our spirit is a far superior storage unit.  It brings the light and life.  It stores the truth of what was, is, and is to come.  It is an endless reservoir of living water for those who believe. It is the great purifier, cleansing by the fire of sanctification.  Hardly a dumping ground! It is our life force-our energy.  Without it, we are just an empty shell.  Thankfully, no one can take away our spirit-ever.  

How wonderful the promise of a resurrection!  Both body and spirit will be inseparably connected through the atonement of Jesus Christ.  The greatest, most amazing tangible proof ever!  A material we will possess, not just a material possession.  Like Thomas, we sometimes doubt and exclaim,  "Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe." We want tangible proof. It's the great identifier of existence.  

How wonderful to see the church video on the Savior's appearance in the Americas.  It is another witness of the resurrected Lord.  He invited all

 "Arise and come forth unto me, that ye may thrust your hands into my side, and also that ye may feel the prints of the nails in my hands and in my feet, that ye may know that I am the God of Israel, and the God of the whole earth, and have been slain for the sins of the world."  

Since resurrection restores the body to it's perfect frame, as a child, I didn't quite understand why Jesus was resurrected with scars on his body.  I thought he would show up and say something like, "Here, look at my perfect body- this is what is in store for you!"  

But it wasn't just about what the Father did for Jesus by raising only him from the dead. It was about how it was accomplished by the Father's sacrifice of the blood of His perfect unblemished lamb. It was accomplished by the pain represented by those scars. We are the scars!  We are the marks.  I live inside of the Lord's resurrected body for I am "engraven on the palm of his hands."  That's me!  That's my sins!  He bears them.  He wears them as the great symbol of our connection. We are inseparably attached to him. 

I take upon His name in my efforts to seek connection with this holy being. I wear marks.  They are not engraven on my body but I wear them on the outside, close to my body, in hopes I will connect to His presence.  It reminds me of my great privilege to repent and be one with Him.  

God knows we care about physical stuff.  God knows we care about proof of our existence.  He knows and He looks on us with great compassion as we value our earthly possessions and mourn their loss.  He knows that seeing and touching items helps us remember what we did in the past and what we can potentially do in the future. 

He loves us.  But he wants us to understand who He is.  He wants us to understand who We are.  He wants us to become one with Him, his Father, and the Holy Spirit. It is the ultimate proof of connection and attachment.  It is real. As real as any tangible possession. 

Seek and Find

 I know God is not a big ATM machine in the sky, but sometimes I still ask him for help in finding lost items. And I want to give him the credit when I find these items. 

Last Friday, while preparing for my trip to California, I noticed with panic that my drivers license had fallen out of my wallet- only my license, everything else was still there.  I knew I needed it for TSA at the airport to board the plane. I blamed Satan, of course, for deliberately taking it out.  Well him and my own careless, oblivios behaviors.  

While trying to retrace my steps, I apologetically asked for Gods help.  I tried to remain calm and was grateful to know I could still use my passport if it didn’t turn up.  When I got back home, I  carefully inspected my briefcase and still didn’t see it. I went to find my passport and decided I should go to the DMV to get a replacement license or at least get the process started. 

As I went to get my keys, I glanced down and noticed my license on the bedroom floor. I had not noticed it when I walked by to look in my briefcase on the bed.  For me it was an answer to my prayer, like it had miraculously been placed there. 

Regardless of my oversight, God really does help me focus on what is most important in my life.  He wants me to see what’s in front of my face or what I may have missed.  He helps draw my attention to the lost coin, the lost sheep,  the prodigal son and the rejoicing and great relief when these things are found.  He doesn’t want me to go carelessly go through life oblivious to the important details not to be missed.  

One detail I was drawn to today that I certainly don’t want to overlook is my gospel upbringing in Southern California. What a privilege it is to sit next to my mother at church.  Because of her,  I am not frantically searching for the pearl of great price.  What comfort  and joy it brings to me to join with my mother, my brother, my sisters who also feel like they have found the treasure and show their faith by attending church weekly. I notice it and it strengthens my faith. 

More than just finding lost items,  God continually tries to direct my attention to find great gospel truths crucial for spiritual travel. 

Become Love

 Like many other people, I’ve loved watching “The Chosen”  There have been many moments that touched my heart and mind. Last season it was when Jesus rescuing Peter when he tried to walk on water. I think I already wrote about that.

This season I was a little unsettled watching the still grieving Thomas’s angry and hurt reaction to Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. He wondered why Jesus did not help his dying loved one when he needed it,  He was all put out.  I think we all get put out, especially considering withheld blessings from faithful followers of the Savior. Why does he allow us to experience pain?  Why don't we get what we want, when we want it? Why doesn't he just wipe away all the tears right away?  

According to Steve Young's book on the "Law of Love", transactional questions get transactional answers.  We have to become love instead of expecting to selfishly get something out of our discipleship or any other relationship.  We help, we heal as an outpouring of the love we feel without expecting anything in return.  

The disciples portrayed in the series are like all of us-expecting something in return.  They expected the love and care the Savior showed for everyone would be extended to them personally in times of need.   This hopeful expectation of things being set right was voiced by Martha as she stated, "I know the he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day." There was a condition for this great miracle, "Believeth thou this".  Faith precedes the miracle. If we believe in Jesus then we get this or that.  Many blessings are conditioned on having faith in Jesus Christ and repenting. It's transactional.  It's conditional.  

Many blessings of healing require patience.  Jesus didn't heal everyone around him, nor did he heal everyone simultaneously. Like his response to little James, it was not his "time to be healed".  It was not the Fathers will to make everything right for them right now.  They would need to wait and trust in God's promises to heal and bless everyone. We will have to wait for the resurrection as evidenced by all the lovely and peaceful cemeteries around us.  But it will happen to everyone without any condition of belief.  

It’s not my time to be blessed. It’s not my time to be healed.  I'm so impatient. I want everything right now, and when I don’t get it, sometimes I throw a  angry temper tantrum like Thomas. Thomas compared his grieving experience with Mary and Martha's grieving experience and ultimate outcome.  His blessings compared with another person's blessings.  Where is the fairness.  Shouldn't we all just get the same things for Christmas, as if God were some type of Santa Claus in the sky.  I also have a tendency to compare what I have with others instead of recognizing and honoring our unique paths.

 Thomas stays with Jesus, he still on the path.  Where else is he going to go?  He could choose to "walk with him no longer" but he doesn't.   Most of the apostles continue to follow him and ultimately die for him. They learn to not only follow him but become his representatives and lead His church.  They become the healers and with his power and authority heal others, even raise them from the dead.  They reach out in Christ's love or charity. 

Though "The Chosen is a great show about Jesus, it is also a wonderful show about the disciples journey as they learn what it means to come to Jesus, follow him and what they become as a result.  I look forward to the following seasons as we see the transformation of ordinary people into beings of who reach out to others with God's love in powerful ways without expecting anything in return.   

I want to become this type of being-one who has the ability to follow Jesus Christ not just because of all the great blessings I will receive or accomplish, but that I might be filled with his love, and daily reach out to others in healing, loving ways with no thought of reward. To become love.  

Blue Angel Squeeze

 I recently watched the awesome "Thunderbirds" air show with my sister at Hill Air Force Base.  In preparation, we watched a Blue Angels documentary on Prime.  So worth it!   What amazing humans!  The documentary does a great job explaining what these pilots do to prepare for these incredible air shows, like the one I just watched.   It surely increased my appreciation and awe as I paid the minimum price to just watch as a spectator.

One memorable scene that has stuck with me was when they were training the newly selected recruits.  They were required to get inside a centrifuge type pod as it spun around to experience the G forces Blue Angels have to be able to withstand in order to execute their amazing aerial maneuvers. They were closely watched and monitored.  Their trainer encouraged them to squeeze their butt in order to direct their blood flow so they would not pass out while being under such intense pressure.  Even the new "boss" of the Blue Angels passed out showing just how difficult it was to withstand the pressure.  It also was a clear example of how difficult the transformational process is from pilot recruit to  Blue Angel performer.  

This ability to withstand the G made me think of Jesus Christ- the person who withstood the pressure of incredible forces without passing out. I know what emotional stress and pressure feels like, but cannot imagine my pressure being multiplied exponentially by the collective weight of everyone's pain who has ever lived or will ever live on this planet. He had a mission to fulfill much more demanding than aerial acrobatics. How did he do it?  

The Savior did not pass out or at least I don't think he did.  The Savior did not have a single earthy spectator for his amazing feat, monitor his well being, or even see if he would pass out. Instead, the Savior's would be spectators passed out from sleep and exhaustion.  

What kept the Savior awake? Perhaps the angel that came gave needed encouragement and ideas on how Jesus could withstand the pressure without passing out.  I highly doubt he told him to squeeze his butt, but perhaps it was the squeezing of his veins directing his blood to different places.  Blood squeezed out through every pore from the intense pressure.  I don't know how he did it, but He did!  

Though I missed the amazing show in person, I have the privilege of at least imagining the scene as I try to remember what the Savior did for me every single week.  I see his body laid before me under the sacred cloth concealing the emblems of his flesh and blood.  I partake and remember the amazing skill it took to accomplish the most important aerial maneuver that was ever performed.  Not only do I observe the sheer power of the amazing Father/Son/Holy Ghost team of flying performers, but also the power to raise me up to the skies to hear the roar and soar with the Blue Angels/Thunderbirds.