This morning I was thinking how children feel as they spend Christmas away from their families. This was brought into sharp focus as I tried to spread Christmas cheer by taking a load of students to see some Christmas lights this month. I thought they would enjoy a dazzling display of synchronized lights & music but one little girl burst into tears, triggered by a family memory, and had a melt down as she cried, "I want to go home! I want to be with my family!" I mean who wouldn't? Who wants to be in a treatment center at Christmas? Our population is becoming more acute and as such, the majority of the children will not be home for Christmas. In some cases our students are really orphans that no one wants-adoptions gone bad-wards of the state-bounced and thrown out of foster homes, families that don't want them back because they're afraid for their own safety, parents without parental rights, parents in prison, parents dead from drug overdose etc. etc. It's no wonder that those who feel no one cares about them often have sociopathic tendencies. Their clinical histories break my heart. Being separated from loved ones-or not even having loved ones in the first place, is ultimate pain, especially at Christmas time.
I feel my childrens' pain from being separated from their father during the last 7 years. Big events trigger them-like Christmas, other family holidays, or important events like graduation, reunions, funerals, marriages-events where families should be together. Someday when my children get married, I would LOVE for all of my family to be surrounding the altar of the temple to witness the sealing. However, it is even more important to have Father in Heaven witness his children entering into temple covenants, including eternal marriage. This is the crowning ordinance made possible through the atonement of Jesus Christ. God understands that separation from loved ones=PAIN. Whether that separation comes because of our own choices, like the unsafe behavior of my students such as assault, sexual perpetration, running away, self-harm/suicidal gestures, or behavior of others that lands them in prison. Here at the Mowen household- we know separation-and it's no fun, however, it is also teaching us, up close and personal, about SEPARATION vs. Being TOGETHER FOREVER.
Heavenly Father also does not want me to be separated from him-how he wants me to WANT HIM to be present. I'm sure this separation hurts Him way more than it does me just because he actually remembers our previous relationship. Whereas, I have a veil of forgetfulness so I do not remember how close I was to him-what our family relationship was like when I lived with Him before I came to earth. This veil of forgetfulness not only helps me act in faith, but it also protects me from the PAIN of separation I would surely feel if I could only remember Father-and Mother for that matter. I'm like an orphan, but I don't even know it. If I had a magic wand full of forgetful pixie dust, I still couldn't sprinkle it on those sweet children from work even though I'm sure it would help ease their pain of separation at Christmas. Instead, I distract them with FUN. It helps-kind of. But from day one-we are planning discharge and reunification with family. That's what it's all about-being with family-enjoying each others' presence-that IS Christmas morning.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Behold the Magic Cleaning Power of Slip
This morning I was thinking when being slippery is actually a good thing. I happened upon this discovery while cleaning my bathtub. I love those Magic Eraser things and decided to rub down the bath walls with soap first-just because. I was AMAZED at how the bathtub rings slipped off-effortlessly. I mean those magic eraser things work great alone-but with soap-it truly was magic. It reminded me of a lecture we had from the nurses about the importance of washing your hands while singing the ABC song twice; you need to spend the necessary time using soap, rubbing and rinsing with water not to kill the germs but to help germs actually SLIP off. This is the magic cleaning power of slip.
I certainly know that being slippery isn't always a good thing-especially when it comes to "getting a grip" on reality. It can be a scary thing when important things slip my mind-I forget. It seems to be one of the greatest fears of growing old-just losing my mind-piece by piece as it slips away. I remember having a conversation with my mom about the possibility of experiencing some type of dementia in the future. Her response was something like, "Oh I hope when I've lost almost everything that I lose my mind as well so I won't know what's going on-that way I'll be a lot happier because I'll be oblivious to my plight. " Awareness isn't all it's cracked up to be. Forgetting can be a protection against harsh realities of loss. Every school kid has used the excuse, "Oh I lost my homework- or I forgot my paper at home" in hopes of being given a break. I know when I use the excuse "I forgot about it-it slipped my mind" people tend to be a little more forgiving (even though they may think I'm a flake, an airhead, or just plain stupid.
Lack of intelligence (a low IQ) has long been a symptom of people with intellectual disabilities. As we were trying to help our students see outside themselves, we had an opportunity to volunteer at a recreation center for adults who were mentally retarded. I wanted my students to have a greater appreciation for this population and reach out in friendship. I especially noted the example of joyful exuberance from 2 wonderful ladies I was sitting near. One wore Disneyland mouse-ears and was constantly distracted and delighted by the sighted of school buses passing by the window. In fact, she thought I was "cool" because I worked at a school that had 2 yellow school buses. The other gal wore a homemade Christmas hat with what could only be termed as an "ugly sweater". She caught my attention as she sang loudly, shook her rhythmic shaker, and danced in her seat to the music being played by the high school jazz band. Both gals were completely CONFIDENT about their appearance. Both gals were JOYFUL. Both gals were reacting to their environment with childlike DELIGHT. I could tell they could absolutely care less about the judgements or criticism of others because they were unaware of those judgements. They also lacked critical thinking to evaluate the quality of the musical performance. They were mindful-living in the present-delighted in what they saw and heard. I was inspired by their INNOCENCE.
It reminded me of a metaphor one of our therapist uses to "put on your raincoat" and not let the words or judgements of others stick to you. Sticks and stones can't hurt you if they slide right off. In legal world- prosecutors want charges to stick-they don't want the offender to slip away or be held guiltless of alleged crimes. Yet from a defendant's perspective-they want to be cleared of charges-they don't want things to stick. They want to be held guiltless and not accountable. Ultimately they want to be found innocent. One of the most profound moments in all my legal proceedings surrounding my x husband's business dealings, was when the judge read my mind and heart and told the court what he thought regarding my involvement. He noted how I probably trusted my husband and thought it was his money and how I may have been more of a victim than an accomplice. His words and the effect of his words allowed me as a relief defendant to only relinquish monies that were currently in my annuity and not be saddled with additional amounts lost in the annuity from the financial crash of 08-09. This was huge relief. But more than the actual financial easing-the court experience with this judge gave me this feeling of innocence that I will never forget.
Forgetting about injustices or ways others have offended me helps wash away their guilt. When others apologize, I like to say, "Forget about it. It helps reaffirm my desire to be found guiltless at the judgement bar of God. I love the promise that if we repent of our sins relying on the Savior's atonement "the same is cforgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more." Forgetting isn't such a bad thing either. Sins can slip away because of the cleansing power of the atonement. Behold the Magic Cleaning Power of Slip!
I certainly know that being slippery isn't always a good thing-especially when it comes to "getting a grip" on reality. It can be a scary thing when important things slip my mind-I forget. It seems to be one of the greatest fears of growing old-just losing my mind-piece by piece as it slips away. I remember having a conversation with my mom about the possibility of experiencing some type of dementia in the future. Her response was something like, "Oh I hope when I've lost almost everything that I lose my mind as well so I won't know what's going on-that way I'll be a lot happier because I'll be oblivious to my plight. " Awareness isn't all it's cracked up to be. Forgetting can be a protection against harsh realities of loss. Every school kid has used the excuse, "Oh I lost my homework- or I forgot my paper at home" in hopes of being given a break. I know when I use the excuse "I forgot about it-it slipped my mind" people tend to be a little more forgiving (even though they may think I'm a flake, an airhead, or just plain stupid.
Lack of intelligence (a low IQ) has long been a symptom of people with intellectual disabilities. As we were trying to help our students see outside themselves, we had an opportunity to volunteer at a recreation center for adults who were mentally retarded. I wanted my students to have a greater appreciation for this population and reach out in friendship. I especially noted the example of joyful exuberance from 2 wonderful ladies I was sitting near. One wore Disneyland mouse-ears and was constantly distracted and delighted by the sighted of school buses passing by the window. In fact, she thought I was "cool" because I worked at a school that had 2 yellow school buses. The other gal wore a homemade Christmas hat with what could only be termed as an "ugly sweater". She caught my attention as she sang loudly, shook her rhythmic shaker, and danced in her seat to the music being played by the high school jazz band. Both gals were completely CONFIDENT about their appearance. Both gals were JOYFUL. Both gals were reacting to their environment with childlike DELIGHT. I could tell they could absolutely care less about the judgements or criticism of others because they were unaware of those judgements. They also lacked critical thinking to evaluate the quality of the musical performance. They were mindful-living in the present-delighted in what they saw and heard. I was inspired by their INNOCENCE.
It reminded me of a metaphor one of our therapist uses to "put on your raincoat" and not let the words or judgements of others stick to you. Sticks and stones can't hurt you if they slide right off. In legal world- prosecutors want charges to stick-they don't want the offender to slip away or be held guiltless of alleged crimes. Yet from a defendant's perspective-they want to be cleared of charges-they don't want things to stick. They want to be held guiltless and not accountable. Ultimately they want to be found innocent. One of the most profound moments in all my legal proceedings surrounding my x husband's business dealings, was when the judge read my mind and heart and told the court what he thought regarding my involvement. He noted how I probably trusted my husband and thought it was his money and how I may have been more of a victim than an accomplice. His words and the effect of his words allowed me as a relief defendant to only relinquish monies that were currently in my annuity and not be saddled with additional amounts lost in the annuity from the financial crash of 08-09. This was huge relief. But more than the actual financial easing-the court experience with this judge gave me this feeling of innocence that I will never forget.
Forgetting about injustices or ways others have offended me helps wash away their guilt. When others apologize, I like to say, "Forget about it. It helps reaffirm my desire to be found guiltless at the judgement bar of God. I love the promise that if we repent of our sins relying on the Savior's atonement "the same is cforgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more." Forgetting isn't such a bad thing either. Sins can slip away because of the cleansing power of the atonement. Behold the Magic Cleaning Power of Slip!
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Simple Wordly Stuff
This morning I was thinking about my cute little Christmas tree. It is the leftover top portion from our large family Costco lighted tree we crammed into my condo last year. It was no easy task since I had to free it from the tangle of lights. But this year, instead wrestling with the big tree and decorating it, I just stuck the top part in a pot, put it on the glass coffee table and called it good. I threw a string of lights on hung a sample of all of Grandma B's keepsake ornaments and then wrapped Cassia's homemade quilted Santa runner around the base of the pot. My daughter reaction..."Well, that's cute but that's only the Thanksgiving tree-right?" I said, "Nope-that's it." I referred her to the carefully placed block sign reading, "Simplify." That's my theme-this year.
Taking inspiration from the theme, I threw together a simple Christmas celebration for my son on Thanksgiving night since he will not be here later this month. I guess Thanksgiving and Christmas in one day isn't so simple, and my children were mad that they weren't given sufficient warning to thoughtfully buy their brother his Christmas presents, but I did it anyway. I went to our ghost-town Shopko, which come to find is AWESOME for shopping Black Friday Deals in 1 HOUR, wrapped his presents and stuck them under the tree. My children didn't all arrive until about 11 p.m but we gathered and it was good. I did my traditional poem/song lesson thing, we opened gifts, and then Chase sang and played the guitar for us till about 1:00 a.m. It felt like Christmas to me and perhaps it did for my son as well, even though he accidentally left his box of presents in the driveway while loading his car. I don't think the gifts were exactly what he needed and wanted-but I wanted to make some type of gesture to show my love for him during the holidays, even if it was completely haphazard.
As a parent, one of the most complex and stressful parts about Christmas is getting the "perfect" gift for each child-the one that will get the magical reaction of being "exactly what they wanted." It is the most satisfying aspect of watching them open their presents. I usually like to orchestrate the whole event by starting slowly with things they need (like underwear) and ending on a dramatic crescendo with the GIFT! It's not easy to do, and sometimes it's hit or miss. In regards to dollars and cents-helping them out with their stupid cell phones, car problems, school expenses or credit issues-could easily count as "the gift"- That's your Christmas-enjoy it. However, I like to be able to help. I can't always help. I definitely cannot give them everything they want and need-These days I can only make simple gestures toward that end. And in the end all this "stuff" is just a symbol of my love and my desire to give my children THE WORLD.
My children's father was like that- he wanted to give his children the world because he truly loved them. No matter how much money we had, Christmas was always a greed frenzy-so many gifts-so over the top-so much stuff-even if it was all from the thrift store. His love strategy was stuff. My love strategy has never been stuff. In fact, at times during our marriage, I felt like I was drowning in stuff-and come to find out, most of the stuff wasn't even ours in the first place. I could write volumes about what I have learned about the stuff. I became an expert on the psychology of “stuff”through exposure and observation- by feeling it, touching it, organizing it, buying it, looking at it, thinking about it, carting it around, and GETTING RID OF IT. Stuff is complex-getting rid of it the excess is one of the most basic ways to simplify. At least this helps me so I can be a better steward over what I already have.
Nevertheless, simply saying, "I Love You" with a barren tree without any gifts under it wouldn't go over too well with the kids. I'm glad we can try to wrap that love up in box accompanied with our desire to give the children all the stuff in the world-both tangible and intangible good things of the earth. After all, God gave us stuff. The scriptures state, "I stretched out the heavens, and build the earth, my very handiwork; and all things are mine and it is my purpose to provide...for the earth is full, and there is enough and to spare; yeah I prepared all things, and have given unto the children of men to be agents unto themselves." How grateful I am that God gave each of his children THE WORLD. And though I hate stuff at times, I love it too, especially the gesture of gift giving and the symbols represented by stuff-even if it's just simple stuff.
Taking inspiration from the theme, I threw together a simple Christmas celebration for my son on Thanksgiving night since he will not be here later this month. I guess Thanksgiving and Christmas in one day isn't so simple, and my children were mad that they weren't given sufficient warning to thoughtfully buy their brother his Christmas presents, but I did it anyway. I went to our ghost-town Shopko, which come to find is AWESOME for shopping Black Friday Deals in 1 HOUR, wrapped his presents and stuck them under the tree. My children didn't all arrive until about 11 p.m but we gathered and it was good. I did my traditional poem/song lesson thing, we opened gifts, and then Chase sang and played the guitar for us till about 1:00 a.m. It felt like Christmas to me and perhaps it did for my son as well, even though he accidentally left his box of presents in the driveway while loading his car. I don't think the gifts were exactly what he needed and wanted-but I wanted to make some type of gesture to show my love for him during the holidays, even if it was completely haphazard.
As a parent, one of the most complex and stressful parts about Christmas is getting the "perfect" gift for each child-the one that will get the magical reaction of being "exactly what they wanted." It is the most satisfying aspect of watching them open their presents. I usually like to orchestrate the whole event by starting slowly with things they need (like underwear) and ending on a dramatic crescendo with the GIFT! It's not easy to do, and sometimes it's hit or miss. In regards to dollars and cents-helping them out with their stupid cell phones, car problems, school expenses or credit issues-could easily count as "the gift"- That's your Christmas-enjoy it. However, I like to be able to help. I can't always help. I definitely cannot give them everything they want and need-These days I can only make simple gestures toward that end. And in the end all this "stuff" is just a symbol of my love and my desire to give my children THE WORLD.
My children's father was like that- he wanted to give his children the world because he truly loved them. No matter how much money we had, Christmas was always a greed frenzy-so many gifts-so over the top-so much stuff-even if it was all from the thrift store. His love strategy was stuff. My love strategy has never been stuff. In fact, at times during our marriage, I felt like I was drowning in stuff-and come to find out, most of the stuff wasn't even ours in the first place. I could write volumes about what I have learned about the stuff. I became an expert on the psychology of “stuff”through exposure and observation- by feeling it, touching it, organizing it, buying it, looking at it, thinking about it, carting it around, and GETTING RID OF IT. Stuff is complex-getting rid of it the excess is one of the most basic ways to simplify. At least this helps me so I can be a better steward over what I already have.
Nevertheless, simply saying, "I Love You" with a barren tree without any gifts under it wouldn't go over too well with the kids. I'm glad we can try to wrap that love up in box accompanied with our desire to give the children all the stuff in the world-both tangible and intangible good things of the earth. After all, God gave us stuff. The scriptures state, "I stretched out the heavens, and build the earth, my very handiwork; and all things are mine and it is my purpose to provide...for the earth is full, and there is enough and to spare; yeah I prepared all things, and have given unto the children of men to be agents unto themselves." How grateful I am that God gave each of his children THE WORLD. And though I hate stuff at times, I love it too, especially the gesture of gift giving and the symbols represented by stuff-even if it's just simple stuff.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Family Tree Pictures/Gathering
This morning I was thinking about all the hassle this week to bring to pass one simple task- a family picture. I mean- How hard is it? Turns out- harder than expected trying to gather my not so little ones and have them stand in the same place and look "happy" takes the patience of Job. First challenge was getting all 5 children under the same roof again. They have scattered with the wind during the last 5 years. With my daughter living in Japan for 2 years, son in Los Angeles, and others in college towns in Southern Utah-we just haven't been all together for a long time. I know it will get worse as they start their careers and families. This is normal-I know. But when families gather- Oh what a blessing. It is the BEST Christmas present ever. It's hard to describe the overwhelming mother-hen feeling washing over me when all my "chickies" are safe and asleep in my little house. Of course, on the flip side, these sleeping chickens are no early morning roosters. I thought I gave them plenty of time to get up, get ready, take family pictures, and be off to our Thanksgiving feast in time, but I was wrong. Guess trying to wake them up at the crack of 12:30 p.m is too early.
I tried the gentle reminders- Hey this is my only Christmas present-could you please get up so we can take our family picture-just wear black and jeans-here's some extra clothes if you need them. I even took off my own pants and gave them to one son who apparently did not get the message about the jeans. I urged my sons to shave their "mexi-staches" and wash their hair-anything to just look a little more presentable. After 2 hours of coaxing them I finally gave up with the idea of being on time to our commitment. It brought back "good mommy memories" of trying to get my children out of bed for school and church. I guess those mother hen feelings about her chickies aren't as warm and fuzzy as the safely in the nest theme; it's more like trying to herd cats. Of course I didn't make it any easier by suggesting that my boys climb into a tree for the pictures. I thought it would be a good symbol for our "family tree". My instagram daughter was horrified at the photo composition and kept complaining about how stupid these pictures were going to turn out. She referred to it as being too 70's cliche- I tried to guilt them into submission by reminding them that this was the only Christmas present I wanted- a family picture-and I wanted one picture of them in a tree.
God wants his family picture too. This I know. I'm part of this great gathering of God's family tree. It is most difficult to gather scattered Israel and get us all back under the same roof. Like my children- I am hard to wake, keep sleeping and ignore his voice-all the time. I'm resistant to making changes in my appearance and behavior. When asked to keep a particular commandment or "climb a tree" I question the command with "Really?" That's just stupid. And then there's the smiling part. He not only wants me to appear happy-he wants it to be a genuine smile-the outward reflecting my true inner self. The whole point of gospel covenants is to "be together." I mention it in a song lyric, "Gathered families saved from sin." We want to be gathered together as one big happy family. This concept of family gathering-so prevalent at Thanksgiving and Christmas, is so wonderful, it's no wonder I want to capture it, preserve it- even if it's for a small moment-in a family picture. I'm in good company.
I tried the gentle reminders- Hey this is my only Christmas present-could you please get up so we can take our family picture-just wear black and jeans-here's some extra clothes if you need them. I even took off my own pants and gave them to one son who apparently did not get the message about the jeans. I urged my sons to shave their "mexi-staches" and wash their hair-anything to just look a little more presentable. After 2 hours of coaxing them I finally gave up with the idea of being on time to our commitment. It brought back "good mommy memories" of trying to get my children out of bed for school and church. I guess those mother hen feelings about her chickies aren't as warm and fuzzy as the safely in the nest theme; it's more like trying to herd cats. Of course I didn't make it any easier by suggesting that my boys climb into a tree for the pictures. I thought it would be a good symbol for our "family tree". My instagram daughter was horrified at the photo composition and kept complaining about how stupid these pictures were going to turn out. She referred to it as being too 70's cliche- I tried to guilt them into submission by reminding them that this was the only Christmas present I wanted- a family picture-and I wanted one picture of them in a tree.
Last challenge was just trying to get them to smile. I even resorted to tickling my son. It's hard to capture the best for each person in a group picture. There's bound to be a least one person who looks terrible. In the end-I just had to settle for a good-enough family picture. It's not quite what I expected, but hey-we're all together- And that's the point. The whole experience made me think of the scripture, "how oft would I have gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens, and ye would not." I love the follow up scripture in 3 Nephi: "O ye house of Israel whom I have spared, how oft will I gather you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if ye will repent and return unto me with full purpose of heart. But if not, O house of Israel, the places of your dwellings shall become desolate until the time of the fulfilling of the covenant to your fathers."
God wants his family picture too. This I know. I'm part of this great gathering of God's family tree. It is most difficult to gather scattered Israel and get us all back under the same roof. Like my children- I am hard to wake, keep sleeping and ignore his voice-all the time. I'm resistant to making changes in my appearance and behavior. When asked to keep a particular commandment or "climb a tree" I question the command with "Really?" That's just stupid. And then there's the smiling part. He not only wants me to appear happy-he wants it to be a genuine smile-the outward reflecting my true inner self. The whole point of gospel covenants is to "be together." I mention it in a song lyric, "Gathered families saved from sin." We want to be gathered together as one big happy family. This concept of family gathering-so prevalent at Thanksgiving and Christmas, is so wonderful, it's no wonder I want to capture it, preserve it- even if it's for a small moment-in a family picture. I'm in good company.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Valleys &Mountains/ Needs & Goals
This morning I was thinking about my last fall hike or should I say climb with my son a couple weeks ago. We were pressed for time, so instead of hiking to our nearest peak (Squaw Peak) I decided to take him up what I refer to as "danger" mountain. I call it "danger" because I would never take my students up this terrain for it is far too steep and unstable (many loose rocks/gravel etc) and it's just a accident waiting to happen. But it has such a pop at the top (when the view of the valley just pops into view) that I wanted to share it with my son. My son enjoyed trying to help his old lady mom by telling me what stones to place my foot on. Most of the time I didn't listen to him but just tried to scale the mountain without sliding around too much and protect my body at the same time. I know my own strengths and weaknesses and was not going to try to do the same things that my very athletic son did. Most of the time I was on all fours scrambling and trying to tread lightly. We judged our performance by how much we didn't slide or how much avalanche we caused with each step.
I loved having him go first over the ridge. It was so fun to share this moment with my son. Challenging ourselves and doing something difficult together was a great way to spend mother-son time together. I found a great lookout and ate my PBJ while surveying my kingdom-the place I have called home for the last 30 years-Utah County. My son loved the photo op. and took some great pictures with his fancy camera. We need to do more of these challenging outdoor adventures together; they really do bond us together. However we've had plenty of real world challenges bonding my little family together over the years that help us develop muscles we didn't even knew we had. I suppose that's one of the reasons those adventure types seek out problems or "challenges" on purpose- let's go climb a mountain.
I understand a little why people seek out challenges for "fun" but why would I seek out problems on purpose? Or why would you create a problem in the first place and tackle it? Some Recreational Therapists do exactly that-create problems. They use outdoor adventure, team building exercises and initiatives to challenge others to do hard things as a tool for insight into patterns of behavior and to encourage self-efficacy- creating a mastery experience. Most of the time, we don't have to go looking for problems- there are plenty right in front of us. They are what makes life-life. I love how mountains can be a symbol for problems. But what is the relationship between problems, needs, goals and strengths?
In the medical world we often use a POR-Problem Oriented Record. I mean, why would you ever seek out medical help unless you had some problem you were dealing with. However, the medical community is trying to move from a POR to a Strength Based paradigm. Instead of focusing on problems, we have to focus on strengths. More specifically, as I use my assessment, I'm looking for needs and strengths in several areas of major functioning. I refer to a problem or need as a deficit. I compare it to a valley. Then I take that valley (need) and turn it upside town to form a mountain (goal). The whole point of the assessment is to come up with a goal for my client. Then having identified existing strengths, the client can then use them to start climbing his very own mountain. And the kicker is that just trying to reach the goal not only utilizes strength but creates additional strength. Once we pop over the ridge we also have additional perspective that comes from our expanded, elevated view of our circumstances and increased understanding of our overarching purpose.
God has problems. BIG problems. The whole plan of salvation was laid out to address 2 big problems: DEATH and SEPARATION (physical and spiritual death). I'm so glad he has a PLAN or goal. His work or goal is for the immortality and eternal life of man. I'm glad he provided a Savior for us to solve these problems and strengthen us through the enabling power of his atonement. I'm grateful he has given us personal gifts and talents to give us additional strength on our ascent. I too want an elevated view of life-to use these mountains to see these valleys with an elevated view of life.
I loved having him go first over the ridge. It was so fun to share this moment with my son. Challenging ourselves and doing something difficult together was a great way to spend mother-son time together. I found a great lookout and ate my PBJ while surveying my kingdom-the place I have called home for the last 30 years-Utah County. My son loved the photo op. and took some great pictures with his fancy camera. We need to do more of these challenging outdoor adventures together; they really do bond us together. However we've had plenty of real world challenges bonding my little family together over the years that help us develop muscles we didn't even knew we had. I suppose that's one of the reasons those adventure types seek out problems or "challenges" on purpose- let's go climb a mountain.
I understand a little why people seek out challenges for "fun" but why would I seek out problems on purpose? Or why would you create a problem in the first place and tackle it? Some Recreational Therapists do exactly that-create problems. They use outdoor adventure, team building exercises and initiatives to challenge others to do hard things as a tool for insight into patterns of behavior and to encourage self-efficacy- creating a mastery experience. Most of the time, we don't have to go looking for problems- there are plenty right in front of us. They are what makes life-life. I love how mountains can be a symbol for problems. But what is the relationship between problems, needs, goals and strengths?
In the medical world we often use a POR-Problem Oriented Record. I mean, why would you ever seek out medical help unless you had some problem you were dealing with. However, the medical community is trying to move from a POR to a Strength Based paradigm. Instead of focusing on problems, we have to focus on strengths. More specifically, as I use my assessment, I'm looking for needs and strengths in several areas of major functioning. I refer to a problem or need as a deficit. I compare it to a valley. Then I take that valley (need) and turn it upside town to form a mountain (goal). The whole point of the assessment is to come up with a goal for my client. Then having identified existing strengths, the client can then use them to start climbing his very own mountain. And the kicker is that just trying to reach the goal not only utilizes strength but creates additional strength. Once we pop over the ridge we also have additional perspective that comes from our expanded, elevated view of our circumstances and increased understanding of our overarching purpose.
God has problems. BIG problems. The whole plan of salvation was laid out to address 2 big problems: DEATH and SEPARATION (physical and spiritual death). I'm so glad he has a PLAN or goal. His work or goal is for the immortality and eternal life of man. I'm glad he provided a Savior for us to solve these problems and strengthen us through the enabling power of his atonement. I'm grateful he has given us personal gifts and talents to give us additional strength on our ascent. I too want an elevated view of life-to use these mountains to see these valleys with an elevated view of life.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Puzzle People/Solution Focused
This morning I was thinking about puzzles, problems and solutions. I received a great compliment this week in treatment team. One of my supervisors was commenting to our C.O.O. about my performance. He said I was "solution focused-action oriented. Instead of complaining about problems, Erin does something about them or comes up with a plan." Wow-that's something I can use on my Linkedin resume STAT. I thanked him him for his comments and compared my actions to putting pieces together in a puzzle and the satisfaction that comes when it all fits together. But why in the heck did I use that puzzle reference?
I hate puzzles-always have. As a child, I saw absolutely no value in spending my time to put stupid little pieces together to make a picture. Just buy a picture. Why cut it up into a 1000 pieces and put it back together again. I felt similar disdain for crossword puzzles, brain teasers, and even board games. I felt it was a big giant waste of time. I know you can use those games/puzzles to bring people together, but I have rarely utilized them-and here I am the big Recreation Therapist! I use the word "hate" and I mean it. Life is hard enough. Why make it hard on purpose?
I know puzzles are supposed to "help your brain-make you smarter etc." So let me be stupid. I'll proclaim it. I did last night, and many nights prior, when I marched upstairs and asked my daughter to solve a practical puzzle problem of adjusting metal bakers shelves. I get frustrated so quickly. I usually end up breaking things or throwing them away-like my vacuum cleaner-last week. I'm the opposite of a fixer- I'm a breaker. My dad often told me that even though I got straight A's I had no common sense-no practical smarts. Guess he's right. My daughter says she gets great satisfaction from solving practical problems. She mentioned how you never have to force pieces to make them fit, you just need step back, see how the pieces are arranged and then you can think of different angels to approach those pieces. I like that. I think it has great symbolic application to other arenas.
People have always held more interest to me. Now people puzzles-that's the ticket. I find I'm becoming more of a team player as I not only use my own talent and energy to solve a group problems, but I also try to utilize other people's talent and energy as well. The mental energy comes from brainstorming solutions- or in some case trying to do mental gymnastics. I'm not too good thinking on my feet and coming up with spontaneous suggestions- I need time to really crunch ideas on my own and mentally evaluate and set goals. Once I've had think tank time, then I can present possible solutions or goals to the group- usually in the form of an email with an attached proposal. Even if my problem solving plan isn't implemented, which many times it isn't, the whole mental exercise is not in vain. It helps me increase neural pathways or brain connections that those puzzle people like to talk about. No exercise is in vain-not just physical exercise, but mental exercise; even if it's not strength building- at least moving around (range of motion) is better than nothing.
It is a beautiful picture when everyone comes together for the common good. I can think of this solved problem as a completed picture on a stupid 1000 piece puzzle. It can be extremely satisfying. But with these people puzzles, the problems represent unmet needs. The solution represents helping. So everything is done in service-meaningful service. Even though I get paid to help, it still feels good to help. I am thankful for the many people puzzles in my life-and who knows- maybe I'll develop a greater appreciation for puzzle people.
I hate puzzles-always have. As a child, I saw absolutely no value in spending my time to put stupid little pieces together to make a picture. Just buy a picture. Why cut it up into a 1000 pieces and put it back together again. I felt similar disdain for crossword puzzles, brain teasers, and even board games. I felt it was a big giant waste of time. I know you can use those games/puzzles to bring people together, but I have rarely utilized them-and here I am the big Recreation Therapist! I use the word "hate" and I mean it. Life is hard enough. Why make it hard on purpose?
I know puzzles are supposed to "help your brain-make you smarter etc." So let me be stupid. I'll proclaim it. I did last night, and many nights prior, when I marched upstairs and asked my daughter to solve a practical puzzle problem of adjusting metal bakers shelves. I get frustrated so quickly. I usually end up breaking things or throwing them away-like my vacuum cleaner-last week. I'm the opposite of a fixer- I'm a breaker. My dad often told me that even though I got straight A's I had no common sense-no practical smarts. Guess he's right. My daughter says she gets great satisfaction from solving practical problems. She mentioned how you never have to force pieces to make them fit, you just need step back, see how the pieces are arranged and then you can think of different angels to approach those pieces. I like that. I think it has great symbolic application to other arenas.
People have always held more interest to me. Now people puzzles-that's the ticket. I find I'm becoming more of a team player as I not only use my own talent and energy to solve a group problems, but I also try to utilize other people's talent and energy as well. The mental energy comes from brainstorming solutions- or in some case trying to do mental gymnastics. I'm not too good thinking on my feet and coming up with spontaneous suggestions- I need time to really crunch ideas on my own and mentally evaluate and set goals. Once I've had think tank time, then I can present possible solutions or goals to the group- usually in the form of an email with an attached proposal. Even if my problem solving plan isn't implemented, which many times it isn't, the whole mental exercise is not in vain. It helps me increase neural pathways or brain connections that those puzzle people like to talk about. No exercise is in vain-not just physical exercise, but mental exercise; even if it's not strength building- at least moving around (range of motion) is better than nothing.
It is a beautiful picture when everyone comes together for the common good. I can think of this solved problem as a completed picture on a stupid 1000 piece puzzle. It can be extremely satisfying. But with these people puzzles, the problems represent unmet needs. The solution represents helping. So everything is done in service-meaningful service. Even though I get paid to help, it still feels good to help. I am thankful for the many people puzzles in my life-and who knows- maybe I'll develop a greater appreciation for puzzle people.
Saturday, November 8, 2014
Cuddle Connection /Emotional Bonding
This morning I was thinking about cuddling and the emotional bonding associated with it. Yesterday I was struck by a comment while assessing a 8 year old boy prone to violent mood swings. Our whole interview was like a violent mood swing; one moment I felt if I accidentally touched him he would physically attack me and the next minute he was describing his relationship with his parents by his love of cuddling with them. I've done a lot of assessments and I have never heard a child respond to family history question using that particular word-"cuddling". In some ways his response didn't fit his defensive, explosive style, yet at the same time, it made perfect sense; some of the most unsafe people are the ones with the highest need for emotional safety. Or as a therapist put it, "Hurt people hurt people."
I was also thinking about this cuddling connection as I awoke to my "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" bed full of children. My son, visiting from college, came in last night complaining of having nowhere to sleep. Even though my daughter has been sleeping in my bed, I told him there was plenty of room for all of us. I remember early times in my family when every single one of my children crowded into our full size bed like kittens snuggled up in a litter. Those were the good days.
Early this morning as my son raised his hand in the air to signal, I knew he meant- "Cuddle Me!" While gathering him in my arms, I couldn't help but think of this great connection we've had every since those glorious days of taking afternoon naps together. Cole, my caboose, was my baby I had time to enjoy-and I did. While cuddling, I remember a feeling of mother love washing over me so deeply -it actually hurt inside. How I loved my boy! Though I have not been a good parent in a million ways, my x-husband and I have a fabulous cuddle connection with each of our children. Whenever they have felt anxious, or whenever we have felt anxious, it was as if cuddling could "make it all better." The world is a cold, dark, scary place at times. It's easy to feel alone, to face it alone, or have the emotional strength to tackle daily challenges. Cuddling provides love, peace, safety, comfort, assurance, acceptance, warmth and a bunch of other good feelings I can't describe too well. It's saying we know, love and accept someone and they know, love and accept us in return. Our hearts are completely 100% safe with them. Cuddling is a symbol for the emotional bond existing in relationships.
I've had this "cuddle connection" with very few people in my life-my children and my first husband-that's it. I didn't even cuddle with my own parents, but we had a great relationship. The deep feelings accompanying cuddling don't just magically appear with someone we don't really know. It's intimate and personal. Cuddling is all about being close. For me, cuddling is a litmus test measuring the strength of my emotional bond and intimacy with another human being. It was the tell-tale sign that my latest marriage was not working. I did not enjoy cuddling with him. I don't know if it was because he was such an anxious person that I never felt safe or comfortable, or if our connection wasn't deep enough because it was too new. Whatever it was-our cuddling just lacked weight. Like a heavy comforter, being weighted down not only provides warmth but a sense of security.
I also know that cuddling can't solve all the problems in the world. Though it was a touch stone in my first marriage, it could not save the day. I vividly remember the last time I cuddled with my first husband. We were in a cold (I'm always cold), sparsely decorated room with a light blanket on a black iron bed (no heavy comforter) in Panama. I felt like I was in a jail cell. Though it was him and it was me, our cuddling could not manufacture the safety we both were seeking. Not long after our parting he was extradited from Panama and thrown in jail. No more cuddling for us. For safety and other reasons, I severed the connection. However, this separation could not erase the bond we forged through 23 years of cuddling. I remember how it felt.
One part is certain, we can't stay connected 24/7. Separation is bound to come for all of us. We have to get out of bed or off the couch. We have to live our life. Even as my son pulls me back in bed saying, "Don't leave me." I have to. So he pleads, "give me a hug" and I do. Hugs are to cuddling as kisses are to sex. There's a couplet for you. Hugs are GREAT! I like being a touchy person. I try to respect personal space and boundaries but I push it-because I can. I give "side hugs" all the time at our residential treatment center. It is part of my therapeutic relationship with each of my clients. The touch says, "I care."
I receive hugs often from a loving Heavenly Father through his gentle touch as he shows he cares. I love how the Holy Ghost is referred to as "the comforter." I have felt this warm spirit deeply throughout my life. At times the Spirit's influence has been like a weighted blanket providing the security, peace, love, assurance, and acceptance I so desperately seek. Like the little boy, I too have my own erratic mood swings; if there's such a thing as spiritual cuddling with my Heavenly parents-then I'm all in.
I was also thinking about this cuddling connection as I awoke to my "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" bed full of children. My son, visiting from college, came in last night complaining of having nowhere to sleep. Even though my daughter has been sleeping in my bed, I told him there was plenty of room for all of us. I remember early times in my family when every single one of my children crowded into our full size bed like kittens snuggled up in a litter. Those were the good days.
Early this morning as my son raised his hand in the air to signal, I knew he meant- "Cuddle Me!" While gathering him in my arms, I couldn't help but think of this great connection we've had every since those glorious days of taking afternoon naps together. Cole, my caboose, was my baby I had time to enjoy-and I did. While cuddling, I remember a feeling of mother love washing over me so deeply -it actually hurt inside. How I loved my boy! Though I have not been a good parent in a million ways, my x-husband and I have a fabulous cuddle connection with each of our children. Whenever they have felt anxious, or whenever we have felt anxious, it was as if cuddling could "make it all better." The world is a cold, dark, scary place at times. It's easy to feel alone, to face it alone, or have the emotional strength to tackle daily challenges. Cuddling provides love, peace, safety, comfort, assurance, acceptance, warmth and a bunch of other good feelings I can't describe too well. It's saying we know, love and accept someone and they know, love and accept us in return. Our hearts are completely 100% safe with them. Cuddling is a symbol for the emotional bond existing in relationships.
I've had this "cuddle connection" with very few people in my life-my children and my first husband-that's it. I didn't even cuddle with my own parents, but we had a great relationship. The deep feelings accompanying cuddling don't just magically appear with someone we don't really know. It's intimate and personal. Cuddling is all about being close. For me, cuddling is a litmus test measuring the strength of my emotional bond and intimacy with another human being. It was the tell-tale sign that my latest marriage was not working. I did not enjoy cuddling with him. I don't know if it was because he was such an anxious person that I never felt safe or comfortable, or if our connection wasn't deep enough because it was too new. Whatever it was-our cuddling just lacked weight. Like a heavy comforter, being weighted down not only provides warmth but a sense of security.
I also know that cuddling can't solve all the problems in the world. Though it was a touch stone in my first marriage, it could not save the day. I vividly remember the last time I cuddled with my first husband. We were in a cold (I'm always cold), sparsely decorated room with a light blanket on a black iron bed (no heavy comforter) in Panama. I felt like I was in a jail cell. Though it was him and it was me, our cuddling could not manufacture the safety we both were seeking. Not long after our parting he was extradited from Panama and thrown in jail. No more cuddling for us. For safety and other reasons, I severed the connection. However, this separation could not erase the bond we forged through 23 years of cuddling. I remember how it felt.
One part is certain, we can't stay connected 24/7. Separation is bound to come for all of us. We have to get out of bed or off the couch. We have to live our life. Even as my son pulls me back in bed saying, "Don't leave me." I have to. So he pleads, "give me a hug" and I do. Hugs are to cuddling as kisses are to sex. There's a couplet for you. Hugs are GREAT! I like being a touchy person. I try to respect personal space and boundaries but I push it-because I can. I give "side hugs" all the time at our residential treatment center. It is part of my therapeutic relationship with each of my clients. The touch says, "I care."
I receive hugs often from a loving Heavenly Father through his gentle touch as he shows he cares. I love how the Holy Ghost is referred to as "the comforter." I have felt this warm spirit deeply throughout my life. At times the Spirit's influence has been like a weighted blanket providing the security, peace, love, assurance, and acceptance I so desperately seek. Like the little boy, I too have my own erratic mood swings; if there's such a thing as spiritual cuddling with my Heavenly parents-then I'm all in.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Every Day is Halloween/ Dress Up
This morning I was thinking about dressing up. As Halloween approaches ever year, the big question is "What are you going to be for Halloween?" I remember feeling a little stressed because I usually had no idea, was working with limited resources, and many times had to outfit a whole family. The stress continued with the follow up question, "Now-what are you suppose to be again?" I had this question yesterday from students as I showed up to work with my face painted green, dressed in black, with spiders in my hair. My responses ranged from, "Whatever you want me to be" to "Black Widow Witch-because I devour men and destroy their lives." One girl looked at me and said, "That doesn't make sense" to which I replied, "Well, I don't make sense either!"
Sometimes the amount of stress and how long it takes me to get dressed in the morning is a barometer for my own mental health. I sometimes feel overwhelmed, insecure and become extremely indecisive, evidenced by trying clothes on and off and leaving them strewn about the bedroom. I have this same level of indecision when shopping. However when it fits, and screams"this is me," I buy it.
When putting together my "look" I consider how I feel-or how I want to feel, what I might be doing that day, and perhaps the weather. I guess I also decide what "character" I'm going to be. Do I want to look like a professional, a trophy wife, a bohemian, an athlete, a camper, a general authority, a housewife, a hooker, slob, a millionaire, a bag lady, a granola chick, my classy sister, etc, etc. It's a grab bag of expression-you never quite know what you're gonna get with Erin. Sometimes my family has tried to pin down my look. I remember my mom buying me the most ridiculous barrette covered in bright colored miniature balloons and ribbon and stating, "I saw this and thought-this is Erin." Wow mom-thanks. I also have my fashion police sister inside my head at all times. I can't tell you how many times she rolled her eyes and asked, "You're not really going to wear that are you? You look ridiculous. You look like a hooker. You look like a clown. (Maybe that balloon thing really did match me.) I try to emulate her classy look, it's one of my character choices.
The other day I tried to put a work outfit together suitable for painting with my students. I decided on a blouse I previously ruined while cleaning the BBQ. I put on a previously semi-ruined paint splattered jean skirt. I threw my hair in a pony tail because I didn't feel like washing it. Then I had to try to make my outfit "work acceptable" so I had to think of some big distractions so people wouldn't notice my greasy sleeve cuffs or my small paint spots. I opted for some bright red lipstick, a bright turquoise necklace and a lovely scarf for my pony tail. When satisfied with my look, the voice of my sister came to me telling me how ridiculous I looked. I'm pretty use to this voice of fashion criticism, and retorted,"Hey- every day is Halloween so I'm going to celebrate!" Later that morning I shared that sentiment while doing an assessment. The patient related how she hated when holidays dictated actions that could only be done on that day. She thought she should be able to act a certain way whenever she wanted, not when someone told her to. It went along with her defiance when responding to parental requests. So I guess there's that too-the freedom of personal expression. I suppose that's why my mom never stopped me when I literally went out the front door wearing my clothes inside out and backwards, which I confess I still unknowingly do at times. My mom later explained, "I just let Erin, be Erin."
Who is to say what "Erin" is. I don't even know. And at times I don't even know what I want to be. But I have ideas. And thankfully, I don't have to rely on "Pintrest" but can turn to the scriptures and latter day examples of characters to emulate. I know it's all about the creation of character-the building of character. I know how I want to feel. I know I want to be more like my Father in heaven. I want to be clothed in glory, immortality and eternal lives. I can symbolically dress-up everyday and instead of dressing for pretense, I can be dressing up for real.
Sometimes the amount of stress and how long it takes me to get dressed in the morning is a barometer for my own mental health. I sometimes feel overwhelmed, insecure and become extremely indecisive, evidenced by trying clothes on and off and leaving them strewn about the bedroom. I have this same level of indecision when shopping. However when it fits, and screams"this is me," I buy it.
When putting together my "look" I consider how I feel-or how I want to feel, what I might be doing that day, and perhaps the weather. I guess I also decide what "character" I'm going to be. Do I want to look like a professional, a trophy wife, a bohemian, an athlete, a camper, a general authority, a housewife, a hooker, slob, a millionaire, a bag lady, a granola chick, my classy sister, etc, etc. It's a grab bag of expression-you never quite know what you're gonna get with Erin. Sometimes my family has tried to pin down my look. I remember my mom buying me the most ridiculous barrette covered in bright colored miniature balloons and ribbon and stating, "I saw this and thought-this is Erin." Wow mom-thanks. I also have my fashion police sister inside my head at all times. I can't tell you how many times she rolled her eyes and asked, "You're not really going to wear that are you? You look ridiculous. You look like a hooker. You look like a clown. (Maybe that balloon thing really did match me.) I try to emulate her classy look, it's one of my character choices.
The other day I tried to put a work outfit together suitable for painting with my students. I decided on a blouse I previously ruined while cleaning the BBQ. I put on a previously semi-ruined paint splattered jean skirt. I threw my hair in a pony tail because I didn't feel like washing it. Then I had to try to make my outfit "work acceptable" so I had to think of some big distractions so people wouldn't notice my greasy sleeve cuffs or my small paint spots. I opted for some bright red lipstick, a bright turquoise necklace and a lovely scarf for my pony tail. When satisfied with my look, the voice of my sister came to me telling me how ridiculous I looked. I'm pretty use to this voice of fashion criticism, and retorted,"Hey- every day is Halloween so I'm going to celebrate!" Later that morning I shared that sentiment while doing an assessment. The patient related how she hated when holidays dictated actions that could only be done on that day. She thought she should be able to act a certain way whenever she wanted, not when someone told her to. It went along with her defiance when responding to parental requests. So I guess there's that too-the freedom of personal expression. I suppose that's why my mom never stopped me when I literally went out the front door wearing my clothes inside out and backwards, which I confess I still unknowingly do at times. My mom later explained, "I just let Erin, be Erin."
Who is to say what "Erin" is. I don't even know. And at times I don't even know what I want to be. But I have ideas. And thankfully, I don't have to rely on "Pintrest" but can turn to the scriptures and latter day examples of characters to emulate. I know it's all about the creation of character-the building of character. I know how I want to feel. I know I want to be more like my Father in heaven. I want to be clothed in glory, immortality and eternal lives. I can symbolically dress-up everyday and instead of dressing for pretense, I can be dressing up for real.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Thank You For Our Happy Feet
This morning I was thinking about a banner we made to express appreciation for our newly constructed courtyard complete with sandbox, playground, and splash pad. We were preparing for our ribbon cutting ceremony for the dignitaries and I had the impression that a big red banner with feet prints of all our students would somehow be fitting. However, I quickly regretted my ill- thought out group art project. Washing the sensitive, resistant feet of 40+ students, prone to run around, flick ink, water splash and rip the poster produced a work of art not quite fitting for the big wigs. It was a disaster. I tried to cover up our big mess with printed computer font letters spelling "Thank You For Our Happy Feet". I couldn't even get that right- since I quickly pasted the letters. Our lopsided message was hardly professional. But I was spent, running on empty. I already injured my back earlier in the day and stooping down to wash and dry everyone's feet only made matters worse. However, it did make me feel like Jesus washing the feet of his disciples-so I had that going for me.
Earlier that day my co-worker told me about a free rooftop concert that evening with the Neon Trees, a local Provo band making it big. I love alternative rock, including the Neon Trees. I often listen to the radio as my students sing along to all the pop stuff while we're driving the 15 passenger van. Every once in a while, there will be a song I will actually like-a song that "moves me". It's usually a song off the beaten path- many times an alternative rock song. I say "moves me" not because I start crying, but because I literally HAVE TO MOVE. Whether it's tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, waving a hand in the air to conduct, or tapping my toes- this ENERGY just has to COME OUT.
I wanted to stop by this Neon Trees concert, but how could I? It was leaving work at 9:15 p.m, completely exhausted, hurt, splattered with yellow paint, looking like a hag. Besides who just shows up to a concert all by herself? What a loser. Definitely not "concert ready." However while driving home past downtown Provo I thought I could at least check it out. I could at least roll down the windows and listen. I could at least park my car. I could at least walk down the street to get closer to the music-closer to the stage. I could at least step up on the curb to get a better look. It was just too darn irresistible. Then they started to play my favorite song, "Lessons of Love". And all of a sudden, my back pain was gone and infused with ENERGY and JOY. I know it's not joy-joy, or even pleasure, but it's this feeling washing over me where I literally can't stop smiling. It would hurt if I tried to stop those smiling muscles in my face. I also can't hold "it" in-whatever it is- I have to let it out and MOVE. Though I was back with the security officers and surrounded by people who were just listening- I was clapping my hands above my head and moving to the beat. I could tell others thought I was weird, since I wasn't stage side with all the other yahoos and I was way too old. But I had to express myself. It was not a dance to be "seen of men"-to get attention, to try out my latest moves, to impress a guy. It was a dance to express what I felt inside-and it was a glorious release.
After a couple of songs, reality started to creep back in, since it was 10:00 and I still hadn't eaten dinner and was sore and worn out. But I was full of gratitude- I am so grateful for music that moves me-vibrating with something deep in my soul-it's MY song. It's different than just listening to music I like-it's music I LOVE. I am so grateful certain music can make me FEEL a certain way and that this feeling can come out. To "express" means to "squeeze out." I am grateful this emotion can spill out-even with yellow happy paint. I am grateful for MY very own HAPPY FEET.
Earlier that day my co-worker told me about a free rooftop concert that evening with the Neon Trees, a local Provo band making it big. I love alternative rock, including the Neon Trees. I often listen to the radio as my students sing along to all the pop stuff while we're driving the 15 passenger van. Every once in a while, there will be a song I will actually like-a song that "moves me". It's usually a song off the beaten path- many times an alternative rock song. I say "moves me" not because I start crying, but because I literally HAVE TO MOVE. Whether it's tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, waving a hand in the air to conduct, or tapping my toes- this ENERGY just has to COME OUT.
I wanted to stop by this Neon Trees concert, but how could I? It was leaving work at 9:15 p.m, completely exhausted, hurt, splattered with yellow paint, looking like a hag. Besides who just shows up to a concert all by herself? What a loser. Definitely not "concert ready." However while driving home past downtown Provo I thought I could at least check it out. I could at least roll down the windows and listen. I could at least park my car. I could at least walk down the street to get closer to the music-closer to the stage. I could at least step up on the curb to get a better look. It was just too darn irresistible. Then they started to play my favorite song, "Lessons of Love". And all of a sudden, my back pain was gone and infused with ENERGY and JOY. I know it's not joy-joy, or even pleasure, but it's this feeling washing over me where I literally can't stop smiling. It would hurt if I tried to stop those smiling muscles in my face. I also can't hold "it" in-whatever it is- I have to let it out and MOVE. Though I was back with the security officers and surrounded by people who were just listening- I was clapping my hands above my head and moving to the beat. I could tell others thought I was weird, since I wasn't stage side with all the other yahoos and I was way too old. But I had to express myself. It was not a dance to be "seen of men"-to get attention, to try out my latest moves, to impress a guy. It was a dance to express what I felt inside-and it was a glorious release.
After a couple of songs, reality started to creep back in, since it was 10:00 and I still hadn't eaten dinner and was sore and worn out. But I was full of gratitude- I am so grateful for music that moves me-vibrating with something deep in my soul-it's MY song. It's different than just listening to music I like-it's music I LOVE. I am so grateful certain music can make me FEEL a certain way and that this feeling can come out. To "express" means to "squeeze out." I am grateful this emotion can spill out-even with yellow happy paint. I am grateful for MY very own HAPPY FEET.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Bossing Me Around/Permission
This morning I was thinking about being bossed around. As part of "National Bosses Day" or whatever its called, I reached out to my various bosses to express gratitude. While I was signing a card, one of my supervisors asked who my boss really was. I answered, I have all sorts of bosses telling me what to do. And I do. Someone also remarked how Erin gets to do whatever she wants. And that's true too. Yesterday I had a couple experiences that highlighted these points and caused me to think about being bossed around and asking permission.
I'm more of a "ask forgiveness" rather than "permission" kind of gal when it come to doing what I want. When I'm not allowed to freely explore ideas and express myself, I almost feel like I'm in prison or that my creativity is being squashed or stinted. I shut down and switch gears into a "yes-master/zombie" trance. It's not fun. However, when creativity has reigned supreme I've also gotten myself in trouble, stepped on toes, and ultimately not achieved the outcomes I was seeking. For at times I really don't know what I'm doing, even though I may pretend I do.
Take for instance, yesterday-setting rock-climbing routes. Oh sure I can pretend and start screwing in the holds willy-nilly using my imbecile judgement saying, "Oh that's fine-good enough." But I found myself getting stressed. I observed my boss and co-worker adeptly climb and test routes, use youthful strength to fasten holds not only in the right place but in the right direction. Finally I stopped, turned to my boss and said, "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it." It was so much easier to just have my boss hold the rock in place and then do my job with confidence as the simple handyman using the hex key.
Asking permission is sometimes more difficult for me. I guess I'm afraid someone will say no, reject me or deem my work unacceptable. Maybe it's the fear of being judged or having spent my effort in vain. After hanging out at a residential treatment center, I also identify with all my oppositional defiant students. No one likes being told what to do. It's all about freedom, control, and choices. And yet, I understand the importance of personal stewardship and deference to authority. So with this in mind, I went to our music committee meeting last night prepared to present the song I had written for the choir for our Christmas program.
A couple of months ago when receiving my call as choir director, in one of my "take initiative moves" I was sharply reminded by the music director that she was "my boss" (the words she used) and that everything I did had to be approved by her- which is fine- I understand. I'm trying to be sensitive and open. However at this meeting I found myself feeling in "prison"and shifting into my zombie trance, especially when most of my comments seemed out of place. I tried to emotionally prepare myself in case of rejection. After all just because I've spent the last month writing this song-doesn't mean it's a waste of time if it's not used. It's a gift for me to express myself. It's a gift for my Creator to show my love. It's a gift to share with those I care about.
As the meeting was about to close, one of the choristers asked if she could listen to the song I wrote. After we prayed, I was permitted to share the song. It was difficult to shift from zombie trance to songwriter/servant. Basically it was the musical equivalent of "getting permission" by having others listen and judge the work to see if it would be acceptable for inclusion in our church meeting. I was nervous and stressed The song was approved and most likely will be included in our program. Now, instead of feeling like a maverick, I'm part of a unified group with a unified purpose doing my individual part to help with that purpose. I can move forward with confidence because I have permission.
I want my confidence to wax strong in the presence of the Lord. There are so many things I love about David in the Old Testament. I appreciate the many instances of him "inquiring of the Lord," asking permission to do everything. (Will Saul come down? Will I be delivered into his hand? Shall I go smite the Philistines? Shall I pursue after this troop? Shall I go to the cities of Judah? etc, etc. etc.) I love his specific yes/no questions. I love his dependence upon Higher Authority. He did best when he let the Lord be his boss. I know like David, I can slay Goliath- I can do anything that is right if I'm not working alone. I can have the Lord on my side-with His permission and approval because He's my boss.
I'm more of a "ask forgiveness" rather than "permission" kind of gal when it come to doing what I want. When I'm not allowed to freely explore ideas and express myself, I almost feel like I'm in prison or that my creativity is being squashed or stinted. I shut down and switch gears into a "yes-master/zombie" trance. It's not fun. However, when creativity has reigned supreme I've also gotten myself in trouble, stepped on toes, and ultimately not achieved the outcomes I was seeking. For at times I really don't know what I'm doing, even though I may pretend I do.
Take for instance, yesterday-setting rock-climbing routes. Oh sure I can pretend and start screwing in the holds willy-nilly using my imbecile judgement saying, "Oh that's fine-good enough." But I found myself getting stressed. I observed my boss and co-worker adeptly climb and test routes, use youthful strength to fasten holds not only in the right place but in the right direction. Finally I stopped, turned to my boss and said, "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it." It was so much easier to just have my boss hold the rock in place and then do my job with confidence as the simple handyman using the hex key.
Asking permission is sometimes more difficult for me. I guess I'm afraid someone will say no, reject me or deem my work unacceptable. Maybe it's the fear of being judged or having spent my effort in vain. After hanging out at a residential treatment center, I also identify with all my oppositional defiant students. No one likes being told what to do. It's all about freedom, control, and choices. And yet, I understand the importance of personal stewardship and deference to authority. So with this in mind, I went to our music committee meeting last night prepared to present the song I had written for the choir for our Christmas program.
A couple of months ago when receiving my call as choir director, in one of my "take initiative moves" I was sharply reminded by the music director that she was "my boss" (the words she used) and that everything I did had to be approved by her- which is fine- I understand. I'm trying to be sensitive and open. However at this meeting I found myself feeling in "prison"and shifting into my zombie trance, especially when most of my comments seemed out of place. I tried to emotionally prepare myself in case of rejection. After all just because I've spent the last month writing this song-doesn't mean it's a waste of time if it's not used. It's a gift for me to express myself. It's a gift for my Creator to show my love. It's a gift to share with those I care about.
As the meeting was about to close, one of the choristers asked if she could listen to the song I wrote. After we prayed, I was permitted to share the song. It was difficult to shift from zombie trance to songwriter/servant. Basically it was the musical equivalent of "getting permission" by having others listen and judge the work to see if it would be acceptable for inclusion in our church meeting. I was nervous and stressed The song was approved and most likely will be included in our program. Now, instead of feeling like a maverick, I'm part of a unified group with a unified purpose doing my individual part to help with that purpose. I can move forward with confidence because I have permission.
I want my confidence to wax strong in the presence of the Lord. There are so many things I love about David in the Old Testament. I appreciate the many instances of him "inquiring of the Lord," asking permission to do everything. (Will Saul come down? Will I be delivered into his hand? Shall I go smite the Philistines? Shall I pursue after this troop? Shall I go to the cities of Judah? etc, etc. etc.) I love his specific yes/no questions. I love his dependence upon Higher Authority. He did best when he let the Lord be his boss. I know like David, I can slay Goliath- I can do anything that is right if I'm not working alone. I can have the Lord on my side-with His permission and approval because He's my boss.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Moved by Movies
This morning I was thinking about being moved by movies-or more specifically with my emotional responses and rationale behind them. Being "moved"also infers some sort of action-perhaps even a commitment. I have cried at millions of movies for a million different reasons, but last night I burst into tears when I saw the name on the end credits- "Blair Treu." Though this movie is touted as "The First Church-Produced Movie of Its Kind ", it was written and directed by my friend Blair Treu. That's a lot of capital letters and rightly so for it is BIG DEAL. He was commissioned to make this movie for my church. So borrowing from the format he uses in the movie, I'd like you to you to meet "Blair Treu-The Writer/Director/Producer." Actually I don't know much about his career and we're not close friends BUT since he appeared on the stage of MY life- he has "moved" me in important ways.
I was 14 and had the general impression that if there was a cute guy at a Mormon dance-he most likely wasn't a Mormon. That was the joke. I had never liked a Mormon guy before-and believe me, my heart has been going pitter-patter for cute guys since I was 5 years old. But that changed in the summer of '78 and meeting Blair Treu and his friends at an LDS youth conference in St. George. Blair wasn't necessarily drop-dead gorgeous- but it was his whole package-his looks, personality, spirituality, and the way he treated others that made him stand out. He was super sharp and wonderful. He was one of my very favorite elders to write and receive letters from when he was on his mission-just because I thought he was so "neat." I discounted him immediately because I thought he was too short for me but I subconsciously used him to as a standard to measure the spiritual stature of guys I would meet in the future. He gave me vision. Blair moved me to commit to finding a sharp guy of my own faith-cause by golly-they existed.
That summer I hung out with Blair and his friends at Huntington Beach lifeguard station #13. We went to Mormon dances every Friday and Saturday night. I remember Blair being a great dancer and doing handstands with his friend Mike Mason. (Who Joanie and I took as our dates for our prom). I remember being concerned when he got in a motorcycle accident. I remember using Blair's mission farewell party as an excuse to get out of "hell night" for the Lakewood High School sorority I was rushing. Joanie and I sheepishly stated , "Our friend is going away for 2 whole years and we have to say goodbye." You couldn't get away with that here in Utah. I remember sitting at his missionary farewell with my best friend Joanie and listening to his talk. He used a fictional story of best friends talking in heaven and how the one friend had never shared the gospel with the other because they were afraid of ruining their friendship. The friend then stated that though they had been best friends on earth, she could no longer call her a friend now. After the meeting I burst into tears and shared my testimony and how I didn't want to be like the best friends in that story. I loved her and I wanted her to know that I knew the church was true and wanted her to be part of it. Blair had unknowingly moved me to commit to share the gospel with people most dear to me.
Fast forward many years when my son coincidentally started hanging out with Blair's son, Kyle through their mutual interest in dance. My son was also friends with Kyle's future wife and ended up being one of their grooms for their wedding. I instantly loved Kyle because I loved his father. A couple of months ago, through Facebook, I learned from Blair that Kyle had been in a serious automobile accident and had been thought dead. He requested that we pray and fast for his son. For over a month Blair gave daily Facebook updates on the progress and shared his very personal thoughts and feelings about his experience. Later Blair requested we write letters to his son as he began his difficult rehabilitation emphasizing God's hand in his miraculous recovery. Blair moved me to use Facebook as a tool to care about others people and commit to mentioning others by name with very specific reference to their needs in my personal prayers, fasts, and in letters.
Blair's part in the Church's production of "Meet the Mormon's" is a big deal-it is important. I pray for the movie's success- that they will be able to donate lots of money to the Red Cross-that others will be moved emotionally as I was. Perhaps people might be moved to change some of their perceptions that Mormons don't have horns (at least I haven't seen anything growing on me lately). Perhaps people might be moved to actions to learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Perhaps people might be moved to make commitments to make and keep sacred covenants. For me, I have been "moved" to make important commitments by the name listed on the movie credits- Blair Treu.
I was 14 and had the general impression that if there was a cute guy at a Mormon dance-he most likely wasn't a Mormon. That was the joke. I had never liked a Mormon guy before-and believe me, my heart has been going pitter-patter for cute guys since I was 5 years old. But that changed in the summer of '78 and meeting Blair Treu and his friends at an LDS youth conference in St. George. Blair wasn't necessarily drop-dead gorgeous- but it was his whole package-his looks, personality, spirituality, and the way he treated others that made him stand out. He was super sharp and wonderful. He was one of my very favorite elders to write and receive letters from when he was on his mission-just because I thought he was so "neat." I discounted him immediately because I thought he was too short for me but I subconsciously used him to as a standard to measure the spiritual stature of guys I would meet in the future. He gave me vision. Blair moved me to commit to finding a sharp guy of my own faith-cause by golly-they existed.
That summer I hung out with Blair and his friends at Huntington Beach lifeguard station #13. We went to Mormon dances every Friday and Saturday night. I remember Blair being a great dancer and doing handstands with his friend Mike Mason. (Who Joanie and I took as our dates for our prom). I remember being concerned when he got in a motorcycle accident. I remember using Blair's mission farewell party as an excuse to get out of "hell night" for the Lakewood High School sorority I was rushing. Joanie and I sheepishly stated , "Our friend is going away for 2 whole years and we have to say goodbye." You couldn't get away with that here in Utah. I remember sitting at his missionary farewell with my best friend Joanie and listening to his talk. He used a fictional story of best friends talking in heaven and how the one friend had never shared the gospel with the other because they were afraid of ruining their friendship. The friend then stated that though they had been best friends on earth, she could no longer call her a friend now. After the meeting I burst into tears and shared my testimony and how I didn't want to be like the best friends in that story. I loved her and I wanted her to know that I knew the church was true and wanted her to be part of it. Blair had unknowingly moved me to commit to share the gospel with people most dear to me.
Fast forward many years when my son coincidentally started hanging out with Blair's son, Kyle through their mutual interest in dance. My son was also friends with Kyle's future wife and ended up being one of their grooms for their wedding. I instantly loved Kyle because I loved his father. A couple of months ago, through Facebook, I learned from Blair that Kyle had been in a serious automobile accident and had been thought dead. He requested that we pray and fast for his son. For over a month Blair gave daily Facebook updates on the progress and shared his very personal thoughts and feelings about his experience. Later Blair requested we write letters to his son as he began his difficult rehabilitation emphasizing God's hand in his miraculous recovery. Blair moved me to use Facebook as a tool to care about others people and commit to mentioning others by name with very specific reference to their needs in my personal prayers, fasts, and in letters.
Blair's part in the Church's production of "Meet the Mormon's" is a big deal-it is important. I pray for the movie's success- that they will be able to donate lots of money to the Red Cross-that others will be moved emotionally as I was. Perhaps people might be moved to change some of their perceptions that Mormons don't have horns (at least I haven't seen anything growing on me lately). Perhaps people might be moved to actions to learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Perhaps people might be moved to make commitments to make and keep sacred covenants. For me, I have been "moved" to make important commitments by the name listed on the movie credits- Blair Treu.
Friday, October 3, 2014
MY People/ To KNOW and LOVE
This morning I was thinking about 2 recent experiences when I was stuck in someone else's world surrounded by "their" people. I say "stuck" because I had nowhere to go and I was committed to be there- It was my choice. I chose to stay on the week long Powell houseboat-I paid the money, I took off work. I chose to stay at a friend's daughter's wedding from 10am to 10pm . I committed to sing and play the guitar for the wedding processional. I committed to get the sound system back to work even if that meant staying until all the reception music was finished. It not only was a choice to be part of the captain's world, or my friend's world-it was a privilege. But it is always hard to get the idea out of my head and heart that EVERYTHING is not about ME-because it's not. I know this.
As an outsider, I stepped into an observer role. It was beautiful to witness the warm, loving interaction between these close families and friends. It was people watching at it's finest. It was evident they knew one another deeply. They cared about their well-being and wanted to protect each other. They loved each other. My new found friends were surrounded by THEIR PEOPLE.
At the wedding, the preacher taught how the human need for LOVE is sometimes influenced by our human fear of BEING KNOWN. We fear if someone really knows us, they might not like us. He challenged the new couple to continue to know and love one another. In these two circumstances, people didn't really know me or love me. Which is an OK world to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there permanently.
As I was driving home from my Lake Powell adventure, I burst into tears at the thought of returning to MY people. It was so nice to come home to my little world, even though it seemed to have fallen apart when I was gone. I was greeted by one daughter who cut her hair short (which she has never done), and the other who sprayed the house for spiders (which we have never done) and had severe panic attacks (which she has never had). As I hugged them I told them how important they were to me- and how they were truly MY people.
During this past week I checked in with my mom over the phone. I talked to my son. I conducted the choir. I talked to best friends. I chatted with co-workers. My visiting teacher came over. I was publicly acknowledged. People expressed appreciation. I was warmly greeted by my students. I waved at neighbors. This is my world and MY people.-people who look me in the eye and acknowledge I not only exist, but KNOW ME and LOVE me in some fashion.
I know God knows me deeply and personally. He cares for me. He shows his love daily. I suppose God has those same longings to be KNOWN and LOVED as mentioned in the great intercessory prayer, "And this is life eternal to KNOW GOD". I know he wants me to LOVE him, to KNOW him, and to be one of HIS PEOPLE. I want to be part of HIS WORLD.
As an outsider, I stepped into an observer role. It was beautiful to witness the warm, loving interaction between these close families and friends. It was people watching at it's finest. It was evident they knew one another deeply. They cared about their well-being and wanted to protect each other. They loved each other. My new found friends were surrounded by THEIR PEOPLE.
At the wedding, the preacher taught how the human need for LOVE is sometimes influenced by our human fear of BEING KNOWN. We fear if someone really knows us, they might not like us. He challenged the new couple to continue to know and love one another. In these two circumstances, people didn't really know me or love me. Which is an OK world to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there permanently.
As I was driving home from my Lake Powell adventure, I burst into tears at the thought of returning to MY people. It was so nice to come home to my little world, even though it seemed to have fallen apart when I was gone. I was greeted by one daughter who cut her hair short (which she has never done), and the other who sprayed the house for spiders (which we have never done) and had severe panic attacks (which she has never had). As I hugged them I told them how important they were to me- and how they were truly MY people.
During this past week I checked in with my mom over the phone. I talked to my son. I conducted the choir. I talked to best friends. I chatted with co-workers. My visiting teacher came over. I was publicly acknowledged. People expressed appreciation. I was warmly greeted by my students. I waved at neighbors. This is my world and MY people.-people who look me in the eye and acknowledge I not only exist, but KNOW ME and LOVE me in some fashion.
I know God knows me deeply and personally. He cares for me. He shows his love daily. I suppose God has those same longings to be KNOWN and LOVED as mentioned in the great intercessory prayer, "And this is life eternal to KNOW GOD". I know he wants me to LOVE him, to KNOW him, and to be one of HIS PEOPLE. I want to be part of HIS WORLD.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Trying to Fit In with the Cool Kids
This morning I was thinking about my recent efforts to fit in. As a knee jerk reaction from my reject letter from the TAB choir, I accepted an invitation to go on a week long Lake Powell houseboat vacation, basically with a bunch of strangers. I tried to approach a potentially uncomfortable situation with a positive attitude; after all, I am a River Rat and Lake Powell is THE BEST place for waterskiing.
Once there, I was surrounded by some of the coolest grandmas on the planet. Grandmas that wake surf and water-ski with a high degree of athleticism and panache. They look hot in their swimsuit, are full of fun and humor, whose motto when approaching the whole singles world is "just be." Combine that with their highly personable and attractive young adult children and you get one very desirable group of truly "cool kids."
My dad was cool- Colorado River water-skiing cool- and not just because he could do a jump start off the dock with a cigarette in his mouth, beer can in his hand, and Chicano hard hat on his head. He just had a way. Water-skiing and driving a ski boat still connect me with my dad. I loved making my daddy proud of his "hot-dog water-skier" baby girl. I wanted to be "cool" like him-like my brother. I wanted to be cool like these hot skiing grandmas. Like a teenager, I sometimes get a rush when hanging out with the "cool kids" or the highly desirable ones. I guess it makes me feel if I hang out with them long enough, maybe I'll belong. Maybe I'll be cool too.
Last week I loved being included in the early morning serious water-skiing group. Of course that meant I had to prove myself and deal with the accompanying performance anxiety. But I exhaled and HIT IT, relying on the Clincher gloves to get me up, cutting hard on the fancy competition ski, and smiling while enjoying Lake Powell glass.
It's interesting how one compliment can make a whole trip. In passing, one lady referred to me as a fellow athlete. Another lady said I was a phenomenal skier. All of a sudden, I felt like I fit in. I was cool, even if it was only for a mili-second. Coolness evaporates so quickly-just ask my kids.
I suppose "cool" isn't a requirement for the celestial kingdom. However, it is a social structure based on personal character. It's filled with people who think, act, and feel similarly about the Lord. People who are not only trying to be more like the Father, but who are trying to FIT IN with the great and noble ones. I want to belong and be one of the "cool kids" forever.
Once there, I was surrounded by some of the coolest grandmas on the planet. Grandmas that wake surf and water-ski with a high degree of athleticism and panache. They look hot in their swimsuit, are full of fun and humor, whose motto when approaching the whole singles world is "just be." Combine that with their highly personable and attractive young adult children and you get one very desirable group of truly "cool kids."
My dad was cool- Colorado River water-skiing cool- and not just because he could do a jump start off the dock with a cigarette in his mouth, beer can in his hand, and Chicano hard hat on his head. He just had a way. Water-skiing and driving a ski boat still connect me with my dad. I loved making my daddy proud of his "hot-dog water-skier" baby girl. I wanted to be "cool" like him-like my brother. I wanted to be cool like these hot skiing grandmas. Like a teenager, I sometimes get a rush when hanging out with the "cool kids" or the highly desirable ones. I guess it makes me feel if I hang out with them long enough, maybe I'll belong. Maybe I'll be cool too.
Last week I loved being included in the early morning serious water-skiing group. Of course that meant I had to prove myself and deal with the accompanying performance anxiety. But I exhaled and HIT IT, relying on the Clincher gloves to get me up, cutting hard on the fancy competition ski, and smiling while enjoying Lake Powell glass.
It's interesting how one compliment can make a whole trip. In passing, one lady referred to me as a fellow athlete. Another lady said I was a phenomenal skier. All of a sudden, I felt like I fit in. I was cool, even if it was only for a mili-second. Coolness evaporates so quickly-just ask my kids.
I suppose "cool" isn't a requirement for the celestial kingdom. However, it is a social structure based on personal character. It's filled with people who think, act, and feel similarly about the Lord. People who are not only trying to be more like the Father, but who are trying to FIT IN with the great and noble ones. I want to belong and be one of the "cool kids" forever.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Indispensable Tsunami Wisdom
This morning I was thinking about the loss of one of my co-workers. Last week we camped, sang, talked, hiked, rafted, cooked, and helped students cope. Many would agree he was indispensable for our program. Yet, this week I show up for work and... he's gone-fired-swept away by the powers that be. During my brief time at my current workplace, I've seen the CEO, clinical directors, head psychiatrist, medical director, principal, teacher, laundry lady, head cook, company lawyer, line staff, 30+ year employees, my own boss, and therapists meet the same fate. At my last therapist meeting, all my previous work family was gone. Such a large part of my work satisfaction comes from the people I work with. They create my work environment and I like "how I feel" at work. If I didn't- I would quit. Last month I quit an early morning job for that express reason-I didn't like the way I felt and how I was treated. I'm sure I'm not even missed-work life goes on. Power shows me that even indispensable people are quite dispensable.
To deal with my loss, I sat at my computer to write a letter of recommendation for this therapist but got sidetracked with YouTube videos about the 2004 tsunami caught on camera. I watched all eight 10 minute segments and found myself crying with the survivors as they wailed and mourned the loss of loved ones swept away by powerful water. The survivor stories were so compelling, I showed up late for work. But somehow, it was just what I needed to face the day.
The last 2 segments were filled with insights-the survivor's take away from their horrific experience. Some dealt with survivor guilt and found peace in knowing they had done their best to help. Others felt lucky and explained there was not time to think about anybody but yourself and how it wasn't their time to go. One father contemplated his strong relationship he had built with his teenage daughter he'd lost. His wife explained how her husband felt like he was experiencing a tsunami everyday as they dealt with their own survivor's son subsequent addiction to pain medication. After mourning the loss of 5 people she loved, a young Indonesian woman explained it was not a punishment, but a test-to make her a better, stronger person day by day.
One couple that had their 5 year old child torn from their arms explained how the traumatic event changed them forever but their world hasn't changed. They still have to go to work, earn money to eat-survive. They coped with loss by helping other people in honor of their dead, appreciating the smaller things in life, and taking each day as it comes. After finding the body of their child, the mother explained, "One part of your life finishes and the rest of your life begins. Your life is over."
Life as we know it seems to end over and over again. The quality of my life is so influenced by the people in it-the people I care about and who care for me. It is like the tide and crashing surf. Especially if I consider my ever changing, shifting sandy landscape of the people in my life. I so appreciate the indispensable wisdom and perspective from these tsunami survivors. They are words to learn from and live by for little old dispensable me.
To deal with my loss, I sat at my computer to write a letter of recommendation for this therapist but got sidetracked with YouTube videos about the 2004 tsunami caught on camera. I watched all eight 10 minute segments and found myself crying with the survivors as they wailed and mourned the loss of loved ones swept away by powerful water. The survivor stories were so compelling, I showed up late for work. But somehow, it was just what I needed to face the day.
The last 2 segments were filled with insights-the survivor's take away from their horrific experience. Some dealt with survivor guilt and found peace in knowing they had done their best to help. Others felt lucky and explained there was not time to think about anybody but yourself and how it wasn't their time to go. One father contemplated his strong relationship he had built with his teenage daughter he'd lost. His wife explained how her husband felt like he was experiencing a tsunami everyday as they dealt with their own survivor's son subsequent addiction to pain medication. After mourning the loss of 5 people she loved, a young Indonesian woman explained it was not a punishment, but a test-to make her a better, stronger person day by day.
One couple that had their 5 year old child torn from their arms explained how the traumatic event changed them forever but their world hasn't changed. They still have to go to work, earn money to eat-survive. They coped with loss by helping other people in honor of their dead, appreciating the smaller things in life, and taking each day as it comes. After finding the body of their child, the mother explained, "One part of your life finishes and the rest of your life begins. Your life is over."
Life as we know it seems to end over and over again. The quality of my life is so influenced by the people in it-the people I care about and who care for me. It is like the tide and crashing surf. Especially if I consider my ever changing, shifting sandy landscape of the people in my life. I so appreciate the indispensable wisdom and perspective from these tsunami survivors. They are words to learn from and live by for little old dispensable me.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Pick Me Up
This morning I was thinking about my latest Moab camping trip. 2 weeks ago it was the hyperactive boys. This week it was the drama-creating girls. It was emotionally exhausting dealing with the histrionic behavior of one particular child. It's like the proverbial saying, "I've fallen and can't get up." But in this case it was " I'm going to fall, cry out, flail around and wave my arms until YOU help me get up-and when you ignore me or give me a consequence, I will intensify my efforts-a hundred fold." She is extremely intelligent, quite manipulative and will not stop until she gets what she wants. She physically clings to anyone who will give her attention. She constantly cries and complains how everyone "hates" her and doesn't want to be around her. Her peers are actually pretty tolerant and supportive-considering. When writing progress notes, the only word that came to mind to describe her behavior was "ridiculous". And yet if all behavior is an attempt to meet a need, I'm reminded how her extreme attention seeking behavior craves approval and love from both peers and staff wanting someone to care about her, or care for her...Just pick me up.
Reminds me how I was greeted by my glamorous Himalayan neighbor cat when unloading my camping gear at home. She cries out for attention and I am compelled to pick her up. She almost not a kitten anymore. She purrs so easily as I pet her though she really doesn't like to be held. She wants what she wants on her own terms. As I pet her I tell her how I love her but I can't feed her or let her in my house. I don't want her to depend on us for survival, especially when I believe her owner still cares for her. I haven't seen mother cat lately-she use to be the one craving attention. This little one seems a bit abandoned by everyone-at least she acts like it. I sometimes cheat and let my daughter give her a saucer of milk. I do love her and at times I even identify with her.
My own histrionic behavior caused me to lose sleep during our camp out. I was attention seeking and craved love, approval and connection. I felt like someone picked me up for a second, rubbed me behind the ears until I purred then gently set me down. It was just a little bit of kind attention-some very innocent well wishing. As I theoretically followed him back to his house I was met by the closed door of his lovely home. I was in such a rush to get out my own front door for my camping trip that I didn't have time to even see if this guy was married. So my mind played all sorts of tricks on me as I dealt with my little drama queen campers. Once I returned home and could do the necessary leg work I felt guilty for even wishing. However, I was filled with my own well-wishing for this sweet, strong couple who have dealt with their own challenges and valiantly raised their children.
As I think back on my emotional journey, I am surprised with how little it takes to do a 360 ° How one little kindness can literally change my life and fill me with resolve to the kind of woman deserving of such fine attention. A change in my circumstances is definitely motivating, but why should I have to wait for something to "happen" or fall from the sky to make necessary character changes. Why should I flail around on the ground expecting others to help me get up? Instead of thinking how "this" can change everything, how about changing everything without "this". What is "this" anyway. Perhaps it was a much needed "pick me up"-to change my heart continually.
Reminds me how I was greeted by my glamorous Himalayan neighbor cat when unloading my camping gear at home. She cries out for attention and I am compelled to pick her up. She almost not a kitten anymore. She purrs so easily as I pet her though she really doesn't like to be held. She wants what she wants on her own terms. As I pet her I tell her how I love her but I can't feed her or let her in my house. I don't want her to depend on us for survival, especially when I believe her owner still cares for her. I haven't seen mother cat lately-she use to be the one craving attention. This little one seems a bit abandoned by everyone-at least she acts like it. I sometimes cheat and let my daughter give her a saucer of milk. I do love her and at times I even identify with her.
My own histrionic behavior caused me to lose sleep during our camp out. I was attention seeking and craved love, approval and connection. I felt like someone picked me up for a second, rubbed me behind the ears until I purred then gently set me down. It was just a little bit of kind attention-some very innocent well wishing. As I theoretically followed him back to his house I was met by the closed door of his lovely home. I was in such a rush to get out my own front door for my camping trip that I didn't have time to even see if this guy was married. So my mind played all sorts of tricks on me as I dealt with my little drama queen campers. Once I returned home and could do the necessary leg work I felt guilty for even wishing. However, I was filled with my own well-wishing for this sweet, strong couple who have dealt with their own challenges and valiantly raised their children.
As I think back on my emotional journey, I am surprised with how little it takes to do a 360 ° How one little kindness can literally change my life and fill me with resolve to the kind of woman deserving of such fine attention. A change in my circumstances is definitely motivating, but why should I have to wait for something to "happen" or fall from the sky to make necessary character changes. Why should I flail around on the ground expecting others to help me get up? Instead of thinking how "this" can change everything, how about changing everything without "this". What is "this" anyway. Perhaps it was a much needed "pick me up"-to change my heart continually.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Stepping Stones/Support
This morning I was thinking about our recent hike to Delicate Arch in Arches National Park. It's a difficult hike for my students, but once they climb the big sandstone/mountain I pretty much know they will all make it. Most of the trail is outlined well but once you get to the big stone it tends to become a free-for all, even though there are cairns (piles of stone) to guide the way. Instead of a narrow pathway, there is a broad rock face offering multiple options leading to the top. My students huff and puff and complain but once we reach the top of the stone mountain, the rest of the trail is much easier and defined. Though Delicate Arch is the destination, it could not be reached without the help and support offered by this large sandstone mountain. In contrast to the delicate, fragile beauty of the arch it stands firm and strong as thousands of visitors trample across it each year. No one whips out their camera to take pictures of this rock like they do at Delicate Arch. They might snap a picture of the view, but never at the ground. Why would they? It's just a rock beneath the feet- a stepping stone to get where you really want to go.
I can relate to that sandstone rock. Last weekend I dropped my son off at college. He didn't really want me to go to "support" him. However, I knew he needed me for the first payment on his dorm and food and get him settled in. Though he is on scholarship and will be receiving financial aid, I needed to offer bridge monies as well as emotionally hold his hand as he started a new phase in his life. Most of my children know that their mother doesn't have the funds to really offer financial support-but I do what I can and sometimes more than I should. As parents we try so hard to support our children-we want to be that bridge to help them on their way. We want to "be there" for them every step of the way.
So as I was feeling all "parental" in this significant "drop my baby off to college" moment, I became UBER-FRUSTRATED when my son decided to "go his own way" instead of doing what I wanted him to do. To explain, I just wanted him to go to his dorm, get his swimsuit, drive over to the gas station to fill up HIS tank, and then spend the next hour at a fancy condo (generously provided by a neighbor) with his family to say goodbye. I didn't really think I was asking too much-especially since it was ALL FOR HIM. But NO, he wanted me to give him the gas card, have us "drop him a pin" and mosey on over when he felt like it. I guess in the back of my mind I figured since I had just dropped a thousand dollars in his behalf, that he might show some modicum of consideration for the emotional needs of his mother and sister. I felt ignored and stepped on-like the big stone. But then again, the stone doesn't ask for anything in return- it just keeps offering support and challenges us to make our own way and climb.
I suppose Heavenly Father feels stepped on all the time. Here he offers continual support- our every breath, our every heartbeat etc. etc- and we just take him for granted and go about our business as usual-walking our own way, not even noticing the daily stepping stones provided to help us go where we want to go. I am so glad he gives us a window to see into his own parenting issues. He is THE ROCK- My stone of support. My firm foundation. If I build on it, or in this case, climb on it- He will show me the way. I can choose to not only receive his support with gratitude but actually do what he wants me to do and follow the trail markers to reach my desired destination.
I can relate to that sandstone rock. Last weekend I dropped my son off at college. He didn't really want me to go to "support" him. However, I knew he needed me for the first payment on his dorm and food and get him settled in. Though he is on scholarship and will be receiving financial aid, I needed to offer bridge monies as well as emotionally hold his hand as he started a new phase in his life. Most of my children know that their mother doesn't have the funds to really offer financial support-but I do what I can and sometimes more than I should. As parents we try so hard to support our children-we want to be that bridge to help them on their way. We want to "be there" for them every step of the way.
So as I was feeling all "parental" in this significant "drop my baby off to college" moment, I became UBER-FRUSTRATED when my son decided to "go his own way" instead of doing what I wanted him to do. To explain, I just wanted him to go to his dorm, get his swimsuit, drive over to the gas station to fill up HIS tank, and then spend the next hour at a fancy condo (generously provided by a neighbor) with his family to say goodbye. I didn't really think I was asking too much-especially since it was ALL FOR HIM. But NO, he wanted me to give him the gas card, have us "drop him a pin" and mosey on over when he felt like it. I guess in the back of my mind I figured since I had just dropped a thousand dollars in his behalf, that he might show some modicum of consideration for the emotional needs of his mother and sister. I felt ignored and stepped on-like the big stone. But then again, the stone doesn't ask for anything in return- it just keeps offering support and challenges us to make our own way and climb.
I suppose Heavenly Father feels stepped on all the time. Here he offers continual support- our every breath, our every heartbeat etc. etc- and we just take him for granted and go about our business as usual-walking our own way, not even noticing the daily stepping stones provided to help us go where we want to go. I am so glad he gives us a window to see into his own parenting issues. He is THE ROCK- My stone of support. My firm foundation. If I build on it, or in this case, climb on it- He will show me the way. I can choose to not only receive his support with gratitude but actually do what he wants me to do and follow the trail markers to reach my desired destination.
Monday, August 25, 2014
Simple Choices
This morning I was thinking about Elsie Dee's upcoming funeral. Her sister wanted to make sure the congregation sings the hymn "Each Life that Touches Ours for Good." Though I did not really know Elsie Dee, her life and our very limited relationship matters to me. I say limited because when I came on the scene as one of her visiting teachers, Elsie Dee could not even acknowledge my presence. Sometimes she opened her eyes. Sometimes she uttered a unintelligible word. Sometimes she moaned. Not much 2-way communication...well none. We spent most of our time visiting her caregiver, Jackie. I learned that Elsie Dee's efforts to stay alive- by continuing consciousness and eating were done in service for Jackie to keep her employed. She was serving with her very limited resources-simple goals, simple lives.
Jackie's choices have also influenced me for good. Jackie is my age. Her life has been anything but glamorous- offering 24 hour bedside care for the last 2 years- I know she worked several years before that assisting Elsie Dee stay in her own home instead of a nursing care facility. Jackie rarely got out to do anything for herself. Though as visiting teachers we are supposed to care for her needs, she is the one who gave me a birthday present and offered to take me out to a restaurant. At that time I learned she began working at age 5 while living in the Philippines. Her father held a gun to her head. Her mother got mad at her for going to the city for one night to have some fun with friend. Basically she was like a family slave. To this day, she is considered the rich one in her family as they hit her up for money-and she gives, and gives, and gives. She shared many details about her hard working life and expectations for her future. She would like to work in America for another 10 years and then retire in the Philippines. She dreams of having a garden, living in her own place, and resting. It doesn't take a lot to please Jackie. Simple goals, Simple life.
Jackie hasn't ever asked me for anything, except last week. She requested I sing the same song I sung to her previously, "My Kindness Shall Not Depart From Me" to Elsie Dee during our upcoming visit. Her simple request came while I was at work thinking about personal issues, demands and questions. Last week I made several big decisions while trying to juggle my regular work; I accepted a modified home loan lowering my payments. I quit my early morning job. I went to St. George to get my son started for his freshman year in college. I chose to have our choir an rhythmically complex arrangement for ward conference. Instead of simplicity, I seem to create complexity. Jackie's phone call and my opportunity to sing brought perspective and focus. It's easy to compare my own situation to theirs- I'm not dying. I'm not a caregiver slave. Yet, rather than solely comparing their circumstances to my circumstances, I focused on their choices. As such, I was inspired. I was humbled. I was empowered by their example of purity and simplicity.
I unknowingly prepared to sing as I memorized the words while driving to work -which was a good thing since I had to close my eyes the whole time. The moment was so raw-I couldn't look at Elsie Dee without crying-and I wanted to sing my best-not have an emotional experience. Here I was, in the room alone with this woman I knew was going to die any moment. I wanted to give her something even if it was just a little part of me. Even though I did not know her personally, I had a very personal message to share. As with most service, the person who got the most out of our little exchange was me. The Spirit gave me my own personal message. It was a privilege for me to be in the presence of these 2 great ladies. Their choices influence my choices- to live simply and make simple choices-to touch each others' lives for good.
Jackie's choices have also influenced me for good. Jackie is my age. Her life has been anything but glamorous- offering 24 hour bedside care for the last 2 years- I know she worked several years before that assisting Elsie Dee stay in her own home instead of a nursing care facility. Jackie rarely got out to do anything for herself. Though as visiting teachers we are supposed to care for her needs, she is the one who gave me a birthday present and offered to take me out to a restaurant. At that time I learned she began working at age 5 while living in the Philippines. Her father held a gun to her head. Her mother got mad at her for going to the city for one night to have some fun with friend. Basically she was like a family slave. To this day, she is considered the rich one in her family as they hit her up for money-and she gives, and gives, and gives. She shared many details about her hard working life and expectations for her future. She would like to work in America for another 10 years and then retire in the Philippines. She dreams of having a garden, living in her own place, and resting. It doesn't take a lot to please Jackie. Simple goals, Simple life.
Jackie hasn't ever asked me for anything, except last week. She requested I sing the same song I sung to her previously, "My Kindness Shall Not Depart From Me" to Elsie Dee during our upcoming visit. Her simple request came while I was at work thinking about personal issues, demands and questions. Last week I made several big decisions while trying to juggle my regular work; I accepted a modified home loan lowering my payments. I quit my early morning job. I went to St. George to get my son started for his freshman year in college. I chose to have our choir an rhythmically complex arrangement for ward conference. Instead of simplicity, I seem to create complexity. Jackie's phone call and my opportunity to sing brought perspective and focus. It's easy to compare my own situation to theirs- I'm not dying. I'm not a caregiver slave. Yet, rather than solely comparing their circumstances to my circumstances, I focused on their choices. As such, I was inspired. I was humbled. I was empowered by their example of purity and simplicity.
I unknowingly prepared to sing as I memorized the words while driving to work -which was a good thing since I had to close my eyes the whole time. The moment was so raw-I couldn't look at Elsie Dee without crying-and I wanted to sing my best-not have an emotional experience. Here I was, in the room alone with this woman I knew was going to die any moment. I wanted to give her something even if it was just a little part of me. Even though I did not know her personally, I had a very personal message to share. As with most service, the person who got the most out of our little exchange was me. The Spirit gave me my own personal message. It was a privilege for me to be in the presence of these 2 great ladies. Their choices influence my choices- to live simply and make simple choices-to touch each others' lives for good.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Can You Feel it Now? Broken Hearts and Being Whole
This morning I was thinking about last weekend and labels inadvertently slapped on me by others and myself. Labels such as still having an "aching heart" (from x husband in prison) being a "misfit toy" and one of the masses of "messed up" people (singles acquaintance) or even being spoken to as if I was the most broken woman in the family due to past soap opera events (relative). I know these labels weren't intentional, but their letters, words, or looks represented how they viewed me. And that's OK-I guess I'm becoming more comfortable allowing others to think whatever they want-they are free. I don't necessarily have to buy into it. I don't have to even care. I don't have to correct them to maintain dignity and self-respect. In one instance I did correct it when I stopped dancing and stated in a loud voice over the music,"I am not messed up." And even though others might not agree, that's my truth.
Well I actually corrected the relative too. My response was influenced by the powerful sacrament meeting preceding the family gathering. We attended the meeting together to listen to my niece's returned missionary report. It was such a powerful meeting. The first speaker highlighted the reasons why we "really" come to church- to cleanse and heal our broken, spotted hearts. It was followed by a "pull on your heartstrings" cello-piano arrangement of a sacrament hymn. Then punctuated by my sweet niece as she looked into the congregation and asked, "Can you feel it?" Though recently released, she was still being the missionary helping others recognize and feel the Spirit. The spirit of the Lord was strong in that meeting and it carried a witness of the truth. So I guess it was no surprise when I looked at my relative and testified, I'm doing fine-really. Though once broken, I feel healed. I really do. And whatever comes my way to mess up my heart again, I know where to go to get it put back together. And not even that, I want a whole new heart. And that's why I go to church each week. It is a great hospital, but even though we may go in broken- we can come out healed.
Perhaps I'm just fooling myself. Maybe I'm not healed. Maybe I haven't sufficiently processed all my trauma with the right authorities or therapists. I've been told I'm avoidant and bury my head in the sand- a lot. So what? Whatever, the cause of the "healed" feeling (and I do believe it comes from God) I'm not going to doubt it. Cause with IT I feel I can move forward with greater faith. Without it, getting sucked back to the past feels dark and confusing I can't solve all the problems in the world. Heck, I can't even solve my own problems. I may not ever know what "really" happened or have an accurate grasp of what is going on in the present, or a perfect forecast for the future. But, it doesn't matter. Because right now- I feel whole. Now that's the label I want smack dab in the middle of my forehead each week-whole.
Well I actually corrected the relative too. My response was influenced by the powerful sacrament meeting preceding the family gathering. We attended the meeting together to listen to my niece's returned missionary report. It was such a powerful meeting. The first speaker highlighted the reasons why we "really" come to church- to cleanse and heal our broken, spotted hearts. It was followed by a "pull on your heartstrings" cello-piano arrangement of a sacrament hymn. Then punctuated by my sweet niece as she looked into the congregation and asked, "Can you feel it?" Though recently released, she was still being the missionary helping others recognize and feel the Spirit. The spirit of the Lord was strong in that meeting and it carried a witness of the truth. So I guess it was no surprise when I looked at my relative and testified, I'm doing fine-really. Though once broken, I feel healed. I really do. And whatever comes my way to mess up my heart again, I know where to go to get it put back together. And not even that, I want a whole new heart. And that's why I go to church each week. It is a great hospital, but even though we may go in broken- we can come out healed.
Perhaps I'm just fooling myself. Maybe I'm not healed. Maybe I haven't sufficiently processed all my trauma with the right authorities or therapists. I've been told I'm avoidant and bury my head in the sand- a lot. So what? Whatever, the cause of the "healed" feeling (and I do believe it comes from God) I'm not going to doubt it. Cause with IT I feel I can move forward with greater faith. Without it, getting sucked back to the past feels dark and confusing I can't solve all the problems in the world. Heck, I can't even solve my own problems. I may not ever know what "really" happened or have an accurate grasp of what is going on in the present, or a perfect forecast for the future. But, it doesn't matter. Because right now- I feel whole. Now that's the label I want smack dab in the middle of my forehead each week-whole.
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Desires/Being Called
This morning I was thinking about my recent application to "try out" for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. There are 3 phases to make the grade; First- application, audio recording, and bishop's recommendation. Second-challenging written theory test with an aural aptitude component. Last- on site audition where you basically need to be able to sight read anything and do it in the right key. The bar is so high it's a wonder anyone actually "makes" the choir. But I figured since I'm coming close to the age cut off (55) I might as well give it a go. If for some reason I'm able to run this musical gauntlet successfully, it will cement my decision to stay in Utah a while longer before returning to California. Anyway, regardless the outcome, at least I followed through with my goal of putting my application in the mail. It felt good to write ""Mormon Tabernacle Choir" across the front of the envelope in large letters with my black sharpie- as such a bold decision requires. This envelope represents my desire to serve as a formally called "Musical Missionary."
I remember turning in my papers to serve as a full-time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints back in the 80's. Like the Tab. Choir application, it was just a piece of paper with information about me and my picture accompanied by an ecclesiastic recommendation. I remember having the picture taken wondering if it was too over the top to have a big red flower in my hair-but did it anyway. This Spanish Senorita look may have influenced my eventual call to the Spain Madrid Mission. Who knows? As potential LDS missionaries, we say "called" because we do not get to choose where we will serve. We can express a formal desire (through application) but ultimately it is the inspired decision of those acting for the Lord who decide when and where we serve. So when the assignment comes in the mail we can say we have been called by the Lord to serve him. Through the spirit, missionaries often receive confirmation of their formal call being from God, and not from some random "pick your place out of a hat" committee.
This time around for my Tab. application, I wasn't wearing a big red flower in my hair for my picture, but I did try to look my best. Everything I put in that orange envelope was an attempt at my best. In the vocal exercises, I even reached a high B. (which I typically cannot do). I practiced so hard as I drove to work trying to improve my control over my singing voice-flexibility, range, sound quality, staying in tune etc. In the end as I held my daughter's I-phone to record the billionth take for each musical tasks, I just had to stop and say, "I'm done-good enough" It was never going to be perfect. And I can't magically change my voice into some perfect choir soprano. It's just going to have to do. Once again, like the picture-I tried to do my best. I realize my best might not be good enough. In fact, who knows what the bishop's recommend said regarding my circumstances and my appropriateness for this possible call. It's out of my hands for now.
So where serve? How serve? Who decides? I love the scripture in Doctrine in Covenants Section 4-"if ye have desire to serve God, ye are called to the work." As choir director currently in my ward, I told the little girls in attendance- you are musical missionaries RIGHT NOW. Maybe not formally, but they use music to help others "feel" close to God. My very first solo in church was when I was 8 years old singing, "I Know My Father Lives." I'm sure my voice was not good and probably too loud- but I gave what I had and in some small way helped God's work. I love music. I love what it can do. I am so happy I can use this tool to help others increase the spiritual nature of gatherings. In a more secular sense, I'm glad I can use music to just FEEL (period). It lets me know I am alive-that we're alive and we're connected to each other and we're connected to God.
I love how that Mormon Tabernacle Choir envelope represents my desire to serve. To know where, and how, all I have to do is open my eyes and ears to the countless needs around me: Bedridden Elsie Dee needs someone to sit by her beside and sing to her, Claudia needs processional music for her daughter's weeding, students need campfire and lullaby music for the upcoming Moab trip, Primary needs a substitute chorister again for tomorrow, The hymn arrangement for the choir needs to be rewritten etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc. No, I might not receive a formalized call to serve with music, but if I listen to that still small voice, I will have plenty of work to do. He will certainly call, and I can answer.
I remember turning in my papers to serve as a full-time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints back in the 80's. Like the Tab. Choir application, it was just a piece of paper with information about me and my picture accompanied by an ecclesiastic recommendation. I remember having the picture taken wondering if it was too over the top to have a big red flower in my hair-but did it anyway. This Spanish Senorita look may have influenced my eventual call to the Spain Madrid Mission. Who knows? As potential LDS missionaries, we say "called" because we do not get to choose where we will serve. We can express a formal desire (through application) but ultimately it is the inspired decision of those acting for the Lord who decide when and where we serve. So when the assignment comes in the mail we can say we have been called by the Lord to serve him. Through the spirit, missionaries often receive confirmation of their formal call being from God, and not from some random "pick your place out of a hat" committee.
This time around for my Tab. application, I wasn't wearing a big red flower in my hair for my picture, but I did try to look my best. Everything I put in that orange envelope was an attempt at my best. In the vocal exercises, I even reached a high B. (which I typically cannot do). I practiced so hard as I drove to work trying to improve my control over my singing voice-flexibility, range, sound quality, staying in tune etc. In the end as I held my daughter's I-phone to record the billionth take for each musical tasks, I just had to stop and say, "I'm done-good enough" It was never going to be perfect. And I can't magically change my voice into some perfect choir soprano. It's just going to have to do. Once again, like the picture-I tried to do my best. I realize my best might not be good enough. In fact, who knows what the bishop's recommend said regarding my circumstances and my appropriateness for this possible call. It's out of my hands for now.
So where serve? How serve? Who decides? I love the scripture in Doctrine in Covenants Section 4-"if ye have desire to serve God, ye are called to the work." As choir director currently in my ward, I told the little girls in attendance- you are musical missionaries RIGHT NOW. Maybe not formally, but they use music to help others "feel" close to God. My very first solo in church was when I was 8 years old singing, "I Know My Father Lives." I'm sure my voice was not good and probably too loud- but I gave what I had and in some small way helped God's work. I love music. I love what it can do. I am so happy I can use this tool to help others increase the spiritual nature of gatherings. In a more secular sense, I'm glad I can use music to just FEEL (period). It lets me know I am alive-that we're alive and we're connected to each other and we're connected to God.
I love how that Mormon Tabernacle Choir envelope represents my desire to serve. To know where, and how, all I have to do is open my eyes and ears to the countless needs around me: Bedridden Elsie Dee needs someone to sit by her beside and sing to her, Claudia needs processional music for her daughter's weeding, students need campfire and lullaby music for the upcoming Moab trip, Primary needs a substitute chorister again for tomorrow, The hymn arrangement for the choir needs to be rewritten etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc. No, I might not receive a formalized call to serve with music, but if I listen to that still small voice, I will have plenty of work to do. He will certainly call, and I can answer.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Deserving Bad Things & Being Worthy
This morning I was thinking about 3 events that "happened" this week. Through choices I make things happen-I ACT, while other people's choices make things happen that effect me -ACTED UPON. (2 Nephi 2:26)
1st Event: Upon returning by carpool from an awesome water ski day, I discovered my car was broken-dead in the grocery store parking lot. It turned out to be the fuel pump,etc.to the tune of $350. Not fun. Maybe it was my fault for having less than 1/4 tank of gas in it, or maybe it was destined to break. Either way- it set a precedence for the rest of the week.
2nd Event: While driving to work in my beat up bug (since I had just put the other car in the shop) I got pulled over for a) not having working tail lights, b) not wearing a seat-belt, and C) incorrect address on my license. I think it was the first time I didn't have an adrenaline rush when I saw the colored lights. I don't know why. Maybe I'm becoming more accepting of bad things-or stressful stuff. Who knows? Either way, I just closed my eyes, soaked up the sun from the window that won't roll up, and tried to focus on my my breathing while being written up by the officer. When he returned, he gave me a written "warning" since I appeared to be having a "bad day". I started crying as I thanked the officer. I was proud of myself for not crying while giving excuses when he pulled me over. Nevertheless, I appreciated being given a break-a tender mercy.
3rd Event: A few days later, AFTER fixing all the above mentioned violations, when driving home from work I got rear ended. I suppose driving around in a car that looks like a bumper car doesn't help. It really wasn't too much more than a "love tap" (Jerry O'Malley speak) but it jolted me and gave my bumper a good work out. The guy said he had looked down for a second and didn't see me. We surveyed the damage and didn't exchange phone numbers. However, as I drove away I started bawling in reaction to my chain of thoughts. Whether it was my upbringing, or my marriages, or just my soap-opera life history, deep down I think I deserve to have bad things happen to me. Perhaps I even attract it. I don't know. I know my actions have hurt others and the actions of my closest family members, whether husband or children have also caused great hurt. Ultimately I feel responsible, in part, for the hurt. Maybe it's a knee jerk reaction in antithesis to family members who blame everything on everyone else, instead of looking in the mirror and trying to accept some sliver of responsibility. So as retribution, I guess I think it's just fair when I get hurt. Maybe it balances the grand scale in some way. I don't know.
4th Event: Last event, was on Thursday, while getting into that same beat up green bug , I found an anonymous and magnanimous gift of $200 (I guess that broken window comes in handy). It was wrapped up in a piece of paper addressed to me saying "I thought you might need this." signed "from a friend." I started to cry-again. I so appreciate this person's kindness. When it's done anonymously, all I can do is thank God for his loving care. Though the $200 was used for my stupid car bill, I still cried thinking how I don't really "deserve" this gift. It is needed-yes. Wanted- yes-but I'm not really "worthy" of these blessings.
Oh how I want to be worthy! Being worthy is different than being loved. I know I am loved, completely accepted and treasured by my maker. In addition to being loved, I also want to please God.. I know He desires for me ALL blessings prepared for the faithful.. I must exercise faith in Him. And before I go into a discourse of faith vs. works and Mormon perfectionist anxiety or whatever, I have to confess in that same wallet with my driver's license (now updated with the CORRECT address) I also carry my temple recommend. I just recently renewed it. During the temple recommend interview, the last question the priesthood leader (representing the Lord) asks is "Do you feel worthy in every way to enter the House of the Lord? And you know what? That broken down VW Beetle girl thinking she deserves "bad" things responded in the affirmative. And what's interesting is I totally believe it. I'm not perfect, but I'm worthy.
1st Event: Upon returning by carpool from an awesome water ski day, I discovered my car was broken-dead in the grocery store parking lot. It turned out to be the fuel pump,etc.to the tune of $350. Not fun. Maybe it was my fault for having less than 1/4 tank of gas in it, or maybe it was destined to break. Either way- it set a precedence for the rest of the week.
2nd Event: While driving to work in my beat up bug (since I had just put the other car in the shop) I got pulled over for a) not having working tail lights, b) not wearing a seat-belt, and C) incorrect address on my license. I think it was the first time I didn't have an adrenaline rush when I saw the colored lights. I don't know why. Maybe I'm becoming more accepting of bad things-or stressful stuff. Who knows? Either way, I just closed my eyes, soaked up the sun from the window that won't roll up, and tried to focus on my my breathing while being written up by the officer. When he returned, he gave me a written "warning" since I appeared to be having a "bad day". I started crying as I thanked the officer. I was proud of myself for not crying while giving excuses when he pulled me over. Nevertheless, I appreciated being given a break-a tender mercy.
3rd Event: A few days later, AFTER fixing all the above mentioned violations, when driving home from work I got rear ended. I suppose driving around in a car that looks like a bumper car doesn't help. It really wasn't too much more than a "love tap" (Jerry O'Malley speak) but it jolted me and gave my bumper a good work out. The guy said he had looked down for a second and didn't see me. We surveyed the damage and didn't exchange phone numbers. However, as I drove away I started bawling in reaction to my chain of thoughts. Whether it was my upbringing, or my marriages, or just my soap-opera life history, deep down I think I deserve to have bad things happen to me. Perhaps I even attract it. I don't know. I know my actions have hurt others and the actions of my closest family members, whether husband or children have also caused great hurt. Ultimately I feel responsible, in part, for the hurt. Maybe it's a knee jerk reaction in antithesis to family members who blame everything on everyone else, instead of looking in the mirror and trying to accept some sliver of responsibility. So as retribution, I guess I think it's just fair when I get hurt. Maybe it balances the grand scale in some way. I don't know.
4th Event: Last event, was on Thursday, while getting into that same beat up green bug , I found an anonymous and magnanimous gift of $200 (I guess that broken window comes in handy). It was wrapped up in a piece of paper addressed to me saying "I thought you might need this." signed "from a friend." I started to cry-again. I so appreciate this person's kindness. When it's done anonymously, all I can do is thank God for his loving care. Though the $200 was used for my stupid car bill, I still cried thinking how I don't really "deserve" this gift. It is needed-yes. Wanted- yes-but I'm not really "worthy" of these blessings.
Oh how I want to be worthy! Being worthy is different than being loved. I know I am loved, completely accepted and treasured by my maker. In addition to being loved, I also want to please God.. I know He desires for me ALL blessings prepared for the faithful.. I must exercise faith in Him. And before I go into a discourse of faith vs. works and Mormon perfectionist anxiety or whatever, I have to confess in that same wallet with my driver's license (now updated with the CORRECT address) I also carry my temple recommend. I just recently renewed it. During the temple recommend interview, the last question the priesthood leader (representing the Lord) asks is "Do you feel worthy in every way to enter the House of the Lord? And you know what? That broken down VW Beetle girl thinking she deserves "bad" things responded in the affirmative. And what's interesting is I totally believe it. I'm not perfect, but I'm worthy.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Hanging Out
This morning I was thinking about my neglect of special friends and how we haven't hung out in a long time. I've been so caught up with the task of trying to figure out how to take care of myself that I haven't given them quality attention. I think they know I care about them, but my actions sure don't say that. I know with all living things, if we don't give them the attention they require, they wither and die- or at least they aren't as strong and vibrant. I suppose that's why I don't have plants to water anymore. How can I really "be there" for someone if I don't know what's going on? Giving quality attention to people takes time and sometimes I spend it attending to various tasks rather than nurturing life.
I think I first became aware of my tendency to place tasks over people during my college freshman year. My best friend was the best at hanging out with friends in their dorm rooms. People knew she loved and cared about them. She was there in their time of need. She was full of charity and formed close bonds with several people. I saw the value in making and keeping friends but my inner time clock was always ticking- I need to get going and do "my stuff". I can't just shoot the breeze- for hours. I guess it was the same with the mission. In some circles I was known as "the machine"- always working, working, working- not spending hours at member's homes eating and hanging out. I saw these activities as time wasters-after all I was on the Lord's errand to preach his gospel- and I needed to knock doors and give discussions- not socialize all the time. Near the end of my mission, one of the most beloved members told me how horrible my Spanish was. I suppose it was because I spent most of my time knocking doors and having superficial conversations instead of really connecting with the Spanish people through hanging out.
I have witnessed many examples of "people" people. My x-husband was a master at giving people quality attention. He had a way of drawing people in and forming close relationships when others felt like truly cared for on a deep personal level. His mother is the same way-she draws people in and holds them dear. If your not already family-she will make you "family." One of my most favorite people at work is a people person. Queen bee at the social game, she truly loves people and looks for ways to serve them. She knows how to "be there" for someone. She can talk your ear off but manages to get her work done. She has become a central figure in my work family as she promotes this "family"connection with everyone she comes in contact with. When I was an intern I remember judging my mentor spending a lot of time in queen bee's office socializing. I thought, "Wow, are we getting paid for this? " In my prior "squeeze every ounce of slave productivity"job, I probably would have been fired for sitting around talking about personal stuff. I think I've changed a bit through the years.
Though I've been aware of this task vs. people dilemma, I've focused on balancing the two. I'll invest the time and energy for a family gathering but after about 2-3 hours- I'm out. I'm usually the first one to leave with my "Got things to do,"excuse. Lately I haven't even given any excuses- I just leave. I see the value in both things-people and tasks. I juggle them rather than seeing them as one and the same. However, aren't people my main task? Relationships surely aren't just a means to an end-they are the end. If God's main work is to "bring to pass the immortality and eternal life" of man, then his all important task is "people" and His relationship with us. How he want us to "hang out" with him!
I don't think I've every thought of prayer being an opportunity to socialize or "hang out" with God. Since I don't believe I'm primarily connecting with the energy of the universe rather I am talking to a person- my Father; That is if I truly believe that Joseph Smith talked to God and His Son face to face as two personages...and I do. If I'm feeling a twinge of guilt for neglecting my relationship with friends, how should I feel about my "attention all over the place" prayers. One minute I'm thanking him for blessings, then my mind shifts to important tasks I need to get done, then it shifts to a phrase from a pop song, then back to asking God for what I need, then to a scene from a movie, then to something I forgot to do around the house, then to an image of a cute guy's face, etc. etc. It's crazy! I should probably guide my thoughts better by praying vocally instead of silently. I want to learn how to reign in these wild horses (aka-crazy thoughts). How embarrassed I would be at the "recording" of my thoughts during a silent prayer. If I talked like that to a friend, they would think I was on acid. How would it be possible to truly connect when my mind is elsewhere? Would we feel close? Would we understand each other? Would they think I even care? No, I care about my cares since my attention is all over the place. I need to "be there" for them-giving them my FULL attention. I feel if I do this with my relationship with God, not only will I feel like He is "there for me"- but I am actually THERE as opposed to my mind floating someone in space. Ideally I would like to feel like He is not only THERE for me, but He is HERE with me now as I approach every task. Instead of balancing task and people-it becomes the perfect fusion of the two. At least this is the idea behind the sacramental promise-that His spirit will be with us always. In that regard I want that Spirit to "hang out" with me always.
I think I first became aware of my tendency to place tasks over people during my college freshman year. My best friend was the best at hanging out with friends in their dorm rooms. People knew she loved and cared about them. She was there in their time of need. She was full of charity and formed close bonds with several people. I saw the value in making and keeping friends but my inner time clock was always ticking- I need to get going and do "my stuff". I can't just shoot the breeze- for hours. I guess it was the same with the mission. In some circles I was known as "the machine"- always working, working, working- not spending hours at member's homes eating and hanging out. I saw these activities as time wasters-after all I was on the Lord's errand to preach his gospel- and I needed to knock doors and give discussions- not socialize all the time. Near the end of my mission, one of the most beloved members told me how horrible my Spanish was. I suppose it was because I spent most of my time knocking doors and having superficial conversations instead of really connecting with the Spanish people through hanging out.
I have witnessed many examples of "people" people. My x-husband was a master at giving people quality attention. He had a way of drawing people in and forming close relationships when others felt like truly cared for on a deep personal level. His mother is the same way-she draws people in and holds them dear. If your not already family-she will make you "family." One of my most favorite people at work is a people person. Queen bee at the social game, she truly loves people and looks for ways to serve them. She knows how to "be there" for someone. She can talk your ear off but manages to get her work done. She has become a central figure in my work family as she promotes this "family"connection with everyone she comes in contact with. When I was an intern I remember judging my mentor spending a lot of time in queen bee's office socializing. I thought, "Wow, are we getting paid for this? " In my prior "squeeze every ounce of slave productivity"job, I probably would have been fired for sitting around talking about personal stuff. I think I've changed a bit through the years.
Though I've been aware of this task vs. people dilemma, I've focused on balancing the two. I'll invest the time and energy for a family gathering but after about 2-3 hours- I'm out. I'm usually the first one to leave with my "Got things to do,"excuse. Lately I haven't even given any excuses- I just leave. I see the value in both things-people and tasks. I juggle them rather than seeing them as one and the same. However, aren't people my main task? Relationships surely aren't just a means to an end-they are the end. If God's main work is to "bring to pass the immortality and eternal life" of man, then his all important task is "people" and His relationship with us. How he want us to "hang out" with him!
I don't think I've every thought of prayer being an opportunity to socialize or "hang out" with God. Since I don't believe I'm primarily connecting with the energy of the universe rather I am talking to a person- my Father; That is if I truly believe that Joseph Smith talked to God and His Son face to face as two personages...and I do. If I'm feeling a twinge of guilt for neglecting my relationship with friends, how should I feel about my "attention all over the place" prayers. One minute I'm thanking him for blessings, then my mind shifts to important tasks I need to get done, then it shifts to a phrase from a pop song, then back to asking God for what I need, then to a scene from a movie, then to something I forgot to do around the house, then to an image of a cute guy's face, etc. etc. It's crazy! I should probably guide my thoughts better by praying vocally instead of silently. I want to learn how to reign in these wild horses (aka-crazy thoughts). How embarrassed I would be at the "recording" of my thoughts during a silent prayer. If I talked like that to a friend, they would think I was on acid. How would it be possible to truly connect when my mind is elsewhere? Would we feel close? Would we understand each other? Would they think I even care? No, I care about my cares since my attention is all over the place. I need to "be there" for them-giving them my FULL attention. I feel if I do this with my relationship with God, not only will I feel like He is "there for me"- but I am actually THERE as opposed to my mind floating someone in space. Ideally I would like to feel like He is not only THERE for me, but He is HERE with me now as I approach every task. Instead of balancing task and people-it becomes the perfect fusion of the two. At least this is the idea behind the sacramental promise-that His spirit will be with us always. In that regard I want that Spirit to "hang out" with me always.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Organizational Control
This morning I was thinking about our new CEO and his efforts to control our organization as well as a conversation I had with our seasoned (32 yrs at my workplace) maintenance man. I like what they represent-future and past. The names and faces of my work family have changed so much during the past 5 years that it's left me feeling sad, insecure, and vulnerable. So I asked the "old timer" how he deals with all the change-for surely if I've been dealing with the effects of change in my short time at work, he has lived through much more significant changes to his workplace environment. His answer was short and simple- I just control what I can control. I do what I can do-I enjoy doing what I do- and I don't get caught up in all the turmoil. I appreciated the reminder for this simple, yet powerful strategy.
My definition of "control" has expanded this week to include the concept of "order". Usually I pride myself in being a gal who thrives in chaos. I'm an artist-I rationalize. I'm not an "anal" compulsive gal-my messes serve the greater good of creativity. I like blowing things apart to see the separate elements so I can synthesize basic building blocks to create something original. However, this week, I've seen the value of trying to be artistic through order, especially as I have used that past to create the future.
This week 4 tasks helped increase my sense of control. Each task was done as a personal favor and motivated by desire to help. Doing something for someone else seems to have more motivating power due to accountability as well as my love for that person.
First ordering task was reworking the existing group therapy matrix. I'm not a puzzle person (AT ALL) but I did it! It made me feel good when my clinical director printed it out and gave it to all the therapists to start using it next week. One of the best parts about the new schedule was plugging our art teacher/art therapist into the matrix. Not only does it benefit our students, but it helps his career and helps him utilize his credentials and expertise how HE wants. It made me feel good that I could help him out just by making a stupid color chart of scheduled group times.
2nd order task was revisiting my past to write a letter to a overwhelmed friend of a co-worker struggling with her circumstances and "no contact" order with her boyfriend. I looked through my old legal briefings and emotional rationale for my decision of cutting off contact with x-husband. I realized that I really should update my writings-since all sorts of stuff has happened in the past 4 years, but that task was too daunting. Still, I wanted to try to help this gal out by relating some of my past experiences. So I just used my original "emotional rationale" letter and wrote a brief introductory paragraph mentioning some of my significant paradigm shifts during the past 4 years. It made me feel good to use my past to try to help someone in the present.
3rd task was compiling ideas for one of my favorite therapists who is leaving and starting a new job. It was helpful and cathartic to review my past 4 years of challenge adventure outings, school field trips, and incentive activities as well as including resources and theory regarding experiential activities. This exercise helped clarify and organize my own thinking and provide more direction in my current and future work duties.
The final order task was cleaning out my hard-drive at work. This was motivated by my daughter and her request for idea resources as she starts her new job as a 4-6 grade Montessori teacher. It was a journey through my past work life-what I did, what I thought, and what I thought was important in terms of research and programming. I deleted about 3/4 of what I had and what was left was neatly placed in digital organizational folders. Just this simple act of organizing my past drive gives me direction for what I want to utilize and emphasize in my present and future work.
Through basic organization tasks, I've found joy in creating and helping others. When I think about organizing, I am dealing with remnants of the past. Even if it's just a bunch of old papers I have strewn across my desk, or putting things (clothes, dishes, books, trash, etc) away at home. The past can be utilized to empower the present. I did not think it was a coincidence this morning as I read Dieter's Uchdorf's words from a pioneer celebration who stated, " It is wise to prepare for the future by looking to the past. Lessons from the past can help us better mange the present and prepare for the future." That's what I'm trying to do- manage. Managers are usually good organizers. They have power and control. I want power and control, especially in uncertain times. I do want to control what I can control. So as I approach the "big organizational control meeting" later this morning with the CEO, I find myself feeling different than I did just a couple of days ago just because of some personal efforts to increase control through organization- a different spin on "organizational control."
Friday, July 11, 2014
Label Them Wonderful
This morning I was thinking about the way I communicate with my children- my intentions and what they sometimes take away from our conversations. During our family reunion my son told me how horrible I am at communicating about my children. Specifically, when I talk to others about my children, other people form impressions and sometimes treat my children according to their perceptions and judgments. They can feel it in the looks and words of their relatives. Net effect,sometimes my children don't think I THINK they are wonderful, especially when they receive feedback from the relatives. I agree with my children-this is horrible. This dis-empowers them. It is exactly what I DON'T want to do as a parent. I want them to be strengthened by their family, not weakened.
It is one of the reasons my 2nd marriage was a bust. I got tired of hearing about how "horrible" my children were and how "perfect" his children were. I can only take so much of that, after all, these are MY children-regardless of behaviors and I do not want to do things, or be with someone who drives them away-or who they do not feel comfortable being around. At the same time, I do not want to do things, like communicate, in a way that drives them away or that makes them not feel comfortable around me because of judgment or labeling them as "horrible" children. They are not horrible. They are WONDERFUL. I want them to FEEL wonderful. And with that FEELING, I want them to become even MORE wonderful as they align themselves with wonderful truths. Most children, and people in general, know where they need to change. I do NOT want them to feel they have to change in order for my to think they are wonderful. It's that parent approval thing. They know I love them but they also want me to be pleased with them. I sometimes get so caught up in trying to be honest that I see their lack and problems instead of their strengths.
Their father did a better job at instilling that "You're wonderful-You can do anything" attitude. Unfortunately because of their father's tendency to exaggerate and lie, they started to question all the flattering, ego building words of their father. I've tried to be truthful. But maybe too negative. It's kind of a bummer to realize that I've continued the same pattern as my own parents, but instead of being like my mother and convincing me I was a perfect angel, I have been more like my father who nothing was ever good enough to please him- I was just an airhead rah rah, screw up with no common sense. He was a "realist" not a pessimist, he would say. That's just messed up. Especially since "real" is surely subjective, at least it is in the minds of each of my children. "I think, therefore I am" So if they think, I don't think they are wonderful-then there's a problem, especially if THEY don't think they are wonderful-because if they don't think they are wonderful-how are they supposed to ACT wonderful? (That's a lot of "thinks") It can be done, but it's such an uphill battle. Why not empower them? Shouldn't I want to give them a leg up in this constant struggle between natural man vs.the spirit of God?
I do better at work. I'm actually known for being positive. I strongly adhere to a "strength based perspective" vs. the traditional problem oriented record based on diagnosis (or label.) I My son has referred to my place of employment as working at the "bad" boys school. I have even have clients who have labeled themselves as being "bad." Instinctually I correct them- No-they are not bad, their behaviors have been unsafe- but they are NOT their behaviors. They can change their behaviors. BUT it is much more difficult to change if they feel they cannot shake the label. One of the obstacles to full recovery for a child is their returning environment of established labels from relatives who have labeled them as "bad" kids. Though we cannot change anyone, we can change the way we TREAT them. Part of this service is changing the way we communicate with them and the way we communicate about them to others.
I love my kids. I LOVE my kids. I want to change. I want them each to really believe they are WONDERFUL. I know the more wonderful they feel, the more wonderful they will act. I want to validate them. I don't want them to swim upstream to feel my approval. I want them to feel it NOW. As I look for the good in their thoughts, feelings, behaviors and be more positive in my communication, I will being exercising faith in their power to become. It is an enlivened expectation of all the good works my children can accomplish-if they will. "If ye have faith, ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true." This I know, I want my children to feel their mother has labeled them each as "Wonderful" because it is true.
It is one of the reasons my 2nd marriage was a bust. I got tired of hearing about how "horrible" my children were and how "perfect" his children were. I can only take so much of that, after all, these are MY children-regardless of behaviors and I do not want to do things, or be with someone who drives them away-or who they do not feel comfortable being around. At the same time, I do not want to do things, like communicate, in a way that drives them away or that makes them not feel comfortable around me because of judgment or labeling them as "horrible" children. They are not horrible. They are WONDERFUL. I want them to FEEL wonderful. And with that FEELING, I want them to become even MORE wonderful as they align themselves with wonderful truths. Most children, and people in general, know where they need to change. I do NOT want them to feel they have to change in order for my to think they are wonderful. It's that parent approval thing. They know I love them but they also want me to be pleased with them. I sometimes get so caught up in trying to be honest that I see their lack and problems instead of their strengths.
Their father did a better job at instilling that "You're wonderful-You can do anything" attitude. Unfortunately because of their father's tendency to exaggerate and lie, they started to question all the flattering, ego building words of their father. I've tried to be truthful. But maybe too negative. It's kind of a bummer to realize that I've continued the same pattern as my own parents, but instead of being like my mother and convincing me I was a perfect angel, I have been more like my father who nothing was ever good enough to please him- I was just an airhead rah rah, screw up with no common sense. He was a "realist" not a pessimist, he would say. That's just messed up. Especially since "real" is surely subjective, at least it is in the minds of each of my children. "I think, therefore I am" So if they think, I don't think they are wonderful-then there's a problem, especially if THEY don't think they are wonderful-because if they don't think they are wonderful-how are they supposed to ACT wonderful? (That's a lot of "thinks") It can be done, but it's such an uphill battle. Why not empower them? Shouldn't I want to give them a leg up in this constant struggle between natural man vs.the spirit of God?
I do better at work. I'm actually known for being positive. I strongly adhere to a "strength based perspective" vs. the traditional problem oriented record based on diagnosis (or label.) I My son has referred to my place of employment as working at the "bad" boys school. I have even have clients who have labeled themselves as being "bad." Instinctually I correct them- No-they are not bad, their behaviors have been unsafe- but they are NOT their behaviors. They can change their behaviors. BUT it is much more difficult to change if they feel they cannot shake the label. One of the obstacles to full recovery for a child is their returning environment of established labels from relatives who have labeled them as "bad" kids. Though we cannot change anyone, we can change the way we TREAT them. Part of this service is changing the way we communicate with them and the way we communicate about them to others.
I love my kids. I LOVE my kids. I want to change. I want them each to really believe they are WONDERFUL. I know the more wonderful they feel, the more wonderful they will act. I want to validate them. I don't want them to swim upstream to feel my approval. I want them to feel it NOW. As I look for the good in their thoughts, feelings, behaviors and be more positive in my communication, I will being exercising faith in their power to become. It is an enlivened expectation of all the good works my children can accomplish-if they will. "If ye have faith, ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true." This I know, I want my children to feel their mother has labeled them each as "Wonderful" because it is true.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)