Love At Home

I taught my last lesson in Relief Society yesterday.  It has been such a privilege to teach. I love it.  Mostly because it forces me to really study and think about important gospel principles.  I have been called as the new ward choir director.  It was suggested we sing "Love at Home" for Father's Day. Right away I thought of the arrangement I had written in memory of my father and the possibility of using it for the choir.  Through the years, this song has come to symbolize my relationship with my father.

Some of my strongest memories associated with "Love at Home" were associated with my teenager years.  Most of the time when I went into the living room to play the piano and sing I was reminded by my mom, dad, and sister to shut up-stop the racket-stop singing so loud etc.  But every once in a while my father came stumbling in the room (clearly drunk), plop himself in the corner chair, and command  (in loud, slow, slurred speech), "Erin-Play my favorite song!" (  This was my cue to pull out the hymnbook and play, "Love at Home."  I did it because I wanted to please him.  Over and over again through the years.  At that moment, the hymn reminded me how far my family was from the ideal Latter-Day Saint family.  It was part of growing up as the daughter of an alcoholic father.  As part of this mix, I was constantly seeking the approval of my father.  Nothing was ever good enough.  No matter how accomplished in the eyes of the world, I was still just a screw up. I couldn't seem to do anything right by my father.  I was the daughter without a brain-with no common sense that continued to do stupid things.  Though I knew he loved me, I did not feel he was pleased with who I was becoming.  All this non-acceptance, fueled my ambition as I constantly tried to prove myself and succeed in life.  However, it also influenced my own self-acceptance and lack of it.  I became a perfectionist.

Through the years, I learned to drowned out my father's voice in my head. Not with alcohol, but with self acceptance that comes with an understanding of the atonement of Jesus Christ.  My first husband also helped me understand my true worth and become a true defender of my own self-esteem.  I also switched from being a type "A" person to a type "B" person-no longer a perfectionist.  Now I have self-acceptance running out of my ears. I'm the "whatever" girl now- "that's good enough-at least I tried" girl.  That is a subject for another day but back to my Dad and the song.

One weekend back in 2001, I flew to California to help set up hospice for my dad who was suffering from lung cancer and related complications.  We all prayed that he would be released from this life.  Ideally, I wanted to be with him when he passed but I knew he could hang on for weeks or months.  It was Mother's Day and the hymn selected was "Love at Home".  Of course I thought of my dad while I sang (and cried),  At that moment, I had a strong feeling that my father was going to die that day and he did. I was so glad I could be with him during his final moments.  I was the baby of the family known as "Pooh Bear" to my father.  I knew I held a special place in his heart.  How I loved my dad!

I'm sure we sang "Love at Home" at his funeral.  Later I would write an arrangement to the song in his honor.  I tried to make the song something he would be pleased with.  I tried my very best to make it interesting and complex.  At the time, I was quite pleased with how the arrangement turned out.  So when the music director suggested, "Love at Home"  I thought I would pull out the song and see if I could adapt it for a choir.  Fortunately, through the last 13 years, I have grown as a musician and I listened to the song with fresh ears. Right away I noticed how the song was way too dramatic.  It was way too anxious.  The whole piece was just "trying too hard."  The motifs were garbled and confused. It couldn't use it. However, as I thought about the song while sitting on my piano bench I realized that it this sheet music represented the little girl I was who was trying so hard to please her father. I was too dramatic.  I was too anxious to "be perfect."  I was confused as to my own self-worth and my own self-esteem.  At that moment, I started to cry as I heard a voice in my head tell me how my father really felt back then and now.  He was pleased with me back then and he is pleased with me now.  He is proud of his little baby girl!  How he loved me!  How proud he was of ME!  I felt it.  I feel it now.  And even if my revelation isn't quite accurate, this feeling still helps me feel the love of my sweet struggling father-who never quite understood how loved he was by his own Father in Heaven or felt the blessings stemming from the atonement.  I think he does now. It was a precious moment.   This realization mixed with my baby girl tears, was a precious moment-all because of a simple hymn, "Love at Home."

Life. (period)

My period finally came this week.  It was a big deal, just because as a almost 51 year old woman, I thought it stopped for good.  It kind of scared me. Mostly because I know my body is going to make some big physiological changes when it does stop and it will also be difficult to lose those extra pounds that I have packed on in the past few years.  In some ways I almost felt like it was an additional curse for getting divorced.  I'm not a "real woman" anymore.  All those things are silly I know.  Every woman knows dealing with her period for 40 years is its own curse.  It certainly isn't a pleasant thing-it's a bloody mess. (oops I just think I cussed in Britain talk).

The presence and absence of my period has meant different things through out my life-it's also been a great symbol of LIFE itself. A girl remembers when her first period came.  I was wearing my lime green dittos sitting in my boring English teachers class.  I had to drape something around myself but I was happy- My life was changing.  My mom told me I was becoming a woman-whatever that meant. I just knew it was part of being a girl- and I was now in a very special club-a club of pain and hassle, and interesting changes in my body, but a club nonetheless.

As a young married gal, my period brought big tears-it was a sign of infertility.  I wanted so desperately to be a mother.  Each month my period represented my body's failure-my failure to create life.  So when I did NOT have my period, it's absence was a victory.  I remember keeping the little pregnancy test from the doctor-it was just a happy, happy event.  The absence of blood was a sign of LIFE.

Later as a mother of 5 children, the monthly period was a giant sign of relief.  Phew, I'm NOT pregnant!  I was so happy!  I was trying to deal with the little lives in my care already and did not want an additional life to tip the scales of my personal sanity.  It was not easy dealing with the monthly emotional roller coaster ride. It wasn't like my challenges were any different during my period, but my capacity to deal with them was diminished.  Whether it was yelling or crying or a intense need for chocolate-everyone knew that my period was coming.  I had the 20/20 hindsight when it finally came-"Oh that's why I was an emotional mess the last couple of days."

As an older woman past her child bearing years (or at least because I had my tubes tied after my 5th child) my period was a symbol of the whole process of childbirth.  Since I knew exactly how it felt, the period was a reminder of the the life giving force of womanhood.  Each month was like a delivery- my water would break, there would be contractions, there would be blood, and bits and pieces of that lovely uterine wall.  I know it sounds gross-but in many ways it was miraculous.  Even as a soaked underclothing and it turned pink- it reminded me that I was a girl. Pink is pretty.  Pink is being a girl.

Being married as a 50 year old, when my period didn't come after honeymoon activities, I felt HORROR about the possibility of having a child.  It was a sinking feeling (very different the young mommy stage).  The absence of my period caused me to deeply examine the nature of my relationship with my husband and the purposes of the power of procreation. Though we felt like teenagers who had done something wrong when buying   a pregnancy test in the supermarket- I had to know.  I had to get rid of the intense stress.  Luckily my tubal and his vasectomy held true-and there was no baby.  I had a new appreciation for MY LIFE and MY FREEDOM to choose.

So now, I'm sure my period is on it's way out.  But I so appreciate the power of life within me for the moment.  I'm not super into blood.  But blood is symbolic for life. The Hebrew meaning of "Eve" means LIFE.  Before she ever had any children, she was called Eve because she was the mother of all living.  It is that potential for life and the nurturing of life that is such a powerful force in the life of a woman. It is such a privilege to be a woman-to love and to lead.  To nurture LIFE in all its forms  I love being a woman.  I love life.  (period!)

I can't lie.  Mother's Day was a little disappointing.  Not because my children didn't honor me-cause they did.  They went out of their way to make me "feel special."  I'm just referring to the day itself.  The day-meaning the weather.  Mother's Day is typically when all the earth seems to rejoice in her role as the giver of all life.  Instead, it was windy and  cold.  Mother Nature was not too happy with her errant children...or something.  It wasn't just a gloomy sad day,like she had been forgotten.  But it was like she was a little miffed, and she wanted us all to REMEMBER who she is and maybe not take for granted the glorious spring.  Each day is a gift from the giver. Weather keeps us in check.  When planning, sometimes, I don't take in consideration what the weather will be like.  Because no matter the forecast, I don't really know how the weather will affect me until I'm smack down in it.  Weather carries it's own personality and is a partner in all I do. I've certainly discovered that as a Recreational Therapist.  I try to get the kids off-grounds no matter what, but how I appreciate the little breaks in weather that come at just the right time.  If we come to expect a certain thing, I love how she, the weather, will shake things up-keep us guessing.   I have been observant lately, how my soul has it's own  own  emotional weather report.  Some days it'sunny and bright, other days, it is like a violent tornado with spectacular flashes of lightening.  I am my very own natural disaster.  But I can also be as still and clam as a sea of glass.  I wonder what the weather will be like today? One thing I know, is that weather is constantly changing, hour by hour and  no matter how threatening the storm, it will eventually break, letting the sun shine in.  

Ado Annie and Kissing

I remember going to musicals with my mom as an early adolescent and seeing "Oklahoma" for the first time.  I was especially drawn to the character of "Ado Annie" and dreamed of playing that part someday.  My high school decided to do Oklahoma during my senior year and I tried out for "Ado Annie" and got the role.  It was a surprise to everyone, but for me it was a fulfillment of my childhood dream. One of the humorous aspects of this on stage role was how different it was from the persona I created in high school.  Most people knew I was a goody-goody cheerleader that rarely kissed anyone-let alone being the red dressed floozy who pranced around singing, "I Caint' Say 'No'.  In fact my "no kissing reputation" and informally staged "door step routine"made the rounds around the school. a star basketball player had heard the tale but was determined to get a kiss when he took me out on a date. He heard how I would take the guy to my door step where I would feign surprise that my front door was locked.  Then I would leave the guy on the doorstep and run around and let myself in the backdoor and then open the front door from the inside NOW safely protected by the barrier between us (the door) to say our good-byes.  It worked every time and thwarted many an awkward "should I kiss him moment" (well, except for the time with the BBall player who stuck foot in the door and swooped in for a kiss)

This whole door step routine originated from teenage drama trauma associated with my very first kiss at age 15 on my very first official date.  My best friend had previously coached me about giving him a kiss to say goodbye.  At the doorstep, my date went in for a french kiss and I was completely unprepared.  I told him, "I don't know how to do that."  He then responded, "Do you want me to teach you?" and I said "No."  So I gave him a quick peck on the lips and bounced in the house (the front door was not locked at that time) to retell the events of the night to my friend.  According to me, the date had gone well.  According to my date- he felt insulted that I had NOT kissed him.  Being the popular guy he was, he spread our little kissing adventure throughout the school until I was approached by all sorts of people asking me why I hadn't "really" kissed him.  Besides being humiliated I was ANGRY and thought, "Fine, I'll show you what 'not kissing' is.  And I did, for the next 3 years.  I kissed no-one.  Even guys I liked. Well, except for all those stage kisses as Ado Annie.

So what the heck does this have to do with a 50 year old woman and my recent  failed marriage?  One day last year I was driving back from work and realized that I really was like "Ado Annie"- I CAN'T SAY NO!  I started to laugh.  I've learned all sorts of things about myself during the last 2 years including the fact that I'm a little red dressed floozy.  One time when I was preparing for a night out with my new boyfriend I was actually drawn to a tight red dress.  I wanted to wear it.  And I wanted his arms around me feeling that red dress.  Interesting.

I remember the moment of decision regarding our first kiss.  No door step routine here.  He asked if I would date him exclusively.  I thought I better see if there was any chemistry and how it felt kissing him before committing myself as his "girlfriend."  So I went to kiss him.  His lips felt foreign-very different than my first husband.  But after 2 HOURS of kissing later, It felt extremely comfortable.  I had never just kissed ANYONE for 2 hours.  It was fun.  I was attracted to him and ultimately joined with him in marriage.

Knowing what I know now, I've decided that I can't kiss anyone if I decide to date again.  Or at least, not till after I have dated them for years until I'm pretty sure we're going to get married. For me, kissing clouds my judgement. And I can't be stupid.  Ado Annie was not known for being smart or even aware.  So, it's back to the doorstep routine-though I know I will be much more upfront about it.  No sneaking around, no physical barriers, just honesty letting others know what to expect.  Just the word, "No."  Unlike Ado Annie, I have to have limits and adhere to them to protect myself, but also to protect the heart of those I could hurt.  I know I really hurt the heart of my dear 2nd husband.  It was not fair to him.  I CAN say NO.

The Reason Why

Having chosen to get married and divorced in the space of a little over a year, I have to have a reason-right?  I know my choices have caused others to scratch their heads saying, "huh?"  Perhaps my reasons don't make any sense to others, nonetheless, I suppose I don't choose to do anything haphazardly-there is usually an explanation.  Most of my reasons have something to do with my beliefs.

I got married because I was attracted to a man physically, and spiritually.  At the time, I only had 2 marriage requirements-that the guy be someone who loved the Lord and someone I was attracted to.  With this attraction I naturally wanted to join with him.  Because of my belief that sexual relations should be kept within the bounds of marriage- I went to the courthouse for a quick civil marriage. Attraction was stronger than I had imagined and I also wanted to keep my temple recommend which requires personal worthiness in terms of sexual morality. I felt "right" about marrying this man and I was willing to take a risk, even if it eventually failed.

I got divorced because I did not feel "right" about being sealed to this man. I was willing to consider being "sealed" to him and having to cancel my previous temple sealing, but it was contingent upon the bond between us.  Though I was attracted to this man and we built a bond that strengthened with our association, it did not feel like the bond I had previously enjoyed with my former husband.  That is not to say that I'm still feeling a strong bond, or I'm in LOVE with my former husband.  I'm just talking about emotional bonds and my experience with them.  Many people today talk about being with their soul mate forever, however, in the Latter Day Saint Temples, marriage is an actual covenant with this promise of being able to be with our families forever.  It is a priesthood ordinance, done with authority and permission of God himself that makes is so much more than just a passing phrase- I want to be with you for all eternity.

Finally why did I stay connected for so long, or so short (depending on your perspective).  I would have never considered marrying someone so different than myself as a young adult.  But through the years, I have learned about and experienced the power of 2nd chances.  That people can and do change.  That the atonement is real and forgiveness crucial to our own happiness. Following Jesus Christ continually gives us a chance to begin again through repentance.  I want to believe in people.  I want to give people a chance as I want to be given a chance.  I want to be accepted and accept others. This is a crucial aspect of being loved and loving another human being.  Another key element is service.  Each day I  made a choice to love. I choose this day to love you no matter what and to serve you-do what I can to help.  I feel it is never a mistake to love someone.

With all these REASONS, I'm not trying to justify the hurt I have caused because of my haphazard decisions.  I just wanted to say that I really don't think they are haphazard.  My first boyfriend said, "Erin you THINK too much."  and perhaps he's right. Or at least I want to think-frequently.  I want to examine my choices and learn from them.  I want to make necessary changes and do things differently.

Things I LOVED about my former husband, Jeff Bills

I LOVED how you thought I was perfect in every way (even though we both know I am highly flawed.)  Having your unconditional acceptance and approval made me feel so secure, cherished, treasured and confident.

 I LOVED how you gave me ultimate freedom.  Never controlling, always allowing me to do whatever I wanted.  This made me feel like you trusted me, like you respected me.  This empowered me to pursue my interests and goals unfettered.

 I LOVED how you showed your love through countless acts of service.  Whether it was coming home to a beautifully prepared meal, a clean house, finished laundry, or even a surprise paint job, you never ceased to amaze me with your acts of kindness.  I loved how unselfish you were and are.  You were always thinking of me and were first to bring me home special treats you had picked up at the store.

I LOVED how you were always on my team.  You were ever willing to listen to my endless problems and issues.  You were seldom critical of me.  In fact, you usually pointed out the good in me and my methods while dealing with my children.  You cheered me on and gave me strength to continue in my various responsibilities.

I LOVED how you treated me with respect.  I always felt like your “Emma”.  You treated me like a queen.  You exercised restraint around me and didn’t speak harsh, unkind, or degrading words.  You were positive, optimistic, and supportive in your speech and actions.

I LOVED how you were my help-meet.  We had several common goals and we put our best efforts into them.  Whether it was moving, dealing with car issues, buying a condo, painting the house, showing the kids a good time when visiting, honoring holidays, getting through surgeries- we were a team and you shared the load to help us accomplish each task.

I LOVED how you would do ANYTHING for me and you would give me your best.  Your paycheck was my paycheck- and my paycheck was your paycheck.  We shared our all.  We sought for the common good. You consecrated not only your monies but your finest efforts into making our marriage work.  I honor that. I honor you- always.