Enabling Yellow Tandem Bike

This morning I was thinking about my family gift this Christmas-a yellow tandem bike standing as a symbol of enabling power.   I'm trying to give a positive "spin" on my ever constant criticism of enabling others-perpetuating problems instead of solving them.  Through the years, my helping sometimes does more harm than good.  At times I've rescued others when they need to feel the entire weight of their choices and face the consequences motivating them to change.  I've fostered irresponsible behaviors resulting in weakness rather than strength. I need to do things differently.   At times it's like I've been driving the tandem bike and letting others rest their feet on the peddles while throwing their hands up in the air shouting, "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee- this is fun!  Look no hands-I'm riding a bike!  Go faster!"

A bicycle under the tree just screams awesome Christmas, at least it did for me as a child growing up in the Long Beach-that is until bikes were stolen.  I think I had about 4 bikes lifted-one even from my own backyard.   In defiance or stupidity, I currently park my son's beater beach cruiser in front of my condo-perhaps just to test the would be thieves in Provo, Utah or maybe just because I can.  It feels good to see the bike there to greet me when I come home from work.  As part of my Christmas present this year, this used (a little dented) tandem bike will eventually be parked in front-as a happy  decoration.  Granted it's a little nicer than cruiser, but I think no one will take it for good.  I'm going to laminate a sign and attach it to the handle bars, "Borrow Me!  Ride me around then return me so others can enjoy!"  If  the bright yellow tandem is stolen quickly, then I'll just rack it up as a neighborhood donation-brightening someone's day.  Maybe they needed it more than I did.  I don't think my kids are going to use it too much anyway. It's just a visual aide for the real present-my continued commitment to help and strengthen them throughout their life.  Rather than enabling them, I need to help them be strong-help them develop the muscles to do things independently so they can get where they want to go. 

One thing is certain,  you can't drive a tandem bike from the passenger position on a tandem bike.  Pedal power and fixed handle bars won't do the trick.  Limited steering capability and awkward balance requirements make it nearly impossible-unless all you have in mind is falling over and crashing. Help from a trusted driver is necessary to get where you want to go. It takes two baby! And if you venture out on a tandem alone, driving in the front-you just look stupid.  The bike isn't designed that way.  You're hauling around a lot more weight than you need to- a definite waste of resource.  Besides that, it's no fun.

I  also want this Christmas Tandem Bike to remind my children about the Master Enabler and being willing to get on the bike with him.  Though I want to encourage independence and responsibility, I also want to encourage dependence on the Lord.  Wonderful strengthening help is available.  Elder Bednar teaches about the enabling power of the atonement.  "Grace is  frequently is used in the scriptures to connote a strengthening or enabling power. 'The main idea of the word is divine means of help or strength, given through the bounteous mercy and love of Jesus Christ. It is likewise through the grace of the Lord that individuals, through faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ and repentance of their sins, receive strength and assistance to do good works that they otherwise would not be able to maintain if left to their own means' Thus, the enabling and strengthening aspect of the Atonement helps us to see and to do and to become good in ways that we could never recognize or accomplish with our limited mortal capacity."

 It is fun to ride through life in tandem with God's help.  We can trust him.  He won't let us fall. We weren't meant to travel alone- we're not designed or built that way.  Sure we can try it but this kind of independent, self sustaining wisdom is foolishness. Besides, it's completely unnecessary to go at it all alone-a definite waste of resource.  You have a yellow tandem bike man-use it! Everybody use it!

Crushing Weight of Judgment

This morning I was thinking about the weight of judgment and how heavy it sometimes rests on my heart. Sometimes it's connected with someone's opinion of my choices, my value, even my own worth. It is a concern or even anxiety over what other people think of me. Recently I avoided a conversation with someone because I didn't want to hear judgements about me or my family. Why would I purposely place myself in a situation to listen to the judgements of others? However, I found my fear of judgment was replaced by love- love for this stranger and her family and increased love for my own family. I related to her how I recently told my son that I didn't care what she thought about him- rather I cared more about his own judgements. And I do!  How proud I am of the progress he continues to make, separating his sense of worth from behaviors and showing genuine love and care for himself and others. It is a beautiful thing.   Yet I know it's hard, even crushing, when someone doesn't think highly of me-doesn't accept me-doesn't think I am a good person-doesn't esteem me to be worthy of their association. It's easy to go on the defensive and try to do something to protect myself and my family-to protect our hearts from judgement so they won'd get crushed from judgement.

Several years ago, we lived in what I referred to as the "fishbowl" house.  All the neighbors had a 360 degree view of our house.  If there was something ugly strewn across our property, there was no backyard or high fence to shield it from the view of surrounding neighbors. It was all out in the open, for everyone to see-to judge-to complain about.  As a result of this "trauma" when I take neighborhood walks sometimes I like to judge a family by the quality of their landscaping.  It's wickedly fun to be highly critical and superficial.  I did it just the other day when I was out driving looking at neighborhood Christmas lights and judging Christmas spirit while avoiding said phone call. (By the way, I don't have a lawn to care for anymore and I didn't put up any Christmas lights.) Anyway...while living in the fishbowl house, my husband and I made up a family motto that went something like this: "Screw You!  I don't care what anyone thinks. Love is the most important thing!"  I don't think I would cross stitch the first part but it made the point.  We wanted our children to care more about what God thinks about them- not what the neighbors thought of our family...and God thinks we are WONDERFUL.

As I interact with others, I try to make them feel wonderful-no matter what.  Even though I may have some harsh judgements regarding their behaviors, I want them to feel empowered to make necessary changes. Most people already know what they need to do differently.  I feel like there is credence to the saying, "When you criticize, the spirit comforts; when you love the spirit condemns."  Yet, I cannot avoid judgement.  Though people hate being judged-we all do it.  Judgement and mercy stand together.  No matter how nonjudgmental I try to be, I have to judge.  Judgement is a verb as well as a noun.

Judging between good and evil, between right and wrong  is a core function of my brain.  I exercise judgement every time I make a decision.  It is a mental weighing with the great scales of justice-should I do this, or should I do that? What is the right what is wrong?  What will be of most worth to me and my family?   People who don't weigh the impact of their choices are often seen as impulsive or reactive.  I know Eve didn't just look at the forbidden fruit and gobble it down.  She thought.  She weighed the impact of her possible choice.  She judged.  And ultimately that choice opened up a whole world for all of us as we seek to gain knowledge of good and evil, truth and error.  Adam and Eve's choice made it possible for us to weigh things out for ourselves-to balance the scales-to make "deliberate" choices filled with purpose and intent- to deliberate! This is the judgement I'm concerned with.  We get to judge every waking moment.  Though not all choices have such an overarching impact, I'm thankful for the ability to weigh my choices. Instead of avoiding judgement, I want to embrace it and appreciate the great weight of thinking before I act; to actually care about what I think-or giving care to what I think.  Judgement will help me decide if a choice is worth making. This great weighing on the scales of judgment will help me get my money's worth with my time on this earth.  When it comes to exercising sound judgment- we can crush it!

Random Shiz

This morning I was thinking about all the random shiz I bought last week for my children.  I say "random" because everything I purchased is nothing they asked for or even want.  I think they are good gifts.  I have dubbed this Christmas the year of "random shiz"; this is the way it will be this year.  My baby son (19) doesn't believe me.  He says  I say every year how I don't have any money and how it will be a horrible Christmas- but it never is; somehow I'm able to get each child something they really want or something they really need.  As a parent, it's what I strive for-that Christmas morning reaction when a child's face lights up because they got the present they wanted.  Another family tradition is placing a gift under the tree with a baby Jesus figurine to symbolize the gift we all really want-the gift we really need-given from a loving Heavenly Father.   I'm sure I'll place the baby Jesus under the tree again but the awesome eye popping, heart thumping, "perfect" Christmas gift will not be there.  Not this year.

I'm really not trying to be heartless or inconsiderate.  It's just that I've already spent Christmas on bills-a monthly payment for my daughter's wedding and a bounced tithing check back in April (I have to make good on that for tithing settlement.)  The money is gone.  I guess I don't want to be left empty handed on the most heralded day of giving-Christmas Day; so I bought a bunch of cheap crap and a big family gift to put under the tree.  I will be assigning symbolic meaning to the gifts that may increase their value- my children are use to that.  It's what I CAN do.  Gifts are fun!   For the first time in my mommy life, I'm completely done shopping for my children and it's only December 5th.   Awesome! It will be great and hopefully a Christmas to remember-even if they just remember it as the Christmas of random shiz raining down on them.

Last week while substituting as primary chorister,  I wanted to emphasize the concept of God's good gifts raining down on all of us,  each and everyday.  I used fall leaves like confetti and had the children gather them up while we were singing.  In preparation, I gathered my own fall leaves on Thanksgiving morning and stuffed them in a large garbage sack.  During singing time, I slung the bag over my shoulder to remind them of Santa Claus and his bag of gifts.  I really do think there is a powerful connection between the gathering leaves of Thanksgiving and the freely given gifts of Christmas. 

I'm not much into raking leaves or shoveling snow; it is one of the perks of lazy condo life.  I remember my days of endlessly raking up leaves from the largest, messiest tree on Brookshire Circle (the city eventually cut it down) It was no fun and required many hours of hard work.  Gathering leaves, or noticing the good in ourselves, in others, in the world around us also requires an expenditure of effort.  It takes time to notice, write down, and thank God for these blessings each day. However, the more I do it, the more abundant I feel- to the point of seeing leaves rain down on a windy fall day and thinking of God's blessing being given in similar fashion.  Beautiful falling leaves are inspiring. It is like the words of an obscure primary song, "Autumn Day, Autumn Day. God gives richest gifts today.  Look on every side and see-pleasant things for you and me."

His gifts really do rain down and in many cases go unnoticed, unappreciated, devalued, or thrown out in the garbage in a big leaf bag.  Who wants a leaf?  That's so random.  It's not what I asked for.   Didn't you get my wish list? My prayers seem unanswered.  Yet, if I look around and see his daily good gifts, I may find in all my random blessings an answer to a prayer-a blessing that I really need-maybe even something I really want.  Afterall sometimes I don't even know what I really want or need.  His daily gifts might not get that Christmas light up reaction in my face, but he keeps sending them my way-hoping I'll notice his "richest gifts."  I know they key to Christmas this year, is increasing my gratitude and love for what he has already given.  His gift that truly did come down from Heaven, "God so loved the world-that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life." Though many of God's children do not notice, accept, or value this sentiment, I do not want to view this gift of all gifts as "random shiz." 

If It Makes You Happy-It Can't Be That Bad

This morning I was thinking of on old 90's song lyric, "If It Makes You Happy-It Can't Be That Bad" and if I agree with that statement.  And what does that have to do with respecting each others' differences? Sparked by conversations this week, I've thought of my children's requests to give them more respect-especially in regards to living the law of chastity, defined as sexual relations between a man and woman, legally married.  Though they know I love them no matter what, they want to feel like the "no matter what" doesn't matter or shouldn't matter; not only does it not matter, but is a healthy, normal, acceptable choice that makes them feel happy; as if ignoring God's laws is the pathway to person freedom and happiness; that sin really doesn't exist-there is no right or wrong-I gonna make my own commandments for happy living 'cause the other commandments make me feel like a piece of #@$#!  Everyone is just different-and those differences should be respected, appreciated and applauded. It's the "that's okay for you mentality"- do what ever makes you happy and here's my support.  In addition, I'm so accepting of your differing values that you can do whatever you want in the room next to me or in my bathtub-go right ahead-I "respect" you-we're just different. Unconditional love means unconditional boundaries.

I just read something that talked about boundaries being the line separating where you end and me begins.  It was put much more eloquently.  But I think that's where I start to feel uncomfortable when other people's values start to spill over into my own space-the center of my home or even the center of my heart.  How can there be unity with such diversity? How can my children not only feel accepted but also respected when I in fact, do not respect or hold in high regard that particular choice that goes against God's laws?  Why do I feel like I'm lying if I say I am proud of their choices, when I'm not?  When is "That's OK for you" not enough?  It's like they don't want to be referred to as a "sinner" even if it's only in my mind.  They want me to think it's not sinning-that it's not wrong. That it has never been wrong or times have changed.  That 76.5%(made up percentage)  of the people on the planet "do it" so it must be right. I'm the one that needs to change my thinking-if I don't, then I'm intolerant, unsympathetic, bigot, racist, whatever derogatory term fits the bill. I must respect diversity of values.

I know there was some people who "resigned" from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints last week.  I assume this means they made a formal request to have their names removed from church records. Perhaps this made them feel like they were respecting the LGBT community and children growing up in LGBT households or that the church's policy affronted their own sense of right and wrong, fairness, etc.  During the month of November, I read the announcement to church policy, watched Elder D. Todd's Christopher response, read the first presidency's letter of explanation, read the latest context press release by church public affairs chair. There was no "disturbance in the force" in my faith in Jesus Christ as a result of these announcements or in my reaction to policy or doctrine.  I appreciated the affirmation that same sex attraction is not a sin.  That same sex-marriage is considered a sin requiring church discipline. It made sense to me in regards to child welfare. Perhaps because I grew up with parents with differing values and know how it negatively affects children.  It was confusing and conflictual for my obedient brother to feel like his own father didn't respect his choices and wasn't pleased with him as a "real man" due to their differing views of manhood. My own children have grown up with parents with differing views of right and wrong and it has deeply confused their faith and caused considerable conflict.

Regardless I have to figure out this respect thing before alienating my sweet children. I love them.  I want them to be happy.  Respect not only includes how I feel about them but how I treat them.  I had a friend whose husband did horrible things and made her feel terrible about herself.  My gut reaction was to treat him horrible-how dare you treat my friend like that!  But I tried to treat him the opposite of what I felt.  I spoke to him in a way not only pointing out his strengths but trying to make him feel like I thought he was the best husband ever.  I showed respect and tried to make it as sincere as I could.  Over the years, I have seen him become a man worthy of my respect.  I'm so happy for my friend, for her husband, and happy I did not disrespect him to his face.

I do not believe doing whatever makes you happy can't be that bad.  It can be bad.  We are all sinners-everyone-everywhere and we get to repent.  What a privilege to repent and change and align ourselves to the laws by which happiness is governed.  "Wickedness never was happiness" nor will it ever be. Yet, I can follow the church's example to treat others with respect; "All children are to be treated with utmost respect and love. They are welcome to attend Church meetings and participate in Church activities. All children may receive priesthood blessings of healing and spiritual guidance."  I too, can respect my children regarding their choices by encouraging participation, healing, and guidance offered with unconditional love-even if that love comes with some personal boundaries and limits. 

Smells Like Teen Spirit

This morning I was thinking about emotional smells and my answers to emotional questions.  More specifically- How do you feel about the possibility of my x-husband getting out of prison?  How do I feel about him-what are my feelings for him?  Or even more to the point-what are I going to do when he gets out?  Will we live together? My boys poised these questions during some discussions this week in conjunction with some highly emotional and triggering smells connected with their behavior. Though on the surface these smelly events seem unrelated, as I think about my responses, I believe they are connected and offer insight into possible answers to those questions I've been avoiding.

I have a superpower- my superhuman, super-sensitive nose-able to pick up the scent of anything. My triggering event was waking up to the smell of cigarette smoke in my kitchen.  Though it is hardly the worst case scenario regarding children's behaviors, the smell triggered me. The smell not only reminds me of the mechanism that killed my father but it also pollutes my sanctuary I call home and assaults my values.  Smoking is such an intrusive habit.  It's near impossible to hide.  It's just out there for everyone to judge, and rightly so because it influences their health as well.  It's not just a personal habit; it's a health hazard.  Thus all the smoking bans-everywhere.  I was obsessed as I went about cleaning up the house, doing every piece of his laundry, purchasing my favorite essential oils and some scented candles-all in an effort to rid myself of that triggering smell.

Where's a person supposed to smoke these days?  My parents grew up in the age where everyone smoked everywhere.  Fortunately for me, my father didn't smoke in the house so my clothes didn't smell like it. I always hated the smell and would cough around it when he smoked in the car.  But when he died from lung cancer, the smell of cigarettes took on a new meaning for me.  I got angry when I saw people buying cigarettes and wanted to shake them and say, "Why are you wasting your money on something that's killing you and the people you love?"  I was mad at the people making cigarettes available to young, impressionable minds enticing them with claims of being cool, tough, thin, alert, spiritual or marketing them as gateways to pleasure, increased awareness or as an acceptable coping skill for stress. I was mad, sad, and heart sick because regardless of my turbulent upbringing with my alcoholic, chain-smoking father, I love and miss him.  I wish he would have never started smoking and drinking cause I would love to have him back-if only just to yell at me and tell me how stupid his Pooh Bear is.

As I thought about my current situation regarding this child living with me and smoking in some form or fashion, I realized I could not tolerate it.  Though I feel sick about some of the personal choices of all my children, this particular choice was intrusive to the point that it was making me crazy. I realized I am "emotionally allergic" to cigarette smoke.  Though I can be around people who smoke, visit with them, hang out and be friends, support them and love them deeply- I cannot live with a person who smokes.  My son told me I was looping as I repeated over and over the statement, "You can smoke or do whatever you want, but if you do, you will have to live somewhere else. I love you but I cannot live in the same house with someone who smokes."  I had a little emotional breakdown and cried and wailed like a baby-or as he put it, "I saw little girl Erin pleading with her daddy".  It kind of freaked him out.   He committed to living by the house rules and that's where the discussion ended. Though the break was triggered from cigarette smoke, it really was about a whole lot more-things that have been building up about a whole lot of traumatic issues.

As I explore answers to questions regarding my impending x-husbands release, my looped response seems to fit.  "You can continue to do whatever you want; lie, steal, cheat, do whatever you want but you will have to live somewhere else.  I love you, but I cannot live in the same house with someone who does this or that.   It's not like I have never set boundaries or communicated standards and expectations for continued co-habitation before. The problem came when my x-husband committed to live a certain way- such as acting like a married man or honest businessman and then lied about his compliance.  He then used one billion words and reams of paper-both legal and not, in an effort to convince everyone  he was living those standards, denied responsibility for unsafe behaviors and continued to push limits.  He was the camel nudging his nose under my tent demanding to live with me because he loved me and he was safe.  Well it sure didn't smell safe to me and it still doesn't.

 I already know the answer to the questions I've been avoiding- I've never been avoiding them. I already wrote them down in a letter I sent to both children and x-husband back in 2008 outlining my willingness to live together as a married couple if he agrees to follow house rules-safe rules that don't stink up the house. He needs to take responsibility for past unsafe behaviors-behaviors that present health hazards for his family as well.  He has to not only commit to but also demonstrate safe behaviors and have proof of them in order to live under the same roof. These safe behaviors are easy to document; no outstanding legal judgements, a temple recommend, a tax return.  It's all written down-I had just forgotten about it.  With all my husband's Jedi mind tricks, I start to question my previous responses about boundaries.  In fact, I forget what the questions are in the first place.  His constant gas lighting results in extreme mental confusion-not only does he sound crazy but he makes me think I'm crazy as well-and all this with extremely limited contact. What's it going to be like when he's in my face-literally? The smell of gas (or "gas lighting") is usually odorless. Will I be able to smell "unsafe"?  

I think that is what makes a trigger a trigger- I associate cigarette smell to being unsafe. I actually have the same reaction to the smell of beer. Certain behaviors are much more intrusive, invasive, toxic, and filthy than mere cigarette smoke. Certain behaviors present continuous safety hazards.  This is not about perfection folks or thinking I'm some saintly woman with no one good enough to step across my threshold. I have no desire to live alone with my principles rather than living with the people I love. I want my nest to be a place of healing-to bind up broken wings so my little chickies can fly. Yet I'm also trying to build a nest that is clean, peaceful and safe and expect all who live with me to do the same or who are at least making an effort to be clean.  Blanket acceptance of unsafe behaviors will not create a place a refuge. Everyone has to take responsibility for the environment we create together.

Latter-Day temples provide a good model in creating a house of cleanliness, safety and peace.  People who desire to live with the Lord, not just visit with him or receive a quick embrace, must value cleanliness.  People freely choose to commit to clean living and safe behaviors of obedience, sacrifice, law of chastity, and consecration; behaviors that show gratitude and love for the Lord's redeeming grace.  It is through faith in Jesus Christ and his great work of atonement that we are washed clean. The spirit of the Lord rests upon his temples.  It is His house. His spirit permeates the air like a clean smoke I not only don't mind getting stuck in my clothing, but WANT to permeate every fiber of my being; I want it that smell to stay with me.  It smells like the Spirit, not the"teen spirit" of grunge.

Higher Level of Care

This morning I was thinking individuals who require a higher level of care.  Fresh on my mind is a recent outing with a child requiring such care, recently transferred to a more appropriate facility. Nevertheless, at the time he was off his level of precaution, was not restricted, and had demonstrated his ability to respond to staff direction; so I took him on an off-grounds excursion. Not only did he require constant adult supervision, but all the other boys on the outing became junior staff encouraging him to behave in a safe manner.  They walked next to him to physically guide him, put their arms around him, used kind tones as if they were speaking to him as a beloved hyperactive dog off leash. Even the most impulsive, unpredictable, unstable, even violent peers were able to recognize the inappropriate behaviors, point them out and step in to keep him safe-whether it was throwing rocks, trying to cut down trees, playing with fire, throwing water bottles into the river, darting around, and running away. Even while traveling back in the van, boys tried to prevent him from getting out of his seat-belt and playing near the van door.   Though it was a disaster of epic proportion, we were able to return him safely back to campus-back to the security of locked doors. As I lay in bed that evening replaying the events of the day, my mind kept returning to the images of these boys helping a less capable peer and their loving attitudes-it was sincere-they really cared about him.  Their concern for him has grown as they have witnessed his behavior and progress while living with him.  They know he is not held to the same standards and rules that they are required to live by.  In living quarters where boys are always screaming about things not being fair-they are learning first hand that we all have different abilities and as such we require different levels of care-even though we may be tempted to treat everyone the same-one size does not fit all. One to one supervision (the highest level of care) is sometimes required.  Who wouldn't want 1 to 1,  24 hour individual attention-one person to truly care about the needs of another human being? It's just hard to provide with limited resources.

 So how can one environment meet the needs of so many different children?  How can one set of program rules possibly apply to everyone?  And what is the value of sticking everyone under the same roof, if we are so very different? What is the value of living together in groups?  How does anyone really fit in or who really wants to fit in with a bunch of treatment center kids?  If I hang around a bunch of sick people, will I catch what they have?  Social Learning is a powerful tool for good or ill. Behaviors that some children would never even thought of are sometimes mimicked by others. Learning unstable behaviors from peers can have horrific consequences.  It can make one question the value of living in groups and opt for isolation.  One child can act like a cancer spreading through the residence.  One child can pull the whole program down, or at least the quality of the group experience. Grouping by diagnosis or overall stability seems to make a difference-yet there just isn't enough space or categories to make sure everyone has an individualized living environment.  It's not how the world works either.  And if we did-we would surely miss out on the positive aspects of social learning.  If everyone was just like you and just as capable as you-how would we care for others?  How would we learn to care about others?  Would all this individualized attention make me more prone to only caring about me and what I want?

I've seen it in the eyes and witnessed it in behavior of students who feel like they don't belong in a lock down facility as they say, "This is a mistake.  I don't belong here.  I'm so much better than so and so.  Why are you grouping me with these people? This isn't fair." The same sentiments come from within prison walls.  It is especially true when comparing brain functioning-some kids brains work better than others.  Why do some have so much potential, and others have so little?   Some kids are just plain more capable than others. I know where much is given, much is expected. And  I don't think the saying is referring to entitlement; because I'm superior and given much, I expect more or the rules don't apply to me so I can do whatever I want.  Entitled people don't get the sympathy like our developmentally impaired individuals. The don't get the label of being "special" even though the entitled people think they are "special" In fact, they usually get everything taken away. The clearer phrase is "Where much is given, much is required." The responsibility to use those natural gifts and abilities isn't for self aggrandizement, rather for service to fellowman; to lift another up-to provide quality care. If we were all the same intellectually, on a level playing field, then how could we help if we weren't standing on higher ground?  Maybe it would turn into a bloodbath of selfishness; everyone grasping for privileges either earned or not.

The students who were caring for this intellectually impaired boy were genuinely happy for him when learning he would be coming with us on our outing-having observed his lack of freedom-they wanted him to get out and see the world-just a little. When the experience was over, one boy remarked, "I'm going to be such a good dad." Therein lies the challenge to all would be parents, or all who seek to nurture other living things:  How can I have a higher level of care for this person and how can I give a higher level of care to this person?  Both noun and verb are required to genuinely "care" and certainly there are degrees or levels of care. Some care a little, some care a lot and everything in between.  Some do a little, Some do a lot and everything in between.

I know the great parent on high cares about me more than anyone here on earth,  He also gives me the highest level of care possible. I receive 24 hour/one to one supervision as my impulsive, even unsafe behaviors require. A higher level of care actually refers to a more restrictive environment in order to keep a person safe. Though commandments might seem restrictive at times, I know they are all given to promote my safety and well being. Higher laws mean higher care-and the consequences from living them actually provide the highest, most quality care I could possible receive.

I Want You to Want Me!

This morning I was thinking about how I want to be wanted. Last week I received a "personalized" email about a Recreation Therapy job for the NIH in Bethesda MD.  It was from a recruiter and I'm certain it was only a mass email to all RT's in the  Linkedin data base; but I believed him-that somebody out there recognized my professional worth and wanted me-thought I'd be good for a high paying job at a national research facility. I guess it also appealed to my need of wanting to feel important as well as wanted.  I spent time filling out the application although I have absolutely no desire to move back east and leave all my family in the west.  Even if I was miraculously chosen out of the scores of applicants, would I really want to live in some expensive Washington DC area studio apartment all by myself just to feel wanted and important for a minute?   Would my choice really inspire my children or help them in anyway? I think it would be foolish and I would regret it.

In one of my early morning heated discussions with my son, he reminded me of another one of my foolish, selfish choices when I decided to remarry.  He asked why I did it when everyone told me how stupid it was to marry someone I barely knew.  What propelled me forward?  Perhaps it was partially in response to a personalized invitation that someone out there in the universe wanted me and valued me as a potential mate.  It definitely sucked me in-all those text messages, phone calls, nice dinners, romance; all with the same message...I want YOU.   And though at the time, I thought I wanted him too, I didn't want him enough to stay married. Lately I've been hyper-aware of my past mistake as I keep seeing men that look like my 2nd husband.  It's freaking me out.  My choice has left a lot of psychic scarring for everyone involved. It was a foolish decision-full of regrets.

There is merit in being a little less needy and vulnerable to suggestion when navigating my professional and interpersonal worlds.  Though it's nice to live in a world of personalization rather than mass generalization, I get to be the one proactively deciding what I want, what I value, and how I navigate through this sea of want.  Instead of reacting to circumstances that may feed my need of being wanted or valued-I  want to be in charge.  I can decide for myself without the endless parade invitations-even those tempting personal invitations to do this or that.  To strengthen this muscle, I can get rid of spam, erase texts and phone messages, be less gullible, and perhaps learn to say, "No, I'm not interested at this time."  Continually keeping my slate clean will help me discern and decide what I want and how to proceed.  If not, all these invitations with their allure of being wanted and being important just  become mind clutter-chumming up my own operating system.  Don't call me-I'll call you.  Don't fill my email with endless spam  telling me what I want.  Don't knock on my door. Go away!

Reminds me of my missionary days of knocking doors in Spain.  The people of Spain were really good at saying, "No-I'm not interested,-go away!" Many times they would yell these sentiments behind the security of their closed doors and peepholes.  One of the by product of my missionary service was learning a billion ways to say "no "to door to door salesman.  As such, I'm pretty fierce at the door.  I can use some of my fierce attitude when approaching personalized invitations.  However, if I'm proactively saying no to everything that comes my way, I might miss out on something I really do want or really need. I don't want to be closed off to those most important invitations.  I know God wants us.  I know he values us and wants us to value those things of eternal import.  He continually invites us to follow him-and these invitations are deeply personalized.  I know He wants us to want what He wants.  He wants us to want Him.

911 Emergency Dispatch

This morning I was thinking about problems, emergencies and living happily ever after. The week after my daughter's 2 diamond all inclusive hotel honeymoon,the late night call came to tell me about her broken washing machine and if it was her fault or not if her basement flooded etc.  Dread filled my soul as I thought, "Oh no-here it starts-a billion years worth of my children coming to me with their adult problems." I didn't really do anything but listen and empathize.  I want to "be there" for my children but I can not fix everything. Sometimes I can literally do nothing.  As adults they have to be responsible, but I know I will want to help when I can-like my parents have helped me throughout my adult life with my own problems.  My mom has never said, "Well YOUR problems are not MY problems-leave me alone-let me go to sleep. I got my own stuff to deal with"   She's only a phone call away. And thank goodness for that.  Yet,  I don't know if I'm cut out for a lifetime of being  911 emergency dispatch operator for each of my children.  It's a high stress job with the potential of giving me my own heart attack or at the least breaking my heart into a thousand pieces.  It hurts when my children are not happy or are dealing with the challenges of mortal life. I want them to be okay.  I long for the day when there is nothing wrong with them or their circumstances.  I want that for myself. 

Who wouldn't want to live in a world where everything ran smoothly-all our needs are provided for-no problems-no challenges. Yet that was the situation existing in the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve could not feel sorrow or joy.  Like Elder Scott said," The Fall made possible in our lives feelings of both happiness and sadness.  We are able to understand peace because we feel turmoil."  But even after our mortal turmoil is over and  promises fulfilled with no more death, sorrow, or pain-will we still have problems-perhaps a whole universe full of them?  Will we still call out for help? Will there be emergencies? Will we have problems?  God is already an exalted being and he has problems...US!  Is that what's in store for me in my quest for godhood-just listening and responding to billions of problems? How can he feel peace with all this turmoil?  How can he be happy when his children are suffering? How can he be happy when so many of his children (at least 1/3 who never even will have the chance to come to earth) seem to be without hope of  happy ever after but instead "go away into everlasting fire."   And that's not even considering God's children on earth certainly breaking his heart with their unwise choices.  How does he deal with his own broken heart?   How does he deal with shame or does he feel shame?  Surely his children's choices affect him emotionally-in a most personal way.  After all-he created us.  We carry his genetics. Instead of the question of whether or not God cares or exists because of world suffering,  How does he deal with the burden of caring too much- caring enough to listen and respond to problems without them weighing him down- feeling earth's pull of gravity-how does he stay above the fray and not get sucked into darkness and despair? 

Perhaps when God listens to problems he doesn't make those problems about him.  He doesn't self-evaluate every time his children mess up. He's able to focus on US instead of himself or at least not make "everything about me" the way I do at times. Sometimes I not only feel bad about my children's  pain and problems but I make it my problem as well and take it personally as if their having problems reflects on MY success as a parent.  The shame comes by feeling like I'm a bad person because I am a bad parent-why else would my child be making these choices. I should have helped them make better choices. I think, "what could I have done differently."  or "what more could I have done."  It makes me think of the allegory of the wild and tame olive trees recorded in the Zenos where the Lord states," It grieveth me that I should lose them. But what could I have done more in my vineyard? Have I slackened mine hand, that I have not nourished it? "  I know when my heart is breaking, aching, grieving-I feel weakened (my hand is slackened) and I don't seem to have the  strength to keep nourishing my own family tree, let alone a whole vineyard.  How does he do it?  And how will he feel when it all goes up in flames when he causes, "the good and the bad to be gathered; and the good will I preserve unto myself, and the bad will I cast away into its own place. And then cometh the season and the end; and my vineyard will I cause to be burned with fire."

I'm not at the stage yet where I'm ready to burn it all down (though my son's Buddha candle almost caught his room on fire last week). I live right next to the fire station-which is a good thing.  Maybe I should take a page from their playbook and adopt their attitude when responding to fires-or 911 calls for help-  They are prepared to respond-they know what to do-they have real skills, they're strong , they work hard and play hard.  They don't react-they respond.  Even the calm and non-reactive attitude of a 911 operator is worthy of emulation as they listen and calmly dispatch help to the crisis.  Whether it's emotional strength or physical strength there is no "slackened hand" there with these public servants. They respond  to "nourish" or care for those in need and address their problems.  They're used to dealing with problems-that's all they do 24/7 is respond to emergencies or problems.-they've developed incredible emotional and physical muscles. 

I suppose if handling problems, stress or challenges create strength-then the Father of us all is about the strongest guy in the universe. I appreciated Elder Dallin Oaks conference talk wherein he reminds us,  "The Savior has the power to succor-to help-every mortal pain and affliction.  Sometimes His power heals an infirmity, but the scriptures and our experience teach that sometimes He succors or helps by giving us the strength or patience to endure our infirmities"  He bears all things and he helps us bear things also.  I loved Jeffrey Holland's beautiful talk drawing attention to these words, "Bear, borne, carry, deliver. These are powerful, heartening messianic words.  They convey help and hope and safe movement from where we are to where we need to be-but cannot get without assistance."  When referring to a mother's love "approximating the pure love of Christ" he adds "This kind of resolute love 'suffereth long, and is kind,...seeketh not her own...but...beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things."  Most encouraging of all, such fidelity "never faileth." He ends his talk admonishing women to "Be peaceful.  Believe in God and yourself.  You are doing better than you think you are.  In fact, you are saviors on Mount Zion, and like the Master you follow, your love 'never faileth."   When my strength is slack and I feel like I have nothing left to give to nourish my children, I need to feel God's love and strength to continue responding to my never ending stream of problems and 911 emergencies. 

Daylight Work

This morning I was thinking of daylight work and my family's productivity during those waking hours.  Actually I've been thinking about it quite a lot during the last couple of weeks.  Though I expected my sons to return home for my daughter's wedding, I was not quite expecting that they would all stay with me as they try to decide their "next step" as they make their way in the world.  We often pass each other in the morning as I wake and they go to bed.  Unfortunately it is not because they have been up all night doing a rotation at the hospital as a medical intern.  I join with many parents around the world and exclaim, "Get a job! Go to school!  Do something!  Please!

I know that is judgmental and harsh.  I know many people do their best work at night-they are most creative-most productive.  Many people have to work at night to serve their fellowman.  I don't think it has always been the case. Electricity lights up the skyline. In the olden days when the sun went down-I imagine everyone just went to sleep-it was dark and cold.  Without light, how are you supposed to find your way around in the dark without fumbling around, tripping or encountering danger on every side?  We need to see what we're doing-see what's around us.  How do you know what to pay attention to in the dark?  Now cell phones, computer, TV, video games grab people's attention through all hours of the night. Flashing night club lights, live music, stores and fast food open 24 hours a day-nightlife has become analogous for "fun" and "excitement". Daylight is "boring."  Turn on the lights and all of a sudden it doesn't seem so fun anymore-people aren't as attractive as they were in the dark.  But there are other lights that always seem to be on- electronic devices to make it through the night-My son just found an app (Periscope)  that allows you to cast your cell phone around the world so others can actually see what you are seeing on your cell phone (like going on a hike, watching an event-anything) and interact with you- talk about instant connection and world exposure!  Unplug from our devices and suddenly we're alone-no connection with the outside world.  Yet with or without electricity, people have always found something to do in the dark-sometimes things you wouldn't dream of doing in the day.  Night is a great cover even if it's just a dark private room in a home.  Some people wouldn't dream of living in a city without an exciting nightlife.  Isn't Las Vegas still billed as the city that never sleeps?  Take away all the substances that impair executive brain functioning or illicit sexual activities that give that great dopamine high-then what do you do?  Consequences usually come in the morning. Maybe some people's way to skirt around that issue is just not have any mornings-sleep through them.  I don't know-I just like day. 

My life is made up of days.  Each day includes both day and night and what I choose to pay attention in each waking hour.  There is work to be done-and probably for me, this work will be done during daylight hours. I chime in with the hymn, "There is Work Enough to do Ere the Sun Goes Down."   All these days and nights are a gift from a gracious God as "space granted unto man in which he might repent." I get to repent.  It is a privilege. I get to change for the better.  I feel the truth in Alma's words,"...after this day of life, which is given us to prepare for eternity, behold, if we do not improve our time while in this life, then cometh the night of darkness wherein there can be no labor performed."  Day labor is important. 

My children's productivity or lack thereof is constant source of glory or shame for me as a parent.  I know they have their agency, but I also know I am a piece of their biological and environmental underpinnings that influence their choices; I think how I could have raised them differently to help them be happier and more productive. Their uncertainty and confusion weighs heavily on my heart-to the point that it is most difficult to focus on the positive and be my "bright sunny self."   I  need energy to understand and support them;  it surely isn't going to come from my son's can of "RockStar" energy drink though I do admit that powering up with a"star" has some validity, especially if it's our star...the sun.

As I was driving to work on Friday past a large green hay field, the morning sun pierced my eyes through the windshield and filled my heart with gratitude and filled my eyes with tears.  It reminded me in the most powerful, attention getting, "shine the light on me" way to focus on the positive and think "How blessed I am!" I'm so grateful for the sun-the source of daylight.  Light really does dispel the darkness.  Light really does make the heavy load seem lighter.  Light lifts in every way.  Light propels me forward with hope for the future.   Light helps me work during the day.  Light is Life. Daylight work is wonderful. 

She Knew!

This morning I was thinking how my daughter really knew what she wanted in regards to her wedding.  As the mother of the bride, I thought I knew what was best and that my daughter didn't have a clue. This was first brought to my attention several months earlier as she tried on and tossed aside about 100 beautiful wedding dresses.  A mother-daughter moment gone awry, I was quickly worn out as we ventured out week after week to look for the "perfect" dress.  She finally decided to use the lace from my bedroom curtains for the bodice and designed a simple but elegant dress made by a local seamstress. As she tried it on-she remarked,"This is perfect!  It is exactly what I imagined." For me,  her response was a freakin' miracle.  Especially in light of my countless rejected wedding offerings.  I thought I understood her "vision."  I thought I knew what looked good-I thought I knew how how to create beautiful things. I thought I knew what I was doing. It's been pretty easy to feel like an incompetent fool who didn't know anything. Trying to please her became the order of the day. Week after week I brought my offerings on bended knee, only to have "Princess Chelsey" look down in dismay, "No mom, that's not what I had in mind at all!"  She wasn't trying to be mean or impossible to please;  she just didn't like it.  She also wasn't only trying to please herself; she was trying to please her fiance and his family as well.  She knew them and knew what they wanted. They had expectations and she felt pressure coming in from all sides.

I know if I just did what I thought was "best" we would just have a short, sweet, simple backyard reception with cupcakes. Getting married in the temple is free-that's the important part; all this other stuff wasn't necessary or practical.  I did not have the budget or stamina for a fully catered 6 hour Latin dance party held in a professional wedding venue.  I hemmed and hawed at every expense.  Even when I tried to hold my tongue, my daughter complained about my "negative energy" and ruining each moment.  She was anxious about spending a single cent of her mother's money and didn't want her boyfriends family to be doing too much either. She felt torn.  It was a hard balancing act.  She fretted over every small detail and often felt overwhelmed. She knew what was expected.

She knew how she wanted her wedding celebration to look-down to the smallest detail. She went over those details ad nauseam and how things were to be set up-the picture booth, the lemonade stand, the dessert bar, the sign in area, the receiving area, the table decor, etc, etc.  I worked like a mad man before the reception with people coming to me asking how to help as I tried to communicate my daughter's wishes. I ran out of time and couldn't arrange the greenery and roses properly-all the while hearing my daughter's voice in my head saying, "No mom, you've got it all wrong-that's not what I told you."  It was another miracle when she walked in and told me everything looked "perfect."  However, at that point, I don't think either one of us really cared.  All the decor was only an empowering backdrop for the celebration- a platform to launch the couple center stage.

She knew she and her husband would be the epicenter of the dancing party.  She had gone to many of these Latin receptions before-but now it was their turn.  Though I have known her husband for over 3 years- I did not know what a fabulous dancer her was.  My daughter knew.  This was his moment-and how he shined.  My daughter was right there next to him-supporting him-having fun with friends and family. It was a big deal.  The dancing formation was a clump of people turned inward-dancing but mostly moving their feet as they watched the action from the inner circle and clapped along for HOURS.  If I would have insisted on a 2 hour backyard cupcake reception, how would Brandon feel the support of his dancing family cheering him on?  He wouldn't-the couple would have missed his one opportunity to be the sun and the moon.  It was their party.  My most emotional moment of the reception was when the DJ played the last song-their song- "Ho Hey" by the Lumineers.  Everyone stopped dancing and gathered around the couple as they swayed to the lyric, "I belong to you-you belong to me, in my sweet home." (I know that's not the right lyric-but it's what I heard.) It was beautiful.  They were the most important people in the room. The whole world revolved around them for a moment.

In a different moment, though surrounded by loving family and in the center of the room, they physically acknowledged they were not the most important people and the world didn't revolve around them.  In the center of the room stands the altar of the temple; also in the room is the temple sealer with necessary priesthood keys to perform the ordinance-both representing Jesus Christ and his atoning sacrifice making possible all ordinances for salvation and exaltation.  By humbly kneeling at this altar, my daughter demonstrated how she does not know everything but desires to learn.  Like her sweet husband's love letter expressing his commitment to get to know her better and better throughout their lives together, through covenant, she was making a lifelong commitment to get to know God and his will for her.  She knew making this covenant was important. My daughter knew she wanted to be with the man she loves not only for time but for eternity and I was so proud of her decision and her efforts to realize this goal.  She knew.

Uptight and Congruent

This morning I was thinking about being congruent and less uptight.   I guess I've always been a little uptight for some reason or another but perhaps I haven't made the connection with how this influences beliefs about myself and my life. This week I had an opportunity to meet with my intern's mother who is an energy worker. She uses applied kinesiology among other treatment modalities for healing.  Whenever I would come into work with some ailment, I would joke around with my intern that I needed his mother to come spirit heal my knee, back, hip etc.  (I don't think I could get my wrinkles spirit healed out of me.)  Since we were having a going away party for my intern, I thought it was a great idea to have his mother come down and see her son's work environment as well as teach me a thing or two about energy work and how it could help my students.  As we tried to cram her vast knowledge into a brief 1/2 hour meeting, I found myself wishing I would have carved out more time to take advantage of this opportunity.  Nevertheless, she gave me a couple tools that I already knew something about such as EFT, Guided Imagery, Positive Affirmations, Aromatherapy, Music Therapy, Grounding Techniques-all having group applications. I appreciated her willingness to share.  There was one moment when I felt a little stupid and felt like I was being judged about my inability to "do things right."  It was a simple exercise-just look at the statement and say it in your mind, or out loud while placing feet on the floor and breathing.  The statement she thought might apply to me was about "having enough money and having money come easily to me."  She sat beside me and told me she would indicate when I could stop.  It was a little uncomfortable having someone beside me trying to observe my thoughts, yet I'm sure she was observing my body instead-which apparently never lies.  She told me I was pretty tense and was looking for a physical release indicating I wasn't resisting the thought.  So I just relaxed my body-and exhaled slowly and we stopped  the exercise. It was pretty contrived on my part-I can always pretend if I want to.  I don't think it was because I had accepted my ability to easily have the financial resources if I only believed.  I know my RT salary is not going to triple any time soon because of my new found belief that I have enough money and it comes easily.  Or I don't think an awesome belief is going to give me enough physical energy to explore other financial opportunities at the same time as putting my all into my mental health career.  I know these limiting beliefs affect my progression.

I guess it's not any different than what I was trying to point out to the students earlier this week while doing a high ropes course "Tarzan Swing" element.  I had them write down what they were going to tell themselves while climbing and then report on what happened and what they actually did think about.  There was one little girl who got so anxious and uptight that she barely took one step, cried and refused to try. She confessed that she didn't once think about what she had written. She could have done the task-I have no doubt that she was strong enough, coordinated enough etc.  There is one part of the the element where the kids have to let go of the ropes and fall. They have to trust that this "on belay" system will really catch them. Some cling to the rope and freak out.  Others are anxious to get down so they readily do whatever is necessary. I know belief affects performance.  I know visualization affects performance.  I know focusing on the goal affects performance.  So why don't I do it?   Why do I resist?  Why don't I accept these empowering ideas represented in positive affirmations?

Perhaps it's because the voice in my head calls out, "That's not true."  And if you say that to yourself-you're just lying."  Perhaps the state of having "enough money coming easily to me" could be achieved in the future-but it is definitely not now.   Now I'm all about truth, but if truth is knowledge of things as they were, are and yet to come-maybe this "not yet" paradigm needs to be examined.  What beliefs are really going to empower me?  I suppose this is why I added the additional verse to the Families Can Be Together forever song for my daughter's wedding present.  The "can be" lyric refers to the "possibility" of someday forever family whereas the "Families Are Forever" is more of an affirmation that can manifest reality.  The one sets me up for immediate judgment of where I'm currently at presently and even fear of the opposite-my family can NOT be forever-a seed of doubt.  I think the later sentiment (families are forever) propels me forward with confidence rather being so uptight that I don't even put my foot on the rung of the ladder. I need to relax, exhale, and believe-really believe in unlimited power to accomplish whatever God wants me to do.  I know I'm always "on belay" when it come to climbing up to the "Tarzan Ropes."  He has me.  He will not let me fall.  He knows I have the strength to accomplish the task.  He wouldn't ask me to climb if he didn't think I could do it. He knows if  I will  only believe that "He is" and that "I am" then I will let go of those limiting beliefs.  When I focus on his abilities and trust more completely, I will be more congruent and less uptight.

Names and Addresses

This morning I was thinking about names and addresses.  It seems like that's all I've been thinking about all week whilte trying to get wedding invitations out.  It is a huge hassle identifying the names, searching for their address, and then entering them in one by one in my daughter's postable account.  These people may not want to show support for my daughter in any way;  they might scratch their heads and say, "Who is this Chelsey Mowen and who cares about their love story?"  However,  I send them the invitation anyway; each person has been, or is still important to me and I love them. These people have touched me and my family and showed they cared in some way-big or small.  I enjoyed personalizing each bridal shower invitation with little sunflower luster gem with their name in the middle. It was one of those little details that doesn't really matter-but their names matter.  Each name is a symbol representing an individual life-and as such-I honor them. I probably forgot someone important; I sure don't want any Maleficent's out there- all butt hurt because they didn't get an invitation to my daughter's Latin dance party.

The reception is just a party-a very expensive party. This "rustic elegance" thing is about to send me over the edge. For the last 4 months I have brought my stupid offerings on bended knee, head bowed low in submission, only to be rejected by the would be queen.  "No, mom, that's not what I had in mind at all-it doesn't look anything like my Pintrest board. If it's rustic, let's just eat on paper plates and call it good instead of spending $3.00 a place setting for...nothing.  Oh-but it's so "important".  I'll tell you what's important;  what I care about most is that she and her soon to be husband will be kneeling over the altars of the temple entering into the new and everlasting covenant of marriage.  In the next couple of weeks Chelsey Nicole Mowen will be going to the Provo temple and participating in her living ordinances including the initiatory and endowment, culminating with her sealing to her husband.  So if we take in to account baptism, confirmation, initiatory, endowment, sealing to spouse, and sealing to parents-that's a whole lot of ordinances for every single human, including Chelsey,who has ever lived on this planet-just to give them the opportunity to accept them-they might not even want to come. They might not even care about it.  They might just throw it out like an unwanted wedding invitation.  But He wants his work done anyway in the way he has ordained. Temple work is done, one name at a time.  Sure it is hassle, but each name represents one of our Father's precious children. It deserves our best time and attention.

I have another offering for the lovely newlyweds.  I just finished it yesterday-and it is awesome (but then again, I thought the reject bridal flower crown was amazing.) I arranged one of my favorite primary songs, "Families Can Be Together."  In LDS culture, having a "Forever Family" is the whole point of the temple.  It's what brings joy and rejoicing.  So you can imagine the pain I felt as I looked up at the spire of the Provo Temple, being freshly divorced, thinking aloud and sobbing, "I don't have a forever family-not even close." However, with time and study, I don't feel the same way when I see the temple.  I don't think about my failures, rather I think of HIS victory. I think of HIS great work.  I think of our triumphant Lord and what his atonement makes possible.  I think of his grace.  I think of the work already done for me and how everything I truly want is there waiting-ready to claim through my living faith.   I just have to want my inheritance.  He's not going to force feed his highest blessing to someone who refuses to open their mouth.  While thinking on some of these concepts and an great talk I heard by C. Robert Line about how grace works, I wrote an interlude between the 1st and second verse of this primary song.   My lyrics are italicized.

I have a family here on earth.  They are so good to me.
 I want to share my life with them through all eternity.

Families can be together forever Through Heavenly Father's plan
I always want to be with my own family, And the Lord has shown me how I can.
The Lord has shown me how I can.

I have a family here on earth-and they've been sealed to me.
I want to share my life with them...sometimes I doubt and cannot see-how this could be?

Families ARE forever.  Generations sealed by priesthood power.
There to claim-through His name.  
Work's been done-the names are waiting..if you WANT
And the Lord has shown me how HE has
The Lord has shown me...how he has.

While I am in my early years, I'll prepare most carefully
So I can marry in God's temple for eternity.

(both parts sung together)
Families can be together forever Through Heavenly Father's plan (Families are Forever. Generations Sealed)
I always want to be with my own family (There to claim-Through His name)
And the Lord has shown me how I can. (And the Lord has shown...me how He has)
The Lord has shown me how I can. (The Lord has shown me how He has!)

I Can't FEEL My Face

This morning I was thinking about the song, "I Can't Feel my Face" and contrasting it with the song, "If You're Happy and You Know It."  The later song was referred to at a recent funeral for an elderly lady I had recently been assigned to as a visiting teacher. What a privilege it was to learn about this special lady at her funeral and see her loved ones honor her life. She was so full of life and feeling.  One of her passions was ballroom dancing.  Her grand-daughter shared her last bedside visit. As grandma lay there motionless, having stroked out, body half paralyzed, and comatose, she decided to gather round and sing to her with her children.  When they came to the part of the song, "If you're happy and you know it-stomp your feet"-grandma tapped her foot in the bed. Though grandma couldn't feel most of her body because of her brain damage,she was still trying to make connections with the people she loved by moving her feet. Grandma didn't face the end of her life alone; she was surrounded by her posterity who loved and trusted her. What a great feeling that must have been-a feeling I want for sure.  

So take the other song, "I Can't Feel my Face." Who on earth would on purpose want to feel numb in any area of your body-including your face?  Who would purposely seek paralysis and brain damage? I suppose if I'm in pain or will be facing great amounts of pain it's helpful not to feel anything.  I mean I wouldn't want to feel when the dentist is performing a root canal or a surgeon's blade cutting into me.  I guess it's understandable to find ways to numb yourself when I'm in emotional pain as well.  But come on-really?  I Can't Feel my Face-what kind of lyrics are these?  I first heard this song while traveling with students as they enthusiastically sang the chorus along with the radio. I knew it was a hit with it's catchy groove and Michael Jackson sounding vocals-but what questionable values was it teaching the kids?  I vowed to change it and use it as a tool not only for our dance club but for the school assembly and reinforce our monthly school value of "Trust."  It was my send up to Weeknd to challenge his brain damage glorifying lyrics and propose that making trusting connections with other human beings is where we find "love" and not have to face life's challenges (and pain) alone.  Here it is:  

It is difficult to get along with others all the time
for the ones I thought would care for me have left me far behind
So I've build a wall around me-won't let nobody inside
They can't know-but I know

She told me don't worry-it won't hurt
She told me don't worry no more
Cuz you know it's hard to love without trust
I don't have to face my life all a-lo-o-o-one (Whoo)

I have found some people I can trust-
And I love it, And I love it!  OH
I have found some people I can trust-
And I love it, And I love it!  OH

And I know that trusting works both ways-can others count on me
So I want to be right there for them and they'll depend on me
As we trust we feel much closer, bonding emotionally,
And I'll know-this I know

She told me don't worry about it
She told me don't worry no more
Now I know it's hard to love without trust
I don't have to face my life all a-lon-o-o-one  (Whoo)

I have found some people I can trust-
And I love it, And I love it!  OH
I have found some people I can trust-
And I love it, And I love it!  OH

(repeated like a million times)

 Now my song lyrics will probably not be remembered by anyone and Weeknd will probably be a millionaire next week as his catchy tune rockets to the top of the billboard chart. Yes, I'm sure cocaine feels amazing Weeknd, but maybe there is value in feeling something instead just numbing yourself. For instance-how about FEELING that amazing groove and dancing to the beat of your new song.

Dancing seems so simple yet many can't seem to feel the beat and move to it. It's funny to watch. I shouldn't be so judgmental, but I laugh inside even if a chorister can't find the beat also.  So in my new dance club for the students, that's where we started-just FEEL the beat and move to it.  Can you feel the beat? Feel your pulse?  It lets us know...we're alive.

Reminds me of a great old Christian rock song (with great lyrics) by Steven Curtis Chapman:

I am the heart, You are the heartbeat
I am the eyes, You are the sight
And I see clearly, I am just a body
You are the life
I move my feet, I go through the motions
But You give purpose to chance
I am the dancer
You are the Lord of the dance
I am the dancer
You are the Lord of the dance

I want to move my feet-even to my very last heartbeat.  But most of all, I want to FEEL.  I know I will feel pain but I don't have to "face" it alone. This willingness to feel my face opens up opportunities to feel JOY as well-even joy in my posterity...and I LOVE it...and I LOVE it.    

Looking Forward

This morning I was thinking about looking forward and moving in that direction.  While playing up at Deer Creek Saturday I had a chance to jump on a paddle board and explore.  Earlier in the week I rented a couple of paddle boards for my students and told them it was like hiking on the water.  It seemed like it was only 20 minutes later when they lost the  paddle, feared it had sunk to the bottom of the lake and now could only use the board as a floating toy in the water rather than a means of travel. I mean, how hard is it! So I approached the paddle board Saturday with a bit of resentment (thinking of the $35 replacement paddle fee) and the desire to demonstrate just how easy this hiking on water thing really was.  I was confident as I quickly paddled out past the buoys and looked at the horizon.  Not wanting to go too far  I turned around and started to make my way back to shore. It was at this point I realized I might have been a too hasty in my enthusiasm to prove a point.  The winds started blowing my board around, the waves started testing my balance and all of a sudden, a thought popped into my head, "I think I'm might fall."  I started to doubt myself and my abilities. I giggled as I lost footing and fell in the water.  I felt a little embarrassed since I was sure the singles group saw my blunder.  It was time to figure out how to get back on the board and stand up-all that downward dog and crescent pose came in handy.  However, I continued to fail my tests of strength and balance-one time landing on a sharp rock.  Not wanting to be beat by a stupid paddle board, I kept trying, even if my legs were a little shaky.  I found it was much easier if I kept my focus on the shoreline instead of looking down at my board.   If I started to turn my head to the side or look back-I was toast.

Looking back and getting burnt reminded me of a great speech I listened to this week by Jeffrey Holland entitled, "Remember Lot's wife:  Faith is for the future." It was suggested reading in studying addiction recovery.   A couple of phrases from the speech really struck me and helped me realize that I too, like Lot's wife sometimes lack sufficient faith in the Lord's promises which ultimately affect my forward progress. My doubt is evidenced by self-defeating statements such as "I don't think I will ever find someone I like as much as I liked my first husband-so why even try?"  I look back and long for the bond we had as a married couple, at the experiences of raising our children and at the depth of our mutual understanding with one another.  I not only doubt the possibility of finding "love" again but think it's nearly impossible at this stage in the game. I can't rewind the clock.  Sometimes I don't even know what to dream about when it comes to making up my own romantic comedy.  It's just a blank screen.  I think I have finally arrived at a place of understanding the comments of a wise friend who questioned me and my desire to attend singles activities when she asked, "Why would you want to do that Erin?" She then proceeded to tell me of her experiences and conclusion that though the people in the LDS singles circuit were "great" she just didn't like anyone enough to get married again and would rather put her time and energy into her own children and grandchildren.  I left her house feeling a bit stupid;  Then I proceeded to be stupid as I did my own "singles experiment" resulting in a 1 year marriage and subsequent divorce to a nice fellow I didn't like "enough"- Definitely not enough to be sealed to him for time and all eternity. I do believe in the Lord's promises in regards to temple covenants, at least that's what I tell myself.

  President Holland's words were a much needed rebuke.  He stated, "So it isn’t just that she looked back; she looked back longingly. In short, her attachment to the past outweighed her confidence in the future...The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead, we remember that faith is always pointed toward the future. Faith always has to do with blessings and truths and events that will yet be efficacious in our lives. So a more theological way to talk about Lot’s wife is to say that she did not have faith. She doubted the Lord’s ability to give her something better than she already had. Apparently she thought—fatally, as it turned out—that nothing that lay ahead could possibly be as good as those moments she was leaving behind."

I have to move forward with faith-not just in my love life, but in life general.  I have to raise my line of sight to the shore and move in that direction. It's high time to come up with my master picture statement, make realistic goals in each area of my life, take action and report my progress each day.  I don't want to be pushed around by the winds and the waves and "dash my foot against a stone." I can't keep looking down at my awkward attempts at balancing, doubting self, and giggling when I mess up.  And I sure as heck can't loose my paddle and just use my board as a toy and say, "What the heck-let's just play."  I want to paddle in a specific direction until I reaching the shore-that's faith.

Approaching Pioneer Day (July 24), It's fitting that I look at the faith of some of my ancestors that crossed the plains. They reached their shore-the Great Salt Lake Valley.   They hiked, not on water, but by foot, by wagon, by handcart, by train.  They came to their promised land.  One step at a time. They believed in the Lord's promises in regards to their temple covenants.   Like them, I too want to have faith in every footstep. Though I want to be ever aware of the "holy present", I want to be future focused-keeping my eyes up and looking forward as I confidently paddle until I reach the sandy shore.

Beauty, Pride, and Independence

This morning I was thinking about beauty, pride, and independence. On independence day, I greeted my brand new grand-nephew remarking what a beautiful baby he was. His parents were beaming with pride and rightly so.  Maybe the cuteness, adorable factor helps parents take care of their young. Whatever the case, though beautiful, this baby is completely helpless as he begins his journey of independence.   In the natural world, beauty can sometimes be a way of attracting attention from potential mates to come closer or to warn predators to stay away.  While exploring the surprisingly (to me) beautiful streets of San Pedro, my daughter and I saw a random peacock in the middle of the road. We tried to snap a picture but he scurried away from us.  I love the beautiful multi-colored peacock feathers.  I also think I might not be the only one who enjoys strutting around like a peacock when I think I look good. Though being "proud as a peacock"can refer to vanity and being self-absorbed, pride also refers to my unwillingness to bend my will, even if it's in my own best interest. Like my scurrying feathered friend; perhaps I think if someone gets too close I might get hurt; they might "catch me" and limit my freedom in some way.  So I continue to look after myself-be independent and survive.

My great aunts are great at surviving.  All in their 90's it was my pleasure to observe their interactions this past 4th of July at our family get together. I joined my sister and cousin in making sure they were picked up and delivered safety to their homes.  This was no easy feat, considering their ages, 4th of July LA traffic, and their own resistance when receiving help.  Aunt Jean, the one the family refers to as "the pretty one" is the most determined to do things independently. Growing up I remember people being drawn to her vibrant good looks, impeccable packaging-hair, make-up, clothes, and friendly demeanor.  As such, she always attracted the men. It was fun to learn about her past exploits and her realization of being a "city girl" when planting herself firmly her patch of sand on the So. Cal coastline. I also learned she sold furs at a upscale department store for many years.  I could easily imagine her helping other women feel beautiful and worth a million bucks so they could all strut around as peacocks. As we were dropping her off at her beachfront condo, my sister, a nurse, started to help her out of the car.  Aunt Jean grimaced and barked out "I'll do it myself!" and batted Kathy away. This was definitely no surprise as she continues to refuse help even when she needs it-desperately. Her younger sister (age 92) complains about her sister's uncleanliness,  her efforts to conceal it from everyone, and her determination to keep living independently and keep some thread of personal pride.  She still tries hard to keep up appearances though her vulnerability is a concern for all of us.

I contrast this to my brother's own vulnerability and his willingness to receive help while getting ready for the family party.  He let me help clean up and ease some of the stress.  I was privy to the property's uncleanliness and his thorough way and routine of keeping up appearances. Everyone wants things to be beautiful, especially if a bunch of people are coming over. It was a privilege to see a different side of my brother and my sister in law-a behind the scenes view.  In order to let someone help us clean up, we have to be willing for others to see our muck.  We can't just cover it up with a rug and call it good as reported by my loving Aunt Aggie as she talked about her sister's apartment.  My brother  allowed me to see him up close and as a result I felt closer to him and his sweet wife.

If I want to be close to my Father in Heaven, I have to allow him to see my muck-can't hide it anyway. I want to recognize and confess my uncleanliness in order to make necessary changes.  I want to be willing to let him help-embrace the grace. I can't clean myself up on my own since "no unclean thing can enter into his kingdom"  Moroni tells us, "if ye by the grace of God are perfect in Christ, and deny not his power, then are ye sanctified in Christ by the grace of God, through the shedding of the blood of Christ, which is in the covenant of the Father unto the remission of your sins that ye become holy without spot." Beauty is part of the gospel-why else would he command Zion to "put on thy beautiful garments." I am certain the beauty of this garment far surpasses the beautiful women in fur coats or proud peacock feathers.  I might not be proudly strutting around but I will be independent with power to move freely about.    

How I Need my Big Brother!

This morning I was thinking  how much I still need my big brother, Jerry O'Malley.  He's on my mind since I'm going this week to our annual family reunion bash held at his backyard pool this 4th of July.  We had a scare last month as he was rushed to the hospital via ambulance.  He had an infection in his spine and is still on antibiotics. He seems to be on the mend but he wants to be off the antibiotics as it is affecting his sleep and energy level.  Though I know all our lives are in the hand of the Lord, I prayed for his recovery. Over and over again I repeated the words, "We need him here."  His wife surely needs him.  His family needs him. His little baby sister still needs him-even though I'm 52.  I will always need my 7 year older and wiser big brother.

We don't talk as much as we want to.  This illness has given me an opportunity and excuse to have a more regular contact with him.  I don't really know him like I want to.  He's done way more for me and my own family than I ever have for him.  In fact, I don't think I've done much of anything to help him.  Though, I remember one birthday, he was a little hurt that I didn't remembered him on his birthday.  I guess he wanted reassurance that I not only remember him but actually cared about him. But this post isn't about my failings as a sister, but rather the great influence my brother has and continues to have in my life.  Oh how important he is to me!  How he has helped me!

I don't have a lot of memories of my brother living inside the house.  By the time I was more aware, I was living in his old bedroom (where he had played with matches and almost"burnt the house down" (A fact he admitted ON THE DAY he left for his mission to Mexico City).  My earliest memories came from when he lived in our back house-a room connected to the garage.  His little apartment became my refuge as I frantically knocked on the  his door to let me in before my sister Kathy killed me for some reason or another. (Once again, this is not about my failings as a bratty, selfish baby sister.)  This established a pattern of running to big brother when things got bad.   Even though a knock became a phone call-he'd answer in his gentle way and invite me in.  He'd let me cry.  He'd listen. He'd comfort me.  He'd give me advice.  Though it's no longer listening to his guitar, singing, playing Battleship, Caroms, placing figurines on a vibrating football field or racing plastic beans down a maze- He continues to spend time hanging out with me giving freely of his time and attention.

My brother has a way of making me feel special.  He also makes me feel like I am "neat."  Jerry continues to give the greatest compliments.  He is a builder of men and women.  He knows that words matter and uses them to help.  I'm sure he has criticized me, but I can't remember it.  As a child I wanted him to think highly of me.  I wanted to be worthy of his admiration and affection.  I wanted to be like him.  When I won the woo-wow top award at Hoover Jr. High that I didn't even know existed, it became significant to me just because my brother had won the same award 7 years earlier.  How I wanted to follow in his footsteps.

More than anything, my brother was the closest thing I had to a righteous priesthood leader in the home.  It was because of his heart and his desire to do what is right that our family found the Mormon church in the first place.  He was a elementary school boy who WANTED to go to primary with his friends.  He WANTED to be taught by the missionaries. He WANTED to be baptized.  "And a little child shall lead them"-and my brother did, as both my mother and sister joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I was 3 years old and because of him, I grew up as a Mormon girl. I wrote to him every week when he was on his mission.  I watched as he married the woman of his dreams and raise a wonderful family.  I watched his keen desire to be obedient to every commandment.  I have watched as he has served as bishop in his ward and in every other calling.  He was a sober child, sober teenager, and sober man. His sober, serious yet fun demeanor, helped all of us deal with the adversity of growing up with an alcoholic father.  He was the first one we would turn to when we needed a priesthood blessing.  Of course he would be worthy-it was Jerry.  He has been and continues to be a worthy vessel for the spirit of the Lord.  We can feel it. He continues to lead with his righteous example.  He is not perfect-but in the my eyes he is. He does everything right in my books; others agree.  He's the only priesthood I've ever known and as such he has been a fine representative of Jesus Christ-doing his work-ministering to His children.

It's scary to think of losing my big  brother. Who could I turn to then in times of trouble?  Who would make me feel special?  Who could lead the way?  He is my physical example bearing witness of the eternal truth; I will always have my Savior, Jesus Christ- My Big Brother.  I need not fear.  He is always there. He will never leave me. He too wants me to remember him.  He wants me to know him.  I know Jerry O'Malley won't be around forever, but I am so hoping that we can all be like the aunties (now in their 90's) sitting around his pool sipping lemonade on the 4th of July.  This is what I envision.  What a blessing he is in my life! How I need my big brother!