Confining Groups

This morning I was thinking about confining groups and how personal choice is often superseded. Though it is wonderful to be able to "do whatever we want" and have freedom to explore, being part of a group and considering the needs of others takes precedence.  If we choose to go at it alone-we miss out on opportunities to love and be loved.  I tried to point this out to my students as we explored a water park in assigned safety groups.  There was the expected push back of course as they felt confined.  (It will be worse next week when making tent assignments for our spring camp.)  Who am I stuck with and how are we going to make this work?  It was mildly entertaining to observe their initial reactions, lack of mutual decisions making, how some bailed on each other preferring to explore water features by themselves, others kicked out the less active peers in their group and pawned them off to others.  It's just harder to have fun when you can't do what you want.   It's another testament to how easy it is to take almost any activity and turn it into experiential learning. 

Though I have some one-on-one interaction with my clients, I primarily interact with them in groups. After observing a family therapy session facilitated by my co-worker, my latest intern stated, "That much cooler than any of the groups we do."  Granted, older adolescent girls seemed to be much more insightful than hyperactive little children, but his remarks addressed the power of experiential activities and the satisfaction of helping families come together and work through some of their core issues.  In defense of the satisfaction working with children, facilitating groups help prepare them to return to their most important group-their family.  They can apply lessons in their future relationships with the people they care about most.

I'm reminded daily of how important family is to each of these students in confinement. It might be the unstable girl who just assaulted a student a day earlier who eagerly pulls me aside to read the latest letter from her father and show me her pictures of each family member.  Or sitting down on the floor with a boy who punches himself in the nose and smears his blood all over himself who reports feeling calmer when he thinks about how much his mom loves him.  Or the continually depressed boy who chants about missing his mother when disappointed or frustrated. Or the enthusiasm and anxiety of a student preparing for their first home visit.  Or the tender concern of a parent in treatment team as she requests playing tooth fairy for her son by putting money into his account. It's these acts both big and small that say, families matter, even more so in confinement. Each child exists because a man and a woman came together.  It takes more than one person doing whatever they want to form a group.  Groups give us an opportunity for mutual caring and problems solving.  Groups encourage us to make a decision to love another human being and care about each other's needs. 

 I love how the choice to love another human being was portrayed in the movie, "The Theory of Everything."  It was powerful witnessing the confinement of a brilliant mind imprisoned in an impotent body. Or the self-induced confinement of Jane as she chooses to love and care for a man she knew would lose all control over his physical faculties. I loved how this choice to love each other gave Stephen hope to do more than just wait around to die. I loved the courage represented by each of them as they fought against his disease and found ways to contribute to the world.  I loved Jane's reaction to the phrase in his book addressing "the question of why it is that we and the universe exist. If we find the answer to that, it would be the ultimate triumph of human reason -- for then we should know the mind of God." In their poignant separation, I felt Jane's admission of loving Stephen through the years. I loved the scene in Queen's garden when considering accomplishments leading to his impending knighthood.  Stephen then  remarked, "Look what we have made" and seemed to be referring to their children playing in front of him; that was beautiful-creators of their own universe. I know the movie wasn't an accurate representation of their relationship, but after a screening of the film Stephen Hawking eyes were wet, and so were mine.  Maybe the "theory of everything" really is not summed up in one simple math equation, but in one simple word-love.  

I believe love between a man and a woman creates the most important group in the world-a family.  I chime in with the testimony of the late apostle L. Tom Perry as he states, "the older I get, the more I realize that family is the center of life and is the key to eternal happiness. I give thanks for my wife, for my children, for my grandchildren and my great-grandchildren, and for all of the cousins and in-laws and extended family who make my own life so rich and, yes, even eternal. Of this eternal truth I bear my strongest and most sacred witness in the name of Jesus Christ."  I say amen to that, and amen to the power of the group. The personal choice to love within the confines of a group-whether self-selected or assigned is a great blessing and what we really want to do anyway. To subject personal will opens the door to love.    

How Things Work & Seeing

This morning I was thinking about how things work and seeing. On Thursday night I went to check out  a Tinder match;  I thought it would be stimulating conversation to speak to one of those post doc. professor/researcher guys who spends time touring the world presenting his theories to all the smart people of the world.  Besides who doesn't like Chili's chips and salsa?  It's about as non-threatening as it can get.  Unfortunately, our conversation left me feeling exhausted. He asked me to explain how the Tinder thing works, my point behind my writing my blog,  to explain my process when I compose music, to explain why I considered myself a religious person etc. etc. etc.   He wasn't attacking me and I don't think I was defensive, I was just tired of explaining and explaining and explaining.  The more I explained- the stupider I felt.  Not only did I feel like a dumb blonde but I felt foolish- like a foolish little girl.  I know we were the same age, but obviously in regards to brain matter, I was just an baby. As I asked him why he was passionate about his work as a physicist, he responded, "I like to learn how things work-and how things really are."  In retrospect, I suppose he was just operating from his physicist point of view of trying to figure out how my universe works. Funny, even though I shared with him so much about my process, I don't think he really wanted to learn about me or even try to understand my heart. There definitely wan't any validation or appreciation.  It was all pretty antiseptic.  He got to see me and check me out-but he didn't really "see me".  

We can see, but not really see.  We all have problems with spiritual blindness.   I'm trying to emphasize this idea as I teach the 8 year olds today while sharing the story of Jesus healing the man born blind.  As the Pharisees tried to "figure out how it works" and how this man born blind could now see,  they missed the whole point.  They failed to recognize or see Jesus as the Light of the World-or their Messiah.  The failed to turn to him when they had problems they could not fix on their own.  They failed to recognize the hand of the Lord-the man now healed as a representation of the "works of God manifest."  The were so concerned about being smart and right, they didn't recognize God or his works.

While watching a fascinating PBS documentary about some of the scientific contributions of Stephen Hawkins, I couldn't help but view his body as a fitting representation of his spiritual understanding of truth as knowledge of "things as they are, as they were, and as they are to come." Especially in light of his overarching conclusion that there is no God.  How can he be the smartest guy on the planet, the foremost pioneer on studying the universe and how things work and yet be so spiritually blind?  The scientific community will probably always think religious people are dumb and foolish. It is just difficult to explain spiritual things or back them up with scientific mathematical equations.  Besides that-it's exhausting.

I want to see.  I want to see clearly. I want to continue searching for truth wherever it may be.  I want the answers to my questions.  I want rational explanations.  But in all my learning, all my striving to understand how things work, I want to see and recognize the hand of the Lord over his creations-over me as one of his creations.  I want to recognize him as the Light of the World.  I don't want to just "check him out", rather I want to "see" him.  I want to recognize him for what he truly is- The Savior-the great fixer of broken things because he's the only one who really knows how things work.  

Gentle Rain of Judgements

This morning I was thinking about gentle rain of judgements. That was the topic during our latest recreational fun run in the rain last Friday.  Trying to make use of the inconvenient rain on our beautiful river trail, I had students make rain gear out of garbage bags and posed 3 questions:  What are some uncomfortable judgmental thoughts raining down on you?  What do you do to protect yourself against harsh judgments of self and others? How do you release unhelpful thoughts to make forward progress? The students kept moving forward while walking, jogging, or running and we got some of the most lushest, greenest pictures I have ever seen.  At the end I had them throw sticks in the river to represent the constant movement of our minds and the ability to let go of unhelpful thoughts.  I started our group focus by relating my recent experience dealing with my own harsh judgments while re-certifying as a lifeguard.  After my final swim skills test, in rapid fire fashion I thought, "I don't deserve to be called a lifeguard.  I'm too old and weak. I don't belong here.  I don't deserve to have my current job as a Recreation Therapist working with youth.  I don't belong there.  I don't deserve to even have a job.  I don't even know how to take care of my self or my family. I'm just one big fat failure."  The downward spiral of negative thoughts suck me down so quickly, it's no wonder I burst into tears.  I tried to keep my own little "down pour" quiet and unseen.

I was required to retake the lifeguard class because I let my certification expire.  Since it is one of the certifications I need to keep my "Mary Poppins' gig,  I spent Monday-Thursday taking the all day lifeguard class with a bunch of teenagers, return missionaries and college swim team members.  To say I felt out of place would be a understatement.  Though I passed the initial swim skills evaluation,  on the final day, the teacher threw me a tube while assisting with spinal back boarding since I'm "not a very strong swimmer."  Then she yelled at me for being a horrible "passive victim" that had "robbed" my fellow class participant of experiencing the full weight of an unconscious victim.  Later while fumbling through the most difficult rescue-the deep water passive submerged victim, the teacher asked me to do it again.  I just get so nervous when diving down deep (for me) and run out of air so quickly that I struggle with my coordination under pressure.  I can't seem to find and pull the string on the rescue tube quickly enough to shove it between me and the victim while re-surfacing. My strength started to fail while trying to jump out of the higher than normal pool ledge, grab the spinal board, plunge it down close to the wall and get the victim out of the water.  I was also chided with corrective feedback while submerging the board with the net effect of multiplying my doubts regarding my abilities and deeming myself as a stupid and not having any common sense. While improving some aspects of the total swim skill, I volunteered to do the deep water rescue again-now a totaling 3 times to at least show I was willing to keep trying. I was tired. I was having spasms and cramps in my calves and toes.

 Now it was time for the final test.  As I sat with a bunch of kids who were nervous about it, (swim team people nervous-that's just ridiculous) I assured myself how the teachers are very supportive-they want you to succeed-they help you succeed.  I've done this before-they are super forgiving. I was pretty calm anticipating the test. Through procrastination or courtesy, I ended up being the last one tested with most everyone watching.  Of course it would be the hardest skill but "I can do hard things- right?" I snatched the victim, kind of shoved the tube between us, swam to the side with girl in tow while breathing hard, used my weakling arms to climb over the edge, got the board, pulled her out and started on my primary assessment, now on the manikin.  This is the part I'm usually pretty confident about.  However my lack of coordination under pressure was apparent to everyone;  I struggled to find my rescue mask (everyone's red box was strewn across the pool deck)and put on my gloves (my hands trembled while trying to fit the gloves over my wet hands. ) Clearly, with all this fiddling around, the victim would have been dead by the time I got around to doing the CPR.  On top of that I put the mask on upside down while rescue breathing and was slipping all over the victim while doing compressions.  It was a joke.  Then I went over to the shallow pool for the spinal victim and did the wrong skill while trying to prevent running into the wall with a head splint technique.  I repeated it as my victim faced the opposite way and according to the instructor, passed the skills test.  It was at this moment that I had my spiraling series of negative judgements and tears. In my lame defense, I did get 100% on one of the written tests.  I don't think my instructors would pick me to lifeguard a crowded wave pool this summer at Seven Peaks, but at least they thought I deserved to update my certification and continue to supervise my handful of students (usually with life preservers on)when playing in or near water.While leaving, I thanked my instructors for all their service and for being so "gentle with me."

Why do we get so worked up with the word "test"?  Why do we freak out when facing required judgments?  Why do we think those who sit in judgement are so willing to fail us and literally dam our progress?  Why do we think they are going to be more like God flooding the earth rather than gentle Jesus, God of the Old Testament, being baptized in the still waters of Jordan?  This I know; we have been sent here from our heavenly home to be tested.  "And we will prove them herewith, to see if they will do all things whatsoever the Lord their God shall command them;...and they who keep their second estate shall have glory added upon their heads for ever and ever."  (Abraham 3: 25-26)

I know that we will all stand before the "pleasing bar of God" to be judged according to our works in this "testing" state of earth life.  I know that none of us "deserves" eternal life, no matter how skilled we may be at doing God's will.  I am so grateful for a Jesus, gentle judge, whose perfect justice and mercy will not damn me forever or "leave my soul in hell" or even slap a failing grade telling me how stupid I am.  I may not be symbolically guarding the Heavenly wave pool, but there is a place for me, people to love, and opportunities to serve.  I trust in his judgment.  I trust him.  I know those who have passed on and living in the spirit world, even all God's precious children drowned in the flood, are given opportunities to progress, accept ordinances and live gospel principles.  How gentle is the rain that falls from His skies.

Whatever It Takes/However Long

This morning I was thinking about my upsetting dream where my son was reporting about his first year away at college and his lack of church attendance.  Then the face of my boy changed and it was another son telling me about his vindictive behavior towards a fellow student. (Subconsciously, I think that was because my son recently played a bully in an independent film.) Then my mom, who seemed to be in the dorm room also, piped in how I could have done things differently as a mom and done a better job with my children. At this point I woke up.  I felt upset.  Happy Mother's Day to me!  But immediately as I was rehashing the dream in my mind, a very distinct thought came pouring in..."Whatever it takes-however long."  That thought seemed to hush my worries and bring peace.  I didn't quite know what it meant, but in the next couple of hours I tried to turn things over in my mind to make sense of it.

It was a good thing this dream/nightmare woke me up at that moment since I noticed a call coming in from my son. I silenced the phone last night and now it was vibrating. He reminded me to meet him at a freeway exit in about 45 minutes to take him to the airport.  Previously I thought he meant to take him around 5:00 p.m.- not 5:00 a.m! While waiting in the parking lot, I started listening to an old Jeffrey Holland talk, "However Long and Hard the Road"  from a 1982 BYU devotional. I thought it went along with the "Whatever It Takes" idea. My son was taking longer than expected so I stopped what I was doing and prayed. I imagined car accidents and speeding tickets; I knew he was in a rush.  When he got there he explained his difficulties with his storage unit, getting pulled over for a faulty speedometer, and now was almost an hour late to get to the airport.  It was no surprise to either of us when my car was now dead and needed a jump and he almost locked his keys in the car.  I just burst out laughing-our very own comedy of errors.  But we kept going-hurdle after hurdle and he miraculously made his flight, at least according to his text.   I texted him back, "Whatever it takes-however long.  I will help you on your journey. Your mom loves you forever."

I helped him on his journey-at least for that small stretch of I-15 from Provo to SLC airport.  I filled up the gas tank yesterday when thinking I may need to run down to St. George to pick up the remainder of my son's stuff that wouldn't fit into the VW bug. In the end, he didn't need my help. He's here now with 2 other newly acquired friends sleeping safe and sound in the basement.  We try-we all try as parents to help our children on their life journeys.  But I think the "whatever it takes" didn't so much refer to MY efforts-but THEIRS.  As a mother, sometimes I think I need to have super-hero power actions to save my family. Yesterday, my daughter took me to the "Avengers" movie and I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the ridiculous action sequences-doing "whatever" to neutralize threats and save the day. I think it's pretty easy to laugh (or cry) at the "whatever" moments in the lives of my children as they try to heroically face their challenges and learn from them.  It's all part of their journey, and as their mother, it is my privilege to help, carry them and give needed rides on their way.

This idea of helping each other on life journeys seems to go along with my weekend studies of energy healing and other alternative medicine.  Though I do not believe in Buddist philosophies of past lives, I do believe I am here on earth to learn from my mistakes and will be learning forever.  In some faiths the goal isn't to keep being reincarnated over and over again but to eventually return back to the source-oneness, consciousness, divinity...to go back home.  It's the collective will, egolessness or the "blowing out of self" that helps people experience the transcendental state of Nirvana.  I differ in that I believe in the permanence of individual intelligence-or that sense of "I am" and I'm trying to return back to my Heavenly home.  I have always existed.  I exist now.  I will always exist.  And yet, if people have compassion about someone who has been reincarnated many times cause he can't seem to get it right-why can't I give myself that same compassion when I mess up or my loved ones mess up-how many chances do we get anyway? How many lifetimes do we need to live?  As many as it takes-whatever it takes-however long.  Each day, each hour, each minute can be like a "new life" to try to get it right this time.

All I know is that I need to be empowered to keep trying.   On this Mother's Day, I want to continue to help my children as they continue on their journey.  I know where I want them to go.  I want them to love God and show it (including going to church!).  I want them to love their fellowman (treat others well!) and show it.  I want them to be ONE with their maker.  If God has infinite patience with me, why can't I show more compassion and less judgement as that mother voice in my head yammers on. I honor their efforts and I say again, "Whatever it takes-however long-I will continue to help them on their journey." That's my honor as a mother.

Face Blind

This morning I was thinking about my extremely young Relief Society president who confesses she is"face blind" and autistic.  Prosopagnosia, also called face blindness has the Greek root "prosopon=face, "agnosia"= not knowing. This is when the ability to "recognize faces is impaired, while other aspects of visual processing and intellectual functioning remain intact." Serving as RS president with her impairments is like trying to run a marathon without legs;  how can you love someone if you don't know them?   How can you know someone if you can't even recognize their face? How can you draw close to others if you have difficulty connecting with people in the first place?  I don't know how she does it-but she does. This statuesque woman, towering above us in so many ways (a tall woman who still wears heels) debases herself, proclaiming, " I am weak but I have been called to lead"-and she does.  As is so often the case, as we turn to the Lord, he turns weakness into strength. "...if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them."

Kara has been made strong is discerning needs of women in the ward.  Discerning is related to exercising righteous judgment.  Though not a judge in Israel like a bishop,  she is still required to make judgements all the time.   She has to discern between right and wrong-truth and error.  Judgement is also related to decision making-deciding the best course of action to address a problem.  She carries the burden of leadership -to decide what needs to be done-now; to make decisions propelling the masses in the right direction to reach the determined destination.  Kara seeks inspiration.  She likes to looks out into the faces of the sisters in the congregation and receive impressions about the support needed. Like looking at an impressionist painting, trying to feel the emotion of the artist while looking at the blurry colors and sweeping strokes.  The fine details aren't as important-the distinct facial features don't have to be in sharp focus. It's the impression of what's going on in each person's heart and head.  It's the impression of what's going on in her head and heart as she looks at them.  It then becomes a matter of following through with the impressions and promptings while reaching out.

Kara has been made strong in knowledge and power.  She knows "people" It's not every day you get a RS president who has a degree in anthropology.  She has so much knowledge of the world and its' people.  She has a passion for living abroad and often feels more comfortable living in third world conditions than in the United States.  She brings her passion and knowledge of global concerns and its' people and somehow expands our narrow and sometimes close-minded world of Provo, Utah.  Through her leadership, she has created an open environment where women in the neighborhood come to feel accepted, valued, appreciated, honored, and loved.  In our meetings, women feel free to honestly"say it like it is" or  how they would like it to be.  With these open, candid discussions, Kara can steer the course back to the most salient points in the lesson and bring the focus back to what the Lord wants us to know at that moment.  Kara is a strong proponent in recognizing and appreciating the equality of women and the blessings predicated upon obedience to gospel principles. 

Kara has been made strong to draw people close quickly.  In a transient ward, sometimes all she has is a quick opportunity to connect. I felt close to her at our first visit. I can tell she takes her responsibilities seriously-she knows who she represents.  She knows that a very particular mantle has befallen her allowing her to sincerely care about others, especially those within her stewardship.  She is a conduit for others to feel the love of the Lord-to communicate the Lord is aware of them.  He knows them.  He cares about them. Our big and little things matter to him. She may not know me from Adam, but through her, I have felt like the Lord does.  It shows in her eyes. It shows in the questions she asks.  It shows in the words she chooses while responding.  It shows in her actions as she tries to help and strengthen.

Kara has been made strong as a leader who helps us help each other. Anyone can be a "do-gooder" but it's a whole different challenge to get other people to "do good."   Like many the RS president before her, she utilizes the established network of support to tirelessly provide "relief" to all the families in the ward who need help with anything and everything.  With her youth and intelligence she also tries to move a bunch of old ladies into the high tech generation. She uses her smart phone and places it up to the mic so a sister who can't get out of bed can virtually attend meetings.  She uses Google groups to get quick email responses and increase communication about current needs and conditions, opportunities and resources, or even thoughts and feelings to promote unity.  Though she understands the temporal needs in providing casseroles for the food bank, missionaries, the sick, or new mothers, she also realizes that sometimes the greatest need people have is to be known and understood.

God wants to be known and understood.  Last week during my nieces wedding, the sealer pointed out that all the ordinances and principles of the gospel aim to help us know God.  We have been promised that  "every soul who forsaketh his sins and cometh unto me, and calleth on my name, and obeyeth my voice, and keepeth my commandments, shall see my face and know that I am;"  If I saw the Savior face to face-I'd want to recognize him.  Though I admit, I have not seen him.  However, I recognize HIS light in the faces of my leaders, like Kara and scores of others who have been called and set apart, under the direction of His priesthood to represent the Savior in some form or fashion. It's not hard to spot as it shines bright in the countenances of others.  In fact, this light is becoming quite familiar for me to recognize.  I'm becoming a little less face blind.