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!
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Attention Millionaire!
This morning I was thinking how fun it would be to be a millionaire. When it comes to physical resources, I don't have a lot of money to give away. It would be great to respond to every person begging with a handwritten cardboard sign. Instead, I often look away and pay attention to something else-I guess to ease my guilt for not giving some cash to those in need. How we choose to spend our money says so much about who we really are. But today, I'm thinking about something I have in great abundance-attention. It's a currency of sorts-and people need it, want it, and seek after it. In some situations, it's even more desirable than cash. It's fun to think of myself like an "attention millionaire" and can spend my unlimited resource on whatever I want. It reminds me of a quote from the movie, "Now You See Me" where he explains the job of a illusionist/magician is "to take the most precious of gifts you give me-your attention-and use it against you." Is our attention really one of the most "precious gifts" we give others? Or is money the preferable currency?
In some situations, throwing money at someone is completely useless, powerless, inappropriate- even offensive. Whereas the giving of attention can not only be one of the first things I do, the only thing I can do, the most appropriate, and at times the most sacred of things to offer. Yet most of the time, I carelessly throw this resource around (like a idiot with a wad of cash to burn). There's always more where that came from-it's so plentiful and accessible-It's easy to waste on the most trivial of matters. Everyone seems to clamoring for it anyway-as evidenced by annoying pop-up adds, spam, or people dancing around spinning their pizza signs. It's easy to just react instead of proactively choose what to pay attention to. I'd like to give my attention as a free will offering, instead of having it taken forcefully, like a gunman yelling at me demanding money.
Giving attention to someone can be a simple or grand gesture. It takes a conscious effort -to go out of my way and take a minute to look at someone- to smile at someone-to talk to someone-to just physically sit with someone-or show up. It's not always comfortable that's for sure. It's easy to feel stupid and not know what to do. I felt that way when I looked at a handsome single guy and smiled. That's attention. Or when I struck up a conversation with a stranger. That's attention. Or taking 2 seconds to write "Happy Birthday" on someone's Facebook wall. That's attention. Some people require more attention than others. It can be exhausting giving attention because it expends energy. This energy goes out of me, yet this exchange can also be reciprocal and energizing.
Last Sunday our bishop joined with other ecclesiastic leaders to attend the meetings of a fellow bishop who was killed in a plane crash with his wife and some of his children. I pictured all the priesthood brethren doing their best to minister and bolster support for the children left behind. Not just the newly created orphans but the also the ward member "children" left behind-who would care for this little flock now? This image of priesthood support in my mind was brought to life during the meeting as I watched a large gathering of men surround a little baby dressed in white as an emotional father gave him a blessing. He referred to him not only as his son, but as God's little one.
As I sat contemplating these images, another image came into my mind- actually one of the most moving stories in the Book of Mormon during the visit of Jesus Christ to the Americas. Jesus tells the multitude to "Behold Your Little Ones" as beings with authority, ministering angels, surround the little children "and they came down and encircled those little ones about, and they were encircled about with fire; and the angels did minister unto them." (3 Nephi 17:11) If ever there was an outpouring of heavenly attention or celestial energy-then this is it. It was like attention raining down from heaven. What a beautiful gift.
Contrast that with the scene in the movie, "Now You See Me" when money rains down in the arena over the frenzied crowd. Yes, money is something we'd all like more of and is always appreciated. It would be great to just throw it around and give and give and give until it hurts. However I need to remember I already have abundance of attention to spread around to bless the lives of God's little children everywhere.
In some situations, throwing money at someone is completely useless, powerless, inappropriate- even offensive. Whereas the giving of attention can not only be one of the first things I do, the only thing I can do, the most appropriate, and at times the most sacred of things to offer. Yet most of the time, I carelessly throw this resource around (like a idiot with a wad of cash to burn). There's always more where that came from-it's so plentiful and accessible-It's easy to waste on the most trivial of matters. Everyone seems to clamoring for it anyway-as evidenced by annoying pop-up adds, spam, or people dancing around spinning their pizza signs. It's easy to just react instead of proactively choose what to pay attention to. I'd like to give my attention as a free will offering, instead of having it taken forcefully, like a gunman yelling at me demanding money.
Giving attention to someone can be a simple or grand gesture. It takes a conscious effort -to go out of my way and take a minute to look at someone- to smile at someone-to talk to someone-to just physically sit with someone-or show up. It's not always comfortable that's for sure. It's easy to feel stupid and not know what to do. I felt that way when I looked at a handsome single guy and smiled. That's attention. Or when I struck up a conversation with a stranger. That's attention. Or taking 2 seconds to write "Happy Birthday" on someone's Facebook wall. That's attention. Some people require more attention than others. It can be exhausting giving attention because it expends energy. This energy goes out of me, yet this exchange can also be reciprocal and energizing.
Last Sunday our bishop joined with other ecclesiastic leaders to attend the meetings of a fellow bishop who was killed in a plane crash with his wife and some of his children. I pictured all the priesthood brethren doing their best to minister and bolster support for the children left behind. Not just the newly created orphans but the also the ward member "children" left behind-who would care for this little flock now? This image of priesthood support in my mind was brought to life during the meeting as I watched a large gathering of men surround a little baby dressed in white as an emotional father gave him a blessing. He referred to him not only as his son, but as God's little one.
As I sat contemplating these images, another image came into my mind- actually one of the most moving stories in the Book of Mormon during the visit of Jesus Christ to the Americas. Jesus tells the multitude to "Behold Your Little Ones" as beings with authority, ministering angels, surround the little children "and they came down and encircled those little ones about, and they were encircled about with fire; and the angels did minister unto them." (3 Nephi 17:11) If ever there was an outpouring of heavenly attention or celestial energy-then this is it. It was like attention raining down from heaven. What a beautiful gift.
Contrast that with the scene in the movie, "Now You See Me" when money rains down in the arena over the frenzied crowd. Yes, money is something we'd all like more of and is always appreciated. It would be great to just throw it around and give and give and give until it hurts. However I need to remember I already have abundance of attention to spread around to bless the lives of God's little children everywhere.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Erin Go Braugh/ Ireland until Eternity
This morning I was thinking about my new "Erin Go Bragh" flag. I coveted a similar flag while walking with my daughter and she went ahead and bought one for my birthday. Though this is not my personal flag, it might as well be. Besides having my name on it, it also has a girl with a pony tail connected to a harp emblazoned on a field of green. I still wear high pony tails, have green eyes, have the emerald as my birthstone, love music and King David's harp with his emphasis on religious music, and have the most Irish name ever-Erin O'Malley. Growing up, the name Erin wasn't too popular and people often misspelled it as Aaron (which is also a cool name considering priesthood power and such.) Along the way, I learned my name was in the dictionary meaning"Ireland." When divorcing, I went back to my maiden name as a way to reclaim my individual identity and just because I loved my name. Literal translation of the phrase "Erin Go Bragh" is "Ireland until eternity." Or the more popular rendition is "Erin Forever." I like the eternity reference even better.
So enough self-celebration. With all this green coursing through my veins, surely a trip to Ireland is in order. That was the plan anyway to celebrate my 50th birthday by going to Louisburgh, Mayo County (where my people came from,) do some family history, participate in the annual traditional Irish music festival held there, hike Crough Patrick, ride horses on the beach, ride the O'Malley ferry to Clare Island and visit the stomping ground of Grace O'Malley the pirate queen, etc, etc. But alas, my 50t birthday came and went a couple of years ago and that trip did not materialize. However, I have a cool Irish shrine in my condo with fun decor and pics on my wall to remind me of all things Ireland. And now I have a flag waving in front of my window. What more can a girl ask for?
Besides, who wants to ride in a metal tube in the sky for a billion hours anyway just to walk around in some green hills? (that's the best sour grapes sentiment I could come up with) I have my stunning green hills in my own back yard. So as my May birthday hike, I decided to go up Dry Canyon and drink in the green meadows, green stepped hills and snow capped mountains in the background. It was stunning. I could easily pretend I was in Ireland. I knew I had arrived when I heard my familiar blacked capped chickadee singing it's two note song "Erin." I'm sure you can't hear it, but I can. The song of this bird has come to symbolize for me that I am in the right place at the right time. I'm pretty superstitious I guess-maybe I believe in fairies and leprechauns too.
Utah is exceptionally green this year-more than usual because of the spring rainfalls. Everything seems to be decked out in their greenery. Life force seems to surround me. I especially love the bright shade of green in the early spring. Trees that have lay dormant in the winter are now bursting in color. I love the sense of renewal-new beginnings-starting again. It is the season of hope. Green does mean GO. I love the symbolism behind the color green.
I have come to appreciate the splash of green worn by temple initiates. As a fashion conscious young adult, I though it ruined my "dressed in white" ensemble. Through the years, I've increased my understanding of the symbolism as well as my appreciation for the necessary fall of man. I appreciate the greenness of humanity. We are all vulnerable, green. But at the same time, we are covered through the atonement of Jesus Christ. New green leaves cover the once naked branches. He covers the earth with green. He reminds us of new life, of starting again, over and over and over. It is an eternal season of hope. It is Ireland until Eternity.
So enough self-celebration. With all this green coursing through my veins, surely a trip to Ireland is in order. That was the plan anyway to celebrate my 50th birthday by going to Louisburgh, Mayo County (where my people came from,) do some family history, participate in the annual traditional Irish music festival held there, hike Crough Patrick, ride horses on the beach, ride the O'Malley ferry to Clare Island and visit the stomping ground of Grace O'Malley the pirate queen, etc, etc. But alas, my 50t birthday came and went a couple of years ago and that trip did not materialize. However, I have a cool Irish shrine in my condo with fun decor and pics on my wall to remind me of all things Ireland. And now I have a flag waving in front of my window. What more can a girl ask for?
Besides, who wants to ride in a metal tube in the sky for a billion hours anyway just to walk around in some green hills? (that's the best sour grapes sentiment I could come up with) I have my stunning green hills in my own back yard. So as my May birthday hike, I decided to go up Dry Canyon and drink in the green meadows, green stepped hills and snow capped mountains in the background. It was stunning. I could easily pretend I was in Ireland. I knew I had arrived when I heard my familiar blacked capped chickadee singing it's two note song "Erin." I'm sure you can't hear it, but I can. The song of this bird has come to symbolize for me that I am in the right place at the right time. I'm pretty superstitious I guess-maybe I believe in fairies and leprechauns too.
Utah is exceptionally green this year-more than usual because of the spring rainfalls. Everything seems to be decked out in their greenery. Life force seems to surround me. I especially love the bright shade of green in the early spring. Trees that have lay dormant in the winter are now bursting in color. I love the sense of renewal-new beginnings-starting again. It is the season of hope. Green does mean GO. I love the symbolism behind the color green.
I have come to appreciate the splash of green worn by temple initiates. As a fashion conscious young adult, I though it ruined my "dressed in white" ensemble. Through the years, I've increased my understanding of the symbolism as well as my appreciation for the necessary fall of man. I appreciate the greenness of humanity. We are all vulnerable, green. But at the same time, we are covered through the atonement of Jesus Christ. New green leaves cover the once naked branches. He covers the earth with green. He reminds us of new life, of starting again, over and over and over. It is an eternal season of hope. It is Ireland until Eternity.
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