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.