Resiliency theory fascinates me. How can two people experience the same set of stressful situations and one person is destroyed and miserable, while the other keeps moving forward-even with a little bounce in their step-thus the "Tigger"reference. It's like nothing can hurt them because they are protected with an invisible rubbery substance allowing them to bounce instead of crack and break when dropped. I don't get it. But I want to. I want to be the Tigger and model it for others.
I have unofficially adopted "Tigger" as my RT mascot. From the start of my practice as a Recreational Therapist, I purposely set out to build resiliency in myself and others. Researchers have identified several factors, but I narrowed it down to three for practical purposes. I can't do everything for everyone, but maybe I can do something. These three factors also address three deficits common to many traumatized individuals; these include difficulties with Attention, Affect, and Attachment. I suppose most stressed out people are members of this AAA club. I know I am.
To help me and my students remember these three resiliency factors, I use the acronym PCS since I figure they will always remember where they went to school. This also has reference to the idea of "People Calming Stress vs. People Causing Stress". We do a ton of the latter in our attempts to reach out and help. If all behavior is stress related, according to the Bryan Post Stress Model, shouldn't we be expert at knowing how to calm the stress? Getting back to the PCS and the resiliency factors, the P = Positive Focus. The C= Challenge Self, and the S-Social Connection. These are not only great goals, but serve as coping skills to calm stress.
Positive Focus address the attention deficit. The power to divert attention and energy to the positive is incredibly powerful. I remember spending $300 to support Gordon Bruin's work treating pornography addiction that mentions the principle of purposely paying attention or mindfulness practice. Since pornography lures attention and hooks people in, I find it has compelling application for other type of thoughts that lure us, or thought nets (internet) we get hung up in. His Inner Gold treatment manual was full of great ideas but the one graphic I still remember is of a crowded room of people with a person in red screaming for attention, "Pay Attention to Me!" My thoughts are like that. My feelings are like that. Other people's thoughts, feelings, and behaviors are like that as well. Every intrusion-the millions of would be emergencies are like that. Everything demands my attention-right now! If I spent all day putting out fires or responding to every screaming memmie, I will never go anywhere or get anything done. I have to purposely ignore some distractions. Others I can respond to, especially if prompted to do so. Regardless, mine is the power to choose. Armed with this power, how can I not bounce.
Challenging self is all about managing stress addressing difficulties with affect regulation. I have to take some on so I won't be bored to tears but I can't overload and overwhelm myself with challenges either. A "Can do" attitude is great, but if I put too many demands across my back, it's going to break and I won't be going anywhere. I have to have just the right amount necessary for growth and development. There are numerous studies on the value of self-efficacy. Most experiential tasks foster this sense of mastery. It's why groups are organize around a task, a goal, or challenge and the behavior approach and response is documented. We can believe in our ability to succeed in specific tasks and circumstance. "I can do hard things" is the mantra. Better yet, I can do hard things with help. It's amazing what we can accomplish together.
This leads to social connection addressing the attachment issue. Most talk therapy involves talking to someone-engaging with another human being. Sure we can talk to ourselves, but to have a relationship and share thoughts, attitudes, feelings, and behaviors makes a difference in how we move through the universe. Perhaps it is the most important protective factor in building resilience. How we need each other to calm our stress! Relationship is key. Sometimes the most helpful knowledge we gain from treatment is knowing someone cares about us, wants us to succeed, believes in us, understands us, and thinks we are wonderful. Relationships cause stress and are sometimes the source of trauma, but they are also the remedy. Oh how we need to know how to build relationships to calm the stress...World peace...right? That's the goal. What a bouncy blue marble planet we would live on. We'd be the Tigger Planet.
Saturday, December 2, 2017
Saturday, November 18, 2017
35 Bottles: Strength To Tackle Weakness
i consider myself a mental health professional, though definitively not as skilled as my PhD brother or a masters degree clinician. Yet, I have been exposed to some great stuff- knowledge that if applied, could do us good-even help everyone feel better. When preparing to accept my first job as a rec therapist, I spent time reading research articles regarding therapeutic interventions . I was drawn to strength based approaches. Instead of focusing on what's wrong with a person, I found it helpful to consider what they had going for them already; what are they pretty good at? what do they like about themselves and others; what can they do with what they already have?
I use an analogy of climbing the treatment mountain. When we start to dig up the dirt or take digs at self or others we end up making a big hole and displacing a bunch of dirt..It's hard work. It's hard to hear the dirt about ourselves; we recognize our deficits, what's wrong with us, and the things we need to change. All these problems represent our current needs. In traditional treatment this is our chief complaint. Treatment will be useless unless it addresses accurate diagnosis. But what about the big hole or the displaced dirt from our digging? With time this dirt is packed down and forms mountain of sorts...a mountain we will need to climb.We will need strength and put forth a great deal of effort to climb this mountain of our own making. Why not use every possible resource we have to accomplish the task-use strength to tackle weakness!
My family has many strengths; all of our bodies are pretty healthy- we can see, hear, talk and walk. I think we have a high level of intelligence. sure we do stupid things, but I think we are all pretty awake and aware. We also have a high degree of social and emotional intelligence. We not only know how to communicate but we know how to make and keep friends. We know how to reach out and care about the people around us. As a family we love and care about each individual family member. We know how to forgive and make repairs when we offend each other. There is an unconditionality about our interactions; no matter what happens to us or whatever mistakes we have made... it will be okay... we are still a family with a desire to be a close and connected. Perhaps the biggest strength of all for any of us, is the ability to keep trying-keep moving forward-and being open and willing to try a new approach to the challenges we face.
With these strengths at or disposal. surely we can climb the mountain. Let's go!
I use an analogy of climbing the treatment mountain. When we start to dig up the dirt or take digs at self or others we end up making a big hole and displacing a bunch of dirt..It's hard work. It's hard to hear the dirt about ourselves; we recognize our deficits, what's wrong with us, and the things we need to change. All these problems represent our current needs. In traditional treatment this is our chief complaint. Treatment will be useless unless it addresses accurate diagnosis. But what about the big hole or the displaced dirt from our digging? With time this dirt is packed down and forms mountain of sorts...a mountain we will need to climb.We will need strength and put forth a great deal of effort to climb this mountain of our own making. Why not use every possible resource we have to accomplish the task-use strength to tackle weakness!
My family has many strengths; all of our bodies are pretty healthy- we can see, hear, talk and walk. I think we have a high level of intelligence. sure we do stupid things, but I think we are all pretty awake and aware. We also have a high degree of social and emotional intelligence. We not only know how to communicate but we know how to make and keep friends. We know how to reach out and care about the people around us. As a family we love and care about each individual family member. We know how to forgive and make repairs when we offend each other. There is an unconditionality about our interactions; no matter what happens to us or whatever mistakes we have made... it will be okay... we are still a family with a desire to be a close and connected. Perhaps the biggest strength of all for any of us, is the ability to keep trying-keep moving forward-and being open and willing to try a new approach to the challenges we face.
With these strengths at or disposal. surely we can climb the mountain. Let's go!
Saturday, November 4, 2017
38 Bottles: Better Decisions
I'm sure there are all sorts of outcomes for "family therapy" and what people expect to get out of their sessions. Yet I can't help thinking the ability to make better decisions should be on top of the list. This includes feeling better, thinking better, and ultimately behaving better. This is the essence of health right? When I'm sick or hurt, I want to feel better and ultimately improve my executive functioning.
I am fascinated with mental health. It appears to have some connection with spiritual health- at least both are not readily visible. It's hard to diagnose and treat because conditions aren't manifest in a MRI, x-ray, or in a gushing gun shot wound. Some clinicians use FMRI's and other analytic tools, but it's still fuzzy science. The whole field is wrought with ambiguity. It's confusing and contradictory. But I suppose physical health is as well. Nevertheless, we try to figure things out. What makes us tick? What causes us to act or be acted upon? What knowledge will really make a difference in our life?
And so as I navigate through different concepts in mental health that may be useful for my family, I believe it helps to have a foundation-or a safe harbor to return to when venturing out into the ocean. It's too easy to get lost in the wild sea of ideas.
All through my children's lives, we gathered each night for "Scripture Time." In many cases, it was a joke- the rug we sat on often became a stage for family antics; but we still tried to read from the pages of the scriptures to build faith in Jesus Christ. My children sometimes expressed irritation as I would relate almost anything we did or learned about during the day to the gospel of Jesus Christ. How I wish I could gather my adult sons and daughters around me and have family scripture time each night. I know it would still help us. I try to encourage daily private study of the scriptures, but I feel like they don't think it helps them. They sometimes even think it not only doesn't help them but makes them feel bad -commands end up feeling like criticism and harsh judgment about various imperfections.
Jeffrey Holland's latest conference talk addresses this issue. Here are some excerpts;
Our only hope for true perfection is in receiving it as a gift from heaven—we can’t “earn” it. Thus, the grace of Christ offers us not only salvation from sorrow and sin and death but also salvation from our own persistent self-criticism...
My brothers and sisters, except for Jesus, there have been no flawless performances on this earthly journey we are pursuing, so while in mortality let’s strive for steady improvement without obsessing over what behavioral scientists call “toxic perfectionism.”...
Brothers and sisters, every one of us aspires to a more Christlike life than we often succeed in living. If we admit that honestly and are trying to improve, we are not hypocrites; we are human. May we refuse to let our own mortal follies, and the inevitable shortcomings of even the best men and women around us, make us cynical about the truths of the gospel, the truthfulness of the Church, our hope for our future, or the possibility of godliness. If we persevere, then somewhere in eternity our refinement will be finished and complete—which is the New Testament meaning of perfection.14
I testify that scriptures help more than they hurt. They can help me and my family. Though my suggestion may be dismissed as the silly rantings of a religious fanatic, I believe if we want our family to heal and improve daily functioning,scripture time should be considered as one of our "therapy assignments." We can't gather around the rug and watch the family circus of personalities, but we can do something to incorporate scripture time, especially, The Book of Mormon, into our daily routine. President Nelson stated:
My dear brothers and sisters, I promise that as you prayerfully study the Book of Mormon every day, you will make better decisions—every day. I promise that as you ponder what you study, the windows of heaven will open, and you will receive answers to your own questions and direction for your own life. I promise that as you daily immerse yourself in the Book of Mormon, you can be immunized against the evils of the day, even the gripping plague of pornography and other mind-numbing addictions.
That's not just a statement, it's a promise! From a prophet, seer, and revelator no less. Wow. A promise that we can make better decisions by doing one simple thing...a spiritual remedy. That surely is a intervention worth trying!
I am fascinated with mental health. It appears to have some connection with spiritual health- at least both are not readily visible. It's hard to diagnose and treat because conditions aren't manifest in a MRI, x-ray, or in a gushing gun shot wound. Some clinicians use FMRI's and other analytic tools, but it's still fuzzy science. The whole field is wrought with ambiguity. It's confusing and contradictory. But I suppose physical health is as well. Nevertheless, we try to figure things out. What makes us tick? What causes us to act or be acted upon? What knowledge will really make a difference in our life?
And so as I navigate through different concepts in mental health that may be useful for my family, I believe it helps to have a foundation-or a safe harbor to return to when venturing out into the ocean. It's too easy to get lost in the wild sea of ideas.
All through my children's lives, we gathered each night for "Scripture Time." In many cases, it was a joke- the rug we sat on often became a stage for family antics; but we still tried to read from the pages of the scriptures to build faith in Jesus Christ. My children sometimes expressed irritation as I would relate almost anything we did or learned about during the day to the gospel of Jesus Christ. How I wish I could gather my adult sons and daughters around me and have family scripture time each night. I know it would still help us. I try to encourage daily private study of the scriptures, but I feel like they don't think it helps them. They sometimes even think it not only doesn't help them but makes them feel bad -commands end up feeling like criticism and harsh judgment about various imperfections.
Jeffrey Holland's latest conference talk addresses this issue. Here are some excerpts;
Our only hope for true perfection is in receiving it as a gift from heaven—we can’t “earn” it. Thus, the grace of Christ offers us not only salvation from sorrow and sin and death but also salvation from our own persistent self-criticism...
My brothers and sisters, except for Jesus, there have been no flawless performances on this earthly journey we are pursuing, so while in mortality let’s strive for steady improvement without obsessing over what behavioral scientists call “toxic perfectionism.”...
Brothers and sisters, every one of us aspires to a more Christlike life than we often succeed in living. If we admit that honestly and are trying to improve, we are not hypocrites; we are human. May we refuse to let our own mortal follies, and the inevitable shortcomings of even the best men and women around us, make us cynical about the truths of the gospel, the truthfulness of the Church, our hope for our future, or the possibility of godliness. If we persevere, then somewhere in eternity our refinement will be finished and complete—which is the New Testament meaning of perfection.14
I testify that scriptures help more than they hurt. They can help me and my family. Though my suggestion may be dismissed as the silly rantings of a religious fanatic, I believe if we want our family to heal and improve daily functioning,scripture time should be considered as one of our "therapy assignments." We can't gather around the rug and watch the family circus of personalities, but we can do something to incorporate scripture time, especially, The Book of Mormon, into our daily routine. President Nelson stated:
My dear brothers and sisters, I promise that as you prayerfully study the Book of Mormon every day, you will make better decisions—every day. I promise that as you ponder what you study, the windows of heaven will open, and you will receive answers to your own questions and direction for your own life. I promise that as you daily immerse yourself in the Book of Mormon, you can be immunized against the evils of the day, even the gripping plague of pornography and other mind-numbing addictions.
That's not just a statement, it's a promise! From a prophet, seer, and revelator no less. Wow. A promise that we can make better decisions by doing one simple thing...a spiritual remedy. That surely is a intervention worth trying!
Thursday, November 2, 2017
39 Bottles of Beer
It's been a couple of months since I last wrote an entry in my "99 bottles of beer" blog I got to bottle number 40 and then Jeff was released from prison. Ready or not, I had to face him...and I did. The surprising part about the whole ordeal, was that it was not an ordeal at all. It was normal. It was fine. It was almost like a non-event. Much like the soda pop that lost its' fizz because someone didn't screw the lid on tight enough, our initial meeting didn't have any volcanic overflow, explosions, mess, or fireworks. It was flat-barely registered on a emotional Richter scale-if there was such a thing.
Since Jeff returned to Utah, we've had about 3 or 4 family dinners, and about 4 one on one exchanges such as walks, car rides, errands, etc. We had a discussion about boundaries and so far, they have been respected. My son asked if I was attracted to him, and I honestly said I wasn't. There is familiarity for sure, but I feel like my eyes are wide open. I see him, or at least I think I'm seeing him with new eyes and awareness.
When his release date finally arrived I didn't have a bunch of pent up feelings and thoughts waiting to explode. They came out gradually through the process of writing 60 journal entries; writing my 99 bottles of beer blog helped me explore issues regarding my relationship with my x husband- past, present future.
It's been more difficult for my children since they have not processed through their issues regarding their father, their mother, their relationship, and our family dynamics past,present, and future. Some have suggested some sort of family therapy.
I'm open to that, though I don't have funds. Last week I suggested Jeff cover mental health expenses-I think that's fair. Taking a page out of the past Mowen family playbook, we usually don't go to the doctor unless we're practically dying. Instead we do the best with the resources we already have. It's our attempt to self-medicate.
And so I turn once again to beer. That's medicine right? Surely I have 40 bottles worth of mental health ideas, interventions, treatment or home grown remedies to help with our condition.
Flat can be good when it comes to shaking bottles and opening them up. But flat can also impede progress-especially as I'm writing this entry as I sit here on my para-transit bus with several customers on board waiting for help to arrive. It is my first experience with a flat tire during my early morning route, probably not the last.
Since Jeff returned to Utah, we've had about 3 or 4 family dinners, and about 4 one on one exchanges such as walks, car rides, errands, etc. We had a discussion about boundaries and so far, they have been respected. My son asked if I was attracted to him, and I honestly said I wasn't. There is familiarity for sure, but I feel like my eyes are wide open. I see him, or at least I think I'm seeing him with new eyes and awareness.
When his release date finally arrived I didn't have a bunch of pent up feelings and thoughts waiting to explode. They came out gradually through the process of writing 60 journal entries; writing my 99 bottles of beer blog helped me explore issues regarding my relationship with my x husband- past, present future.
It's been more difficult for my children since they have not processed through their issues regarding their father, their mother, their relationship, and our family dynamics past,present, and future. Some have suggested some sort of family therapy.
I'm open to that, though I don't have funds. Last week I suggested Jeff cover mental health expenses-I think that's fair. Taking a page out of the past Mowen family playbook, we usually don't go to the doctor unless we're practically dying. Instead we do the best with the resources we already have. It's our attempt to self-medicate.
And so I turn once again to beer. That's medicine right? Surely I have 40 bottles worth of mental health ideas, interventions, treatment or home grown remedies to help with our condition.
Flat can be good when it comes to shaking bottles and opening them up. But flat can also impede progress-especially as I'm writing this entry as I sit here on my para-transit bus with several customers on board waiting for help to arrive. It is my first experience with a flat tire during my early morning route, probably not the last.
The big boss came, we transferred the customers to a different van and we were on our way. Perhaps these last 40 bottles can help the people in my family board a different bus and get back on track. We can make forward progress and eventually fix that flat tire or replace it with a new one.
Sunday, August 20, 2017
99 Bottles of Beer and Peace
When I found out that Jeff would shortly be released from prison, I started a private blog entitled, "99 Bottles of Beer." I invited some close family, friends, and therapists to read it to help me process through some issues. I didn't quite make it down to bottle #1, but I have 60 entries that helped me express bottled up thoughts and feelings. It was important for me to get them out. I share my last entry with my facebook friends:
Just how many bottles do I have left in me? Do I have 40 more issues to discuss? Or am I like the soda pop that has gone flat after sitting out too long? I'm feeling pretty calm. Is that me feeling dead inside or am I at peace? I'm sure I could rehash some thoughts and feelings of profound failure in my life, feelings of loss and grief, constant change and emotional upheaval, and uncertainties in the future-but my time is up.
A couple of weeks ago when retiring for bed, I started thinking about Jeff's imminent release-I had a wave of anxiety as a parade of thoughts and feelings marched through my mind. I needed to sleep. I had to get up in a couple of hours for work. I needed help to get my needed rest. At that moment, the words to a familiar hymn went through my mind, "Where Can I Turn for Peace?" I tried to remember each verse and rehearse them in my mind:
"Where Can I Turn for Peace? Where is my solace? When other sources cease to make me whole. When with a wounded heart, anger or malice. I draw myself apart, searching my soul.
Where when my aching grows, where when I languish. Where in my need to know. Where can I run? Where is the quiet hand-to calm my anguish. Who who can understand-He only one!
He answers privately. Reaches my reaching. In my Gethsemane, Savior and friend. Gentle the peace he finds, for my beseeching. Constant he is and kind, love without end!"
As I did so, a wave of stillness enveloped me. It felt like my body was wrapped up in something soft and comforting. It was something quite tangible. Not only did it calm my mind and heart, but my body felt calm as well as it started to drift into sleep.
The next morning I knew that hymn should be our monthly choir number. This song needed to be my focus. I encouraged our choir members to memorize the words so they too could call upon them in their hours of need. I found one of my early arrangements of this hymn that I had performed with my brother.
The pages of my composition were torn, tattered, faded, and extremely hard to read. It was so confusing for our choir; we compared it to interpreting an ancient manuscript with a Urim and Thumim. They were appreciative when I transcribed it into a new music notation software program I found online. It surely communicated my musical ideas in a clearer fashion.
Yet I like my confusing copy for sentimental reasons. My brother wrote the lyrics in his familiar scrawl underneath his notes he was to sing. I love my brother. I need my brother. He has been my one constant priesthood source throughout my life. If there was ever a time for a priesthood blessing-it's now, especially since Jeff gets out tomorrow.
I don't have priesthood sons to give me a blessing. I don't have a priesthood husband to give me a blessing. My home teachers moved out of the ward last week. I could ask my father in law for a blessing, but considering my recent call with him where he literally said 10 words to me, he might not be the best source to turn to. I need a blessing.
I had a thought this morning that maybe I could get set apart for my nursery call after church and slip in a request for a priesthood blessing from the bishop. The thought was confirmed as I glanced at our nursery lesson for today entitled, "Heavenly Father Blesses Me Through The Priesthood." Coincidence? No. Confirmation. Heavenly Communication. God is aware of me and my needs.
Regardless if I get a blessing today or not, regardless if I talk to my big brother Jerry today or not, Jesus answers privately, reaches my reaching. In my Gethsamane, Savior and Friend. Gentle the peace he finds, for my beseeching. Constant He is and kind, Love without End. Though it's nice to find authorized servants that represent Jesus, I need to remember who they are really representing-my big brother Jesus.
I have a testimony that Jesus is real. I want to be valiant in that testimony. I am so grateful He loves me. He not only comforts me when I can't sleep, but he brings peace as I face all sorts of challenging situations. He helps me find solutions to problems. Like the caption on lds.org media clip says today, "Whatever he saith unto you-Do it."
So where can I turn for peace on this special day? I turn to Him. I run to Him.
Just how many bottles do I have left in me? Do I have 40 more issues to discuss? Or am I like the soda pop that has gone flat after sitting out too long? I'm feeling pretty calm. Is that me feeling dead inside or am I at peace? I'm sure I could rehash some thoughts and feelings of profound failure in my life, feelings of loss and grief, constant change and emotional upheaval, and uncertainties in the future-but my time is up.
A couple of weeks ago when retiring for bed, I started thinking about Jeff's imminent release-I had a wave of anxiety as a parade of thoughts and feelings marched through my mind. I needed to sleep. I had to get up in a couple of hours for work. I needed help to get my needed rest. At that moment, the words to a familiar hymn went through my mind, "Where Can I Turn for Peace?" I tried to remember each verse and rehearse them in my mind:
"Where Can I Turn for Peace? Where is my solace? When other sources cease to make me whole. When with a wounded heart, anger or malice. I draw myself apart, searching my soul.
Where when my aching grows, where when I languish. Where in my need to know. Where can I run? Where is the quiet hand-to calm my anguish. Who who can understand-He only one!
He answers privately. Reaches my reaching. In my Gethsemane, Savior and friend. Gentle the peace he finds, for my beseeching. Constant he is and kind, love without end!"
As I did so, a wave of stillness enveloped me. It felt like my body was wrapped up in something soft and comforting. It was something quite tangible. Not only did it calm my mind and heart, but my body felt calm as well as it started to drift into sleep.
The next morning I knew that hymn should be our monthly choir number. This song needed to be my focus. I encouraged our choir members to memorize the words so they too could call upon them in their hours of need. I found one of my early arrangements of this hymn that I had performed with my brother.
The pages of my composition were torn, tattered, faded, and extremely hard to read. It was so confusing for our choir; we compared it to interpreting an ancient manuscript with a Urim and Thumim. They were appreciative when I transcribed it into a new music notation software program I found online. It surely communicated my musical ideas in a clearer fashion.
Yet I like my confusing copy for sentimental reasons. My brother wrote the lyrics in his familiar scrawl underneath his notes he was to sing. I love my brother. I need my brother. He has been my one constant priesthood source throughout my life. If there was ever a time for a priesthood blessing-it's now, especially since Jeff gets out tomorrow.
I don't have priesthood sons to give me a blessing. I don't have a priesthood husband to give me a blessing. My home teachers moved out of the ward last week. I could ask my father in law for a blessing, but considering my recent call with him where he literally said 10 words to me, he might not be the best source to turn to. I need a blessing.
I had a thought this morning that maybe I could get set apart for my nursery call after church and slip in a request for a priesthood blessing from the bishop. The thought was confirmed as I glanced at our nursery lesson for today entitled, "Heavenly Father Blesses Me Through The Priesthood." Coincidence? No. Confirmation. Heavenly Communication. God is aware of me and my needs.
Regardless if I get a blessing today or not, regardless if I talk to my big brother Jerry today or not, Jesus answers privately, reaches my reaching. In my Gethsamane, Savior and Friend. Gentle the peace he finds, for my beseeching. Constant He is and kind, Love without End. Though it's nice to find authorized servants that represent Jesus, I need to remember who they are really representing-my big brother Jesus.
I have a testimony that Jesus is real. I want to be valiant in that testimony. I am so grateful He loves me. He not only comforts me when I can't sleep, but he brings peace as I face all sorts of challenging situations. He helps me find solutions to problems. Like the caption on lds.org media clip says today, "Whatever he saith unto you-Do it."
So where can I turn for peace on this special day? I turn to Him. I run to Him.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Bella Baptism
This morning I was thinking about baptism since it was the topic of my nursery lesson yesterday. The nursery manual is so simple, yet so profound. It's chalked full of simple truths. It reminded me of the song I wrote for my sweet great niece, Bella for her own baptism last month..
Right away, the tune came to me using her name, Bella-which means beautiful. Though I knew that she would like to hear everyone singing her name, I also wanted to write a primary song everyone could relate to. We all want to be beautiful and clean. Whether we are boy or girl, young or old, we care about how things look. We not only spend time and effort to look our best, but we care about our environment-we surround ourselves with beautiful things. It reminds me of our beautiful world and our power to create. Beauty matters.
I also wanted to pay homage to my talented sister, Kathy, who for years has sewn many beautiful little girl dresses for her daughters and now her grandchildren. She also is a Disney queen. As such, I wanted the song to have references to one of her favorite characters-Cinderella. Kathy sometimes refers to herself as Cinderella, not only because she works, and works, and works, but she's also waiting for that handsome prince to sweep her off her feet and give her the care and attention she so deserves. by the way, if anyone out there has a Disney guy out there who'd like to go with my sister to walk the streets of Disneyland with her every week, please send him my way and I'll set them up.
Even though the song has references to a Disney princess, the gentleman are included in the doctrine contained therein. So I'm going to break it down-line by line and point out some ideas I was trying to illustrate through music. Lyrics are in bold.
Chorus:
"Bella Baptism for you". My darling great niece Bella. This was her special day and I wanted her to have her special song.
"Bella Baptism for me". I need the ordinance of baptism as well, especially if I want to be beautiful.
"He would do it just for you." The "He" is Jesus Christ. The great work of his atonement is personalized. Every single person will have their work done-name by name. It would be a lot easier if there was a mass baptism, but he calls us one by one. The ordinance is done one by one. And though I don't feel very important , I believe the Savior would have accomplished his Father's work, even if it was just for one person. The worth of the soul is great and each person is precious.
"To make you beautiful and clean." Though man made efforts help, when it comes down to real beauty-the only way it can be accomplished is through the cleansing blood of Jesus Christ and the sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit.
"A royal invitation came, but you could not go just the same." God is THE royal king. He invites us to join him, but no unclean thing can enter into his kingdom. Though we may want to go and live with him-we can't. We all sin. We are all unclean. We can't atone for own sins.
"All dressed in rags, covered in soot, the smell of fire from head to foot." Metaphorically, we are all way worse than Cinderella has ever been depicted. We are all more like homeless people that have been living on the streets for years. We not only look bad, but we stink. No matter how hard we try, the stark reality is that our souls look worse than Dorian Gray. We are just plain ugly.
"You need to change!" If you've ever come home from a long camping trip, a good bath and changing our clothes come first. Repentance is change. We can't go on doing the same things-we have to change directions.
"The hour is nigh, be fitted for the court on high." I like the image of Cinderella trying to fit in at court. Without the right clothes, she not only wouldn't be admitted but she'd wouldn't feel comfortable. It would make others uncomfortable as well. We want to belong. We also refer to God's kingdom as a court on high.
"You cry for help beyond your own, 'cause you can't do it all alone." Cinderella couldn't do it alone, she cried and fairy godmother responded. We can't do it alone either. We all have a real fairy godmother. Someone who is truly there for us that will respond to our needs-especially the important need of being clean and beautiful.
Chorus:
2nd verse:
"The Evening and the Morning Star, The Rod of Power, His Mighty Arm" These are all scriptural references to Jesus Christ and his Royal Priesthood. He's the one. I also wanted to evoke the image of a wand with a star on top of it.
"will lay you down in waters deep, and lift you up to make you clean." The imagery of baptism is so powerful. I know it's not magic, but it sure is wonderful that faith in Jesus Christ, followed by baptism cleanses us from sin. And we continue the great image of water cleansing us as we partake of the baptism. It is not enough to have someone lay you down in water, it must be done by "His mighty arm"-someone who truly hold the Priesthood. If not, it does not have the power to cleanse. You're just playing pretend.
.
"A Mighty Change." This has reference to being born again. Truly becoming a new creature. Alma states, "a mighty change was also wrought in their hearts and they humbled themselves and put their trust in the true and living God. And behold they were faithful until the end therefor they were saved." He asks,"Have ye received his image in your countenances? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?
"The Spirit's flame, as hands upon your head are placed." This has reference to confirmation and the gift of the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost. It also alludes to the image of fire as a sanctifying, purifying element.
"And you will shine and sparkle bright as you seek truth and further light." I loved this line. When I think of Disney princesses-I can't help think of sparkles and glitter. Glitter and diamonds sparkle as they reflect light. The most sparkly and shiny thing I can think of is the image of the Father and the Son appearing to Joseph Smith "whose brightness and glory defy all description" As we seek out truth as young Joseph, we too reflect the light.
Chorus
Right away, the tune came to me using her name, Bella-which means beautiful. Though I knew that she would like to hear everyone singing her name, I also wanted to write a primary song everyone could relate to. We all want to be beautiful and clean. Whether we are boy or girl, young or old, we care about how things look. We not only spend time and effort to look our best, but we care about our environment-we surround ourselves with beautiful things. It reminds me of our beautiful world and our power to create. Beauty matters.
I also wanted to pay homage to my talented sister, Kathy, who for years has sewn many beautiful little girl dresses for her daughters and now her grandchildren. She also is a Disney queen. As such, I wanted the song to have references to one of her favorite characters-Cinderella. Kathy sometimes refers to herself as Cinderella, not only because she works, and works, and works, but she's also waiting for that handsome prince to sweep her off her feet and give her the care and attention she so deserves. by the way, if anyone out there has a Disney guy out there who'd like to go with my sister to walk the streets of Disneyland with her every week, please send him my way and I'll set them up.
Even though the song has references to a Disney princess, the gentleman are included in the doctrine contained therein. So I'm going to break it down-line by line and point out some ideas I was trying to illustrate through music. Lyrics are in bold.
Chorus:
"Bella Baptism for you". My darling great niece Bella. This was her special day and I wanted her to have her special song.
"Bella Baptism for me". I need the ordinance of baptism as well, especially if I want to be beautiful.
"He would do it just for you." The "He" is Jesus Christ. The great work of his atonement is personalized. Every single person will have their work done-name by name. It would be a lot easier if there was a mass baptism, but he calls us one by one. The ordinance is done one by one. And though I don't feel very important , I believe the Savior would have accomplished his Father's work, even if it was just for one person. The worth of the soul is great and each person is precious.
"To make you beautiful and clean." Though man made efforts help, when it comes down to real beauty-the only way it can be accomplished is through the cleansing blood of Jesus Christ and the sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit.
"A royal invitation came, but you could not go just the same." God is THE royal king. He invites us to join him, but no unclean thing can enter into his kingdom. Though we may want to go and live with him-we can't. We all sin. We are all unclean. We can't atone for own sins.
"All dressed in rags, covered in soot, the smell of fire from head to foot." Metaphorically, we are all way worse than Cinderella has ever been depicted. We are all more like homeless people that have been living on the streets for years. We not only look bad, but we stink. No matter how hard we try, the stark reality is that our souls look worse than Dorian Gray. We are just plain ugly.
"You need to change!" If you've ever come home from a long camping trip, a good bath and changing our clothes come first. Repentance is change. We can't go on doing the same things-we have to change directions.
"The hour is nigh, be fitted for the court on high." I like the image of Cinderella trying to fit in at court. Without the right clothes, she not only wouldn't be admitted but she'd wouldn't feel comfortable. It would make others uncomfortable as well. We want to belong. We also refer to God's kingdom as a court on high.
"You cry for help beyond your own, 'cause you can't do it all alone." Cinderella couldn't do it alone, she cried and fairy godmother responded. We can't do it alone either. We all have a real fairy godmother. Someone who is truly there for us that will respond to our needs-especially the important need of being clean and beautiful.
Chorus:
2nd verse:
"The Evening and the Morning Star, The Rod of Power, His Mighty Arm" These are all scriptural references to Jesus Christ and his Royal Priesthood. He's the one. I also wanted to evoke the image of a wand with a star on top of it.
"will lay you down in waters deep, and lift you up to make you clean." The imagery of baptism is so powerful. I know it's not magic, but it sure is wonderful that faith in Jesus Christ, followed by baptism cleanses us from sin. And we continue the great image of water cleansing us as we partake of the baptism. It is not enough to have someone lay you down in water, it must be done by "His mighty arm"-someone who truly hold the Priesthood. If not, it does not have the power to cleanse. You're just playing pretend.
.
"A Mighty Change." This has reference to being born again. Truly becoming a new creature. Alma states, "a mighty change was also wrought in their hearts and they humbled themselves and put their trust in the true and living God. And behold they were faithful until the end therefor they were saved." He asks,"Have ye received his image in your countenances? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?
"The Spirit's flame, as hands upon your head are placed." This has reference to confirmation and the gift of the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost. It also alludes to the image of fire as a sanctifying, purifying element.
"And you will shine and sparkle bright as you seek truth and further light." I loved this line. When I think of Disney princesses-I can't help think of sparkles and glitter. Glitter and diamonds sparkle as they reflect light. The most sparkly and shiny thing I can think of is the image of the Father and the Son appearing to Joseph Smith "whose brightness and glory defy all description" As we seek out truth as young Joseph, we too reflect the light.
Chorus
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Extermination
This morning I was thinking about extermination of pests-public nuisances-whatever. We used to have this really cool BBQ pit in our stake park. It could accommodate large groups for campfire fun. It even had a couple of raised platforms for some type of performances-at least I can imagine people playing guitars, singing around the campfire, etc. Since the park is pretty much my backyard, I thought about using it in the future for some type of family gathering. Well, that's not happening.
A couple of months ago, the stake leaders decided to fill the area in with dirt because rowdy teens were using it for their drug parties or other unseemly activities. They thought the best way to drive out the nuisance was to destroy the gathering place; that will stop it, right? Or at least force them to continue their activities somewhere else where we can't see it, where they can't bother us. It made me sad. Not that I'm in to wild drug/sex parties, but it was just such a nice feature of the park. Now it's just weeds.
It reminded me of our infestation of swallows all along the top edge on the outside of our gym building at work. I liked going in that door to enter the facility. Mind you, I was a little concerned of bird droppings, but I loved seeing the crazy way these birds flew together, or should I say, really did not fly together. Mighty ducks they were not-no flying V's or any semblance of order. They just clumped and moved together like a flock of hyperactive children. Reminded me of the students inside the building.
One day while entering the building I noticed all the nests were gone. I don't know how the maintenance dudes did it...perhaps power washing? But all the crazy birds and their nests were gone. It was clean, sanitized, but devoid of life. I was sad. I'm sure they found new homes. I hope. It's possible some of the baby swallows were destroyed in the cleansing of the building. I understood they were a nuisance, but did we really have to give the extermination order?
Back in the early days of the church, the Mormons were a nuisance to the residents of Missouri and Illinois. They seemed to be gathering in droves. They encroached on the state's land They made their presence known. They could influence the vote. They not only were a nuisance, but they threatened the residents way of life. They had to be driven out-exterminated. According to the order by Gov. Lilburn W. Boggs, the Mormons were "in open avowed defiance of the laws, and having made war upon the people of the State...and must be exterminated or driven from the State if necessary for public peace." So legally you could exterminate a Mormon until 1976, when it was eliminated by Sen. Christopher Bond. There you go. I suppose like the crazy swallows and crazy teenagers, if you take away their nests and place of gathering, they'll be gone...or at least from your line of sight.
Death and destruction certainly don't reign supreme. Life prevails. People start again. People find a new place and carry on with life. As Pioneer day, celebrated in Utah every July 24th attests:
"We’ll find the place which God for us prepared, Far away in the West, Where none shall come to hurt or make afraid; There the Saints will be blessed."
And so they have. I am so proud to be a Mormon, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I'm grateful for the pioneers who preserved my faith, who kept it alive even with the threat of extermination...life prevails. Faith prevails.
.
A couple of months ago, the stake leaders decided to fill the area in with dirt because rowdy teens were using it for their drug parties or other unseemly activities. They thought the best way to drive out the nuisance was to destroy the gathering place; that will stop it, right? Or at least force them to continue their activities somewhere else where we can't see it, where they can't bother us. It made me sad. Not that I'm in to wild drug/sex parties, but it was just such a nice feature of the park. Now it's just weeds.
It reminded me of our infestation of swallows all along the top edge on the outside of our gym building at work. I liked going in that door to enter the facility. Mind you, I was a little concerned of bird droppings, but I loved seeing the crazy way these birds flew together, or should I say, really did not fly together. Mighty ducks they were not-no flying V's or any semblance of order. They just clumped and moved together like a flock of hyperactive children. Reminded me of the students inside the building.
One day while entering the building I noticed all the nests were gone. I don't know how the maintenance dudes did it...perhaps power washing? But all the crazy birds and their nests were gone. It was clean, sanitized, but devoid of life. I was sad. I'm sure they found new homes. I hope. It's possible some of the baby swallows were destroyed in the cleansing of the building. I understood they were a nuisance, but did we really have to give the extermination order?
Back in the early days of the church, the Mormons were a nuisance to the residents of Missouri and Illinois. They seemed to be gathering in droves. They encroached on the state's land They made their presence known. They could influence the vote. They not only were a nuisance, but they threatened the residents way of life. They had to be driven out-exterminated. According to the order by Gov. Lilburn W. Boggs, the Mormons were "in open avowed defiance of the laws, and having made war upon the people of the State...and must be exterminated or driven from the State if necessary for public peace." So legally you could exterminate a Mormon until 1976, when it was eliminated by Sen. Christopher Bond. There you go. I suppose like the crazy swallows and crazy teenagers, if you take away their nests and place of gathering, they'll be gone...or at least from your line of sight.
Death and destruction certainly don't reign supreme. Life prevails. People start again. People find a new place and carry on with life. As Pioneer day, celebrated in Utah every July 24th attests:
"We’ll find the place which God for us prepared, Far away in the West, Where none shall come to hurt or make afraid; There the Saints will be blessed."
And so they have. I am so proud to be a Mormon, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I'm grateful for the pioneers who preserved my faith, who kept it alive even with the threat of extermination...life prevails. Faith prevails.
Thursday, July 6, 2017
House of Faith
This morning I was thinking about the house I belong to. I recently returned from the Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios Hollywood. While waiting in line, I played around with a couple of Harry Potter apps including the sorting hat. After asking several questions, the sorting hat declared I was 56% in the house of "Hufflepuff." What the heck? That's the weird one. Great. Oh well. I have a lot more house pride as I consider what it means to be part of the house of "O'Malley".
it meant so much to meet to gather for the baptism of my great niece and participate in the baptismal service. My brother did the ordinance and talk about baptism; my sister gave the talk about the Holy Ghost; my mother and sister in law gave the prayers. I sang a song and played the piano interlude. There's a special power that comes when everyone is on the same page. We believe Jesus is real. We believe the gospel is real. We believe in the restored church. We believe in priesthood power. We believe in ordinances. Believing together brings us closer. The next day the counselor in the bishopric mentioned how touched he was with the powerful yet simple faith if dear Bella. it reminded me of my own house of faith.
in his talk, my brother shared how our mother had taught him faith my teaching him the Lord's prayer. My mother also taught me faith by bringing me to church, teaching me the gospel, bearing her testimony and observing her commitment to every church calling-including her latest calling as a primary teacher for the 5 year old children. My faith had grown as I have observed my siblings and their commitment to the gospel. They show their belief through action. I not only come from a house of faith but I feel like we are also united in our faith. Together we are really stronger. We are loyal to a cause much greater than ourselves. We defend our faith just as fervently as any Gryffindor would!
Not that it's Hogwarts castle, but I certainly am sad that the Woodruff ward building is being sold. It houses so many of my childhood memories. I look at the light fixtures and remember gazing and imagining all sorts of things to pass the time while laying down on the pew as a 3 year old. The familiar strained glass windows seemed to make our little ward house especially unique. The pulpit was sacred ground where I bore my testimony in word and song. The classrooms still have the orginal hardware reminding me of primary kids escaping through the windows and other classroom antics. The stage was the place where we held our very large teenager Sunday School class complete with lesson and Texas sheetcake or cinnamon rolls from Mom-good ole' Sister O'Malley. The primary room was the place where I learned about magnifying callings. Back in the day before the block meetings, we spent so much time in the building, it was almost like second home. It was my very own house of faith. it was the place where I felt the spirit over and over and over again.
Yet, the Woodruff chapel is not where my faith resides. It's part of my own house-memories of faith stored in my body and in my spirit. The light peaking through my own stained glass windows reminds me that I really am part of the house of Elohim, God the Father. I'm part of something so much greater than myself. I seek unity of faith with my fellow brothers and sisters. We really do have something to cheer and show our house pride.
it meant so much to meet to gather for the baptism of my great niece and participate in the baptismal service. My brother did the ordinance and talk about baptism; my sister gave the talk about the Holy Ghost; my mother and sister in law gave the prayers. I sang a song and played the piano interlude. There's a special power that comes when everyone is on the same page. We believe Jesus is real. We believe the gospel is real. We believe in the restored church. We believe in priesthood power. We believe in ordinances. Believing together brings us closer. The next day the counselor in the bishopric mentioned how touched he was with the powerful yet simple faith if dear Bella. it reminded me of my own house of faith.
in his talk, my brother shared how our mother had taught him faith my teaching him the Lord's prayer. My mother also taught me faith by bringing me to church, teaching me the gospel, bearing her testimony and observing her commitment to every church calling-including her latest calling as a primary teacher for the 5 year old children. My faith had grown as I have observed my siblings and their commitment to the gospel. They show their belief through action. I not only come from a house of faith but I feel like we are also united in our faith. Together we are really stronger. We are loyal to a cause much greater than ourselves. We defend our faith just as fervently as any Gryffindor would!
Not that it's Hogwarts castle, but I certainly am sad that the Woodruff ward building is being sold. It houses so many of my childhood memories. I look at the light fixtures and remember gazing and imagining all sorts of things to pass the time while laying down on the pew as a 3 year old. The familiar strained glass windows seemed to make our little ward house especially unique. The pulpit was sacred ground where I bore my testimony in word and song. The classrooms still have the orginal hardware reminding me of primary kids escaping through the windows and other classroom antics. The stage was the place where we held our very large teenager Sunday School class complete with lesson and Texas sheetcake or cinnamon rolls from Mom-good ole' Sister O'Malley. The primary room was the place where I learned about magnifying callings. Back in the day before the block meetings, we spent so much time in the building, it was almost like second home. It was my very own house of faith. it was the place where I felt the spirit over and over and over again.
Yet, the Woodruff chapel is not where my faith resides. It's part of my own house-memories of faith stored in my body and in my spirit. The light peaking through my own stained glass windows reminds me that I really am part of the house of Elohim, God the Father. I'm part of something so much greater than myself. I seek unity of faith with my fellow brothers and sisters. We really do have something to cheer and show our house pride.
Saturday, June 3, 2017
Breaker
This morning I was thinking about breaking things. Yesterday I dropped my super expensive plastic covering to our bulletin board at work-and broke it. As I unscrewed it, I forgot to support it, so it crashed to the ground. I was so mad at myself. I've tried to be so careful during this past year every time I put up the student's pictures and calendar. And yet I was careless, clumsy, distracted...something resulting in huge cracks and chips that cannot be repaired. I hid it in back of our maintenance dude's shed. I'm sure it needs to be thrown away. Anyway-I need to get a new one. I think it can be replaced. In the meantime-we'll just have to do without it and hope the students won't touch and mess up the calendar right. Impulse control- right?
I break things-all the time. When I do, I feel horrible, but usually shake it off and chalk it up to another Erin mishap. However about 4 years ago, while decorating my bathroom walls with a couple of my mother's "blue plates," the nail supporting it gave way and it came crashing down on the tiled floor. This time, I was devastated-I literally felt pain inside. This plate was so special to me. These "blue plates" are my mother's heirlooms. My brother, sister, and myself-we all want them. She has often said that we can only have them after she dies. It was a big deal for me to receive a couple of them early when I was making my dream blue and white kitchen. I wanted this space to remind me of my mother-blue onion wallpaper, blue and white tiles, blue and white ceramics etc. These plates not only represented my mother's love of all things blue and white, but it also represented a yearly tradition in my parent's marriage. They would go to Ports of Call in Long Beach to a special antique store and buy one Bing and Gondahl collector's/plate on their wedding anniversary. They were expensive yet my father honored my mother's desire to collect them-whatever Sandy wants. For me these plates represented not only my mother but also their marriage relationship. I treasure them.
The one I broke happened to be my favorite one...of course. It depicted a mother and child at the piano singing. My mom taught me to sing alto while singing hymns at church. My mom bought the piano for her children. She paid for and took me to piano lessons, My mom encouraged me to express myself through music. The plate was a symbol of all those things. When it lay broken at my feet, I fell to the ground and wept. Not just a little. I was flooded with emotion-reminding me of my own broken family of divorce. Like Humpty Dumpty-all the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn't put it back together-there were too many pieces.
I swept the plate up but could not throw it away. Instead, I placed all the pieces in a cloth napkin and put it in a drawer for safe keeping. Though broken, it remains a treasure. I suppose I could go online and replace it-but I won't. The new one wouldn't have the same history or meaning. I would like to find a way to use the pieces in some type of mosaic tile project. I haven't done it yet, but I will someday-find the right glue and the right fitting to honor this broken ceramic pieces.
I also desire to find the right glue and the right fitting to honor my broken family. I would never throw away anyone in my family, including my former husband. I treasure each piece. They cannot be replaced. They are precious and worth keeping. My family will never look the same as it did when we were all living under the same roof. We are scattered, yet we can gather.
President Eyring talked about the gathering of God's family in his last conference talk. He states,"Our Heavenly Father is anxious to gather and bless all of His family. While He knows that not all of them will choose to be gathered, His plan gives each of His children the opportunity to accept or reject His invitation. And families are at the heart of this plan."
Light, love, and covenant keeping are the right glue. God's great plan of happiness/salvation and priesthood ordinances are the right fitting. There is a way to humpty dumpty family back together again. And it will be glorious and beautiful.
I break things-all the time. When I do, I feel horrible, but usually shake it off and chalk it up to another Erin mishap. However about 4 years ago, while decorating my bathroom walls with a couple of my mother's "blue plates," the nail supporting it gave way and it came crashing down on the tiled floor. This time, I was devastated-I literally felt pain inside. This plate was so special to me. These "blue plates" are my mother's heirlooms. My brother, sister, and myself-we all want them. She has often said that we can only have them after she dies. It was a big deal for me to receive a couple of them early when I was making my dream blue and white kitchen. I wanted this space to remind me of my mother-blue onion wallpaper, blue and white tiles, blue and white ceramics etc. These plates not only represented my mother's love of all things blue and white, but it also represented a yearly tradition in my parent's marriage. They would go to Ports of Call in Long Beach to a special antique store and buy one Bing and Gondahl collector's/plate on their wedding anniversary. They were expensive yet my father honored my mother's desire to collect them-whatever Sandy wants. For me these plates represented not only my mother but also their marriage relationship. I treasure them.
The one I broke happened to be my favorite one...of course. It depicted a mother and child at the piano singing. My mom taught me to sing alto while singing hymns at church. My mom bought the piano for her children. She paid for and took me to piano lessons, My mom encouraged me to express myself through music. The plate was a symbol of all those things. When it lay broken at my feet, I fell to the ground and wept. Not just a little. I was flooded with emotion-reminding me of my own broken family of divorce. Like Humpty Dumpty-all the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn't put it back together-there were too many pieces.
I swept the plate up but could not throw it away. Instead, I placed all the pieces in a cloth napkin and put it in a drawer for safe keeping. Though broken, it remains a treasure. I suppose I could go online and replace it-but I won't. The new one wouldn't have the same history or meaning. I would like to find a way to use the pieces in some type of mosaic tile project. I haven't done it yet, but I will someday-find the right glue and the right fitting to honor this broken ceramic pieces.
I also desire to find the right glue and the right fitting to honor my broken family. I would never throw away anyone in my family, including my former husband. I treasure each piece. They cannot be replaced. They are precious and worth keeping. My family will never look the same as it did when we were all living under the same roof. We are scattered, yet we can gather.
President Eyring talked about the gathering of God's family in his last conference talk. He states,"Our Heavenly Father is anxious to gather and bless all of His family. While He knows that not all of them will choose to be gathered, His plan gives each of His children the opportunity to accept or reject His invitation. And families are at the heart of this plan."
Light, love, and covenant keeping are the right glue. God's great plan of happiness/salvation and priesthood ordinances are the right fitting. There is a way to humpty dumpty family back together again. And it will be glorious and beautiful.
Monday, May 29, 2017
Problem Solving Canoes
This week was a work camping trip. As with all RT groups, they are centered around a focus-or goal pertaining to treatment. In this case it was about developing and practicing skills of flexibility, frustration tolerance, and problem solving when facing challenging situations. The kids did well and I felt good about the trip for the most part. But one challenging situation lingers in my mind-especially since it could have turned out so much different. Every time I leave for a trip, I pray to God asking him to help me help the children return safely back to campus. Safety is the prime directive but that doesn't mean we have to stay locked up-we venture out into the world with all of it's potential dangers.
Little did I know when launching the canoes in our uneventful section of Provo River that it would turn into a challenging situation. For me, canoeing is a bore. I consider it more of a hassle than a true adventure activity. Let's go on some wave runners-now that's adventure. Getting the canoes off and on the trailer is usually the most challenging aspect of our experience. Not so-this time around. After launching the canoes, it took me a while to even notice that one of our partnerships had capsized. Usually the water is so warm, shallow and still, you can touch the bottom, push the canoe over to the side of the bank and hop back in-no problem. But this was different. The weather in Utah this spring resulted in more water, stronger currents, and colder water.
Once I assessed the situation and saw that the canoe was some distance from the swimmers, I called to the therapist and student to get to the shore and out of the water. I then focused on doing what I had learned. Get the canoe, tee it up cross ways across my canoe to dump out the water, then turn it right side up and reload it. I've practiced this before, but with the current, I couldn't seem to get the right angle and have the strength on my own to perform the maneuver. I needed help.
I asked the fisherman on the shore for help...no response. The 12 paddle boarders just meandered by us like I had everything under control. I called to the other staff in the canoe to come over. The current was starting to take us to the mouth of the lake. I did NOT want that to happen. I didn't want to jump out and pull the boat to shore because I wasn't sure how well the very emotionally unstable student would do alone in the canoe and thought she might tip over and be in water as well. Believe me, I considered a range of options and evaluated the safety of each move. All I could do was hold on to the boat, keep calm, and keep exploring different ways of doing things.
It took a while, but the other staff made his way over to us and we were able to link boats, giving us the necessary stability, leverage and strength to accomplish the task. Talk about problem solving! I hooked the empty boat on to mine, brought on an additional student more capable of rowing and went to shore. The one canoe of girls were arguing so much, it was a miracle they were able to go in the right direction to meet up with us. They even rescued the floating shoe of the therapist. After expressing our relative trauma, each student decided to accept the challenge to get back in the boats and paddle upstream to our original put in. Even the boy who said he "almost died" rowed in a strong, enthusiastic manner as my canoe partner. We solved the problem! It was a triumph over a challenging situation. It was a collective group experience of self-efficacy.
As I've thought about the situation, the words to a song from the musical "Neverland" keep popping into my head. "When reality crashes in wave after wave-pulling me farther beneath... It's all I can do is hold to survive...but my children need so much more than me and they give me the strength to go on...He makes sense of all of my chaos....He's helping me live life again...He's guiding me safely to shore." These snippets surely apply to my canoe ordeal but more than that it applies to my other challenging situations as well. I may be all pumped up with self-efficacy and feeling stronger...but sometime-no many times, I need some help. Jesus Christ provides that help-especially when everyone else seems to be ignoring my plight. He steps in, shimmies his canoe up to mine, and gives me his strength, leverage, and stability to accomplish the task-to solve the problem. I do my part to hold on. He helps me learn the skills of frustration tolerance, flexibility, and problem solving.
Little did I know when launching the canoes in our uneventful section of Provo River that it would turn into a challenging situation. For me, canoeing is a bore. I consider it more of a hassle than a true adventure activity. Let's go on some wave runners-now that's adventure. Getting the canoes off and on the trailer is usually the most challenging aspect of our experience. Not so-this time around. After launching the canoes, it took me a while to even notice that one of our partnerships had capsized. Usually the water is so warm, shallow and still, you can touch the bottom, push the canoe over to the side of the bank and hop back in-no problem. But this was different. The weather in Utah this spring resulted in more water, stronger currents, and colder water.
Once I assessed the situation and saw that the canoe was some distance from the swimmers, I called to the therapist and student to get to the shore and out of the water. I then focused on doing what I had learned. Get the canoe, tee it up cross ways across my canoe to dump out the water, then turn it right side up and reload it. I've practiced this before, but with the current, I couldn't seem to get the right angle and have the strength on my own to perform the maneuver. I needed help.
I asked the fisherman on the shore for help...no response. The 12 paddle boarders just meandered by us like I had everything under control. I called to the other staff in the canoe to come over. The current was starting to take us to the mouth of the lake. I did NOT want that to happen. I didn't want to jump out and pull the boat to shore because I wasn't sure how well the very emotionally unstable student would do alone in the canoe and thought she might tip over and be in water as well. Believe me, I considered a range of options and evaluated the safety of each move. All I could do was hold on to the boat, keep calm, and keep exploring different ways of doing things.
It took a while, but the other staff made his way over to us and we were able to link boats, giving us the necessary stability, leverage and strength to accomplish the task. Talk about problem solving! I hooked the empty boat on to mine, brought on an additional student more capable of rowing and went to shore. The one canoe of girls were arguing so much, it was a miracle they were able to go in the right direction to meet up with us. They even rescued the floating shoe of the therapist. After expressing our relative trauma, each student decided to accept the challenge to get back in the boats and paddle upstream to our original put in. Even the boy who said he "almost died" rowed in a strong, enthusiastic manner as my canoe partner. We solved the problem! It was a triumph over a challenging situation. It was a collective group experience of self-efficacy.
As I've thought about the situation, the words to a song from the musical "Neverland" keep popping into my head. "When reality crashes in wave after wave-pulling me farther beneath... It's all I can do is hold to survive...but my children need so much more than me and they give me the strength to go on...He makes sense of all of my chaos....He's helping me live life again...He's guiding me safely to shore." These snippets surely apply to my canoe ordeal but more than that it applies to my other challenging situations as well. I may be all pumped up with self-efficacy and feeling stronger...but sometime-no many times, I need some help. Jesus Christ provides that help-especially when everyone else seems to be ignoring my plight. He steps in, shimmies his canoe up to mine, and gives me his strength, leverage, and stability to accomplish the task-to solve the problem. I do my part to hold on. He helps me learn the skills of frustration tolerance, flexibility, and problem solving.
Thursday, May 18, 2017
Labor of Love
This morning I was thinking about mothers and their labor of love. For Mother's Day, my daughter gave me a photo from her wedding with a closeup of my arm supporting hers. i like the way you can see her handmade wedding bouquet and corsage- my labor of love. I hung the picture next to a framed card my mother sent a while back with a silhouette of a girl with a pony tail. Behind the cutout I can see the scrawl of my dear mom sending her support through the mail. Many times throughout the years, my mother has sent beautiful note cards with short messages and checks or certificates. They represent her labor of love as she steadies my arm and encourages me to keep going.
From the very beginning at childbirth, mom's perform their labor of love. They do things they don't feel like doing. Of course they try their best to not feel the full force of labor pains. Oh the joys of an epidural-or at least so I've heard. I wouldn't know. With the first child, I thought having a c-section was the easy way out. Yeah, that was a stupid assumption. The nurses encouraged me to walk around the hospital wing soon after my surgery but warned how my stomach would feel like someone was pointing a blow torch directly at it. They pretty much nailed it. With the other children, I wasn't able to have an epidural because my labor went so quickly. I had to face transition on my own -in all it's painful glory. With the last child, even though I jumped the gun on the epidural-they put it in crooked so half of my body was numb while the other half felt every contraction. Just dumb luck. Nevertheless, no matter how exhausting and painful, the labor of love is always worth it-if only to give a child a chance at life.
As mother's day approached, I had the opportunity to offer some financial support to a child and give him a chance to get on his feet again. I was happy to do so. It's why I'm working so hard- even though I usually don't feel like getting up early and I usually don't like how I feel at the end of the day as I pour myself in bed. In fact there are all sorts of things I don't feel like doing related to keeping my job. This week it was re-certifying as a lifeguard. I've been dreading the class. Not only did I not "feel like" doing it, but I don't want to keep doing this over and over just to keep my current job until I retire. I don't know if I have it in me. I also don't feel like renewing my Wilderness First Responder 5 more times,or taking the river crew/guide test again, or having to recertify as a ropes course facilitator every stinkin' year etc. etc. It's a hassle to keep paying the money every year to earn CEU's or paying the annual"maintenance fee" to renew my TRS license and CTRS national certification. Getting all of them in the first place is difficult, but keeping them current...well it's a royal pain in the butt. It's hard. It's exhausting. And at times it's painful. Sometimes I'm scream inside, "I don't want to do this anymore!" Yet I do it because it's my labor of love. It makes me feel like I'm becoming like my own dear mom. She kept working until she was 78. I don't know if I can do that, but I can be committed for the long run-to not give up, but to keep laboring on. It's my best chance. It's also how I can honor my mother, by trying emulate her in every way I can.
I'm know Jesus Christ didn't feel like doing what he did when he performed the most important labor of love. He asked his Father if there was any possible way to get out of it. Or at least not feel so bad- "Remove this cup" he pleaded but was willing to bear it if that's what his Father wanted. He didn't have anything to block the pain. He felt the pains of every single soul. His labor gave me a chance at life-a new life every day if I wish. He gives me the chance of eternal life. He sustains and supports me to keep moving forward. To honor him, I want to emulate his example in all ways. How I love him!
From the very beginning at childbirth, mom's perform their labor of love. They do things they don't feel like doing. Of course they try their best to not feel the full force of labor pains. Oh the joys of an epidural-or at least so I've heard. I wouldn't know. With the first child, I thought having a c-section was the easy way out. Yeah, that was a stupid assumption. The nurses encouraged me to walk around the hospital wing soon after my surgery but warned how my stomach would feel like someone was pointing a blow torch directly at it. They pretty much nailed it. With the other children, I wasn't able to have an epidural because my labor went so quickly. I had to face transition on my own -in all it's painful glory. With the last child, even though I jumped the gun on the epidural-they put it in crooked so half of my body was numb while the other half felt every contraction. Just dumb luck. Nevertheless, no matter how exhausting and painful, the labor of love is always worth it-if only to give a child a chance at life.
As mother's day approached, I had the opportunity to offer some financial support to a child and give him a chance to get on his feet again. I was happy to do so. It's why I'm working so hard- even though I usually don't feel like getting up early and I usually don't like how I feel at the end of the day as I pour myself in bed. In fact there are all sorts of things I don't feel like doing related to keeping my job. This week it was re-certifying as a lifeguard. I've been dreading the class. Not only did I not "feel like" doing it, but I don't want to keep doing this over and over just to keep my current job until I retire. I don't know if I have it in me. I also don't feel like renewing my Wilderness First Responder 5 more times,or taking the river crew/guide test again, or having to recertify as a ropes course facilitator every stinkin' year etc. etc. It's a hassle to keep paying the money every year to earn CEU's or paying the annual"maintenance fee" to renew my TRS license and CTRS national certification. Getting all of them in the first place is difficult, but keeping them current...well it's a royal pain in the butt. It's hard. It's exhausting. And at times it's painful. Sometimes I'm scream inside, "I don't want to do this anymore!" Yet I do it because it's my labor of love. It makes me feel like I'm becoming like my own dear mom. She kept working until she was 78. I don't know if I can do that, but I can be committed for the long run-to not give up, but to keep laboring on. It's my best chance. It's also how I can honor my mother, by trying emulate her in every way I can.
I'm know Jesus Christ didn't feel like doing what he did when he performed the most important labor of love. He asked his Father if there was any possible way to get out of it. Or at least not feel so bad- "Remove this cup" he pleaded but was willing to bear it if that's what his Father wanted. He didn't have anything to block the pain. He felt the pains of every single soul. His labor gave me a chance at life-a new life every day if I wish. He gives me the chance of eternal life. He sustains and supports me to keep moving forward. To honor him, I want to emulate his example in all ways. How I love him!
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Put Your Head on My Shoulder
This morning I was thinking about putting my head on someone's shoulder. While dancing, it's a nice feeling to put my arms around someone's broad, strong shoulders as they draw me in close. Muscles help. Better yet, if the hard body sincerely cares about me when in the embrace. In my case, this weekend, the big strong dude could care less about me-though he was hunky. However, it gave me a moment to pause and consider the strong shoulders in my life.
I recently returned from a trip to California to celebrate my mother's 80th birthday. I also attended the the funeral of my aunt Jean, who passed away at age 96. I was surrounded by strong shoulders-my wonderful California family-mom, sister, brother, aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces and cousins, They continue to stand firm as they shoulder whatever burdens placed upon their own shoulders. Their faithful living and devotion inspire me. My California family built my foundation. And like any good Californian knows, you have to build a foundation that can survive an earthquake and still leave a building standing after a good shaking. The foundation has to be firm, yet flexible. It has to bend, yet not break. It holds together, even in the face of tragedy.
One moment during my visit stands out regarding my brother's strong shoulders. My brother is not very large of stature,but spiritually, he reminds me of the Book of Mormon characters in Arnold Friburg's paintings. We were having a nice Sunday visit and I started to get a little emotional. He got up, walked across the room and put his arms around me, hugged me and just let my cry on his shoulder. No words were said, but I understood. His firmness gave strength and filled me with love. I know he is truly interested in my welfare of my soul. It was much more than a "nice feeling." It was a sacred moment. I was surrounded by my steadfast family that is always there for me.
Though I'm the only O'Malley here in Utah county, I'm surrounded by 7 mountain peaks reminding me of my firm and steadfast California family. The mountain range almost encircles my little home as if it is embracing me with its' strong, firm, broad shoulders. The mountains inspire me to stand strong and be firm in my faith. And when I'm feeling a little shaky, it's okay to fall down on my knees and seek strength from the loving, strong arms of my Father while seeking a heavenly embrace. As I pray in faith, I know He's not only interested but there is also great potential for a sacred moment of connection.
I recently returned from a trip to California to celebrate my mother's 80th birthday. I also attended the the funeral of my aunt Jean, who passed away at age 96. I was surrounded by strong shoulders-my wonderful California family-mom, sister, brother, aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces and cousins, They continue to stand firm as they shoulder whatever burdens placed upon their own shoulders. Their faithful living and devotion inspire me. My California family built my foundation. And like any good Californian knows, you have to build a foundation that can survive an earthquake and still leave a building standing after a good shaking. The foundation has to be firm, yet flexible. It has to bend, yet not break. It holds together, even in the face of tragedy.
One moment during my visit stands out regarding my brother's strong shoulders. My brother is not very large of stature,but spiritually, he reminds me of the Book of Mormon characters in Arnold Friburg's paintings. We were having a nice Sunday visit and I started to get a little emotional. He got up, walked across the room and put his arms around me, hugged me and just let my cry on his shoulder. No words were said, but I understood. His firmness gave strength and filled me with love. I know he is truly interested in my welfare of my soul. It was much more than a "nice feeling." It was a sacred moment. I was surrounded by my steadfast family that is always there for me.
Though I'm the only O'Malley here in Utah county, I'm surrounded by 7 mountain peaks reminding me of my firm and steadfast California family. The mountain range almost encircles my little home as if it is embracing me with its' strong, firm, broad shoulders. The mountains inspire me to stand strong and be firm in my faith. And when I'm feeling a little shaky, it's okay to fall down on my knees and seek strength from the loving, strong arms of my Father while seeking a heavenly embrace. As I pray in faith, I know He's not only interested but there is also great potential for a sacred moment of connection.
Saturday, March 4, 2017
Slave
This morning I was thinking about being a slave to work, at least it's how I feel sometimes. Of course it's voluntary. No one snatched me from the savanna, bound me with chains or forced me to row the boat. I row willingly. I also get something in return for all the blood, sweat and tears- I get money. You know, those little green tickets people exchange for goods and services in this great big world of ours. Interestingly enough, it's this "purchase the whole world" mentality that sometimes puts me into the bondage of debt; then I have to put the bands on, or additional demands and go to work to pay it off. We all go to work, doing the bidding of some kind of master-even if we're the top cheese-we're in bondage to the shareholders or even our entrepreneurial vision. If we are a slave to beauty or any other ideal-there are policies and procedures; something is telling us what to do to achieve said state. So what does our master require of us? Who is actively searching for a master? Who wants to be owned by anyone?
I can tell you that the cats and dogs at the Humane Society in Murray need responsible owners and loving masters. Recently I visited this impressive facility along with its' "Kitty City" wing. I've never seen anything like it. First thing you see is a big banner proclaiming how many lives have been saved-animal lives that is- convincing you that it really is a noble cause. You are being their savior. You will pay a price to redeem them. For we all know what happens to the animals that are not wanted. They will not housed in this fine facility indefinitely. If their owners do not claim them, they will be destroyed. Probably not at that particular facility, but somewhere and someday they will be euthanized and incinerated. In contrast to this bleak future, instead at Kitty City we find calmly lit, new,attractive, clean, hospital like rooms with fuzzy blankets, climbing structures, intriguing cat toys, even television monitors broadcasting bird shows for the feline viewing pleasure. Prospective pet owners are not simply purchasing something to own- they are "adopting" them. It's humanizing the business transaction.They take every measure to provide the best experience possible in these particular circumstances- giving these animals the best chance for would be owners to bond with their future pet. Is there a connection? Do want to bond with this animal? Bonds can turn mere pets into family members.
By nature, bonds are restrictive of free movement. Think of shackles or handcuffs. Even a wedding band can feel a little uncomfortable and binding at times. This band is a symbol of a bond, or at the very least a symbol of two people who are bound together by choice. Marriage bind them together. It is a symbol of their commitment to be faithful. It's a commitment to love and family. Yet some find wedding bands too confining and remove them to freely explore other options.Others find temple garments too restrictive and remove them as well. They are also a symbol of a bond-a covenant or binding agreement and desire to have lasting ties or bonds with our maker. The sacrament is another binding covenant to take upon the name of Jesus Christ, keep his commandments and remember him always.
These concepts were swirling around in my head this week as our choir sang the hymn, "Sacrament" written by Eliza R. Snow. Here are some excerpts:
He left his Father's courts on high
For man to live, for man to die
A world to purchase and to save
and seal a triumph o're the grave.
We're His, who has the purchase made
his life, his blood, the price he paid
We're His to do his sacred will
and His requirements all fulfill
Jesus the great fascimile, of the Eternal Deity
has stooped to conquer and to save
from sin and sorrow and the grave.
I choose to be bound- I choose to bond. I choose to belong. I choose to be bound by covenants and call someone other than myself, "Master". He didn't just purchase everything in the world-he purchased every person that would ever live on the earth. He wants us to be part of His family. He saves me from certain destruction. He will care for me as the most responsible, nurturing owner I could ever have. Following the commands of this master will result in the payment of tokens much more important and valuable than any money I could exchange. I'll be a slave for Him!
I can tell you that the cats and dogs at the Humane Society in Murray need responsible owners and loving masters. Recently I visited this impressive facility along with its' "Kitty City" wing. I've never seen anything like it. First thing you see is a big banner proclaiming how many lives have been saved-animal lives that is- convincing you that it really is a noble cause. You are being their savior. You will pay a price to redeem them. For we all know what happens to the animals that are not wanted. They will not housed in this fine facility indefinitely. If their owners do not claim them, they will be destroyed. Probably not at that particular facility, but somewhere and someday they will be euthanized and incinerated. In contrast to this bleak future, instead at Kitty City we find calmly lit, new,attractive, clean, hospital like rooms with fuzzy blankets, climbing structures, intriguing cat toys, even television monitors broadcasting bird shows for the feline viewing pleasure. Prospective pet owners are not simply purchasing something to own- they are "adopting" them. It's humanizing the business transaction.They take every measure to provide the best experience possible in these particular circumstances- giving these animals the best chance for would be owners to bond with their future pet. Is there a connection? Do want to bond with this animal? Bonds can turn mere pets into family members.
By nature, bonds are restrictive of free movement. Think of shackles or handcuffs. Even a wedding band can feel a little uncomfortable and binding at times. This band is a symbol of a bond, or at the very least a symbol of two people who are bound together by choice. Marriage bind them together. It is a symbol of their commitment to be faithful. It's a commitment to love and family. Yet some find wedding bands too confining and remove them to freely explore other options.Others find temple garments too restrictive and remove them as well. They are also a symbol of a bond-a covenant or binding agreement and desire to have lasting ties or bonds with our maker. The sacrament is another binding covenant to take upon the name of Jesus Christ, keep his commandments and remember him always.
These concepts were swirling around in my head this week as our choir sang the hymn, "Sacrament" written by Eliza R. Snow. Here are some excerpts:
He left his Father's courts on high
For man to live, for man to die
A world to purchase and to save
and seal a triumph o're the grave.
We're His, who has the purchase made
his life, his blood, the price he paid
We're His to do his sacred will
and His requirements all fulfill
Jesus the great fascimile, of the Eternal Deity
has stooped to conquer and to save
from sin and sorrow and the grave.
I choose to be bound- I choose to bond. I choose to belong. I choose to be bound by covenants and call someone other than myself, "Master". He didn't just purchase everything in the world-he purchased every person that would ever live on the earth. He wants us to be part of His family. He saves me from certain destruction. He will care for me as the most responsible, nurturing owner I could ever have. Following the commands of this master will result in the payment of tokens much more important and valuable than any money I could exchange. I'll be a slave for Him!
Sunday, February 12, 2017
Muscle Testing
This morning I was thinking about muscle testing and heavy work loads. Lately, I've been doing my own muscle testing-how much work load can I really handle? Right now, I don't know the answer. But if my son's recent tire blow out on the freeway is any testament to the dangers of going full speed ahead, I'm proceeding with caution I don't want to be like my Subaru-literally on it's last leg, hobbling along on a spare tire.
So what am I made of? Flexing muscles is fine and good for a Mr. Universe contest, but how much weight can people really lift? All those Schwarzenegger muscles were built in the first place by placing various loads on each muscle-testing them if you will. In the applied kinesiology world, "Muscle testing is a method of diagnosis and treatment based on belief that various muscles are linked to particular organs or glands and that specific muscle weakness can signal internal problems."
Well I know I've got problems. Who doesn't? Some people's problems are so outwardly apparent, they're impossible to ignore. When referring to people who can't see, walk, talk, or think,it's best to use people first language instead of referring to them or even labeling them handicapped, mentally retarded, deaf, dumb, blind etc. They're people with problems, just like you and me. No matter who we are or what hand fate has dealt us, we work-we make an effort to do something...anything.
While addressing some of my problems, I decided to take an additional job as an early morning para-transit driver servicing individuals residing in Utah County. This requires a current CDL with a passenger endorsement. Though I passed the knowledge portion, I still have to pass the skills test in the next couple of weeks. I added airbrakes and school bus endorsement in hopes that I might be of greater service at my current RT job and be more like "Ms Frizzle" from the Magic School Bus. Which by the way, I just learned they're doing a remake with Kate McKinnon doing the voice work. I'm so on point!
Nevertheless I've been so depleted these past few weeks-gas tank empty- running on fumes. Sleep helps, by the way. Like the necessary pre-trip vehicle inspection points- I don't know if I can pass my own fitness for this 2nd job. Am I properly mounted and secure (PMS). Are there any cracks, damages or leaks (CDL).in my psyche. What is my CID- condition, inflation, and depth? Can I go safely forward? Or will I blow out?
One thing that fills me up when I'm feeling deflated is the inspiration from all the hard working people all around me-people carrying such heavy loads. People giving unimaginable service throughout the life of their now adult children-people who will never be able to take care of themselves on their own. They know the drill. They've done it for YEARS. I also find inspiration from the people we pick up. People with problems who literally crawl on to the bus. People who may not be able to see but use their strength to carefully take each step and make their way to their seats. People who get up early, allow others to dress them, and show up day after day, and operate whatever controls they can to move their power chair onto the lift ramp. People who use the coping skills that work for them-whether it's humming, singing, making noises, hugging their stuffed animals, fidgeting with toys, or whatever to manage their mood for a long bus ride until they reach their destination. For many of these people- the destination is work. It's work they can do-work they have done for years. Some are paid-some aren't. For some, their work is showing up and doing any kind of purposeful activity in a day care setting. Nevertheless, it takes some effort on their part...It takes WORK-ennobling work. .
Some say people with multiple disabilities are not here on earth to be tested; rather they are here to test US. Though I agree with that, I also believe these people test their muscles every day. They're working it. They have heavy loads to bear-and they lift them-day after day, year after year. Though you might not see any sign of strength, their "work" muscles would make any body builder jealous. They pump me up!
So what am I made of? Flexing muscles is fine and good for a Mr. Universe contest, but how much weight can people really lift? All those Schwarzenegger muscles were built in the first place by placing various loads on each muscle-testing them if you will. In the applied kinesiology world, "Muscle testing is a method of diagnosis and treatment based on belief that various muscles are linked to particular organs or glands and that specific muscle weakness can signal internal problems."
Well I know I've got problems. Who doesn't? Some people's problems are so outwardly apparent, they're impossible to ignore. When referring to people who can't see, walk, talk, or think,it's best to use people first language instead of referring to them or even labeling them handicapped, mentally retarded, deaf, dumb, blind etc. They're people with problems, just like you and me. No matter who we are or what hand fate has dealt us, we work-we make an effort to do something...anything.
While addressing some of my problems, I decided to take an additional job as an early morning para-transit driver servicing individuals residing in Utah County. This requires a current CDL with a passenger endorsement. Though I passed the knowledge portion, I still have to pass the skills test in the next couple of weeks. I added airbrakes and school bus endorsement in hopes that I might be of greater service at my current RT job and be more like "Ms Frizzle" from the Magic School Bus. Which by the way, I just learned they're doing a remake with Kate McKinnon doing the voice work. I'm so on point!
Nevertheless I've been so depleted these past few weeks-gas tank empty- running on fumes. Sleep helps, by the way. Like the necessary pre-trip vehicle inspection points- I don't know if I can pass my own fitness for this 2nd job. Am I properly mounted and secure (PMS). Are there any cracks, damages or leaks (CDL).in my psyche. What is my CID- condition, inflation, and depth? Can I go safely forward? Or will I blow out?
One thing that fills me up when I'm feeling deflated is the inspiration from all the hard working people all around me-people carrying such heavy loads. People giving unimaginable service throughout the life of their now adult children-people who will never be able to take care of themselves on their own. They know the drill. They've done it for YEARS. I also find inspiration from the people we pick up. People with problems who literally crawl on to the bus. People who may not be able to see but use their strength to carefully take each step and make their way to their seats. People who get up early, allow others to dress them, and show up day after day, and operate whatever controls they can to move their power chair onto the lift ramp. People who use the coping skills that work for them-whether it's humming, singing, making noises, hugging their stuffed animals, fidgeting with toys, or whatever to manage their mood for a long bus ride until they reach their destination. For many of these people- the destination is work. It's work they can do-work they have done for years. Some are paid-some aren't. For some, their work is showing up and doing any kind of purposeful activity in a day care setting. Nevertheless, it takes some effort on their part...It takes WORK-ennobling work. .
Some say people with multiple disabilities are not here on earth to be tested; rather they are here to test US. Though I agree with that, I also believe these people test their muscles every day. They're working it. They have heavy loads to bear-and they lift them-day after day, year after year. Though you might not see any sign of strength, their "work" muscles would make any body builder jealous. They pump me up!
Sunday, January 15, 2017
Acuity and Vision
This morning I was thinking about acuity and vision. Perhaps it has something to do with my lack of sensory acuity-or being sharply aware of my surroundings. It's not so much that I'm not aware that something is askew, but sometimes I purposely ignore little things to focus on what I consider to be weightier matters. For instance, after disrobing and jumping into the tub, I noticed for the umpteenth time I had worn my sweater backwards all day at work. In the morning I remember my neck being irritated by something (it was a tag) and noticing my neck line was unusually higher but I bounced out the door, oblivious to my cultural faux pas. It made me laugh when I discovered it. It brought to mind my mother's reports of my frequentchildhood practice of leaving for school with clothes on backwards and inside out. Maybe that's why my first student council assignment in Jr. High was being in charge of "Mix and Un-match" Day (aka know as wear whatever crazy thing you'd like).
It was yet another reference to my lack of awareness of what I am doing in relationship to my surroundings. It got me thinking about why my acuity isn't as keen as others. Maybe it has something to do with vision. I still bear the psychic wound after taking a visual acuity test and being assessed as "legally blind" by the school nurse. To this day, I still get nervous around eye charts and seeing what line I can read. I know it's important. I have to demonstrate my visual acuity to get behind the wheel of any vehicle. Though I want to be in control, I must be able to see what I'm doing and see what others are doing while driving.
At work, we deal with acuity. We take some of the most acute kids in west-kids with complex diagnoses and severe behavioral issues. So it's no surprise that some of these kids keep blindly bumping into each other because they lack insight into their own behaviors and their effect on others. They want to be in control, but they are totally out of control. Treatment goals help address deficits, utilize strengths, but most of all provide vision of what to do now and where to go from here. I try to help them see and catch the clear vision of their bright, resilient and hopeful future.
Deciding where to go and what to do in 2017 is on most people's minds in January. With the forces of fate swirling around, I want to feel I have a vision and some control in bringing it to pass.. One of my little mantras as I leave the house each day is, "Let's see what I can do." I want to be the master of my destiny or at least have some say in what happens each day. I want to be in the driver's seat with my hand on the wheel.
I find it curious how on the Brother of Jared's journey to the promised land, the question about steering of the vessels was never really answered. Yes, arrangements were made for survival-they would have air. Yes, they would have light, but in regards for control-it was the winds and the waves propelling the ship forward. It was trusting in the Lord's mercy to protect them from the elements and creatures of the sea. It was a "Jesus take the Wheel Moment" Instead of panicking about their lack of control or motion sickness because they couldn't see out of their non-existent windows they sang praises to the Lord of Light. They weren't oblivious to their surroundings or circumstances; they knew where they were going and how they were going to get there.
I may have sub-par acuity, but I have great vision. I know where I want to go, I know how to get there, and I know what I'm doing. More than anything, I also believe my vision fits within a much broader, comprehensive vision of God's plan for our happiness and my role in that plan. I have work to do-and it's important work, or at least I feel it's important to Him. It's a vision that includes the weightier matters. I want to catch the vision of God's glorious work and the bright, clear, hopeful future.
It was yet another reference to my lack of awareness of what I am doing in relationship to my surroundings. It got me thinking about why my acuity isn't as keen as others. Maybe it has something to do with vision. I still bear the psychic wound after taking a visual acuity test and being assessed as "legally blind" by the school nurse. To this day, I still get nervous around eye charts and seeing what line I can read. I know it's important. I have to demonstrate my visual acuity to get behind the wheel of any vehicle. Though I want to be in control, I must be able to see what I'm doing and see what others are doing while driving.
At work, we deal with acuity. We take some of the most acute kids in west-kids with complex diagnoses and severe behavioral issues. So it's no surprise that some of these kids keep blindly bumping into each other because they lack insight into their own behaviors and their effect on others. They want to be in control, but they are totally out of control. Treatment goals help address deficits, utilize strengths, but most of all provide vision of what to do now and where to go from here. I try to help them see and catch the clear vision of their bright, resilient and hopeful future.
Deciding where to go and what to do in 2017 is on most people's minds in January. With the forces of fate swirling around, I want to feel I have a vision and some control in bringing it to pass.. One of my little mantras as I leave the house each day is, "Let's see what I can do." I want to be the master of my destiny or at least have some say in what happens each day. I want to be in the driver's seat with my hand on the wheel.
I find it curious how on the Brother of Jared's journey to the promised land, the question about steering of the vessels was never really answered. Yes, arrangements were made for survival-they would have air. Yes, they would have light, but in regards for control-it was the winds and the waves propelling the ship forward. It was trusting in the Lord's mercy to protect them from the elements and creatures of the sea. It was a "Jesus take the Wheel Moment" Instead of panicking about their lack of control or motion sickness because they couldn't see out of their non-existent windows they sang praises to the Lord of Light. They weren't oblivious to their surroundings or circumstances; they knew where they were going and how they were going to get there.
I may have sub-par acuity, but I have great vision. I know where I want to go, I know how to get there, and I know what I'm doing. More than anything, I also believe my vision fits within a much broader, comprehensive vision of God's plan for our happiness and my role in that plan. I have work to do-and it's important work, or at least I feel it's important to Him. It's a vision that includes the weightier matters. I want to catch the vision of God's glorious work and the bright, clear, hopeful future.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)