Directing Energy- BOB Part 2

 BOB does not stand for "Bring Your Own Beer" though I suppose I could put this entry into my other "Bottles of Beer" blog centered on relationships. It serves the same purpose in trying to purge myself of all the angst related to my most recent involvement in Ascent Corporation's semi-annual "Battle of the Bands"...if even just to get the stupid songs off repeat in my brain at night.  

This entry would also nicely fit into my recent gratitude journal where I try to recognize the hand of the Lord in my life and in the lives of those around me.  Surely, it is a miracle when we even participate.  There are so many things out of my control and the stress comes as a frantically try to control it.  

I cannot control if students are open and willing to engage in groups with their already existing music abilities and intellect.  If they are willing, I cannot control if students will focus enough to learn basic, basic music skills.  I cannot control if our best musicians will manage their unsafe action impulses throughout the day/night to qualify for participation.   I cannot control if they can use the same skills and play cooperatively instead of fighting. I cannot control how they handle performance anxiety to sing on key or on beat.  I cannot control what they wear and how that might influence others.  I cannot control if they will have appropriate boundaries with others when interacting with the opposite sex.  I cannot control if they will manage their emotions successfully and not blow out during the event when things don't go their way.  In other words, I cannot control their behavior.  However, I sure try to use whatever tools are available to influence behavior- even if it is perceived as frantic, frenetic direction.  

Perhaps frantic, frenetic aren't the right adjectives regarding my direction.  I direct with all the energy of my heart and soul.  While observing this directing energy, one student asked point blank, "Erin are you autistic?"  When I said, "No, but I'm sure I have some type of ADHD".  That seemed to appease her a bit and explain why I was being "so energetic."  So weird. So extra.  Or as they would say in the 80's, "Erin, you need to take  a chill pill."

This same "directing energy" sometimes comes off as being too stressed out as evidenced by feedback from peers and supervisors. During the last two weeks, I've neglected other responsibilities in order to hyper-focus on the objective. I'm clearly not handling my responsibilities with serenity and grace.   But if I lay back and tone down the energy and chill, I can assure you, we just wouldn't go. Which is not some great devastating loss, but I don't want the students to miss out on such an amazing team building experiential experience! 

Surprisingly, once I'm at the event, I radically accept whatever outcome. I'm super chill, even "crazy cool."  Perhaps it's because it's too late to do anything.  I sit back and watch and appreciate the miracles or God's hand in this rock event. 

Miracle #1:  The off-tune student sang on tune and the last minute drummer kind of kept the beat.  The song wasn't horrible.

Miracle #2-My problem-solving compromises to keep the peace and stop the constant bickering between the "Swifties" and "Punk Rockers" seemed to appease everyone.  We did shortened versions of the songs and the organizers allowed it.  

Miracle #3- We didn't have any extreme dysregulation at the event.  Everyone kept their cool, even though F-words and threats flew, therapists helped, students were incentivised, and returned to their seat. 

Miracle #4- We didn't stand out as being the worst music program.  Through the advent of new leadership in several of the other programs, they weren't as prepared as usual-which worked to our advantage. (since we are never prepared.) This allowed our students to really feel like they belonged at the event and had something to give.

Miracle #5  The amazing male drummer was safe enough to attend, not only winning him the "Best Drummer Award" but allowing our Green Day song to win "Best Band Performance".  

Miracle #6:  Our boys program really came together to encourage all other performers.  They cheered loudly, raised their hands and swayed to each song.  They even tried to start a crowd wave.  They made it extra fun through their enthusiastic support. 

There are two personal miracles or at least memorable experiences to note as well.  The day before, we rehearsed our Linkin Park song, "Numb."  I was really trying to direct the newly eligible, awesome drummer to stay with the band (which he did NOT do the following day) using my over the top gestures, tambourine and dancing. I was all over the place like a frenetic orchestra conductor.  BUT it was FREAKING AWESOME!  And to boot, the CEO witnessed the song.  I will never forget how I felt. 

The second memorable experience was a passing comment by a bystander staff from another program.  While putting instruments back into our van, she came up to me in the parking lot and said how she has watched me over the years and thought to herself, "I want to be THAT lady."  That gracious comment warmed my heart.  

Throughout my life I have used enthusiastic energy to direct.  Some find this energy obnoxious and annoying.  Some students are so turned off by it, that it affects their willingness to participate in my groups.  How I miss them!  And they miss out on some great experiences and value added to their treatment.   Yet, if enthusiasm suggests, "God within", perhaps I'm trying to tap into his energy to influence outcomes. It is another evidence of how God works through ordinary people to let His Love, His Light, His Life shine through a cracked vessel.  I want to be THAT lady.  

Crying Out Loud

 I can hear the voice of my father exclaiming in frustration, "For Crying Out Loud Erin, Will you please ...(fill in the blank.)  I'm sure like most children, I did things that made my parents' job more difficult.  But lately, I've had some experiences in the last couple of weeks that have given new shape to this exclamation, "crying out loud."  

I am a loud person but most of the time when I cry, it is a silent expression.  Crying is one of my frequent expressions when I feel something deeply in my heart. Something triggers the emotion.  It pierces my heart, like an arrow-a good arrow hitting a spiritual nerve.  Something that feels true.  Something that feels right.  

Last week I participated in the nationwide "hand off" protest with my daughter.  She was meeting up with her friends at the Utah State Capitol.  They gave me a sign I was happy to hold saying, "We the people..in order to form a more perfect union- establish justice, ensure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare.  I had never been to a protest and found it pretty impressive to gather with so many others and read their very creative signs giving voice to their concerns.  

As a former cheerleader, it really just felt like a  glorified pep rally as we shouted in unison,  "Yay! or "Boo!" and waved our signs high in the air.  We listened to various speakers, listened to music, sang, and chanted.  I don't remember what the exact words were, but when our side of the mass yelled, "Just Fight!" I found myself crying out loud.  

I may have been extra sensitive to the concept of fighting for rights as I had just finished the mini series, "Sons of Liberty" and was reminded of the greatness in spirit, even the fighting spirit of our founding fathers.  But more than that, the whole protest experience reminded me of a familiar scene from my past. Long before my mortal birth I believe I stood in some type of mass gathering, fighting or adding my voice, crying out for freedom.  I didn't believe in Satan's plan forcing me to do what's right.  Rather I fought with  my brother Jesus as the leader representing my Father's plan of happiness and my freedom to follow if I so chose. 

The last few weeks I have also had the privilege of watching the season 5 theatrical release of "The Chosen."  I cried when watching the people on the screen waving their palms shouting, crying, "Hosanna, Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the Lord."  I would like to think that I could have joined in.  I would like to have cried out loud.

At least that's the reason why I went to our ward's celebratory walk to celebrate Palm Sunday.  I didn't show up prepared with something to wave but I was happy to join the procession while singing hymns through the neighborhood.  I cried while feeling the spirit of those great words about the Savior.  I walked beside a friend as she strolled her adult son who has suffered from serious physical and mental disabilities throughout his life.  I've seen her take him walks through the years and have always been so inspired by her loving care as she tends to his severe needs.  But today I was inspired by him.  

Near the end of our procession, my friend asked me to take the stroller because her son wanted to walk the rest of the way.  I followed behind them while witnessing as she steadied her son as he took confident yet clumsy steps.  I cried again. What bravery!  What determination!  He was fighting his body and manifesting his will.  Through his actions, I know he too believes in the great healer, Jesus Christ.  One day he too will be raised up and walk perfectly.  I will be able to understand him when he talks.  He will be whole.  He was a great example of faith in Jesus Christ and his trust in his glorious promises.  It also provided a powerful reminder of my own halting, clumsy steps on this planet as I try to follow the Savior.

  One day we too will be raised up.  No more sickness. No more aging.  No more pain. No more death.  Resurrected!  So I will raise my voice.  I will stand firm and fight, manifesting my will and desire to join the masses of all creation crying out, "Hosanna!  Blessed Be the Name of the Most High God!" 

From the Heart

 This morning, I was thinking about one of my favorite experiences in 2024 and what I wanted to carry over to 2025. It was back in November while watching my grandchildren practice for the children's primary program.  I set a realistic goal to teach them the chorus of one of the songs from the program list.  I also selected the song as it aligned with my values of becoming love.  It was a primary song I had never heard of before entitled, "The Tree of Life." Here is the chorus:

"Come to the Tree of Life- Partake of the Fruit- I Feel the Love of God and you'll Feel it too When you Come to the Tree of Life-There's joy here and peace-The greatest place in all the world to be...Is at the Tree!"

I first had to learn the song myself. I remember singing it aloud while walking to the park with my grandbaby in the stroller. I remember teaching it to the other grandchildren while driving in the car. There wasn't much time, but I wanted them to know something to contribute alongside the other primary children.  I wouldn't be in Utah during the program, so I slipped into the chapel for the practice the Sunday prior.  I sat where my grandchildren could see me.  I mouthed the words as they sang as if to feed them the lyrics. 

I was so touched as Lennox sang the song from his heart.  He was the loudest, most enthusiastic, primary child singing out to the familiar words of the chorus as his eyes sparkled with recognition.  He really stood out! It was my own personal primary program, just for me. Tears streamed down my face as I felt the power of the song's message.  The words represent my greatest desire for my children and grandchildren to come to the Tree of Life and feel the "love of God."  It felt like electricity and power coursing through my whole being.  I did feel the love of God.  This was it!  And I wanted these sweet, sweet grandchildren to feel it too!  And not just them, but all my family. 

Fast forward to yesterday morning.  I sat in a playpen with my two 14 month grandchildren watching them interact with each other.  I was crying pretty hard, feeling the emotional wounds from a prior conversation with my son.  Though the babies didn't understand the tears, they completely understood when I removed my attention from them briefly to get a tissue from the bathroom.  They panicked and cried until I returned to give them my undivided attention once more.  Attention is such a gift of presence!  So when it is removed, it's hard not to take it personally.

That is what happened with my son earlier in the morning.  I divided my attention in a way that triggered him to the times he felt devalued by his mom, not important not understood, not seen.  Though he loves me, he gets upset when my actions dismiss him in any way and he feels like trying to connect with me is futile.  He wants me to understand how I hurt others and take accountability before moving on. To learn new ways of relating with others instead of helping others NOT feel the love of God. 

That certainly isn't my intention.  I try so hard to show love to each person in my family.  I admit, that my attention has been divided over and over again.  Every time I had another baby, it divided my attention. My work divides my attention as well as my other non-family responsibilities.   Even in my relationship with God, my eye isn't close to being single. I show love in messy, imperfect ways.  Ultimately, MY love is not enough to heal the wounds but HIS love is!   

So how do I channel God's healing love?  How do I "sing from the heart" like my sweet grandchild, Lennox?  One of the reason's why I centered my Christmas around Thomas McConkie's book, "At One Ment" is because it provides some great ideas about "seeing from the heart".  For me, it's a great follow up to Steve Young's book about "being love." I have to mix my former imperfect mommy heart love with something greater and infinitely more powerful.  

The book talks about human vulnerabilities including the need to be valued and esteemed, as wounds.   I need to really feel and deal with bodily pain with great compassion rather than distract from it, remove my gaze or escape it.  I accept it, let it flow through me, let is pass through me. I can use the pain as an act of consecration, I can accept the cup like the Savior accepted His cup.  And yet I don't have to wallow in sticky emotions and unhelpful thoughts to continually suffer.  God can anoint my wounds as I seek greater awareness of my presence and His presence through contemplative practice, I can connect with His life, love and light.  Connecting with his love and light will allow me to see everything with the heart. 

 It's still a little unclear and far too nebulous right now, but perhaps in 2025, I can make it more concrete. The book also provides many audio meditations worth repeating to help with this process.   My goal is to not only sing from the heart, but see and respond from God's heart.  If I feel the love of God, I want others to feel it too!