Saturday, April 4, 2026

Bikes, Lanes, & Freedom to Go Farther

 This morning I was thinking of bikes, lanes, and the freedom to go farther.  I had some amazing experiences with e-bikes in the month of March and went farther than I ever have before. 

 My bicycle was an essential piece of equipment when growing up as a young street urchin in Southern California.  I often lived outside with my gang of neighborhood kids. Oh, the places we went!  Our world was defined by how far we could pedal. I vividly remember discussing with my young friends, how amazing it would be if there was a special lane designated only for bikes where no cars were allowed.  We thought this was an original idea. It was only a dream back in the 60's and 70's.  

Though safety wasn't foremost in my thoughts, even then, I seemed to understand that safety was somehow related to how fast and far I could travel on my bike if I had some outside support. Instead, I used sidewalks, didn't really care if I was going in the direction of traffic, ignored stop signs, traffic signals and never wore a helmet. Well, I admit, I still take liberties when riding my bike.

Fast forward to 2026 when riding a newly acquired, cheaply made, e-bike back in Long Beach. My little street urchin girl heart rejoiced! My "bike lane dream" had come true! Sometimes these bike lines were even reinforced with a concrete barrier.  My little girl heart also rejoiced with the power of pedal assist!  Here I was going up hills without breaking a sweat!  Here I was pedaling faster and going farther than I ever dreamed as a child!  It was like flying while riding to Seal Beach down the fully paved, no cars allowed, San Gabriel River bike trail.  I pedaled in time to the music in my head from the Wizard of Oz scene when Miss Gulch is riding her bike and turns into the flying wicked witch,"duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh"  (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O2dvl7jOtzE)  

Whee!   My inner child is alive and well!  Another such moment was during my recent cruise to Ensenada.  I planned my own shore excursion to rent an e-bike with the goal of riding along the beach. They had some bike lanes as well but we also ended up riding in heavy traffic during our adventure. It was easy to feel exposed and unprotected but we proceeded with caution.  With a two hour time limit, we tried to ride as far as we could down the coast. I never dreamed we would actually ride on the perfectly firm sand on a totally deserted beach. But we did and it became my favorite experience during my cruise venture. 



When venturing, concretely defined bike lanes provide protection and enhance freedom. Instead of hedging my way, they actually open up opportunities to go farther and faster.  God's commandments, sometimes literally etched in stone, are defined, protected pathways.  Think of Charlton Heston, as Moses in the great Easter classic, "The Ten Commandments" witnessing the creation of the stone tablets containing God's words. Some things never change.  Some things are set in stone.

It's exciting to listen to the word of God today witnessed by living prophets and apostles. Their words, like the Ten Commandments, do not hedge me in, but open up the way. They keep me safe from outside danger and keep me free!  It is so much easier to pedal fast through life and go further than I ever could on my own steam. How far can I go?  How free do I want to be?  Whee!

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/media/broadcasts/watch-saturday-live-sessions?lang=eng



Sunday, March 15, 2026

Deficient/I Need You!

This morning I was thinking of being deficient and needing Jesus.  This thought was front and center last night while serving patrons with obvious physical deficiencies in the temple.  Many times truths are brought into eternal focus through my blurry, tear filled eyes. 

One young patron was in a wheelchair while the temple workers rotated around her to administer the temple initiatory ordinances.  The other was older with obvious signs of aging, scarce hair, mottled, wrinkled skin.  From my viewpoint, she didn't really make a great deal of effort concealing these deficiencies.  It is what it is. 

 I could deeply relate to both deficient patrons and their desire to come to Jesus to be clean, be whole, to be enough.  Actually, to be exceedingly more than enough by Him, through Him, while seeking a blessing at His hands. I have the great privilege of having authority to be Jesus's hands while administering ordinances in the temple.  I do not take this lightly.

A couple of months ago I remember being embarrassed as I placed my wrinkled, thinned skinned, age spotted, unkempt hands next to my same aged temple coordinator's beautiful, smooth, perfectly manicured hands.  It was pretty easy to feel deficient.  I don't exactly know why my hands haven't withstood the test of time, but they sure are a physical symbol of "working my fingers to the bone".  I guess I can take pride in that. 

Yet pride is the "original sin." Satan stated, "I haven't done anything wrong". There is nothing wrong with me.  But Satan was quick to point out the deficiencies of others-"Look, You're naked! Use fig leaves to cover your nakedness- Quick- Hide!" 

I know I'm intent on hiding my sins, covering them up, trying to fix things on my own, or just plain denying that problems exist.  I'm not deficient at all.  Or at least I want to appear that way for a second.  Hey I wear makeup!  I certainly don't like when someone points out my problems or deficiencies.  "Feedback" they call it.  Who likes that?  I'd much rather stay in a cozy non-judgmental place or "net positive" place of "I am enough."  Period.  Hey, I'm "employee of the year!".  I don't need to change anything, right?  Wrong. 

Humans are enough! We don't have any problems right?  There is no lack, no deficiency with anyone or anything.  Just do your best! Do whatever you feel is right.  There is no wrong or right. Stop being judgmental!  Only love yourself completely. Just try to be a decent human being. You don't need Jesus to love one another.  You don't need Jesus to be a good person.  You don't need Jesus or any of his Father's commandments or ordinances.  And you especially don't need His church or his authorized messengers, prophets or apostles, pointing out your problems or telling you to repent.  You don't need anything or anyone. Embrace your self-sufficiency!

Instead, I choose to embrace my deficiency!  Yes, I am NOT enough BUT with him, I AM.  Oh, how I need Jesus!  I will gladly join with all those sinners who come to his holy house to seek forgiveness.  From the Holy One, who stands ready to receive me, with his own "holy" hands.  Perhaps, in part, the Lord kept the holes in his hands, wrists, and side to remind me that I am deficient so I need Him.  Embrace that!

Sunday, February 15, 2026

Olympic Hopeful

This morning I was thinking about the pressure associated with being a hopeful one.  I’ve been following the Olympic Gold hopeful in Men's figure skating, Illia Malinin, for the last 3 months on YouTube. I was excited to see him win Gold, reinforcing his title duly earned as “The Quad God”.  I fully expected him to come through, to skate flawlessly under pressure as I had seen him do so in all the other competitions. Like many, I was shocked and disappointed after he fell twice, popped three jumps, including his signature quadruple Axel.  When I initially saw the Olympic headlines, I didn't even want to watch him fall.  It was evidence that he was only human, not a robot, or a "god" as in his ubiquitous reference by the media. 

In response to his Olympic skating performance, Illia Malinin stated, "All of this pressure, all of the media, and just being the Olympic gold hopeful was a lot. It was too much to handle.”  He continued, "especially going into that starting pose, I just felt like all the traumatic moments of my life really just started flooding my head.."

I certainly don't understand the pressure of being on the Olympic stage.  However, some people really do understand and deal with the crushing pressure of high expectations.  They can handle the hype of being the favorite, or the hopeful, or the chosen one.

 Last Sunday, I looked forward to seeing a Tom Brady, or the Manning brothers level of quarterback response to the crushing pressure of the defense.  Instead, I witnessed a bunch of incomplete passes and a boring game characterized by the skilled defensive line.  Bring back the dazzling days when the the QB was able to rifle a perfectly executed pass even when a blitz was on.  Expectations and hopes couldn't be higher, but these athletes find a way to handle the pressure. 

So how do I deal with high expectations?  Pressure at times comes from judgment of my sub-par performance.  Sometimes, I lower my expectations.  That seems to alleviate some of the pressure. Take an easier path so I can feel good about myself.  But at what cost?  The Olympics or any high-stakes activity is a good reminder that "going for the gold" is a worthy endeavor.

D. Todd Christopherson reminds us, 

 "Our Heavenly Father is a God of high expectations. His expectations for us are expressed by His Son, Jesus Christ, in these words: “I would that ye should be perfect even as I, or your Father who is in heaven is perfect” (3 Nephi 12:48). He proposes to make us holy so that we may “abide a celestial glory” (D&C 88:22) and “dwell in his presence” (Moses 6:57). He knows what is required, and so, to make our transformation possible, He provides His commandments and covenants, the gift of the Holy Ghost, and most important, the Atonement and Resurrection of His Beloved Son."

Much more than an Olympic or Superbowl hopeful, Jesus Christ is the HOPE of Israel.  Think of the crushing weight of expectations from all the people seen and unseen who absolutely knew he was GOD.  Think of the "traumatic moments" and "negative thoughts" that surely "flooded his head." As Mark records, Jesus began to be sore amazed and be very heavy." 

 I added to the pressure Jesus felt.  Not only the weight of my own sins and imperfections but I believe I was also part of that collective spiritual audience of fellow brothers and sisters who fully expected Jesus to come through with his promise to be the Savior of the World.  I expected him to perform flawlessly-to do the "hardest thing that ever was done." The highest expectations and hopes of the universe hung in the balance...and He did it! He won!  A whole lot more than than a "gold medal."  He earned the title of being the God of Hope- of all our hopes. 

The song, Gethsemane puts it in perspective:


The hardest thing that ever was done

The greatest pain that ever was known

The greatest battle that ever was won

This was done by JESUS!

The fight was won by JESUS!"


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxjQeqbzVq4


 


,




O

Saturday, January 31, 2026

Independent Storytelling

 This week, I had the privilege of participating in the Sundance Film Festival Student Screenings.  They were held in the Rose Wagner Theater in SLC. It was our last chance since the festival is moving to Colorado.  It was the first Sundance festival since the passing of its founder, Robert Redford.  It is the end of a glorious era where independent filmmakers descended upon Park City once a year.  I am sad about that. But it does not diminish what I experienced recently.

 I divided our students into three different groups to increase supervision and safety, which meant I got to see three different screenings! 1. "American Pachuco-The Legend of Luis Valez" 2. AI Doc-Or How I Became an Apocaloptimist" and 3. "Queen of Chess". We were watching these independent movies for their initial screenings.  It is most satisfying when the same movie I took the students to last year, "Deaf President Now" is now being streamed on Apple+.  I saw it first before it was purchased. What a unique opportunity!

Besides the youthful energy of being in an auditorium full of 9th-12th graders, there is a distinct, electrifying energy during the Q&A session with the producers, directors, actors, etc. of each film.  This is what makes it special! This is what makes it magical!  Many of the students don't really understand what they are experiencing.  It goes over their head and doesn't land in their heart.  But for me, well...that is why I want to write.

These films were curated by the festival organizers especially for teenagers.    They were all excellent! World Class!  Important! Powerful!  Essential!   Each documentary was educational, entertaining and engaging.  More than just learning facts about Chicano history and dramatics,  AI, and chess, each movie was deeply infused with the spirit of what Sundance is all about-independent storytelling. I also saw a common thread of family within the larger context of the human family.  

Day One: "American Pachuco-The Legend of Luis Valdez".  Luis used his art to give us a window into Chicano experience. Starting with a simple elementary school project of making a paper mache puppet  to later writing and directing the box office hit, "La Bamba".   The documentary illustrated our DBT focus of validating others by increasing understanding of unique perspectives and the power of expressive arts. 

More than a rehearsal of Chicano social history and dramatic art, the film illustrated how Luis's family history informed and directed his art. His connections to his brother and the conflict between two different American experiences were illustrated in the movie, "La Bamba."   He brought his people together through his art and fostered awareness of social inequity.  In a time of ICE raids, it addressed the question of what it means to be an American and how determining who belongs here is not a matter of skin color. 

 The Q&A after the show was extra special, especially when the director, David Alvarados, singled out our school and spoke directly to our students, inspiring them in their creative pursuits and life success.  We also received a special box of Sundance swag.  It couldn't get better than this.

Day 2:  "AI Doc:  Or How I Became an Apocaloptomist"

This was the film that initially looked most interesting, but I shied away from it due to content warnings.  A young teacher really encouraged us to attend anyway and I decided to take the older boys.  I'm so glad we did!  It was perfectly alligned with our DBT group focus of using,"Wise Mind".  It also illutrated dialectics with the peril and promise of AI.  Once again, I appreciated the personal story of one of the academy award winning directors, Daniel Roher.  Though the movie includes interviews from top AI experts, he used his marriage relationship and birth of his first son as a backdrop for exploring these AI issues.  I noticed a reference to his impulsivity of rushing into marriage and how the world is rushing into AI.  The movie reinforces DBT ideas of reducing impulsivity by using our collective Wise Mind, being "mature" and walking a middle, balanced path.

I was star struck when I realized the Q&A was with the same filmakers who won Academy Awards for"Everything Everwhere All at Once."  These guys are huge in the industry and here they were standing right in front of me looking like everyday normal people.  They also had one of the important AI experts from the film on stage with the director.  It was pretty magical when these same people approached our group in the lobby and asked us how we liked their film and let the teacher take a picture with them.  Wow!  

Day 3:  "Queen of Chess".  Our group focus was ABC- Accumulate Positive Emotion (by acting according to values), Build Mastery, Cope Ahead.  It was pretty easy to discover how the subject of the documentary was a prime example of using each of these skills.  We learned about Judit Polgar, a Hungarian chess grandmaster, the strongest female chess player of all time. I accuse my students of being oblivious to all things important but truth is I'm pretty oblivious as well.  I didn't know the name.  Though vaguely familiar, I also didn't know the name of Rory Kennedy, the filmaker. 

 Once again, far from being a movie about chess, It was Judit's life story and her experience of being raised in communist Hungary with a father bent on experimenting to create genius in each of his three daughters. I appreciated her focus and accomplishment. I thrilled to the themes of female empowerment and fem punk songs.  I appreciated her journey of discovery as she identified additional values and became an incredible human being.  The Q&A included a life size zoom call from Judit answering questions from the students. She is larger than life so it was fitting to see her full screen!

 Rory was on stage to answer questions as well. She encouraged students to protest againt Trump and encourage the rule of law.  I thought she just looked like one of those Sundance celebrity producer/director types who was also an activist. The Q&A took a different format than the other two days as they had a moderator ask direct questions and call on students, instead of using cellphones.  It was more controlled.  At first, I was a little confused that Netflix had already purchased the film and is showing it next month on their streaming service. While driving the students back to campus,  I wondered if Rory was related to the famous Kennedy's. 

That evening I googled Rory Kennedy and was blown away.  She is THE 11th child of Bobby Kennedy! She owns her own production company, Moxie Firecracker Films so of course she wasn't looking for a buyer at the Sundance Festival.  I watched her documentary on her mother, Ethel Kennedy. I was inspired.   Rory Kennedy is a power player.  She embodies the mission of both of her parents in a lifetime of independent film making and activism. In fact, when Amy Redford, daughter of Robert Redford, was interviewed recently about the upcoming festival, she specifically mentioned Rory Kennedy's documentary, "Queen of Chess."  And here, I almost didn't see it because I thought it might be "too boring" for our students. 

My participation in the Sundance Festival has enriched my life.  People are amazing!  I am inspired by personal stories told by amazing filmakers.  Ultimately, we are all independent storytellers as we write our personal histories each day of our life, with each choice. Though Sundance is going away, independent storytelling never will.  We are here to stay!







Monday, January 5, 2026

"Hey Dad, Dead Dad-I Need a Little Help Here."

I couldn't resist a musical reference to the Beetlejuice's "Dead Mom" song, especially because I've been thinking about dead dads lately.  My father's birthday was yesterday, January 4th.  He died so young at only 65 years old!   I would have loved to have been able to talk with him for the last 25 years.  I surely have needed a "little help here" on earth.  And I'm positive he would have been there for me, as he was throughout his life.  A vivid example of his help was his generous financial support while I attended Brigham Young University right after high school.  He would have much preferred me to go down the street to our local, almost free, Long Beach City College.  However, my dad supported my dreams and goals, even if he complained.   How I miss him!

Jeffrey R. Holland, recently deceased (December 27, 2025) was BYU president during my important years of my university education.  But he was much more than my president.  He was sort of like a dad to me.  I know I was just one of 25, 000 students but when he spoke, I felt like he was speaking to me personally.  His passionate and fiery testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ, fueled my own fire of faith.  It was like electricity surging through our bodies when he spoke in the Marriot Center at BYU.  Even though we were all part of his professional stewardship, it felt like he cared about the one just as much as the masses. We knew he loved us.  I knew he loved me, like a father loves a child.  It was an honor and privilege to be part of his BYU flock.  

It was absolutely no surprise when he was called as one of the twelve apostles for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.   It was fun for others to discover his fire, his eloquence, his powerful teaching and most importantly, his powerful witness of Jesus Christ.  Of course he was my favorite! Many apostles and prophets have died during my lifetime, but I mourned Jeffrey R. Holland's death in a different way.  It was personal and I felt like I had a unique relationship with him.  I really didn't, I mean I'm just one in a sea of past students, but still, it meant something to me.

I had an experience several years ago that seemed to sum up this connection to Jeffrey R. Holland. I was a young mom struggling to get to church sacrament meeting on time with my 5 children, ages 5-12.  We were late, as usual, and I scurried to the front row pew in the chapel with my chaotic tribe.  I was frazzled and unorganized but tried to settle down.  Then I looked up to the stand. Sitting right in front of me next to our bishop, was Jeffrey R. Holland.  I don't know why he was visiting this particular ward as an unexpected visitor, but he was there.  As a visiting authority, he gave his testimony and some words of counsel.  I was close enough to see into his big blue eyes and he could definately see me and my children.  It was the closest I had ever been, I definately wasn't one of the 25, 000 in a basketball arena seeing him through the jumbo-tron.  

After the meeting, I went up to shake his hand and tell him that I had been one of his BYU students.  He responded with words, "I claim every one of my BYU students forever." (or something like that).  These loving words were coupled with a warm handshake and hug.  It confirmed in my heart and mind, that yes, he was like my BYU dad.  

Both of these "dead dads" helped me in different ways. Though these two men were very different, they both gave me a glimpse of what my own Father in Heaven is really like.  Through their example of fathering, they helped Heavenly Father feel more real to me-more tangible in my life.  Both of them taught me about how my Father in Heaven feels about me.  Oh, how I know, God, my Father loves and cares about me.  And though I cannot talk or listen to my dead dads anymore in a way I would like, I can turn to the one who will never die, my Eternal Father.  One that continues to answer my plea for "a little help here."   



Monday, November 17, 2025

$200

Last month, when I was running around like a crazy person at our "Battle of the Bands," I had $200 stolen from my briefcase.  I didn't notice it missing until that evening when I went to have my hair colored.  I assumed it was one of my impulsive students who just couldn't resist the temptation to steal cash.  I had such a sinking feeling when I realized I had been robbed.  It was hard to describe the feeling of loss, violation, and disappointment, quickly coalescing into a distinct pit in my stomach. I should have been more careful.  I should never carry cash in my wallet.  Stupid.  I certainly shouldn't have left my bags unattended anywhere near the vicinity of my students.  Nevertheless, what was done, was done. I alerted staff to be on the lookout and continued to get my hair colored to the tune of $160!  So expensive for me!

That evening, I was awakened by a memory. I saw two distinct dollar bills.  I touched them!  Right near the beginning of our music performances I grabbed my briefcase and sat directly in back of the judges.  I noticed two bills directly underneath the judge's feet.  I motioned to the young adult judge to pick up the bills saying, "You dropped some money."  Another therapist even witnessed it.  The judge picked it up.  I didn't think anything of it UNTIL I realized that was probably MY $200 bills.  The next morning I sent a text to the organizer asking him to reach out to the judges, fully expecting that at least the judge guy would say, "Oh yeah,  I picked that up".  Or at least offer some explanation whether it was indeed my $200 or his own cash.  I waited for a response.  Crickets.  Nothing.  The organizer finally texted back that each of the three judges hadn't picked anything up off the floor or seen any cash laying around. 

This time I felt sick.  Are you kidding me?  I SAW the judge pick up the cash!  I can understand the impulsive students taking it out of my bag-but dishonesty from the adults?  It made me feel sick inside.   My best guess is that one of the boys took it out of my wallet that was in my briefcase.  When they saw me pick it up, I think they may have felt remorse when they realized it was "Erin's bag".  Maybe they didn't want to steal from me. So using their stupid teenager brain,  as one of the boys went to the restroom, he passed by me and discretely dropped the two bills on the floor where I might find it.  AND I DID!  But I thought it was the judges money!  

Regardless, it was gone.  With time, it became a humorous story.  People felt bad for me.  My tenant, felt sorry for me so she paid her rent early.  My boss said she would find a way to get my $200 back to me.  Throughout the month, it was like the video, "Windows of Heaven" where cash rained down on me, specifically in the specific amount- $200.  I was glad I had been one of the first people to sign up for tithing declaration in October!

The first $200 came that evening as my son paid back a prior loan for the exact amount of $200.  Then the same week, my mother sent a check for the exact amount of "$200".  Then my boss gave me $200 worth of gift cards right before my trip to Boston.  Then when returning from my trip, my son gave me $200 worth in cash along with a big hug at the gas station.  Then last week, while in the residential directors' office, they whipped out another gift card for $200 "just because". So for the initial $200 loss, I received $1000- all in $200 chunks.  

Talk about being financially blessed, financially supported, financially protected!  I think that is pretty amazing.  Of course, it all comes and goes so easily.  Most of it has already been paid out again to other adult children for various needs.  But I have to, I must recognize God's hand in this financial blessing.  It was not just a coincidence.  And to make it clear, the $200 symbolic gesture was repeated at least FIVE different times!  I am grateful for his generous care as he works through the GENEROUS HEARTS of my fellow human beings.  How gracious is our God!  

Sunday, October 5, 2025

Chaos and Order

 This morning I was thinking about chaos and order.  Chaos so close to home and events so close together is cause to pause and think. The assassination of Charlie Kirk,  the Michigan church shooting, and an Orem Jr. High student suicide on a school field trip have been sources of great anxiety.  How do we calm our own hearts? Where do we turn for peace?  How do we move forward?  How do we keep the children safe? 

I have my primary song answers.  I first turn to God through prayer.  I cling to my covenant relationship with Christ and his gospel. I find safety in keeping the commandments. I try to make a difference in my own little corner of the world in spreading light, life, and love.  I find refuge and peace as I gather with the Saints at church and in the temple. 

A day before the shooting, President Russel Nelson, our prophet died at age 101. In all this commotion, members of the church of Jesus Christ gathered around the world and tuned in to General Conference for answers, for peace.  There was some speculation about a new prophet and a new apostle and how the church would respond to the recent chaotic events around the world. 

What impressed me about this General Conference and our current president of the Quorum of the Twelve, was a profound sense of order.  There is a certain way the Lord does things through his priesthood.  There was no frenzied rush to call a new first presidency, appoint an additional apostle, or announce new temples, policies, or procedures.  The messages are rooted in Christ and his gospel, preached by His authorized servants.  There is no panic.  The church is prepared and is helping all of us prepare.  

I am so grateful for this measured, calm, orderly response.  Not impulsive, but grounded in prioritized values and eternal realities.  I'm like a child looking at his parent to figure out how to respond to all this stress-all this mess.  The church is that parent for me.  I watch and try to emulate the calm as I navigate chaos. There is so much I cannot control, but there are things I can influence and even put in order.  

Though God is in control, I'm glad he does not control our choices.  It makes for a messy, chaotic world but for everything and everyone who will listen and respond to His voice, there is a great ordering.  For that is how the Great Creator brought the cosmos into existence-order from chaos. 

Sunday, September 7, 2025

Baby Moments

 Happy Birthday to Sonny and Rooney! They are my grandbaby twins born on the same day, same half hour, but in different hospitals to different parents!  I've had so many precious moments with them during the past two years.  I don't do well capturing these moments with my cell phone camera, yet these moments of light and love make an impression on the invisible camera plate in my soul.  These small moments are mere snapshots of experience, but are still worth remembering.  These moments also form and strengthen our bond. I see them, and they see me. 

Not simply spectating as they grow up,  the moments I'm referring to are the ones where we see and experience the world together.  We increase our mutual understanding by being in each other's presence and find simple joy in it.  Here are a few recent snapshots:

Moment of Comfort: Noticing Rooney's reluctance to go to Nursery and holding him close, assuring him things would be okay as I stayed with him.  It's pretty easy to see his trembling lip and shaking body to discern his fear.  I don't want to say a hug absorbs the fear, but it does help me get closer to their feelings in an effort to understand and respond.  I see you.  I got you.  I'm there for you.  

Moment of Delight: Later that hour, we played "Ring a Round the Rosie" for the first time with Rooney during this same Nursery class.  He was all lit up, wanting to do it again and again.  It was a joyful moment of simple delight.  

Moment of Work: It's one thing to point to a firetruck or see a firefighter mow the grass in front of the station.  It's another thing to witness the same firefighters respond to a call and watch them in action.  Sonny and I (and the 2 dogs) watched from the stroller as they calmly and quickly put on their pants, coats, and hats, jumped in the truck, and turned on the lights and sirens.  

Moments of Patience:  It's not easy to not get what you want when you want it or even at all.  Sonny has a loud, piercing cry (like the siren of a fire truck) when things don't go his way.  Even if it was only a short distance until he could ride his new bike on a more suitable surface (basketball court) rather than the thick grass, he still had to learn and wait.  It was great to see him understand and redirect his attention.  

Moment of Wonder:  Witnessing the Tracy Aviary Bird show from the first row with Sonny.  How thrilling it was for Sonny and me to have large birds of prey swoop over our heads and see them up close.  I held Sonny tightly in my lap so he would feel secure as he experienced new sights and sounds. 

Moment of Learning: Throughout the past seasons, I have enjoyed taking Sonny to the City Center Library's story time.  It is a refuge amidst Salt Lake City's urban chaos. It is a Mecca of interactive play and learning spaces. I would even call it a sacred space with dedicated professionals leading thoughtful, interactive, educational experiences for babies and toddlers.  We have had many learning moments together while singing, speaking, reading, writing, and playing.  

Moment of Pleasure:  Though I thought Rooney would enjoy making his first "Build a Bear", instead, he was terrified of the stuffing machine and overwhelmed. He experienced more joy running through the mall at full speed and sharing a Chick-fil-A kids' meal with Gram "E" in the food court.  I loved sitting close and looking into his eyes while holding the sauce as we dipped the nuggets and fries into the sauce.  We didn't need words.  Just a shared moment of pleasure. 

Though simple and small, these moments have great weight and meaning in my life. They give me a glimpse of what it means to have joy in my posterity, one by one. It is not a collective gathering of posterity to bask in their collective greatness.  At this time, I have the opportunity to bask in the individual greatness of their spirit as I spend time with them individually.   Rooney and Sonny are great! It is a privilege to be near them. It's about presence.  

It also reminds me how the Savior ministers to us one by one, individually. My testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ is based on these one-on-one moments of feeling His presence through His Spirit. They are fleeting moments, but they have made a lasting impression on my soul.   They are baby moments worth remembering.

Sunday, June 22, 2025

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.  



Sunday, April 13, 2025

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!" 

Sunday, January 5, 2025

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!    

Sunday, September 29, 2024

Tangible Proof

This morning I was thinking about the big pile of RT stuff  I need to move tomorrow to a new campus.  I already filled up a 15 passenger van with one load and dropped it off.  After assessing what remains,  I think it will take about 8 more loads.  Luckily, I think there will be a moving van to help tomorrow.  Why am I holding on to all this stuff?  

Our possessions are sometimes linked to our identity.  Right now, part of my identity is as a recreation therapist.  Part of my job is teaching DBT skills and pairing them with recreational tasks.  Since "recreation" is a broad term, this task can be anything related to movement, art, music, games- "everything but the kitchen sink." Well and in some cases, if I could figure out how to use a kitchen sink in an experiential activity, it would be in the pile too! 

Do I really need the pile?  Why can't I just bring myself?  Aren't my ideas for recreational tasks inside me anyway?  I remember one recreation therapist turned entrepreneur said he could keep a group engaged for hours with a single rope.  He is great!  Me?  Not so great.  I need props to compensate for personal insecurity.  I need props to enlarge my memory.  Seeing and touching an item helps me remember what I did in the past and what I can potentially do in the future.

I learn best through hands-on experiences-something to touch, something to hold in my hand. Being close enough to touch puts me in relationship with people, places, and objects. I form an emotional attachment to them. Material possessions also provide tangible proof of physical reality. But proof of what?

Proof we are successful financially.  Proof we are a winner.  Proof we are important.  Proof we are happy.  Proof we are good-looking.  Proof we went places. Proof people liked us. Proof we are amazing people.  Proof we exist and make a difference.  Proof we matter.  

Memorabilia sometimes provides tangible proof or worth, or at least that we existed. But so does every single item ever purchased by self or others.  Getting rid of anything can potentially assault a person's sense of worth.  But take it all away, what remains? 

 If we're still here on this planet, we have our body.  Our body is a form of physical proof.  Our body is the greatest storage unit of all. It has unlimited space. It is also a dumping ground.   Our body stores our collective choices over the years, our good and bad habits. Our body stores our collective experience both good and bad.  It stores our memories of relationships, both good and bad. memories of  Our mind, heart, and gut store our values and how we feel when we violate them or they are violated by others.  It keeps a perfect record of our transactions.  It is physical evidence, tangible proof of who we are and what we have chosen to become.  And others can see it-they see the external proof as well.  

But even the body will eventually be taken away.  And then what is left? What proof will we have that we existed,  especially if our ashes are scattered somewhere on the planet? 

Our spirit is a far superior storage unit.  It brings the light and life.  It stores the truth of what was, is, and is to come.  It is an endless reservoir of living water for those who believe. It is the great purifier, cleansing by the fire of sanctification.  Hardly a dumping ground! It is our life force-our energy.  Without it, we are just an empty shell.  Thankfully, no one can take away our spirit-ever.  

How wonderful the promise of a resurrection!  Both body and spirit will be inseparably connected through the atonement of Jesus Christ.  The greatest, most amazing tangible proof ever!  A material we will possess, not just a material possession.  Like Thomas, we sometimes doubt and exclaim,  "Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe." We want tangible proof. It's the great identifier of existence.  

How wonderful to see the church video on the Savior's appearance in the Americas.  It is another witness of the resurrected Lord.  He invited all

 "Arise and come forth unto me, that ye may thrust your hands into my side, and also that ye may feel the prints of the nails in my hands and in my feet, that ye may know that I am the God of Israel, and the God of the whole earth, and have been slain for the sins of the world."  

Since resurrection restores the body to it's perfect frame, as a child, I didn't quite understand why Jesus was resurrected with scars on his body.  I thought he would show up and say something like, "Here, look at my perfect body- this is what is in store for you!"  

But it wasn't just about what the Father did for Jesus by raising only him from the dead. It was about how it was accomplished by the Father's sacrifice of the blood of His perfect unblemished lamb. It was accomplished by the pain represented by those scars. We are the scars!  We are the marks.  I live inside of the Lord's resurrected body for I am "engraven on the palm of his hands."  That's me!  That's my sins!  He bears them.  He wears them as the great symbol of our connection. We are inseparably attached to him. 

I take upon His name in my efforts to seek connection with this holy being. I wear marks.  They are not engraven on my body but I wear them on the outside, close to my body, in hopes I will connect to His presence.  It reminds me of my great privilege to repent and be one with Him.  

God knows we care about physical stuff.  God knows we care about proof of our existence.  He knows and He looks on us with great compassion as we value our earthly possessions and mourn their loss.  He knows that seeing and touching items helps us remember what we did in the past and what we can potentially do in the future. 

He loves us.  But he wants us to understand who He is.  He wants us to understand who We are.  He wants us to become one with Him, his Father, and the Holy Spirit. It is the ultimate proof of connection and attachment.  It is real. As real as any tangible possession. 




Sunday, September 1, 2024

Seek and Find

 I know God is not a big ATM machine in the sky, but sometimes I still ask him for help in finding lost items. And I want to give him the credit when I find these items. 

Last Friday, while preparing for my trip to California, I noticed with panic that my drivers license had fallen out of my wallet- only my license, everything else was still there.  I knew I needed it for TSA at the airport to board the plane. I blamed Satan, of course, for deliberately taking it out.  Well him and my own careless, oblivios behaviors.  

While trying to retrace my steps, I apologetically asked for Gods help.  I tried to remain calm and was grateful to know I could still use my passport if it didn’t turn up.  When I got back home, I  carefully inspected my briefcase and still didn’t see it. I went to find my passport and decided I should go to the DMV to get a replacement license or at least get the process started. 

As I went to get my keys, I glanced down and noticed my license on the bedroom floor. I had not noticed it when I walked by to look in my briefcase on the bed.  For me it was an answer to my prayer, like it had miraculously been placed there. 

Regardless of my oversight, God really does help me focus on what is most important in my life.  He wants me to see what’s in front of my face or what I may have missed.  He helps draw my attention to the lost coin, the lost sheep,  the prodigal son and the rejoicing and great relief when these things are found.  He doesn’t want me to go carelessly go through life oblivious to the important details not to be missed.  

One detail I was drawn to today that I certainly don’t want to overlook is my gospel upbringing in Southern California. What a privilege it is to sit next to my mother at church.  Because of her,  I am not frantically searching for the pearl of great price.  What comfort  and joy it brings to me to join with my mother, my brother, my sisters who also feel like they have found the treasure and show their faith by attending church weekly. I notice it and it strengthens my faith. 

More than just finding lost items,  God continually tries to direct my attention to find great gospel truths crucial for spiritual travel. 

Saturday, July 6, 2024

Become Love

 Like many other people, I’ve loved watching “The Chosen”  There have been many moments that touched my heart and mind. Last season it was when Jesus rescuing Peter when he tried to walk on water. I think I already wrote about that.

This season I was a little unsettled watching the still grieving Thomas’s angry and hurt reaction to Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. He wondered why Jesus did not help his dying loved one when he needed it,  He was all put out.  I think we all get put out, especially considering withheld blessings from faithful followers of the Savior. Why does he allow us to experience pain?  Why don't we get what we want, when we want it? Why doesn't he just wipe away all the tears right away?  

According to Steve Young's book on the "Law of Love", transactional questions get transactional answers.  We have to become love instead of expecting to selfishly get something out of our discipleship or any other relationship.  We help, we heal as an outpouring of the love we feel without expecting anything in return.  

The disciples portrayed in the series are like all of us-expecting something in return.  They expected the love and care the Savior showed for everyone would be extended to them personally in times of need.   This hopeful expectation of things being set right was voiced by Martha as she stated, "I know the he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day." There was a condition for this great miracle, "Believeth thou this".  Faith precedes the miracle. If we believe in Jesus then we get this or that.  Many blessings are conditioned on having faith in Jesus Christ and repenting. It's transactional.  It's conditional.  

Many blessings of healing require patience.  Jesus didn't heal everyone around him, nor did he heal everyone simultaneously. Like his response to little James, it was not his "time to be healed".  It was not the Fathers will to make everything right for them right now.  They would need to wait and trust in God's promises to heal and bless everyone. We will have to wait for the resurrection as evidenced by all the lovely and peaceful cemeteries around us.  But it will happen to everyone without any condition of belief.  

It’s not my time to be blessed. It’s not my time to be healed.  I'm so impatient. I want everything right now, and when I don’t get it, sometimes I throw a  angry temper tantrum like Thomas. Thomas compared his grieving experience with Mary and Martha's grieving experience and ultimate outcome.  His blessings compared with another person's blessings.  Where is the fairness.  Shouldn't we all just get the same things for Christmas, as if God were some type of Santa Claus in the sky.  I also have a tendency to compare what I have with others instead of recognizing and honoring our unique paths.

 Thomas stays with Jesus, he still on the path.  Where else is he going to go?  He could choose to "walk with him no longer" but he doesn't.   Most of the apostles continue to follow him and ultimately die for him. They learn to not only follow him but become his representatives and lead His church.  They become the healers and with his power and authority heal others, even raise them from the dead.  They reach out in Christ's love or charity. 

Though "The Chosen is a great show about Jesus, it is also a wonderful show about the disciples journey as they learn what it means to come to Jesus, follow him and what they become as a result.  I look forward to the following seasons as we see the transformation of ordinary people into beings of who reach out to others with God's love in powerful ways without expecting anything in return.   

I want to become this type of being-one who has the ability to follow Jesus Christ not just because of all the great blessings I will receive or accomplish, but that I might be filled with his love, and daily reach out to others in healing, loving ways with no thought of reward. To become love.  




Blue Angel Squeeze

 I recently watched the awesome "Thunderbirds" air show with my sister at Hill Air Force Base.  In preparation, we watched a Blue Angels documentary on Prime.  So worth it!   What amazing humans!  The documentary does a great job explaining what these pilots do to prepare for these incredible air shows, like the one I just watched.   It surely increased my appreciation and awe as I paid the minimum price to just watch as a spectator.

One memorable scene that has stuck with me was when they were training the newly selected recruits.  They were required to get inside a centrifuge type pod as it spun around to experience the G forces Blue Angels have to be able to withstand in order to execute their amazing aerial maneuvers. They were closely watched and monitored.  Their trainer encouraged them to squeeze their butt in order to direct their blood flow so they would not pass out while being under such intense pressure.  Even the new "boss" of the Blue Angels passed out showing just how difficult it was to withstand the pressure.  It also was a clear example of how difficult the transformational process is from pilot recruit to  Blue Angel performer.  

This ability to withstand the G made me think of Jesus Christ- the person who withstood the pressure of incredible forces without passing out. I know what emotional stress and pressure feels like, but cannot imagine my pressure being multiplied exponentially by the collective weight of everyone's pain who has ever lived or will ever live on this planet. He had a mission to fulfill much more demanding than aerial acrobatics. How did he do it?  

The Savior did not pass out or at least I don't think he did.  The Savior did not have a single earthy spectator for his amazing feat, monitor his well being, or even see if he would pass out. Instead, the Savior's would be spectators passed out from sleep and exhaustion.  

What kept the Savior awake? Perhaps the angel that came gave needed encouragement and ideas on how Jesus could withstand the pressure without passing out.  I highly doubt he told him to squeeze his butt, but perhaps it was the squeezing of his veins directing his blood to different places.  Blood squeezed out through every pore from the intense pressure.  I don't know how he did it, but He did!  

Though I missed the amazing show in person, I have the privilege of at least imagining the scene as I try to remember what the Savior did for me every single week.  I see his body laid before me under the sacred cloth concealing the emblems of his flesh and blood.  I partake and remember the amazing skill it took to accomplish the most important aerial maneuver that was ever performed.  Not only do I observe the sheer power of the amazing Father/Son/Holy Ghost team of flying performers, but also the power to raise me up to the skies to hear the roar and soar with the Blue Angels/Thunderbirds.   

Good Therapy

 We just finished participating in the "Battle of the Bands".  For me, it is my seventh battle.  It is a real battle between the forces of creation and entropy- everything is continually falling apart and it's my job to see if I can put it together and create some order out of chaos.  And it is chaos!

It is not a requirement.  We do not have to go.  No one is forcing us to go.  However, co-workers sometimes expect it because I have shown up with our groups in the past. I have created an unspoken expectation.  My equivalent day programs or short-term residential programs in other cities do not go.  Perhaps they know better.  Perhaps they are afraid of looking like a fool.  I obviously am not afraid of looking like a fool since our music offerings are usually inferior, sometimes even a joke compared to the other programs. 

Other programs have more time to work with their students and resources, better equipment, trained music instructors and sometimes even dedicated music programs specifically designed to prepare students for performances.  Their focus is music.  My focus is therapy and music is just one of the many recreational tasks in my toolbox to combine with DBT skill-building to improve patient outcomes.

I have some basic music skills that I expose all students to in preparation for the Battle of the Bands:  

How to play a basic rock beat on the drums

How to execute 6 chords on the piano playing every other white note. 

How to play many notes on the bass guitar using only the E string, or simply using the open strings. 

How to play an adapted power chord on an electric guitar tuned to "drop D" holding down the first two strings while baring the notes on the fret up and down the neck of the guitar.  

That's about it regarding my non sophisticated, unambitious music skills. All students can learn the above techniques if they are willing to listen to and follow directions.  Armed with these basic skills we can realistically prepare a 3 or 4 chord pop/rock song.  Simple is the name of the game.  

 You'd be surprised how many students cannot execute these simple skills whether it's because they can't coordinate movements or understand the directions, they are too hyperactive to focus on any task for enough time to learn the skill, or they flat out aren't interested in learning or willing to learn.  They get frustrated and give up quickly. Even if they can execute the skills individually, when coming together with their peers, it is often impossible to stay on a beat.

Some have such a profound sense of learned helplessness, that they don't even try saying it's too hard. They get so overstimulated and overwhelmed by the loud musical sound that they refuse to even come into the group room.   Other students are the exact opposite.  They think they can do anything regardless of structure and rules.  Their own will reigns supreme. What they want to do governs their choices no matter the impact on others or equipment.  They see musical directions as an offense or Erin telling them what to do, trying to control them.  They are hypersensitive to anything resembling judgment, criticism or truth.   They throw the instruments down in anger, remove pieces and parts as potential implements for self harm or play with them like expensive toys to be broken for their amusement.     

I'm at the mercy of whoever admits to or discharges from our program.  Some are gifted musicians and come to us with an amazing voice, guitar, or drumming skills. That makes preparation easier and I can usually build our songs around them.  My music leaders this time had limited music skills and limited ability to manage their big emotions,  When dysregulated they acted on their emotional action urges leading to unsafe behaviors including self-harm, suicidal ideation and attempts, running away, assault, property destruction, and substance abuse. Besides unsafe behaviors (all of which literally happened the month leading up to the performance, there is also illness-this time one wing came down with influenza a week before the performance. It's hard to plan and prepare with such an unpredictable roster of would be musicians. One cannot ignore or discount the fact that all participants are teens in treatment! That is why it is such a miracle when they actually come through with the performance. That alone is inspirational to me!

 The week before the performance is usually a complete disaster as each selected song sound absolutely terrible because the students don't know what they are doing and they aren't playing together.  I usually don't throw our hat into the ring to compete in the "Battle" until a couple days before.  

This time I was "in charge" of the event so there were extra responsibilities including finding volunteer judges, preparing score sheets, being the emcee directing the show, finding songs to engage the audience during the intermission, assigning seats, and getting a count for the pizza.  I think I did a pretty good job.  The transitions were pretty smooth between numbers, I helped implement the new procedure of having students introduce numbers and participants, the judges quickly determined winners, and we ended early.

Adapting recreation for people with special needs should be my strong suit, but each time I'm astonished at the amount of energy and flexibility required simply to show up prepared to contribute anything.  There are always obstacles, disappointment and discouragement.  

A unique alchemy miraculously transforms the participants into a band.  They start to work together and even practice on their own with their peers.  I don't have any control over this process. I like to think I do.  I send out emails to encourage independent practice and give students verbal reminders.  During groups I frantically wave the tambourine around and enthusiastically call out directions like a high pitched cheerleader.  Ultimately, it's out of my hands if they band together. It either happens or doesn't.  It is at that moment, I get to step back and watch.   Even if they sound pretty good in practice, it doesn't guarantee they will perform well once we get to the venue.  

I get to practice a whole lot of "radical acceptance."  At the recent show, things went wrong as they always do.  During one song, they were painfully off beat.  One song, the electric guitar wasn't plugged in or turned up so no one heard the capable guitar playing. Students played the wrong notes, were out of tune, forgot lyrics, laughed, cursed into the microphone, but they said they had fun!  It was an exciting experience! 

 All in all, though we were the worst-performing group this time, I still am glad we participated.  They all made incredible progress in a very short span of time. They engaged as best as they could.  They expressed themselves using music. All the students held it together!    I don't believe there were any safety issues or emotional dysregulation during an extremely stressful activity-at least I didn't see it.  That is a huge win.  It gives these students a chance to get outside their comfort zone and thus becomes a fabulous recreation therapy activity.

It is also an amazing team task and one of the best experiential activities out there at my disposal as a Recreation Therapist.   I've always been averse to the traditional "team building"  or contrived experiential activities.  They're just a little too hokey for my taste.  Though the perceived threat of the "floor being lava" can be motivating, it's more powerful to have real live stressors like the threat of social embarrassment in front of a crowd of your peers.  These threats require each participant to pull together and address the challenges as a team.  

It is a utter miracle when a bunch of very diverse teens come together to form a band and work on a common goal.  It's inspirational for me to see how they start to work on their sound together and improve with practice, giving each other helpful feedback.  It's amazing when they turn to each other and say, "Hey, we sound pretty good."   And they did, especially using my judgment criteria of staying safe through stressors and coming together as a team.  They are winners in my book.  It's good therapy!

Sunday, February 25, 2024

Temple Souvenir

 

A couple of people yesterday asked if they could keep their laminated appointment cards as a souvenir from the Provo Temple.  I said "no" in line with our directive that no one was to take anything from the Provo temple for memorabilia.  I am not a rigid, letter of the law kind of gal, but I just couldn't do it.   I did not want them to remember their temple experience in the Provo temple with this cheap man-made item and man-made protocol for giving priority seating to those making appointments for temple service. That's just stupid.  My opinion, I know but you already have your memento if you're wearing your garments.  

As part of my calling as an assistant chapel coordinator, I collected these appointment cards from patrons before they entered the endowment room.  Some thought I was the great ticket taker and if they didn't have their "tile" with the right time listed they couldn't enter the room.  Many would apologize if they left their card somewhere.  One regular patron would always joke, "The dog ate it."  Some would look to me as if they had did something wrong if they didn't have one, as if they were being judged.  

I was looking at them, but not to judge but to visually greet them by making eye contact and smiling.  I saw so many people through the door! The spirit testified of the worth of each soul.  Like counting the Lord's sheep and treasuring each one, no matter their appearance.  I was also looking to see if they had any special needs. 

 As in all areas of the temple, workers are there to help, not judge.  If you forget words, we will help you remember.  If you need something, we will try to get it for you-headsets for translation of the endowment into your own language.  If you want to spend some special time with your family member receiving an ordinance, we'll take you up to have some quiet time together before everyone else arrives.  If you need to use the elevator, we'll help you find your way.  If you are cold, we will get a shawl or bring a bottle of water.  We'll show you to the restroom.  We'll make sure the tissue boxes are full so can use them if moved to tears.  Each detail is designed to improve patron experience.  

At first I was anxious about my calling within the temple since I appreciated the 30 minute rotations to various areas in the building including laundry, locker room, office, baptistry, initiatory, chapel, endowment room, veil, celestial room.  It made the 4-hour work shift go quickly and it did kind of make me feel like an angel flying up and down the stairs from one post to the next.  So the thought of standing still in the chapel for 4 hours seemed like torture. Provo is a standing temple-think sentinel angels don't sit down to take a break. Fortunately, my duties were focused on running around the temple trying to meet needs of patrons and that kept me alert. It was also one of the few posts in the temple where you could occasionally chat with fellow workers and patrons which met my need to socially connect. 

With my aging knees, I learned to fly around the temple using the elevator and hike around the flat circular corridors to accomplish my various tasks.  To myself, I referred to them as my incense burning duties. It wasn't so much about how small and insignificant each duty was, it was where I was serving-in the temple of our God.  It gave me an ample window into this aging temple, one that was literally falling off the mountain and would certainly not be standing when the Savior returns in the Millennium. Yet for an aging temple, it was infused with youthful vitality and color from the missionaries, young students and international patrons.  It was a busy, face paced temple requiring efficiency protocols. 

It's understandable how people wanted to take just about anything from the Provo temple before it was de-commissioned and demolished. The garage sale in me screams, "Well, it's going to be thrown out anyway, why not spread a little joy-let it be used for something different-even something to hold onto to remember this very special building?"

As I've walked the halls of this very unique building (my old bishop referred to it as the "Disco Spaceship Temple") I've had similar thoughts.  What are they going to do with all these beautiful items-crystal chandeliers, antique furniture, marble tiles, artwork, gilded mirrors, etc?  So many precious things.  In a trash heap?  I heard that the minute the Provo temple closed yesterday, crews came to strip the temple and put items locked up in the basement to prevent theft.  I know some of the items will be used in other temples but where is everything really going to end up?  Who will use them?  How will they be used?  So many precious things.  Destroyed perhaps. Transformed for sure. 

The more I think about it, it would probably be right and good, even best to destroy all these precious things and offer them in a huge sacrificial ceremonial fire. That way they would not fall into the hands of someone who did not understanding the nature and purpose of ritualistic worship.  These precious things are certainly not more precious than the life of our Savior.  All things in the temple point to the great and last sacrifice of the Father's beloved son, Jesus Christ.  Most covenant making is done before a symbolic sacrificial altar.  As President Barry stated yesterday, our covenants are not just transactional (we promise to do this and God promises that) but our covenants are transformational.  We are changed through our covenant making and keeping.  We are sanctified.  We become holy.

 I have been changed in my short service in the temple- even if it's only in an attitude that "No, you can't keep your appointment card as a souvenir."  


 





Sunday, September 17, 2023

Gift of Clearing

 This morning I was thinking about gifts associated with clearing.  My friend told me about her experience of using her spiritual gifts to clear a Provo building of about 100 cluttered spirits in the attic and help them pass through portals to another world.  She reported how the process took her about 45 minutes and had been a significant spiritual experience for those involved. 

 I was extremely familiar with the recently cleared Gothic building space since I worked there for over a year.  I sure could have used the help of those "100 spirits" as I spent literally weeks organizing 20 years of costumes from that same attic area. I did feel the spirits of all those staff and students who spent so much time and energy bringing the theatrical programs to life.  It was a journey through time but I was never scared or creeped out.  Maybe I should have been, considering there were reports of ghosts in the building but I always felt safe and peaceful.  Besides I was preoccupied with creating order out of chaos.  That's one of my gifts.    

I've utilized the gift several times during the last decades. I did it when my father passed away with his man cave.  I did it with my husband's never-ending parade of possessions during our marriage.  I did it with my uncle's house.  I did it with the basement for a guy I barely knew.  I did it for my daughter from her old house to her new house.  I did it for the art rooms, gym closets, therapy spaces at different facilities.   I did every time I moved from one space to the next. I did it last Sunday at my son's house for his new baby.   It seems like I'm always doing it because, like spirits that keep popping up in various spaces, entropy abounds.  Since we live in a world of tangible things, there are abundant opportunities to clear the way.  Let's have some order here!

But just because I'm good at it, doesn't mean I like it.  I would NEVER do it as a side-gig.  It takes so much out of me!  Though there is some satisfaction in the temporary order, it is mostly an expression of love and appreciation.  Maybe I'm a bit like the spiritualist who told me how much love and peace she felt as she was doing her energy work.  

So how is it done?  It was interesting to learn about some of her spiritual process as she works with the intangible world but I will leave that to her to write about it.  In my work with the tangible world,  I come into a space that is complete chaos. It is completely overwhelming that most people leave it alone, don't approach it or simply learn to live with it. But not for me the clutter whisperer!  Though things are not dead people, each item is certainly connected with life or lives of people who have used the object for some purpose.  Some purposes are easier to guess than others. I throw very little out.  It has to be legit trash. Everything is done with utmost respect for the people involved and their "dead things."

In the case with the haunted costume attic, I can't see dead people, but I can see how some things are alike and how they are different.  Though I'm not coaching ghosts through portals, I can make some type of container for these like items- bags, boxes, closet space, or spots on the floor.   Then I see a vision of how they can be arranged or given a semi-permanent resting place. 

The whole process makes me appreciate each item in guessing what the item was used for, and what it could be used for in the future.  In this case, it was for future use in treatment groups.  The goal is utilize the resources we already have and organize them in a way for quick and efficient retrieval.    With these thoughts in mind, it come down to picking up one item at a time and putting it where it belongs.  Little by little, the pile grows smaller.  The large trash bags that have been sitting there for years, are opened and sorted until there are none and all is put away.  

I remembered the pride I felt about the costume attic when it was put in order.  I even found old pictures of the past theatrical productions and placed them around the room to breathe a little life into the place, though I guess THAT wasn't needed.  

I go tomorrow to pick up a few costume items from the newly "cleared" attic for my program in Millcreek for our celebration of the '80s, '90s, and '00s.  Ironically it is called "Spirit Week."  I have never really considered my abilities surrounding organization as a spiritual gift, but I guess it is.  It's a different kind of clearing.  I clear the way for new possibilities, help people with their stuff and benefit in the process.  

Sunday, June 4, 2023

Sealing/Bonding/Binding-The Good Stuff!

 This morning I was thinking about the authority and efficacy of sealing prayers for specific priesthood ordinances in the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Though I am not a temple sealer, as a current ordinance worker in the temple, I have been given some authority to seal when doing initiatory ordinances.  It is a significant power and a privilege to pronounce sacred blessings.  Extraordinary words indeed.

Some of the more obvious, outward expressions of joy come from brides and their wedding parties.  Oh, the excitement of young couples coming to the temple to be sealed together for time and all eternity!  It is also a beautiful sight to see young children dressed in white to surround the temple altars to be sealed to their parents.  Both of these happy sights reinforce the wonderous doctrine of the restored church, "Families Can Be Together Forever".  How wonderful!

Of course, it causes pain as well.  Especially considering my personal circumstances.  Like all of us, I want the good stuff too and don't want to miss out on blessings. However, through the years, I've noticed these great promises related to sealed families are providing more hope than pain.

One of my most favorite parts about being an ordinance worker is the prayer meeting to start the 4-hour shift.  I feel like I'm at General Conference being addressed by the most incredible speakers. Yesterday,  in the message from our temple matron, she made reference to how ordinances and covenants bind us to Christ.  It got me thinking about the word "bind".  Surely it's related to the word "bond." 

One of the first tasks of a newborn and its mother is to bond, especially after the cord has been cut.  Throughout the life of a family, people spend enormous amounts of time, energy, and resource for family bonding. We want to be close and connected throughout our life to our loved ones.  These connections often come with strings attached or "expectations."  These expectations can feel binding at times, even restrictive and perhaps a little judgmental.   But we continue to show up and try to meet the expectations because we love our families and want to be with them.  Even if that hoop is on fire, I'm going to jump through it, especially if I think it will help.  And if we say we're going to help, we want our word to be our bond.  They can count on us to "be there."  Bonding and binding are key to a lasting connection.  

Bonding also has reference to the term "sealing."  Whatever the contract, the covenant, I want ut to stick or hold up under pressure- to be efficacious- to actually work.  Trusting in promises requires it.  Magic words are only magic if the desired result is achieved.  If not, I'm just playing pretend with a toy wand and fooling even myself.  But how much power do words really have when it comes to families being together forever?  Sealing power is required along with faithfulness to the covenant being made.   

I'm so grateful sealing power has been restored through the prophet Elijah to truly turn the hearts of the children to their fathers and fathers to their children.  It is a curse to be separated.  It is a waste to be left desolate without root or branch. The destructive forces that tear families apart are devasting to the hearts of men, women, and children.  But what of my heavenly family?  What about my brother, Jesus Christ.  My Heavenly Father?  How do I bond with them? 

The joy I see in the temple each week from earthly families united through sealings is a symbol of the ever inclusive promised celestial union and reunion with our premortal nuclear family.  How happy our Father is when we make an effort to bind ourselves to him.   What pain he must feel when his children don't want to be connected to him for whatever reason.  

Jesus offers love and  acceptance beyond compare. He sees our heart.  He know us perfectly.  He is a merciful judge. The required expectation for a potentially joyful heavenly reunion with Him and our siblings?  Exercising faith in his son, Jesus Christ.  Being faithful to our covenants not only binds us to him but also nurtures our bond with him and shows God we want to be with him too!  We love him too! It's the good stuff for all!



Sunday, November 6, 2022

Bohemian Love

This morning I was thinking about love and being ministered to personally by my family while staying in their homes.  As part of my commuter strategy for my new job, I often stay mid week at one of the houses of my relatives- daughters, son, and aunt.  This way, I'm hoping to tread lightly in their personal space and not burn anyone out from continually giving me shelter.  I could commute each day back to Provo, but right now, I don't want to.  It's been most helpful giving additional time to explore Salt Lake and familiarize myself with its' various recreational resources available for my clients.  I am growing to appreciate Salt Lake more as I focus on all the good this fine state has to offer.

 But more than the wealth of natural, cultural, and recreational resources, family members are my greatest resource. Spending time with them individually is a priceless opportunity to be in their presence.  They serve and support me in the most wonderful ways.  It's a new stage in my life as I travel with my carry-on luggage (my knapsack on my back) singing "I am a happy wanderer" while couch surfing with relatives- even though most of the time, I'm in a series of very comfortable beds.

  I bought a brightly colored, bohemian looking bedroll for $7 that's bringing me a lot of joy these days-mostly for the current lifestyle it symbolizes.  It reminds me of my old 70s looking children's sleeping bag with it' brightly colored flowers and print reading, "Blondes are fun, Redheads are for real, and Brunettes are groovy."   Sleeping in the homes of family members truly is "groovy" and these days I'm feeling the love in each one of my temporary living situations.  

My son's house is the most Bohemian in the classic definition of the word, "a socially unconventional person, especially one who is involved in the arts."  His home is so full of life-literally.  He is surrounded by his animal family of dogs and cats as well as the temporary animal tenants from the doggy day care service he supports. These animals are receiving attentive, loving care.  His home is also full of original music, writing and art.  He is continually creating.   He is an amazing one man band. Each nook and cranny tells a story. This rental home will eventually be torn down by the owner to make room for a multi-plex, but in the meantime, it is being filled with life, love, and art.  It is beautiful in an unconventional way.  

 I recently paid for some health services for my son in exchange for massages.  Though he is not a certified massage therapist, in my books he is.  It is precious currency and this energy work takes a lot out of him.  He has to be in a certain frame of mind and sometimes he's just doesn't have the energy.  It is an energy transfer and it is difficult for him to put himself in that situation to take on the pains of someone else when he is already dealing with his own pain.  

So I understood when this week, he said he wasn't really up for a massage.  However, later he stated he could give me 30 minutes.  I am grateful for whatever he can give as I make my way to the massage table.  I've had several professional massages.  They are great but there is something unique about having my son serve me in this fashion; It is truly an unselfish act.  It is an act of love. It is artistic expression.    

He took more than 30 minutes as his massage choreography was perfectly synced to his musical playlist.  He didn't rush through it, put minimal effort into it or do it in a "I have to get this over with" type of attitude.  I am much more selfish and weak when I give massages.  I suck.   He was totally present and considerate.  It fired off so many of my love languages:  acts of service, quality time, touch, and gifts.  For me, it was as tangible as any gift.  It was what he had to offer, and he offered his all, even though he was already emotionally depleted.    I was spiritually touched by his loving ministration to the needs of his mother.  His service was sacred to me.  

It was also symbolic of the loving service I am receiving from so many different hands from other family members.  They are also giving me what they can give. They are personally attending to my individual needs.  It is so much!  I am overwhelmed with their generosity.  I so appreciate each kind act and consideration for my person.  It is a beautiful thing to behold.  It really is a "groovy kind of Bohemian love."   Thank you family!