Breaker

This morning I was thinking about breaking things.  Yesterday I dropped my super expensive plastic covering to our bulletin board at work-and broke it.  As I unscrewed it, I forgot to support it, so it crashed to the ground.  I was so mad at myself.  I've tried to be so careful during this past year every time I put up the student's pictures and calendar.  And yet I was careless, clumsy, distracted...something resulting in huge cracks and chips that cannot be repaired.  I hid it in back of our maintenance dude's shed.  I'm sure it needs to be thrown away.  Anyway-I need to get a new one.  I think it can be replaced.  In the meantime-we'll just have to do without it and hope the students won't touch and mess up the calendar right.  Impulse control- right?

I break things-all the time.  When I do, I feel horrible, but usually shake it off and chalk it up to another Erin mishap.  However about 4 years ago, while decorating my bathroom walls with a couple of my mother's "blue plates," the nail supporting it gave way and it came crashing down on the tiled floor.  This time, I was devastated-I literally felt pain inside.  This plate was so special to me. These "blue plates" are my mother's heirlooms.  My brother, sister, and myself-we all want them. She has often said that we can only have them after she dies. It was a big deal for me to receive a couple of them early when I was making my dream blue and white kitchen.  I wanted this space to remind me of my mother-blue onion wallpaper, blue and white tiles, blue and white ceramics etc.  These plates not only represented my mother's love of all things blue and white, but it also represented a yearly tradition in my parent's marriage.  They would go to Ports of Call in Long Beach to a special antique store and buy one Bing and Gondahl collector's/plate on their wedding anniversary.  They were expensive yet my father honored my mother's desire to collect them-whatever Sandy wants.  For me these plates represented not only my mother but also their marriage relationship.  I treasure them.  

The one I broke happened to be my favorite one...of course.  It depicted a mother and child at the piano singing.  My mom taught me to sing alto while singing hymns at church.  My mom bought the piano for her children.  She paid for and took me to piano lessons, My mom encouraged me to express myself through music.  The plate was a symbol of all those things.  When it lay broken at my feet, I fell to the ground and wept.  Not just a little. I was flooded with emotion-reminding me of my own broken family of divorce. Like Humpty Dumpty-all the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn't put it back together-there were too many pieces.

I swept the plate up but could not throw it away.  Instead, I placed all the pieces in a cloth napkin and put it in a drawer for safe keeping.  Though broken, it remains a treasure.  I suppose I could go online and replace it-but I won't.  The new one wouldn't have the same history or meaning.  I would like to find a way to use the pieces in some type of mosaic tile project.  I haven't done it yet, but I will someday-find the right glue and the right fitting to honor this broken ceramic pieces.

I also desire to find the right glue and the right fitting to honor my broken family.  I would never throw away anyone in my family, including my former husband.  I treasure each piece.  They cannot be replaced.  They are precious and worth keeping.  My family will never look the same as it did when we were all living under the same roof.  We are scattered, yet we can gather.

President Eyring talked about the gathering of God's family in his last conference talk.  He states,"Our Heavenly Father is anxious to gather and bless all of His family.  While He knows that not all of them will choose to be gathered, His plan gives each of His children the opportunity to accept or reject His invitation. And families are at the heart of this plan."

Light, love, and covenant keeping are the right glue.  God's great plan of happiness/salvation and priesthood ordinances are the right fitting.  There is a way to humpty dumpty family back together again.  And it will be glorious and beautiful.

Problem Solving Canoes

This week was a work camping trip.  As with all RT groups, they are centered around a focus-or goal pertaining to treatment.  In this case it was about developing and practicing skills of flexibility, frustration tolerance, and problem solving when facing challenging situations.  The kids did well and I felt good about the trip for the most part.  But one challenging situation lingers in my mind-especially since it could have turned out so much different.  Every time I leave for a trip, I pray to God asking him to help me help the children return safely back to campus.  Safety is the prime directive but that doesn't mean we have to stay locked up-we venture out into the world with all of it's potential dangers.

Little did I know when launching the canoes in our  uneventful section of Provo River that it would turn into a challenging situation.  For me, canoeing is a bore.  I consider it more of a hassle than a true adventure activity.  Let's go on some wave runners-now that's adventure. Getting the canoes off and on the trailer is usually the most challenging aspect of our experience.  Not so-this time around.  After launching the canoes, it took me a while to even notice that one of our partnerships had capsized.  Usually the water is so warm, shallow and still, you can touch the bottom, push the canoe over to the side of the bank and hop back in-no problem.  But this was different.  The weather in Utah this spring resulted in more water, stronger currents, and colder water.

Once I assessed the situation and saw that the canoe was some distance from the swimmers, I called to the therapist and student to get to the shore and out of the water.  I then focused on doing what I had learned.  Get the canoe, tee it up cross ways across my canoe to dump out the water, then turn it right side up and reload it.  I've practiced this before, but with the current, I couldn't seem to get the right angle and have the strength on my own to perform the maneuver.  I needed help.

I asked the fisherman on the shore for help...no response.  The 12 paddle boarders just meandered by us like I had everything under control.  I called to the other staff in the canoe to come over.  The current was starting to take us to the mouth of the lake. I did NOT want that to happen.  I didn't want to jump out and pull the boat to shore because I wasn't sure how well the very emotionally unstable student would do alone in the canoe and thought she might tip over and be in water as well. Believe me, I considered a range of options and evaluated the safety of each move.  All I could do was hold on to the boat, keep calm, and keep exploring different ways of doing things.

It took a while, but the other staff made his way over to us and we were able to link boats, giving us the necessary stability, leverage and strength to accomplish the task.   Talk about problem solving!  I hooked the empty boat on to mine, brought on an additional student more capable of rowing and went to shore. The one canoe of girls were arguing so much, it was a miracle they were able to go in the right direction to meet up with us.  They even rescued the floating shoe of the therapist.  After expressing our relative trauma, each student decided to accept the challenge to get back in the boats and paddle upstream to our original put in.  Even the boy who said he "almost died" rowed in a strong, enthusiastic manner as my canoe partner.  We solved the problem!  It was a triumph over a challenging situation.  It was a collective group experience of self-efficacy.

As I've thought about the situation, the words to a song from the musical "Neverland" keep popping into my head. "When reality crashes in wave after wave-pulling me farther beneath...  It's all I can do is hold to survive...but my children need so much more than me and they give me the strength to go on...He makes sense of all of my chaos....He's helping me live life again...He's guiding me safely to shore."  These snippets surely apply to my canoe ordeal but more than that it applies to my other challenging situations as well. I may be all pumped up with self-efficacy and feeling stronger...but sometime-no many times, I need some help.  Jesus Christ provides that help-especially when everyone else seems to be ignoring my plight.  He steps in, shimmies his canoe up to mine, and gives me his strength, leverage, and stability to accomplish the task-to solve the problem.  I do my part to hold on.  He helps me learn the skills of frustration tolerance, flexibility, and problem solving.  

Labor of Love

This morning I was thinking about mothers and their labor of love.   For Mother's Day, my daughter gave me a photo from her wedding with a closeup of my arm supporting hers.  i like the way you can see her handmade wedding bouquet and corsage- my labor of love.  I hung the picture next to a framed card my mother sent a while back with a silhouette of a girl with a pony tail.  Behind the cutout I can see the scrawl of my dear mom sending her support through the mail. Many times throughout the years, my mother has sent  beautiful note cards with short messages and checks or certificates.  They represent her labor of love as she steadies my arm and encourages me to keep going.

From the very beginning at childbirth,  mom's perform their labor of love. They do things they don't feel like doing. Of course they try their best to not feel the full force of labor pains.  Oh the joys of an epidural-or at least so I've heard.  I wouldn't know.  With the first child, I thought having a c-section was the easy way out.  Yeah, that was a stupid assumption.  The nurses encouraged me to walk around the hospital wing soon after my surgery but warned how my stomach would feel like someone was pointing a blow torch directly at it.  They pretty much nailed it.    With the other children, I wasn't able to have an epidural because my labor went so quickly.  I had to face transition on my own -in all it's painful glory. With the last child, even though I jumped the gun on the epidural-they put it in crooked so half of my body was numb while the other half felt every contraction.  Just dumb luck.  Nevertheless, no matter how exhausting and painful, the labor of love is always worth it-if only to give a child a chance at life.   

As mother's day approached, I had the opportunity to offer some financial support to a child and give him a chance  to get on his feet again. I was happy to do so.  It's why I'm working so hard- even though I usually don't feel like getting up early and I usually don't like how I feel at the end of the day as I pour myself in bed. In fact there are all sorts of things I don't feel like doing related to keeping my job.  This week it was re-certifying as a lifeguard.  I've been dreading the class.  Not only did I not "feel like" doing it, but I don't want to keep doing this over and over just to keep my current job until I retire.  I don't know if I have it in me.  I also don't feel like renewing my Wilderness First Responder 5 more times,or taking the river crew/guide test again, or having to recertify as a ropes course facilitator every stinkin' year etc. etc. It's a hassle to keep paying the money every year to earn CEU's or paying the annual"maintenance fee" to  renew my TRS license and CTRS national certification.  Getting all of them in the first place is difficult, but keeping them current...well it's a royal pain in the butt.   It's hard.  It's exhausting.  And at times it's painful.  Sometimes I'm scream inside, "I don't want to do this anymore!"   Yet I do it because it's my labor of love.  It makes me feel like I'm becoming like my own dear mom. She kept working until she was 78.  I don't know if I can do that, but I can be committed for the long run-to not give up, but to keep laboring on.  It's my best chance. It's also how I can honor my mother, by trying emulate her in every way I can. 

I'm know Jesus Christ didn't feel like doing what he did when he performed the most important labor of love.  He asked his Father if there was any possible way to get out of it.  Or at least not feel so bad- "Remove this cup" he pleaded but was willing to bear it if that's what his Father wanted. He didn't have anything to block the pain.  He felt the pains of every single soul.  His labor gave me a chance at life-a new life every day if I wish.  He gives me the chance of eternal life. He sustains and supports me to keep moving forward.  To honor him, I want to emulate his example in all ways.  How I love him!  

Put Your Head on My Shoulder

This morning I was thinking about putting my head on someone's shoulder.  While dancing, it's a nice feeling to put my arms around someone's broad, strong shoulders as they draw me in close.  Muscles help.   Better yet, if the hard body sincerely cares about me when in the embrace.  In my case, this weekend, the big strong dude could care less about me-though he was hunky.  However, it gave me a moment to pause and consider the strong shoulders in my life.

I recently returned from a trip to California to celebrate my mother's 80th birthday. I also attended the the funeral of my aunt Jean, who passed away at age 96.  I was surrounded by strong shoulders-my wonderful California family-mom, sister, brother, aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces and cousins,  They continue to stand firm as they shoulder whatever burdens placed upon their own shoulders.   Their faithful living and devotion inspire me.  My California family built my foundation.  And like any good Californian knows, you have to build a foundation that can survive an earthquake and still leave a building standing after a good shaking.  The foundation has to be firm, yet flexible.  It has to bend, yet not break.   It holds together, even in the face of tragedy.

One moment during my visit stands out regarding my brother's strong shoulders.  My brother is not very large of stature,but spiritually, he reminds me of the Book of Mormon characters in Arnold Friburg's paintings.  We were having a nice Sunday visit and I started to get a little emotional.  He got up, walked across the room and put his arms around me, hugged me and just let my cry on his shoulder.  No words were said, but I understood.  His firmness gave strength and filled me with love. I know he is truly interested in my welfare of my soul. It was much more than a "nice feeling."  It was a sacred moment.  I was surrounded by my steadfast family that is always there for me.

Though I'm the only O'Malley here in Utah county, I'm surrounded by 7 mountain peaks reminding me of my firm and steadfast California family. The mountain range almost encircles my little home as if it is embracing me with its' strong, firm, broad shoulders.  The mountains inspire me to stand strong and be firm in my faith.  And when I'm feeling a little shaky, it's okay to fall down on my knees and seek strength from the loving, strong arms of my Father while seeking a heavenly embrace.  As I pray in faith, I know He's not only interested but there is also great potential for a sacred moment of connection.

Slave

This morning I was thinking about being a slave to work, at least it's how I feel sometimes. Of course it's voluntary.  No one snatched me from the savanna, bound me with chains or forced me to row the boat. I row willingly.  I also get something in return for all the blood, sweat and tears- I get money.  You know, those little green tickets people exchange for goods and services in this great big world of ours. Interestingly enough, it's this "purchase the whole world" mentality that sometimes puts me into the bondage of debt;  then I have to put the bands on, or additional demands and go to work to pay it off.  We all go to work, doing the bidding of some kind of master-even if we're the top cheese-we're in bondage to the shareholders or even our entrepreneurial vision. If we are a slave to beauty or any other ideal-there are policies and procedures; something is telling us what to do to achieve said state. So what does our master require of us? Who is actively searching for a master?  Who wants to be owned by anyone?

I can tell you that the cats and dogs at the Humane Society in Murray need  responsible owners and loving masters.  Recently I visited this impressive facility along with its' "Kitty City" wing. I've never seen anything like it. First thing you see is a big banner proclaiming how many lives have been saved-animal lives that is- convincing you that it really is a noble cause. You are being their savior. You will pay a price to redeem them. For we all know what happens to the animals that are not wanted.  They will not housed in this fine facility indefinitely.  If their owners do not claim them, they will be destroyed. Probably not at that particular facility, but somewhere and someday they will be euthanized and incinerated.  In contrast to this bleak future, instead at Kitty City we find calmly lit, new,attractive, clean, hospital like rooms with fuzzy blankets, climbing structures, intriguing cat toys, even television monitors broadcasting bird shows for the feline viewing pleasure. Prospective pet owners are not simply purchasing something to own- they are "adopting" them.  It's humanizing the business transaction.They take every measure to provide the best experience possible in these particular circumstances- giving these animals the best chance for would be owners to bond with their future pet.    Is there a connection?  Do want to bond with this animal?  Bonds can turn mere pets into family members.

By nature, bonds are restrictive of free movement.  Think of shackles or handcuffs. Even a wedding band can feel a little uncomfortable and binding at times.  This band is a symbol of a bond, or at the very least a symbol of two people who are bound together by choice.  Marriage bind them together. It is a symbol of their commitment to be faithful. It's a commitment to love and family.  Yet some find wedding bands too confining and remove them to freely explore other options.Others find temple garments too restrictive and remove them as well.   They are also a  symbol of a bond-a covenant or binding agreement and desire to have lasting ties or bonds with our maker. The sacrament is another binding covenant to take upon the name of Jesus Christ, keep his commandments and remember him always.

These concepts were swirling around in my head this week as our choir sang the hymn, "Sacrament"  written by Eliza R. Snow.  Here are some excerpts:

He left his Father's courts on high
For man to live, for man to die
A world to purchase and to save
and seal a triumph o're the grave.

We're His, who has the purchase made
his life, his blood, the price he paid
We're His to do his sacred will
and His requirements all fulfill

Jesus the great fascimile, of the Eternal Deity
has stooped to conquer and to save
from sin and sorrow and the grave.

I choose to be bound-   I choose to bond. I choose to belong.  I choose to be bound by covenants and call someone other than myself, "Master".  He didn't just purchase everything in the world-he purchased every person that would ever live on the earth.  He wants us to be part of His family.  He saves me from certain destruction. He will care for me as the most responsible, nurturing owner I could ever have.  Following the commands of this master will result in the payment of tokens much more important and valuable than any money I could exchange. I'll be a slave for Him!

Muscle Testing

This morning I was thinking about muscle testing and heavy work loads.  Lately, I've been doing my own muscle testing-how much work load can I really handle?  Right now, I don't know the answer.  But if my son's recent tire blow out on the freeway is any testament to the dangers of going full speed ahead, I'm proceeding with caution   I don't want to be like my Subaru-literally on it's last leg, hobbling along on a spare tire.  

So what am I made of?  Flexing muscles is fine and good for a Mr. Universe contest,  but how much weight can people really lift?  All those Schwarzenegger muscles were built in the first place by placing various loads on each muscle-testing them if you will. In the applied kinesiology world, "Muscle testing is a method of diagnosis and treatment based on belief that various muscles are linked to particular organs or glands and that specific muscle weakness can signal internal problems."  

Well I know I've got problems. Who doesn't?  Some people's problems are so outwardly apparent, they're impossible to ignore.  When referring to people who can't see, walk, talk, or think,it's best to use people first language instead of referring to them or even labeling them handicapped, mentally retarded, deaf, dumb, blind etc.  They're people with problems, just like you and me.  No matter who we are or what hand fate has dealt us, we work-we make an effort to do something...anything. 

While addressing some of my problems, I decided to take an additional job as an early morning para-transit driver servicing individuals residing in Utah County. This requires a current CDL with a passenger endorsement. Though I passed the knowledge portion, I still have to pass the skills test in the next couple of weeks. I added airbrakes and school bus endorsement in hopes that I might be of greater service at my current RT job and be more like "Ms Frizzle" from the Magic School Bus. Which by the way, I just learned they're doing a remake with Kate McKinnon doing the voice work. I'm so on point!

Nevertheless I've been so depleted these past few weeks-gas tank empty- running on fumes.  Sleep helps, by the way. Like the necessary pre-trip vehicle inspection points- I don't know if I can pass my own fitness for this 2nd job. Am I properly mounted and secure (PMS).  Are there any cracks, damages or leaks (CDL).in my psyche. What is my CID- condition, inflation, and depth?  Can I go safely forward? Or will I blow out?

One thing that fills me up when I'm feeling deflated is the inspiration from all the hard working people all around me-people carrying such heavy loads.  People giving unimaginable service throughout the life of their now adult children-people who will never be able to take care of themselves on their own.  They know the drill.  They've done it for YEARS.   I also find inspiration from the people we pick up.  People with problems who literally crawl on to the bus.  People who may not be able to see but use their strength to carefully take each step  and make their way to their seats.  People who get up early, allow others to dress them, and show up day after day, and operate whatever controls they can to move their power chair onto the lift ramp. People who use the coping skills that work for them-whether it's humming, singing, making noises, hugging their stuffed animals, fidgeting with toys, or whatever to manage their mood for a long bus ride until they reach their destination.  For many of these people- the destination is work.  It's work they can do-work they have done for years. Some are paid-some aren't.  For some, their work is showing up and doing any kind of purposeful activity in a day care setting. Nevertheless, it takes some effort on their part...It takes WORK-ennobling work. .  

Some say people with multiple disabilities are not here on earth to be tested; rather they are here  to test US.  Though I agree with that, I also believe these people test their muscles every day. They're working it.  They have heavy loads to bear-and they lift them-day after day, year after year. Though you might not see any sign of strength, their "work" muscles would make any body builder jealous.  They pump me up!

Acuity and Vision

This morning I was thinking about acuity and vision.  Perhaps it has something to do with my lack of sensory acuity-or being sharply aware of my surroundings.  It's not so much that I'm not aware that something is askew, but sometimes I purposely ignore little things to focus on what I consider to be weightier matters.  For instance, after disrobing and jumping into the tub, I noticed for the umpteenth time I had worn my sweater backwards all day at work.  In the morning I remember my neck being irritated by something (it was a tag) and noticing my neck line was unusually higher but I bounced out the door, oblivious to my cultural faux pas.  It made me laugh when I discovered it.  It brought to mind my mother's reports of my frequentchildhood practice of leaving for school with clothes on backwards and inside out.  Maybe that's why my first student council assignment in Jr. High was being in charge of "Mix and Un-match" Day (aka know as wear whatever crazy thing you'd like).

It was yet another reference to my lack of awareness of what I am doing in relationship to my surroundings. It got me thinking about why my acuity isn't as keen as others.  Maybe it has something to do with vision.  I still bear the psychic wound after taking a visual acuity test and being assessed as "legally blind" by the school nurse.  To this day, I still get nervous around eye charts and seeing what line I can read.  I know it's important.  I have to demonstrate my visual acuity to get behind the wheel of any vehicle.  Though I want to be in control, I  must be able to see what I'm doing and see what others are doing while driving.

At work, we deal with acuity.  We take some of the most acute kids in west-kids with complex diagnoses and severe behavioral issues.  So it's no surprise that some of these kids keep blindly bumping into each other because they lack insight into their own behaviors and their effect on others. They want to be in control, but they are totally out of control.   Treatment goals help address deficits, utilize strengths, but most of all provide vision of what to do now and where to go from here. I try to help them see and catch the clear vision of their bright, resilient and hopeful future.

Deciding where to go and what to do in 2017 is on most people's minds in January.  With the forces of fate swirling around, I want to feel I have a vision and some control in bringing it to pass..  One of my little mantras as I leave the house each day is, "Let's see what I can do."  I want to be the master of my destiny or at least have some say in what happens each day. I want to be in the driver's seat with my hand on the wheel.

I find it curious how on the Brother of Jared's journey to the promised land, the question about steering of the vessels was never really answered.  Yes, arrangements were made for survival-they would have air.  Yes, they would have light, but in regards for control-it was the winds and the waves propelling the ship forward.  It was trusting in the Lord's mercy to protect them from the elements and creatures of the sea.   It was a "Jesus take the Wheel Moment"  Instead of panicking about their lack of control or motion sickness because they couldn't see out of their non-existent windows they sang praises to the Lord of Light.  They weren't oblivious to their surroundings or circumstances;   they knew where they were going and how they were going to get there.

I may have sub-par acuity, but I have great vision.  I know where I want to go, I know how to get there, and I know what I'm doing.  More than anything, I also believe my vision fits within a much broader, comprehensive vision of God's plan for our happiness and my role in that plan.  I have work to do-and it's important work, or at least I feel it's important to Him.  It's a vision that includes the weightier matters.  I want to catch the vision of God's glorious work and the bright, clear, hopeful future.