If It Makes You Happy-It Can't Be That Bad

This morning I was thinking of on old 90's song lyric, "If It Makes You Happy-It Can't Be That Bad" and if I agree with that statement.  And what does that have to do with respecting each others' differences? Sparked by conversations this week, I've thought of my children's requests to give them more respect-especially in regards to living the law of chastity, defined as sexual relations between a man and woman, legally married.  Though they know I love them no matter what, they want to feel like the "no matter what" doesn't matter or shouldn't matter; not only does it not matter, but is a healthy, normal, acceptable choice that makes them feel happy; as if ignoring God's laws is the pathway to person freedom and happiness; that sin really doesn't exist-there is no right or wrong-I gonna make my own commandments for happy living 'cause the other commandments make me feel like a piece of #@$#!  Everyone is just different-and those differences should be respected, appreciated and applauded. It's the "that's okay for you mentality"- do what ever makes you happy and here's my support.  In addition, I'm so accepting of your differing values that you can do whatever you want in the room next to me or in my bathtub-go right ahead-I "respect" you-we're just different. Unconditional love means unconditional boundaries.

I just read something that talked about boundaries being the line separating where you end and me begins.  It was put much more eloquently.  But I think that's where I start to feel uncomfortable when other people's values start to spill over into my own space-the center of my home or even the center of my heart.  How can there be unity with such diversity? How can my children not only feel accepted but also respected when I in fact, do not respect or hold in high regard that particular choice that goes against God's laws?  Why do I feel like I'm lying if I say I am proud of their choices, when I'm not?  When is "That's OK for you" not enough?  It's like they don't want to be referred to as a "sinner" even if it's only in my mind.  They want me to think it's not sinning-that it's not wrong. That it has never been wrong or times have changed.  That 76.5%(made up percentage)  of the people on the planet "do it" so it must be right. I'm the one that needs to change my thinking-if I don't, then I'm intolerant, unsympathetic, bigot, racist, whatever derogatory term fits the bill. I must respect diversity of values.

I know there was some people who "resigned" from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints last week.  I assume this means they made a formal request to have their names removed from church records. Perhaps this made them feel like they were respecting the LGBT community and children growing up in LGBT households or that the church's policy affronted their own sense of right and wrong, fairness, etc.  During the month of November, I read the announcement to church policy, watched Elder D. Todd's Christopher response, read the first presidency's letter of explanation, read the latest context press release by church public affairs chair. There was no "disturbance in the force" in my faith in Jesus Christ as a result of these announcements or in my reaction to policy or doctrine.  I appreciated the affirmation that same sex attraction is not a sin.  That same sex-marriage is considered a sin requiring church discipline. It made sense to me in regards to child welfare. Perhaps because I grew up with parents with differing values and know how it negatively affects children.  It was confusing and conflictual for my obedient brother to feel like his own father didn't respect his choices and wasn't pleased with him as a "real man" due to their differing views of manhood. My own children have grown up with parents with differing views of right and wrong and it has deeply confused their faith and caused considerable conflict.

Regardless I have to figure out this respect thing before alienating my sweet children. I love them.  I want them to be happy.  Respect not only includes how I feel about them but how I treat them.  I had a friend whose husband did horrible things and made her feel terrible about herself.  My gut reaction was to treat him horrible-how dare you treat my friend like that!  But I tried to treat him the opposite of what I felt.  I spoke to him in a way not only pointing out his strengths but trying to make him feel like I thought he was the best husband ever.  I showed respect and tried to make it as sincere as I could.  Over the years, I have seen him become a man worthy of my respect.  I'm so happy for my friend, for her husband, and happy I did not disrespect him to his face.

I do not believe doing whatever makes you happy can't be that bad.  It can be bad.  We are all sinners-everyone-everywhere and we get to repent.  What a privilege to repent and change and align ourselves to the laws by which happiness is governed.  "Wickedness never was happiness" nor will it ever be. Yet, I can follow the church's example to treat others with respect; "All children are to be treated with utmost respect and love. They are welcome to attend Church meetings and participate in Church activities. All children may receive priesthood blessings of healing and spiritual guidance."  I too, can respect my children regarding their choices by encouraging participation, healing, and guidance offered with unconditional love-even if that love comes with some personal boundaries and limits. 

Smells Like Teen Spirit

This morning I was thinking about emotional smells and my answers to emotional questions.  More specifically- How do you feel about the possibility of my x-husband getting out of prison?  How do I feel about him-what are my feelings for him?  Or even more to the point-what are I going to do when he gets out?  Will we live together? My boys poised these questions during some discussions this week in conjunction with some highly emotional and triggering smells connected with their behavior. Though on the surface these smelly events seem unrelated, as I think about my responses, I believe they are connected and offer insight into possible answers to those questions I've been avoiding.

I have a superpower- my superhuman, super-sensitive nose-able to pick up the scent of anything. My triggering event was waking up to the smell of cigarette smoke in my kitchen.  Though it is hardly the worst case scenario regarding children's behaviors, the smell triggered me. The smell not only reminds me of the mechanism that killed my father but it also pollutes my sanctuary I call home and assaults my values.  Smoking is such an intrusive habit.  It's near impossible to hide.  It's just out there for everyone to judge, and rightly so because it influences their health as well.  It's not just a personal habit; it's a health hazard.  Thus all the smoking bans-everywhere.  I was obsessed as I went about cleaning up the house, doing every piece of his laundry, purchasing my favorite essential oils and some scented candles-all in an effort to rid myself of that triggering smell.

Where's a person supposed to smoke these days?  My parents grew up in the age where everyone smoked everywhere.  Fortunately for me, my father didn't smoke in the house so my clothes didn't smell like it. I always hated the smell and would cough around it when he smoked in the car.  But when he died from lung cancer, the smell of cigarettes took on a new meaning for me.  I got angry when I saw people buying cigarettes and wanted to shake them and say, "Why are you wasting your money on something that's killing you and the people you love?"  I was mad at the people making cigarettes available to young, impressionable minds enticing them with claims of being cool, tough, thin, alert, spiritual or marketing them as gateways to pleasure, increased awareness or as an acceptable coping skill for stress. I was mad, sad, and heart sick because regardless of my turbulent upbringing with my alcoholic, chain-smoking father, I love and miss him.  I wish he would have never started smoking and drinking cause I would love to have him back-if only just to yell at me and tell me how stupid his Pooh Bear is.

As I thought about my current situation regarding this child living with me and smoking in some form or fashion, I realized I could not tolerate it.  Though I feel sick about some of the personal choices of all my children, this particular choice was intrusive to the point that it was making me crazy. I realized I am "emotionally allergic" to cigarette smoke.  Though I can be around people who smoke, visit with them, hang out and be friends, support them and love them deeply- I cannot live with a person who smokes.  My son told me I was looping as I repeated over and over the statement, "You can smoke or do whatever you want, but if you do, you will have to live somewhere else. I love you but I cannot live in the same house with someone who smokes."  I had a little emotional breakdown and cried and wailed like a baby-or as he put it, "I saw little girl Erin pleading with her daddy".  It kind of freaked him out.   He committed to living by the house rules and that's where the discussion ended. Though the break was triggered from cigarette smoke, it really was about a whole lot more-things that have been building up about a whole lot of traumatic issues.

As I explore answers to questions regarding my impending x-husbands release, my looped response seems to fit.  "You can continue to do whatever you want; lie, steal, cheat, do whatever you want but you will have to live somewhere else.  I love you, but I cannot live in the same house with someone who does this or that.   It's not like I have never set boundaries or communicated standards and expectations for continued co-habitation before. The problem came when my x-husband committed to live a certain way- such as acting like a married man or honest businessman and then lied about his compliance.  He then used one billion words and reams of paper-both legal and not, in an effort to convince everyone  he was living those standards, denied responsibility for unsafe behaviors and continued to push limits.  He was the camel nudging his nose under my tent demanding to live with me because he loved me and he was safe.  Well it sure didn't smell safe to me and it still doesn't.

 I already know the answer to the questions I've been avoiding- I've never been avoiding them. I already wrote them down in a letter I sent to both children and x-husband back in 2008 outlining my willingness to live together as a married couple if he agrees to follow house rules-safe rules that don't stink up the house. He needs to take responsibility for past unsafe behaviors-behaviors that present health hazards for his family as well.  He has to not only commit to but also demonstrate safe behaviors and have proof of them in order to live under the same roof. These safe behaviors are easy to document; no outstanding legal judgements, a temple recommend, a tax return.  It's all written down-I had just forgotten about it.  With all my husband's Jedi mind tricks, I start to question my previous responses about boundaries.  In fact, I forget what the questions are in the first place.  His constant gas lighting results in extreme mental confusion-not only does he sound crazy but he makes me think I'm crazy as well-and all this with extremely limited contact. What's it going to be like when he's in my face-literally? The smell of gas (or "gas lighting") is usually odorless. Will I be able to smell "unsafe"?  

I think that is what makes a trigger a trigger- I associate cigarette smell to being unsafe. I actually have the same reaction to the smell of beer. Certain behaviors are much more intrusive, invasive, toxic, and filthy than mere cigarette smoke. Certain behaviors present continuous safety hazards.  This is not about perfection folks or thinking I'm some saintly woman with no one good enough to step across my threshold. I have no desire to live alone with my principles rather than living with the people I love. I want my nest to be a place of healing-to bind up broken wings so my little chickies can fly. Yet I'm also trying to build a nest that is clean, peaceful and safe and expect all who live with me to do the same or who are at least making an effort to be clean.  Blanket acceptance of unsafe behaviors will not create a place a refuge. Everyone has to take responsibility for the environment we create together.

Latter-Day temples provide a good model in creating a house of cleanliness, safety and peace.  People who desire to live with the Lord, not just visit with him or receive a quick embrace, must value cleanliness.  People freely choose to commit to clean living and safe behaviors of obedience, sacrifice, law of chastity, and consecration; behaviors that show gratitude and love for the Lord's redeeming grace.  It is through faith in Jesus Christ and his great work of atonement that we are washed clean. The spirit of the Lord rests upon his temples.  It is His house. His spirit permeates the air like a clean smoke I not only don't mind getting stuck in my clothing, but WANT to permeate every fiber of my being; I want it that smell to stay with me.  It smells like the Spirit, not the"teen spirit" of grunge.

Higher Level of Care

This morning I was thinking individuals who require a higher level of care.  Fresh on my mind is a recent outing with a child requiring such care, recently transferred to a more appropriate facility. Nevertheless, at the time he was off his level of precaution, was not restricted, and had demonstrated his ability to respond to staff direction; so I took him on an off-grounds excursion. Not only did he require constant adult supervision, but all the other boys on the outing became junior staff encouraging him to behave in a safe manner.  They walked next to him to physically guide him, put their arms around him, used kind tones as if they were speaking to him as a beloved hyperactive dog off leash. Even the most impulsive, unpredictable, unstable, even violent peers were able to recognize the inappropriate behaviors, point them out and step in to keep him safe-whether it was throwing rocks, trying to cut down trees, playing with fire, throwing water bottles into the river, darting around, and running away. Even while traveling back in the van, boys tried to prevent him from getting out of his seat-belt and playing near the van door.   Though it was a disaster of epic proportion, we were able to return him safely back to campus-back to the security of locked doors. As I lay in bed that evening replaying the events of the day, my mind kept returning to the images of these boys helping a less capable peer and their loving attitudes-it was sincere-they really cared about him.  Their concern for him has grown as they have witnessed his behavior and progress while living with him.  They know he is not held to the same standards and rules that they are required to live by.  In living quarters where boys are always screaming about things not being fair-they are learning first hand that we all have different abilities and as such we require different levels of care-even though we may be tempted to treat everyone the same-one size does not fit all. One to one supervision (the highest level of care) is sometimes required.  Who wouldn't want 1 to 1,  24 hour individual attention-one person to truly care about the needs of another human being? It's just hard to provide with limited resources.

 So how can one environment meet the needs of so many different children?  How can one set of program rules possibly apply to everyone?  And what is the value of sticking everyone under the same roof, if we are so very different? What is the value of living together in groups?  How does anyone really fit in or who really wants to fit in with a bunch of treatment center kids?  If I hang around a bunch of sick people, will I catch what they have?  Social Learning is a powerful tool for good or ill. Behaviors that some children would never even thought of are sometimes mimicked by others. Learning unstable behaviors from peers can have horrific consequences.  It can make one question the value of living in groups and opt for isolation.  One child can act like a cancer spreading through the residence.  One child can pull the whole program down, or at least the quality of the group experience. Grouping by diagnosis or overall stability seems to make a difference-yet there just isn't enough space or categories to make sure everyone has an individualized living environment.  It's not how the world works either.  And if we did-we would surely miss out on the positive aspects of social learning.  If everyone was just like you and just as capable as you-how would we care for others?  How would we learn to care about others?  Would all this individualized attention make me more prone to only caring about me and what I want?

I've seen it in the eyes and witnessed it in behavior of students who feel like they don't belong in a lock down facility as they say, "This is a mistake.  I don't belong here.  I'm so much better than so and so.  Why are you grouping me with these people? This isn't fair." The same sentiments come from within prison walls.  It is especially true when comparing brain functioning-some kids brains work better than others.  Why do some have so much potential, and others have so little?   Some kids are just plain more capable than others. I know where much is given, much is expected. And  I don't think the saying is referring to entitlement; because I'm superior and given much, I expect more or the rules don't apply to me so I can do whatever I want.  Entitled people don't get the sympathy like our developmentally impaired individuals. The don't get the label of being "special" even though the entitled people think they are "special" In fact, they usually get everything taken away. The clearer phrase is "Where much is given, much is required." The responsibility to use those natural gifts and abilities isn't for self aggrandizement, rather for service to fellowman; to lift another up-to provide quality care. If we were all the same intellectually, on a level playing field, then how could we help if we weren't standing on higher ground?  Maybe it would turn into a bloodbath of selfishness; everyone grasping for privileges either earned or not.

The students who were caring for this intellectually impaired boy were genuinely happy for him when learning he would be coming with us on our outing-having observed his lack of freedom-they wanted him to get out and see the world-just a little. When the experience was over, one boy remarked, "I'm going to be such a good dad." Therein lies the challenge to all would be parents, or all who seek to nurture other living things:  How can I have a higher level of care for this person and how can I give a higher level of care to this person?  Both noun and verb are required to genuinely "care" and certainly there are degrees or levels of care. Some care a little, some care a lot and everything in between.  Some do a little, Some do a lot and everything in between.

I know the great parent on high cares about me more than anyone here on earth,  He also gives me the highest level of care possible. I receive 24 hour/one to one supervision as my impulsive, even unsafe behaviors require. A higher level of care actually refers to a more restrictive environment in order to keep a person safe. Though commandments might seem restrictive at times, I know they are all given to promote my safety and well being. Higher laws mean higher care-and the consequences from living them actually provide the highest, most quality care I could possible receive.

I Want You to Want Me!

This morning I was thinking about how I want to be wanted. Last week I received a "personalized" email about a Recreation Therapy job for the NIH in Bethesda MD.  It was from a recruiter and I'm certain it was only a mass email to all RT's in the  Linkedin data base; but I believed him-that somebody out there recognized my professional worth and wanted me-thought I'd be good for a high paying job at a national research facility. I guess it also appealed to my need of wanting to feel important as well as wanted.  I spent time filling out the application although I have absolutely no desire to move back east and leave all my family in the west.  Even if I was miraculously chosen out of the scores of applicants, would I really want to live in some expensive Washington DC area studio apartment all by myself just to feel wanted and important for a minute?   Would my choice really inspire my children or help them in anyway? I think it would be foolish and I would regret it.

In one of my early morning heated discussions with my son, he reminded me of another one of my foolish, selfish choices when I decided to remarry.  He asked why I did it when everyone told me how stupid it was to marry someone I barely knew.  What propelled me forward?  Perhaps it was partially in response to a personalized invitation that someone out there in the universe wanted me and valued me as a potential mate.  It definitely sucked me in-all those text messages, phone calls, nice dinners, romance; all with the same message...I want YOU.   And though at the time, I thought I wanted him too, I didn't want him enough to stay married. Lately I've been hyper-aware of my past mistake as I keep seeing men that look like my 2nd husband.  It's freaking me out.  My choice has left a lot of psychic scarring for everyone involved. It was a foolish decision-full of regrets.

There is merit in being a little less needy and vulnerable to suggestion when navigating my professional and interpersonal worlds.  Though it's nice to live in a world of personalization rather than mass generalization, I get to be the one proactively deciding what I want, what I value, and how I navigate through this sea of want.  Instead of reacting to circumstances that may feed my need of being wanted or valued-I  want to be in charge.  I can decide for myself without the endless parade invitations-even those tempting personal invitations to do this or that.  To strengthen this muscle, I can get rid of spam, erase texts and phone messages, be less gullible, and perhaps learn to say, "No, I'm not interested at this time."  Continually keeping my slate clean will help me discern and decide what I want and how to proceed.  If not, all these invitations with their allure of being wanted and being important just  become mind clutter-chumming up my own operating system.  Don't call me-I'll call you.  Don't fill my email with endless spam  telling me what I want.  Don't knock on my door. Go away!

Reminds me of my missionary days of knocking doors in Spain.  The people of Spain were really good at saying, "No-I'm not interested,-go away!" Many times they would yell these sentiments behind the security of their closed doors and peepholes.  One of the by product of my missionary service was learning a billion ways to say "no "to door to door salesman.  As such, I'm pretty fierce at the door.  I can use some of my fierce attitude when approaching personalized invitations.  However, if I'm proactively saying no to everything that comes my way, I might miss out on something I really do want or really need. I don't want to be closed off to those most important invitations.  I know God wants us.  I know he values us and wants us to value those things of eternal import.  He continually invites us to follow him-and these invitations are deeply personalized.  I know He wants us to want what He wants.  He wants us to want Him.

911 Emergency Dispatch

This morning I was thinking about problems, emergencies and living happily ever after. The week after my daughter's 2 diamond all inclusive hotel honeymoon,the late night call came to tell me about her broken washing machine and if it was her fault or not if her basement flooded etc.  Dread filled my soul as I thought, "Oh no-here it starts-a billion years worth of my children coming to me with their adult problems." I didn't really do anything but listen and empathize.  I want to "be there" for my children but I can not fix everything. Sometimes I can literally do nothing.  As adults they have to be responsible, but I know I will want to help when I can-like my parents have helped me throughout my adult life with my own problems.  My mom has never said, "Well YOUR problems are not MY problems-leave me alone-let me go to sleep. I got my own stuff to deal with"   She's only a phone call away. And thank goodness for that.  Yet,  I don't know if I'm cut out for a lifetime of being  911 emergency dispatch operator for each of my children.  It's a high stress job with the potential of giving me my own heart attack or at the least breaking my heart into a thousand pieces.  It hurts when my children are not happy or are dealing with the challenges of mortal life. I want them to be okay.  I long for the day when there is nothing wrong with them or their circumstances.  I want that for myself. 

Who wouldn't want to live in a world where everything ran smoothly-all our needs are provided for-no problems-no challenges. Yet that was the situation existing in the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve could not feel sorrow or joy.  Like Elder Scott said," The Fall made possible in our lives feelings of both happiness and sadness.  We are able to understand peace because we feel turmoil."  But even after our mortal turmoil is over and  promises fulfilled with no more death, sorrow, or pain-will we still have problems-perhaps a whole universe full of them?  Will we still call out for help? Will there be emergencies? Will we have problems?  God is already an exalted being and he has problems...US!  Is that what's in store for me in my quest for godhood-just listening and responding to billions of problems? How can he feel peace with all this turmoil?  How can he be happy when his children are suffering? How can he be happy when so many of his children (at least 1/3 who never even will have the chance to come to earth) seem to be without hope of  happy ever after but instead "go away into everlasting fire."   And that's not even considering God's children on earth certainly breaking his heart with their unwise choices.  How does he deal with his own broken heart?   How does he deal with shame or does he feel shame?  Surely his children's choices affect him emotionally-in a most personal way.  After all-he created us.  We carry his genetics. Instead of the question of whether or not God cares or exists because of world suffering,  How does he deal with the burden of caring too much- caring enough to listen and respond to problems without them weighing him down- feeling earth's pull of gravity-how does he stay above the fray and not get sucked into darkness and despair? 

Perhaps when God listens to problems he doesn't make those problems about him.  He doesn't self-evaluate every time his children mess up. He's able to focus on US instead of himself or at least not make "everything about me" the way I do at times. Sometimes I not only feel bad about my children's  pain and problems but I make it my problem as well and take it personally as if their having problems reflects on MY success as a parent.  The shame comes by feeling like I'm a bad person because I am a bad parent-why else would my child be making these choices. I should have helped them make better choices. I think, "what could I have done differently."  or "what more could I have done."  It makes me think of the allegory of the wild and tame olive trees recorded in the Zenos where the Lord states," It grieveth me that I should lose them. But what could I have done more in my vineyard? Have I slackened mine hand, that I have not nourished it? "  I know when my heart is breaking, aching, grieving-I feel weakened (my hand is slackened) and I don't seem to have the  strength to keep nourishing my own family tree, let alone a whole vineyard.  How does he do it?  And how will he feel when it all goes up in flames when he causes, "the good and the bad to be gathered; and the good will I preserve unto myself, and the bad will I cast away into its own place. And then cometh the season and the end; and my vineyard will I cause to be burned with fire."

I'm not at the stage yet where I'm ready to burn it all down (though my son's Buddha candle almost caught his room on fire last week). I live right next to the fire station-which is a good thing.  Maybe I should take a page from their playbook and adopt their attitude when responding to fires-or 911 calls for help-  They are prepared to respond-they know what to do-they have real skills, they're strong , they work hard and play hard.  They don't react-they respond.  Even the calm and non-reactive attitude of a 911 operator is worthy of emulation as they listen and calmly dispatch help to the crisis.  Whether it's emotional strength or physical strength there is no "slackened hand" there with these public servants. They respond  to "nourish" or care for those in need and address their problems.  They're used to dealing with problems-that's all they do 24/7 is respond to emergencies or problems.-they've developed incredible emotional and physical muscles. 

I suppose if handling problems, stress or challenges create strength-then the Father of us all is about the strongest guy in the universe. I appreciated Elder Dallin Oaks conference talk wherein he reminds us,  "The Savior has the power to succor-to help-every mortal pain and affliction.  Sometimes His power heals an infirmity, but the scriptures and our experience teach that sometimes He succors or helps by giving us the strength or patience to endure our infirmities"  He bears all things and he helps us bear things also.  I loved Jeffrey Holland's beautiful talk drawing attention to these words, "Bear, borne, carry, deliver. These are powerful, heartening messianic words.  They convey help and hope and safe movement from where we are to where we need to be-but cannot get without assistance."  When referring to a mother's love "approximating the pure love of Christ" he adds "This kind of resolute love 'suffereth long, and is kind,...seeketh not her own...but...beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things."  Most encouraging of all, such fidelity "never faileth." He ends his talk admonishing women to "Be peaceful.  Believe in God and yourself.  You are doing better than you think you are.  In fact, you are saviors on Mount Zion, and like the Master you follow, your love 'never faileth."   When my strength is slack and I feel like I have nothing left to give to nourish my children, I need to feel God's love and strength to continue responding to my never ending stream of problems and 911 emergencies. 

Daylight Work

This morning I was thinking of daylight work and my family's productivity during those waking hours.  Actually I've been thinking about it quite a lot during the last couple of weeks.  Though I expected my sons to return home for my daughter's wedding, I was not quite expecting that they would all stay with me as they try to decide their "next step" as they make their way in the world.  We often pass each other in the morning as I wake and they go to bed.  Unfortunately it is not because they have been up all night doing a rotation at the hospital as a medical intern.  I join with many parents around the world and exclaim, "Get a job! Go to school!  Do something!  Please!

I know that is judgmental and harsh.  I know many people do their best work at night-they are most creative-most productive.  Many people have to work at night to serve their fellowman.  I don't think it has always been the case. Electricity lights up the skyline. In the olden days when the sun went down-I imagine everyone just went to sleep-it was dark and cold.  Without light, how are you supposed to find your way around in the dark without fumbling around, tripping or encountering danger on every side?  We need to see what we're doing-see what's around us.  How do you know what to pay attention to in the dark?  Now cell phones, computer, TV, video games grab people's attention through all hours of the night. Flashing night club lights, live music, stores and fast food open 24 hours a day-nightlife has become analogous for "fun" and "excitement". Daylight is "boring."  Turn on the lights and all of a sudden it doesn't seem so fun anymore-people aren't as attractive as they were in the dark.  But there are other lights that always seem to be on- electronic devices to make it through the night-My son just found an app (Periscope)  that allows you to cast your cell phone around the world so others can actually see what you are seeing on your cell phone (like going on a hike, watching an event-anything) and interact with you- talk about instant connection and world exposure!  Unplug from our devices and suddenly we're alone-no connection with the outside world.  Yet with or without electricity, people have always found something to do in the dark-sometimes things you wouldn't dream of doing in the day.  Night is a great cover even if it's just a dark private room in a home.  Some people wouldn't dream of living in a city without an exciting nightlife.  Isn't Las Vegas still billed as the city that never sleeps?  Take away all the substances that impair executive brain functioning or illicit sexual activities that give that great dopamine high-then what do you do?  Consequences usually come in the morning. Maybe some people's way to skirt around that issue is just not have any mornings-sleep through them.  I don't know-I just like day. 

My life is made up of days.  Each day includes both day and night and what I choose to pay attention in each waking hour.  There is work to be done-and probably for me, this work will be done during daylight hours. I chime in with the hymn, "There is Work Enough to do Ere the Sun Goes Down."   All these days and nights are a gift from a gracious God as "space granted unto man in which he might repent." I get to repent.  It is a privilege. I get to change for the better.  I feel the truth in Alma's words,"...after this day of life, which is given us to prepare for eternity, behold, if we do not improve our time while in this life, then cometh the night of darkness wherein there can be no labor performed."  Day labor is important. 

My children's productivity or lack thereof is constant source of glory or shame for me as a parent.  I know they have their agency, but I also know I am a piece of their biological and environmental underpinnings that influence their choices; I think how I could have raised them differently to help them be happier and more productive. Their uncertainty and confusion weighs heavily on my heart-to the point that it is most difficult to focus on the positive and be my "bright sunny self."   I  need energy to understand and support them;  it surely isn't going to come from my son's can of "RockStar" energy drink though I do admit that powering up with a"star" has some validity, especially if it's our star...the sun.

As I was driving to work on Friday past a large green hay field, the morning sun pierced my eyes through the windshield and filled my heart with gratitude and filled my eyes with tears.  It reminded me in the most powerful, attention getting, "shine the light on me" way to focus on the positive and think "How blessed I am!" I'm so grateful for the sun-the source of daylight.  Light really does dispel the darkness.  Light really does make the heavy load seem lighter.  Light lifts in every way.  Light propels me forward with hope for the future.   Light helps me work during the day.  Light is Life. Daylight work is wonderful. 

She Knew!

This morning I was thinking how my daughter really knew what she wanted in regards to her wedding.  As the mother of the bride, I thought I knew what was best and that my daughter didn't have a clue. This was first brought to my attention several months earlier as she tried on and tossed aside about 100 beautiful wedding dresses.  A mother-daughter moment gone awry, I was quickly worn out as we ventured out week after week to look for the "perfect" dress.  She finally decided to use the lace from my bedroom curtains for the bodice and designed a simple but elegant dress made by a local seamstress. As she tried it on-she remarked,"This is perfect!  It is exactly what I imagined." For me,  her response was a freakin' miracle.  Especially in light of my countless rejected wedding offerings.  I thought I understood her "vision."  I thought I knew what looked good-I thought I knew how how to create beautiful things. I thought I knew what I was doing. It's been pretty easy to feel like an incompetent fool who didn't know anything. Trying to please her became the order of the day. Week after week I brought my offerings on bended knee, only to have "Princess Chelsey" look down in dismay, "No mom, that's not what I had in mind at all!"  She wasn't trying to be mean or impossible to please;  she just didn't like it.  She also wasn't only trying to please herself; she was trying to please her fiance and his family as well.  She knew them and knew what they wanted. They had expectations and she felt pressure coming in from all sides.

I know if I just did what I thought was "best" we would just have a short, sweet, simple backyard reception with cupcakes. Getting married in the temple is free-that's the important part; all this other stuff wasn't necessary or practical.  I did not have the budget or stamina for a fully catered 6 hour Latin dance party held in a professional wedding venue.  I hemmed and hawed at every expense.  Even when I tried to hold my tongue, my daughter complained about my "negative energy" and ruining each moment.  She was anxious about spending a single cent of her mother's money and didn't want her boyfriends family to be doing too much either. She felt torn.  It was a hard balancing act.  She fretted over every small detail and often felt overwhelmed. She knew what was expected.

She knew how she wanted her wedding celebration to look-down to the smallest detail. She went over those details ad nauseam and how things were to be set up-the picture booth, the lemonade stand, the dessert bar, the sign in area, the receiving area, the table decor, etc, etc.  I worked like a mad man before the reception with people coming to me asking how to help as I tried to communicate my daughter's wishes. I ran out of time and couldn't arrange the greenery and roses properly-all the while hearing my daughter's voice in my head saying, "No mom, you've got it all wrong-that's not what I told you."  It was another miracle when she walked in and told me everything looked "perfect."  However, at that point, I don't think either one of us really cared.  All the decor was only an empowering backdrop for the celebration- a platform to launch the couple center stage.

She knew she and her husband would be the epicenter of the dancing party.  She had gone to many of these Latin receptions before-but now it was their turn.  Though I have known her husband for over 3 years- I did not know what a fabulous dancer her was.  My daughter knew.  This was his moment-and how he shined.  My daughter was right there next to him-supporting him-having fun with friends and family. It was a big deal.  The dancing formation was a clump of people turned inward-dancing but mostly moving their feet as they watched the action from the inner circle and clapped along for HOURS.  If I would have insisted on a 2 hour backyard cupcake reception, how would Brandon feel the support of his dancing family cheering him on?  He wouldn't-the couple would have missed his one opportunity to be the sun and the moon.  It was their party.  My most emotional moment of the reception was when the DJ played the last song-their song- "Ho Hey" by the Lumineers.  Everyone stopped dancing and gathered around the couple as they swayed to the lyric, "I belong to you-you belong to me, in my sweet home." (I know that's not the right lyric-but it's what I heard.) It was beautiful.  They were the most important people in the room. The whole world revolved around them for a moment.

In a different moment, though surrounded by loving family and in the center of the room, they physically acknowledged they were not the most important people and the world didn't revolve around them.  In the center of the room stands the altar of the temple; also in the room is the temple sealer with necessary priesthood keys to perform the ordinance-both representing Jesus Christ and his atoning sacrifice making possible all ordinances for salvation and exaltation.  By humbly kneeling at this altar, my daughter demonstrated how she does not know everything but desires to learn.  Like her sweet husband's love letter expressing his commitment to get to know her better and better throughout their lives together, through covenant, she was making a lifelong commitment to get to know God and his will for her.  She knew making this covenant was important. My daughter knew she wanted to be with the man she loves not only for time but for eternity and I was so proud of her decision and her efforts to realize this goal.  She knew.