Spiritual Sunday - Accepting, Releasing and Finding self esteeem

The journey to inner happiness comes more slowly for some of us than others.  I envy women (and men) who seem to have found "it".  The self confidence, self esteem and self worth that I find so elusive.  One can look back on their childhood, teen years, young adult adventures and even to current life situations and find a plethora of reasons to justify their personalities, quirks, or reasons of logic.  Good and bad.  We always want to seem to find a WHY for our actions and behaviors.  An explanation or even a scapegoat for our more unappealing sides.  Some of us spend more time on the WHY than on accepting and improving.  It's just easier to blame than own.

My inner circle knows what's going on in my own world right now, and I appreciate all the support, encouragement, and motivation that has come my way.  On the flip side, the negativity, finger pointing, and gossip that amazingly still continues is being tossed like chaff in the wind.  I refuse to feed the negative energy any more.  Life is too damn short.  I give up trying to figure out why someone who so dislikes me, wants to hurt  me, or continue to find fault with me, would waste their time reading my blog.  Really?  The only reason can be that they are just as pathetically insecure on the inside themselves and desperately want to feel better by finding fault with me.  I see you on my tracker.  I know you come by, what pages you enter and what pages you exit.  The IP addresses used, even the anonymous ones you attempt to hide behind.  I used to get angry, exasperated, frustrated that my own freedom of speech is impeded by people who feel the need to record and report what might be written here, regardless if the true intent was understood or not, and those words being misinterpreted, misrepresented and/or held against me.  However now, instead of frustration and hurt,  I  feel pity.  Pity because I understand how it feels to be so insecure and in need of validation. Sadly, I get it.  The beauty of understanding that fact is, that I now can let the negative go. If others feel the need for the vicious downward cycle, they can have it.  I've jumped out of that whirlpool and swimming to calmer, more peaceful waters

Splenda Daddy is amazing.  He's my rock.  A saint.  A man who deserves knighthood.  He is always keeping an eye out for articles, books, talks, anything that is motivating, uplifting and seeks to help in creating one's own happiness.

A week ago, this article hit my message box on Facebook.  I've read and re-read it a couple of times now and debated whether or not to share it on the blog.  I considered just posting the link, but if you are like me, the links don't always get hit, and I miss out on something very worthwhile.

Instead - the article, in it's entirety is provided.  Know that they are NOT my own words, rather those of a stranger who took the time to articulate them and I happened to find them insightful.




The following has been copied and pasted from here:
Learning to Love Myself By Louise Brown


*thank you Splenda Daddy for thinkinf of me and sending me the article*

** written for an audience of members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints, but applicable to all**
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.Searching for my own assets reinforced my self-esteem and helped me identify things I wanted to change

Three years ago, I hit bottom. Our family had been plagued by health problems and financial setbacks, and I saw no reason to hope that things would improve.
I had always been active in the Church, was married in the temple, and had served in many capacities including two years as a Relief Society president. It seemed to me that I had adequate faith and was worthy of the Lord’s blessings, but I found myself experiencing real despair—without adequate personal resources to deal with it. It was the darkest hour of my life, but it also proved to be a turning point.
In this situation, I came face to face with my own self-account-ability. I realized that, except for the Lord, I was the only one who could really help me. The responsibility for my well-being was squarely on my own shoulders.
Although no one else could face the demands of reality for me, there were people who could help me, and I turned to them with determination to succeed. I met with my bishop, and he directed me to LDS Social Services for counseling, feeling that the advice I would receive there would be consistent with the gospel. Turning to professional help was far from easy, but it was one of the best things I have ever done. After only a few sessions, I began an adventure that has encompassed three years of study and hard work, sprinkled with encouragement and inspiration from my Father in Heaven. It has been a quest that I expect will last a lifetime: discovering and taking charge of myself.
Looking for the Positive

The first thing I discovered was that I had been looking for happiness and peace of mind in the wrong way. I had always thought that happiness depended on outward circumstances, but I learned that it is a product of a person’s approach to life and can exist in spite of problems. This new concept intrigued me, and I realized that I had never learned the skills necessary to be independently happy. To correct this, I dove eagerly into an intensive study of self-esteem which opened up a whole new world of me. I became quickly convinced of the necessity of knowing and liking myself—something I had neglected.

Real self-acceptance didn’t come easily. I had spent twenty-seven years thinking of myself primarily in negative terms and it wasn’t an easy habit to break. Debilitating thoughts continued to come uninvited to my mind at every opportunity, but now I recognized that negative thinking was my enemy—and I fought it with every ounce of strength I had.

First, I dismissed negative, critical thoughts, telling myself they weren’t valid. I learned to turn them off the same way I turn off the television set when something unsuitable comes on. In their place I substituted positive thoughts, reminding myself of the things I could take pride in.

At first it was difficult to find positive thoughts about myself. When I looked for my strengths, my mind would go blank! Luckily, my husband filled in the gap. He patiently pointed out to me over and over the things he saw in me that were praiseworthy—until I began to recognize and appreciate them for myself. The assurances from the Spirit that my Father in Heaven loves me also helped. Such feelings would often overwhelm me when I arose from prayer, and did much to reinforce my battered self-esteem.

Searching for my assets caused me to examine my values and priorities. As I brought these things into better focus, I was able to acknowledge the areas in which I was succeeding and identify ways I wanted to change.

Learning to think about myself in positive terms also led me to a more positive attitude toward circumstances, experiences, and other people. I began looking for the good in others and for the positive side of situations. I began to experience a greater sensitivity to other people’s feelings and needs and was slower to pass judgment. My relationships with my children improved as I began to notice and compliment them on things they did that pleased me. When problems arose, I was able to address the actions rather than attack the person’s character. I became more easygoing and more pleasant to be around.

Setting Realistic Expectations

The first time I saw the counselor at LDS Social Services, he listened to my troubled thoughts and asked me, “Why do you expect so much from yourself?” He helped me see that I had been imposing unreasonable expectations upon myself. Having adopted the notion that nothing short of perfection was acceptable, I was constantly discouraged and unable to feel satisfied with anything I did. I had literally programmed myself for failure.

Adjusting my expectations to a reasonable level was truly liberating. It dramatically changed my relationship to my Father in Heaven and to the gospel. Formerly I had pictured God as a stern, finger-shaking personage who was impossible to please. I had been taught that he loved me, but since I didn’t feel lovable I had built a barrier between us that made his love for me seem academic and meaningless. I was so overwhelmed by my distorted view of gospel “demands” and by my own lack of perfection that I could find little joy, comfort, or strength in the gospel that which should have been my greatest resource.

As I re-experienced the gospel from my new vantage point, the meaning and purpose of life unfolded to me with a clarity, unity, and beauty that I had never before imagined. For the first time in my life, that stern, fingershaking personage was gone—and God was my Friend. He had a smile on his face and had abundant approval and encouragement for me. I realized that he truly wanted me to experience the joy of learning and growing in my own way and at my own speed. Prayer became an avenue for genuine communication.

When I had thought about sin and repentance before, I had always conjured up images of a massive ledger in which angels carefully recorded my every error and shortcoming. But now I think of repentance as growth, and forsaking sin means avoiding things that limit growth. I now find myself free of the terrible burden of guilt, inadequacy, and fear of not “making it” that used to haunt me. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by my weaknesses, I feel a genuine desire to grow.

Eliminating Need for Approval

A third thing I learned as I continued to monitor my thoughts and reactions was that I depended too heavily on other people’s approval. Of course there’s nothing wrong with enjoying approval, but being too wrapped up in seeking it can be stifling. I was paying more attention to what others wanted me to do than to my own inner convictions. I came to realize that disapproval is an inevitable part of life: because each of us is different, someone will invariably disagree with almost anything we do. This frame of mind helped me focus on my own reasons for my choices and on seeking confirmation from my Father in Heaven. It helped liberate me from needing the approval of all those other people. During this process, I came to see that many circumstances have more than one acceptable alternative—and I learned to think in terms of “different,” saving the concept of “right” and “wrong” for appropriate moral situations.

Eliminating my need for approval also helped me overcome my fear of failure and criticism, which had prevented me so often from trying things I wanted to do. Since then, I have experienced the joy of trying new things—enjoying the process of doing instead of focusing only on the success or failure of the outcome.

All of these things helped me become motivated from within rather than from without. I can see now that although I had always tried to be a “good member” of the Church, my “good” behavior was more a product of my desire for approval than an indication of the person I really was inside.

As I learned to look within for direction, I came to know myself much better, and the promptings of the Holy Ghost seemed to come more clearly.

Setting Priorities

This self-discovery and self-nourishment has been very rewarding, but also somewhat time-consuming. I have had to set aside time to think, study, ponder, pray, and listen. And I have had to guard against becoming too busy. This isn’t always easy in a world that prizes productivity and encourages a rigid routine of goal-setting, schedules, and achievements. But I’ve eliminated things I once did only out of a sense of obligation, and now devote my time and energy to developing relationships with family and friends and to pursuing real interests. I’ve found that quality living cannot be measured by the quantity of interests and activities I may have. In this respect, more may be less.

This new-found attitude has extended to other aspects of life as well. It became obvious in the decor of our home. We have come to value space more than excess furniture, for instance, and as we hauled load after load of once “essential” belongings to Deseret Industries, we discovered that we can live more comfortably with less. In fact, disposing of things we rarely or never used has left us feeling unburdened. Even the kitchen cupboards are less cluttered now and easier to keep clean. Our attitude has rubbed off on the children, and they, too, have come to appreciate an absence of clutter.

Some people feel that taking time for self is selfishness, but my experience indicates otherwise. Few people would willingly let themselves starve physically, but we frequently allow spiritual malnutrition because we fear that taking time to properly nourish ourselves would cause us to neglect other, more important obligations. I’ve learned that in order to be efficient and productive, I must be spiritually and emotionally well nourished, as well as physically rested and well.

The Lord told the Prophet Joseph Smith, “Do not run faster or labor more than you have strength.” (D&C 10:4; see also Mosiah 4:27.) This advice is good for all of us, though it is easy to ignore. I always used to feel that I was rationalizing when I invoked it. But now I know that when my energy is spent and I try to carry on as though it weren’t, I accomplish little good. I have to have strength before I can use it, and I’ve found that the more I develop within myself, the more I have to give to others; the fuller my own cup, the greater becomes my natural desire to serve and to share. Thus, this attitude is far from selfish. It makes service more possible.

Setting my priorities straight has benefited my marriage as well. For years I considered my marriage to be my first priority; and since we worked hard at maintaining it, it has been a very rewarding relationship. When I decided that keeping myself well nourished should come first, the result was a stronger marriage, not a weaker one. Because I was becoming a more substantial person, I had more to bring to our relationship—and my taking responsibility for my own well-being released my husband from the burden of trying to keep me on an even keel. As a result, our relationship is more spontaneous, more fun; it’s a source of greater joy and satisfaction than ever before.

Giving and Receiving Help

I admit that I am careful not to overextend myself these days. Other women’s capacities may be different from mine, but I have learned to compare myself only with myself. And I have learned the hard way that there is a difference between having a healthy challenge and being hopelessly overloaded. Recognizing my limitations has helped me be more creative with the energy I have. I try to get to the heart of a project; clearly define the objective, and then look for the most efficient way to help those involved. In the process, I try to eliminate anything unimportant or wasteful. I look for ways in which I am particularly well-suited to meaningfully help others.

Besides learning how to give more wisely, I have learned about receiving as well. At times we all have needs greater than our ability to fill them. I have come to recognize this as a manifestation of our humanity, rather than as a comment on our personal righteousness. When I consider the way I hope others will receive my help, I am impressed with the importance of accepting help graciously.

In addition to learning how to accept help, I’ve learned the importance of not expecting it. There have been times when my needs have seemed critical, such as a time when my husband was hospitalized, leaving me the responsibility of our four small children on top of my concern for his condition. Those I expected to come to my aid did not. From experiences such as this, I have learned an important lesson: we protect ourselves from disappointment and hurt feelings when we don’t expect from others that which they do not have to give, even if it seems that they “should.” Refusing to become upset over another’s failure to rise to my occasion, I can accept the ultimate responsibility for my own well-being and avoid the bitterness that might otherwise grow like a cancer from harboring an unforgiving attitude.

Looking back over the last three years, I am amazed at how my life has changed. As a result of the healing influence of the Spirit, my self-image is now a positive one. I am happier, more confident, more in touch with myself. I find more enjoyment in each day than I used to find in a month. The amazing thing is that we still have all the problems that seemed so overwhelming three years ago. The only thing that has changed is me.
Louise A. Brown, mother of four, serves as Relief Society Social Relations teacher in her Salt Lake City ward.

Spiritual Sunday - a sprint or a marathon?

I've always said I have my most spiritual moments when on a run. 

Some say that it is hard to feel the Spirit if you have distractions like TV or music, but I beg to differ.  At least for me.  At least yesterday.  Eminem might not be anyone else's choice to listen to, but his beat is the perfect leg speed and it was easy for me to fall into a good cadence and just think.

When I started running again 4 years ago, I was doing 5k's.  Most every weekend.  A 5k race or even a 10k, but I kept them short.  And speedy.  I was placing in my age group, coming home with winner swag and having a great time.

Over the past two years, my training has changed and I'm going more for distance.  I quickly found, much to my discouragement, that my speed decreased as my endurance increased.  I understood the trade off.  Not that marathon runners can't be fast, there are many who are, I just wasn't going to be one of those.  Not this season anyway, but that's for another time.

As I observed the past couple of longer distance events, I have paid a lot of attention to the runners themselves.

We are an odd bunch.  Who gets up at crazy wack times in the morning just to run?  Who ices down, soothes aches and pains only to turn around and do it all again the next day?  It's a rare breed, the runner is.  And I have come to notice the difference between a short distance runner and a long distance runner.

At the start of the sprint race, most racers are sizing up the competition.  Who looks like they are my age category?  Who do I need to beat?  How can I make sure I place in the top three?  And then when the gun goes off it's usually a fairly fast dash at the start. Elbowing, some maneuvering around bodies to position for a quick take off out of the crowd.  As the short distance runner passes or gets passed he pays attention to the person.  Are they in my age group?  Do I need to get past them to place?  For those of us that are competitive, it's all about what I have to do to finish in the top three of my age group.  Even for those not very competitive it's always a treat to see how well you did in comparison to others your age.

At the start of a marathon, things are much calmer.  No jostling out of the gate, just a nice flow and easy stride while everyone settles into a comfortable pace.  If we look around at each other, it's to either chat to pass the time, or check out what new water belt someone is sporting.  The most important thing a long distance runner is concerned with is his watch.  The pace, the time, the heart rate.

Whereas the short distance is about the competition, the long distance is about oneself.

Thus, my epiphany:

I hit 45 years old this year. That's older than I remember my mom being my whole life.  You know how you get this age for your mom stuck in your head and she never gets older than that?  Yeah, my mom is 33.  Forever 33.  So when I turned 45, it felt old.  Add the huge life changes over the past year and I've felt beaten.  The marathon yesterday taught me some valuable lessons.  For crying out loud, I have 5 hours of solid "in my own damn head" time - I better come out learning something good!

So much of my life has been a competition.  And it always will be.  It's in my nature to be competitive and to want to win.  I don't think that will ever go away, it's part of what defines me.  However, I decided to apply that to life.  The short distance and the long distance.

Just as the short distance runner's goal is to beat the competition the long distance runners goal is to beat herself.  Better her time, her pace and her finish.  Too often I think we get caught up in the short distance version of life.  Fast, scrambled, sizing ourselves up, seeing where we fit in, and trying to outdo each other.  For me, I'm tired of that race.  I'm tired of being judged.  And judging others for that matter.  I no longer have the stomach for a short distance race.  For the jostling, the jockeying for position, the mind games of passing and being passed.

Instead, I think I am in it now more for the long run. I care only about my own watch.  My own pace, time and heart rate.  I want to enjoy the others I encounter along the route.  I want to admire their strides, their new tools to help them and to encourage them as they encourage me.

At about mile 11, I noticed runners coming back down the trail so I knew we had a turn around ahead.  Even though, my ipod was blasting, I caught a man telling me "great job - remember to conserve - it's gonna get harder"

He was ahead of me.  He knew what was coming for me.  He knew what to counsel me to do.  I want to pay more attention to those who have been down the path before.  There is much to learn from each other.  We go through experiences not just to learn for ourselves, but to help others who will also face similar challenges.  We need to learn from each other and share with each other, not compare as we pass.

Sometimes the course is lonely.  There isn't anyone else around and you have to go it alone.  You've got to love yourself enough to get yourself through some of those times of seemingly isolation.   I added a favorite song to my race play list and I listened to it a couple of times back to back just to get me through some hard miles.  "Beautiful" by Bette Midler.  Sure, I change some words when I am with my Young Women, but yesterday I was singing it out loud.  Why are we so hard on ourselves?  Why do we find every little thing wrong and turn it into major flaws?  Why is it so hard to just love ourselves?  Women in particular are just down right mean to ourselves and each other for that matter.  Sometimes life is too hard to go it alone.  The miles are lonely.  Not only do we have to love ourselves enough to be alone with ourselves, but then we need to be a friend to the other lonely ones.  We need to cut ourselves and each other some slack.  Not every mile is a pretty, easy, friendly, fun mile.  But it's a mile nonetheless and deserves the same respect as the next.

Some miles are easy.  We catch a break in life now and then, and we can sort of 'coast through', but always, always, be prepared for the hill that could be right around the corner.  Sometimes the hill is simply too steep to run.  The only way to get to the top is to walk it.  Some challenges in life are so hard, so painful that we can barely get through it.  As long as we are walking.  Moving forward.  Crawling if necessary, we will eventually get to the top of the hill.  And for some of us, it's only to be met with yet ANOTHER "hill"  

Sometimes the discouragement is so strong it can overwhelm us.  We want to quit.  We're sure we can't do it.  And then, there is an aid station in sight.  A minute to stop, rehydrate, get some food, stretch, and maybe cool down a bit.  Church on Sunday's seem to be my aid station.  A day to settle down, take a breather and focus on the long range goal.

But then, we just start running again.  One foot after the other.  Some miles we have great leg turnover.  Some legs, we are shuffling.  For the long distance runner, that's okay - it's a long race.  It will all work out in the end - just keep track of the time and watch your pace.

As I watched the injured man hobble early on, I wondered how he was possibly going to finish.  I looked at the DNF list and didn't see anyone I thought could be him.  I'm guessing he did it.  Sometimes we get hurt and we could easily pull ourselves out.  Instead, do we have what it takes to push through despite the challenge?  Are we there to encourage those that are injured?  We can't run the course for them, but we can be a cheerleader.  And everyone needs a cheerleader.

We are watched all the time whether we realize it or not.  What message do we send about ourselves?  As Splenda and I were just hanging around the end, a couple passed by and caught my attention.  She congratulated me and I congratulated them.  She told me that they had been behind me a good portion of the run and that she was very impressed I didn't litter.  And then they walked away.

I didn't litter?  Wha?  I had to rack my brains to remember that back at mile 19, when I opened a pack of shot-bloks that instead of tossing the wrapper like everyone else, I just ran with it in my hand until the next garbage can, then I pulled off the course, stopped long enough to toss it and then got back on.  To me it was no big deal, and I had no idea anyone was even paying attention.

Others are watching us all the time.  We are walking examples of something.  What will that something be for you?

By the time I saw the finish line, I needed Splenda there.  I needed to see him.  I didn't hear his voice (things were pretty numb everywhere), but  just knowing he was there was enough for me.  I knew I could sprint the last couple hundred of feet because he would catch me if I fell.

I have a Savior in Jesus Christ who will be at my finish line after this long marathon of life.  He will catch me if I fall.  I just have to keep pushing mile after mile.  Hill after hill.  Sometimes I am the cheerleader, other times I am being cheered on.  I will love myself enough to do the hard miles alone.  I have the aid stations weekly to refuel and re-focus.  I will no longer worry about being passed, passing someone else or placing in my age division. 

My focus is on my watch.  My pace.  My time.  My heart rate.  Making sure that I better myself.

In the end, whenever that comes, I will cross the finish line sprinting, knowing I kept my focus on the long distance of eternity and not the short sprint of just this life alone.

And bonus feature - if you aren't already a Divine Miss M fan, you should be

Spiritual Sunday - Dedicated to my Young Women

*This post is dedicate to all the Young Women I have had the privilege to serve with in the past, present and future*


Driving to southern Utah gives me a lot of time to think.  About my family, my friends, myself.

Today I was thinking about my young women.  In my church, the youth are organized into their own groups.  The Young Men and Young Women ages 12 - 18 meet the third hour of our meeting block.  We also have activities every week, camps, and special conferences all designed to strengthen the youth in all areas.  Spiritually, socially, self reliance etc....

I've been lucky enough to serve in that organization off and on for several years.  Today I was thinking about the girls that have moved on.  Some are married and having babies or their own, some are in school, they are just adults living their lives.  Seeing their successes is something that brings me a lot of joy.

I thought of our current girls.  And not just the ones in the age group that I specifically work with, but all of them.  Individually, I saw faces and wondered how they were doing.  Some of their struggles I know about, and some they keep to themselves. 

Thinking back on my own teenage years, I remember how fragile that time is.  Especially as girls.  We are SO HARD on ourselves.  We see perfection in the media.  The magazines, the videos, the TV - all perfect skin, perfect bodies, beautiful teeth and hair.  How can we possibly compete with what the world tells us we should be?  We simply can't.  How can I get my girls to not just know this, but KNOW it.  Like have it ingrained into their hearts?

And a favorite song of mine came on the ipod, oh about Scipio and it hit me again.  My girls are perfect JUST THE WAY THEY ARE.  I will keep working on helping them internalize this truth.

But for today, I want them to know that I love them exactly the way they are.  No one needs a make-over.  No one needs to be skinnier, taller, shorter, smarter, bigger, more athletic, more musical, more popular.

You are the wonderful daughters of Heavenly Father who creates perfection in everything he does.  When we complain about our perceived flaws, we are criticizing our God who made us.  We are exactly what we should be.  Keep being the wonderful, sweet, smart and beautiful girls that you are.  You inspire me.  You make me want to be better.  You are perfect!

Spiritual Sunday - Some random Sunday thoughts including Eminem

I'd love to say that we had a wonderful time at Stake Conference today. That the Spirit was strong, Chloee was reverent and we came away uplifted and energized for the upcoming week.

I'd love to say that - but it would be a lie.

We didn't make it to ANY session of Stake Conference. Splenda didn't go to Priesthood Leadership meeting either.  Instead, last night we took care of errands, stayed up late, slept in, I got 10 loads of laundry done, the house picked up and Chloee's room cleaned and organized.  (Cleanliness is next to Godliness right?)

Seems strange from one who bears her testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ often and sincerely.  One who serves, teaches and tries to be a good example.  One who blogs about spiritual things and professes a regular religious habit.

I really am all that.  I'll never deny my faith.  I'll never deny what I believe and what I know in my heart is the truth.  I try to do what's right.

So what does it mean when I'm not perfect.  When I can't do it all.  When I make a purposeful decision to slack off

What does it mean?

I've been thinking about this very thing for quite some time.  It seems that people tend to ebb and flow with their testimonies and church participation.  As a member of the LDS faith, those ebbs and flows are usually more prominent perhaps than in other religions.  There are a lot of things that we covenant to do.   We serve in various capacities. Some more demanding of our time than others.  We have a moral code of ethics we strictly adhere to.  We have a health guideline that we follow.  It may seem, sometimes to someone outside our faith, that we have a lot of work and a lot of rules.  Does that affect our ebb and flow or is it something else?

For some people life circumstances or a major tragedy or struggle affects their ebb and they find that over time, it becomes a permanent separation.  They lose the light they once had for the gospel. 

For others, they ride along for awhile in the ebb until a good wave of some sort catches them and carries them back into the flow.

Some are lucky enough to just keep on in the same rhythm and cadence all their lives.

I've been thinking about the 99 and 1.  You know the parable where the Shepherd keeps careful eye on His flock to the point of searching out the one lost lamb and returning them to the fold.  It is taught that Jesus Christ is the Shepherd and we are His sheep and He cares enough about each one of us, that He will search for the "lost one" to return them to the safety of the fold.  Sometimes it's through the hands and efforts of another, but He finds us - my thoughts last week basically.

I am a Believer of this.

Lately I've been thinking.....What if that lamb didn't want to be found?  What if that little one was pissed.  So frustrated and full of anger and disappointment that they purposefully snuck away to seek his fortune alone?  And then, maybe that sheep hit the proverbial rock bottom and came back on his own.  Fought off his own wolves, climbed his own little barbed wire fences, forged rivers and hiked his way back to his Shepherd?

Is there something to be said for someone who works hard to get themselves back to what they consider their own good graces with God?  Not that it takes away from anyone who had loving friends and family to help them, but I wonder about those who battle back, for the most part, by themselves.  And don't we all have to do that to some extent. 

Splenda has always taught an important principle in our home.  'You are responsible for your own happiness'.    I also believe this to be true about or Spirituality or lack thereof.  You are responsible for your own.  No one can do the work, or maintenance but you.  And when you meet your Maker, no one will be there to answer for you - just you.  You are the only one that can make or break your relationship with God.  Just.you.

BUT - we are all in this together.  As a human family, and we have much to learn from one another.  Same religion, same faith or not.  There are things we have to offer each other and things we can improve in ourselves based on someone else's example.

Now, this is really gonna throw ya - Today I watched a link my son put on Facebook.  He has always been a fan of Eminem.  From his very beginning, which is admittedly very raw.  When the boys were young, I would look up the artists and songs they were talking about so I would know what they were listening to.  Slim Shady disgusted me.  I found him abhorrent.  But I kept my eye on him.  Corbin loved him.  At one point, and sometimes still, people tell him that he looks like Marshall Mathers and even his mannerisms are somewhat similar.  I have to agree.

Back to Slim - He was racking out album after album, gaining worldly accolades.  His private life was now public.  A crazy mother.  Abandoned by his father.  Horrible childhood.  I could see where his angry lyrics were coming from.  His movie 8 Mile hit the theaters.  I waited until I could my hands on an edited version (that would so piss him off), but his rhymes...... they started to intrigue me  - he started to intrigue me.  This was an obviously very angry, hate-filled, chip on his shoulder scrawny white kid.  But his talent to manipulate words into rhymes and tell a story was so compelling.  I wanted to understand him better and I found some songs that I really connected with.  Of course always the edited versions but I started a secret following of him.  Outside of my family and some friends, no one knew how much I really dug him.  Certainly not something one would bear testimony of at the pulpit.  Of how one of his songs inspired me to be better.  That just wouldn't fly so well.

So this link today?  His interview on 60 minutes.  His comeback story.  I knew he had disappeared for a couple of years.  His new album Recovery is amazing.  His story is inspiring.  He had a raw deal thrown him in life.  He made the best he could with the talent he had.  He made something of himself in the world that he knew.  Would I hold him to the same standard I believe?  Hell no.  He wasn't raised the same way that I was.  He probably doesn't even know what a Mormon is, let alone what we believe, so why would I expect him to hold to the same rules I do?  Sheesh, that's where I think we make mistakes. We assume everyone should be living just like us. 

So looking at how he was raised.  The life that he came from.  The life that he knows and understands, I can only base my opinion on that.  And I think he has an amazing story of inspiration.  Of how one can hit rock bottom, get help, get their shizz back together and then come out stronger with an intent to help others.  Does he still use some rough language in his raps?  Yes.  BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HE KNOWS.  I can't hold him to a different standard when that is all he knows.  Just like I couldn't expect him to know my LDS terminology.  Does it make it easier to listen to?  Not if it's offensive to you.

So the beauty is, you don't have to watch this clip if you really don't want to.  It did air on 60 minutes so the language is what is allowed on network tv (basically jr high swearing)

But if you choose to, I hope you find it inspiring, and motivating to see someone who was really ebbing.  Ebbing in a way that few understand.  And by some good graces, got some help, caught a wave and for him, is now flowing. 

http://youtu.be/CCbtvBEPPs8

(won't let me embed)

So I guess to try and tie this all together.....  We all struggle.  We all have our ebbs and flows in our relationship with our Heavenly Father.  At the end of the day though, there will be no excuses.  We will just have to answer for our own relationship with God.  But even though our own salvation is personal, we can learn from others.  Even others that are not of our chosen faith, not even close to the same kind of world as ours, but we can still learn from them.  Let their experiences enhance our lives and motivate us to better ourselves.  Even if it's just a small step.  As long as are moving forward with a good heart and good intentions and trying our best, feeling comfortable with how our meeting will go with our Maker, I think we are doing okay.

And for the record, I am not in an ebb stage.  We just took the weekend off.  No harm, no foul.  I either missed some great talks that would have inspired me, or I would have come home frustrated from having to keep Chloee quiet and occupied for 2 hours.  I won't know will I?  But I'm good, no ebbing here, just a nice steady flow for now.

PS - Don't let my Bishop know I like Eminem, he might re-think my calling with the youth  : )

And if you actually read this whole thing and are interested in eM's best song off his latest album

http://youtu.be/OpKsVjbc3rw

The most offensive lyrics have been edited out but again, the beauty is that if you are still uncomfortable with him - you don't have to listen.  And you don't have to read them.......

[Chorus:]
I'm not afraid (I'm not afraid)
To take a stand (to take a stand)
Everybody (everybody)
Come take my hand (come take my hand)
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just lettin you know that, you're not alone
Holla if you feel like you've been down the same road (same road)

[Intro (during Chorus):]
Yeah, it's been a ride
I guess I had to, go to that place, to get to this one
Now some of you, might still be in that place
If you're trying to get out, just follow me
I'll get you there

You could try and read my lyrics off of this paper before I lay 'em
But you won't take the sting out these words before I say 'em
Cause ain't no way I'ma let you stop me from causin mayhem
When I say I'ma do somethin I do it,
I don't give a damn what you think,
I'm doin this for me, so ____ the world
Feed it beans, it's gassed up, if it thinks it's stoppin me
I'ma be what I set out to be, without a doubt undoubtedly
And all those who look down on me I'm tearin down your balcony
No if ands or buts, don't try to ask him why or how can he
From "Infinite" down to the last "Relapse" album
he's still _____, whether he's on salary paid hourly
Until he bows out or he ______ his bowels out of him
Whichever comes first, for better or worse
He's married to the game, like a_____ you for Christmas
His gift is a curse, forget the Earth, he's got the urge
to pull his ______ from the dirt, and _____ the whole universe

[Chorus]

Okay quit playin with the scissors and shit, and cut the crap
I shouldn't have to rhyme these words in the rhythm for you to know it's a rap
You said you was king, you lied through your teeth, for that
_______ your feelings, instead of gettin crowned you're gettin capped
And to the fans, I'll never let you down again, I'm back
I promise to never go back on that promise, in fact
Let's be honest, that last "Relapse" CD was ehhh
Perhaps I ran them accents into the ground
Relax, I ain't goin back to that now
All I'm tryin to say is get back, click-clack, blaow
Cause I ain't playin around
It's a game called circle and I don't know how, I'm way too up to back down
But I think I'm still tryin to figure this crap out
Thought I had it mapped out but I guess I didn't, this _____ black cloud
still follows, me around but it's time to exorcise these demons
These muh'______ are doin jumpin jacks now!

[Chorus]

And I just can't keep living this way
So starting today, I'm breaking out of this cage
I'm standing up, I'ma face my demons
I'm manning up, I'ma hold my ground
I've had enough, now I'm so fed up
Time to put my life back together right now! (now)

It was my decision to get clean, I did it for me
Admittedly, I probably did it subliminally
for you, so I could come back a brand new me you helped see me through
And don't even realize what you did, believe me you
I been through the ringer, but they could do little to the middle finger
I think I got a tear in my eye, I feel like the king of
my world, haters can make like bees with no stingers
and drop dead, no more beef flingers
No more drama from now on, I promise
to focus solely on handlin my responsibilities as a father
So I solemnly swear to always treat this roof, like my daughters
and raise it, you couldn't lift a single shingle on it!
Cause the way I feel, I'm strong enough to go to the club
or the corner pub, and lift the whole liquor counter up
Cause I'm raising the bar
I'd shoot for the moon but I'm too busy gazin at stars
I feel amazing and I'm

[Chorus]

I am going to choose to be inspired by him and his will to not just survive, but now to offer his hand to help someone else who may be where he was. 

Spiritual Sunday - Just be a nice person

A long time bestie just got called to be a teacher in our Relief Society and today was her first lesson.  A couple of days ago, she had sent me an email asking for some help.  Her lesson was on missionary work and fellowshipping.  She wanted to know if I would share my feelings about the time that I was inactive and then what it was like to come back to the church.  She knows I serve in Young Women's at the same time as her lesson would be, so she asked if I would just write down in a letter.

I had to think about it for a few days.  Not that it would be hard, but how could I adequately express my feelings without typing out a whole novel, and yet still give enough to help supplement the lesson material?

My final product:

It's no secret that Dave and I would most likely NOT be active members of the church if it wasn't for this ward whose members at the time loved us back into activity.

Both Dave and I made choices during our teenage years that led us away from the church. We met and while we both had been taught and raised in the gospel, it wasn't important to us at the time. When I was pregnant and almost due with Luke we moved into our current home. Immediately, the surrounding neighbors sought us out to meet us. While they didn't pressure us about church, in my own head, I perceived their intentions were to suck us into something I wanted nothing to do with.
I went far enough to openly display my message of "we want nothing to do with your church".


I had met one neighbor who happened to be a patient at the clinic where I worked. One day, she stopped by and flat out asked me, "So what is it with you and the church. Are you or are you not?"
I said "not" and don't bug me about it again.


At that point, in most wards, we would have been left alone. However, our, or rather, my rejection of their efforts did not stop them from continuing to reach out to be friends with us. It was well known that Dave loved sports. They made sure that he was invited and put to use in the ward ball games. I went with the boys and many of the wives sought me out to chat and be friendly.


They invited us to ward functions and with out fail, the minute we walked in, someone was by our side asking for us to come sit with them, or to welcome us, or to just greet us and make us feel comfortable.

When I herniated the discs in my back, I was laid down flat for several weeks. Someone in the ward got wind of it, and the next thing I knew we had meals, and offers of child care and help for anything we needed. It was during this time, out of sheer boredom that I picked up my seminary Book of Mormon and decided to read it. As I read, my testimony came flooding back to me. When I prayed to take Moroni's challenge, it was if I was being told that I already knew this was true, I just needed to be reminded.

From there, activity became the norm for me and the boys. Dave wasn't there yet and he worked on Sunday's so it wasn't possible for him to attend anyway. I empathize with the many mothers that struggle the 3 hours of church all by themselves because I did it for many years. However, I always had help from the ward members. Someone sitting next to us, would pass along a treat. When Corbin got restless, I would send him to sit with the teenage Teachers at the doors who would draw him pictures and keep him entertained.


When Dave was finally able to attend, he was embraced like I was years earlier. It became the natural thing for us to do. We were invited to Temple Prep classes. It wasn't until after our third round that we finally took the leap and were sealed in the temple. From there, we have never looked back. Our testimonies continue to grow as we serve in our callings, teaching, and learning from others.
Ours is most definitely the kind of story that I believe President Hinckley was talking about when he referred to retaining new converts. Give them a job, give them a friend. This ward exemplified his counsel. Many of the faces that were there for us in the beginning are now gone, but replaced with just as loving and kind other faces. That one quality in this ward seems to never have gone away.
When I hear stories of other wards and the disconnect that many feel in their own ward families, I am reminded of how blessed we are here. This ward is full of missionaries that teach purely by their examples of goodness, friendship and genuine concern. Right now, for many of us, that is the best we can do. We cannot serve full time missions. But we can continue to be good people. Be kind, loving and accepting. When we have new families move in, we can go and welcome them. When we have neighborhood activities, reach out, invite them to sit with us, make them feel comfortable. Be interested in them. And above all else, leave the judger mcjudgerton locked up at home.

Then, one day when the time is right, either becoming a new member or returning to activity will become easier for them, because of the path you paved with your kindness, love and fellowship.


If I had to add to this now, I think I would remind my fellow LDS friends that while we as a church focus on missionary work and preaching the gospel, that doesn't mean that when repeated efforts do not lead to a conversion or baptism then we are through.  I think that is where a lot of misconceptions have been drawn.  A person of another religion or faith perceives that our only intent for friendship is to "rope 'em into baptism".  If that is our approach we are sadly, sadly WRONG and we need to change our ways.

Rather, I believe that we need to focus more on just being good people.  More accepting.  More open.  More receiving of others whose religious belief's differ from ours.  And BEING OKAY WITH THAT.  If our belief's interest others then we need to be willing to share them, but if they do not, we need to be okay with that and continue the relationship.  Moreover, learn more of theirs, find the common ground, embrace the differences for the good that they bring our relationships.  I strongly believe that in the end, when each of us finally meet our Maker and account for our time on this earth, we will be judged more on how we treated others rather than how many people we were instrumental in their baptism's.

Before Debbie's lesson today, I squeezed her hand, and wished her luck.  I thought I sensed some anxiety, but then when I remembered what a wonderful heart she has.  How much she exemplifies the very message she was asked to teach, I knew she was gonna do just fine.  She would be a great instrument in God's hands to convey a message that we all need to be reminded of.

 Be kind.  Be a friend.  That is missionary enough sometimes.

Spiritual Sunday - Gratitude

I saw this post over on Serene's page last week.  I decided to take her challenge and for the next several days pondered over the many acts of kindness and love that have been shown me throughout my life that I could post about.  I have once again come to the realization that I am a woman blessed beyond anything I have ever deserved.  So many things, so many people, so many blessings. 

(I even swiped your image Serene - of which she swiped from google)

So with all the memories that I've been thinking back on, which one to write about?

The Christmas right after my Dad died and there was a secret santa that left bags and bags of presents for us on our front porch Christmas eve?

The many meals that came in when I herniated the disc in my lower back when the boys were babies and I needed so much help?

The time I watched a friend die right in front of me at my office and the kind cards, calls and food that came simply because someone knew I was traumatized?

The years of notes, cards, and hugs that came to me spontaneously from someone else, but clearly inspired when someone knew my heart was hurting as a Mother?

The kind comments that began after I started blogging and the friends that came into my life because of it?

The runs to the Sev for my diet brown bubbly, the skittles, the pj's, the phone calls and texts of encouragement  after my stress fracture last year?

I could go on and on it seems, but the one particular instance always comes back to me.  It is something I will never forget and I have used it many a time as an analogy in life.

The scene is this:  Splenda and I were heavily involved in little league baseball for YEARS!  Like a decade or so.  From the the time 'dawg started until the time Tuffy finished.  We lived our lives at the ball park.  We served on the board for most of those years.

In my particular capacity, I was responsible for fundraising and therefore had access to the bank accounts and knew our finances.  For a time, there was some quiet speculation on how the league's funds were being spent.  One year it came to a head, and I was the one to discover that our president and his wife had been taking all the money.  We had enough to run the league at a bare minimum, but they took the rest.

They were our friends, they were people that we saw and talked with every single day.  The rest of the board as well.  I was faced with a decision.  Tell and ruin their lives or keep quiet, and hope that no one else found out and in the process get myself into legal trouble.

If you know me, you know what I did.

It hurt.  It was awful.  As all the legal proceedings began I was a wreck.  I couldn't sleep.  I cried most every night.  I felt destroyed and incapable of anything.  The whole mess was all-consuming.  It's all Splenda and I could talk about.  There began a division of people on the board.  People who I thought were my friends showed their true loyalty colors and they weren't to me or to what the right thing to do was.

I began to want to hide in my home, and give up many of the things that made me happy.

At the time, I was serving as the young women's camp director for our ward.  It was just too much.  I could barely drag myself to church let alone serve anyone.  For once in my life, I went to my Bishop, unloaded my problems and asked to be released.  I gave a recommendation for a new camp director and left feeling like even though, I was letting go of a major burden, I was also letting so many other people down.  Yet again.

Why am I giving so much detail?  Just to set the scene of how much inner turmoil I was dealing with.  I hadn't been in that dark, and stressful of a place emotionally since I suffered PPD after my first born.

And then......the mercy, the kindness, the love.

I was leaving my home for work one morning and as I was backing out of the garage, color on my left caught my eye.

I looked over and my entire flower bed had been weeded, raked, and then planted with some beautiful yellow and gold flowers.  What the???  I put the car in park, got out and crossed the lawn to the flower bed.  They were beautiful.  I noticed a note on the door.  As I opened it and read the love words, I started to cry.  It was not signed, but a few inside jokes gave it away and I knew immediately who had done this most kind deed.

Her.  My friend the Grandma Gypsie.

At the time she had no idea what was going in, she just saw me suffering.  She knew I was a wreck, but didn't have any details.  Instead of gossiping or talking behind my back, she simply loved me and expressed it.

At some point early that morning, she got down on her hands and knees in my dirt, pulled the weeks, raked it over, and then dug small holes and placed something of beauty.

I think of that still.  I picture her in her sweats, her garden gloves on and trying to be oh so quiet.  Carefully loving me without making any noise.  Creating something of beauty for me to look at every day, and be reminded that everything was going to be okay.

She was ON HER HANDS AND KNEES IN MY DIRT!

A true friend, is one who helps to get rid of your weeds, rake you over to show your good side, and then help you become something of beauty.  They are not afraid of your dirt.

She needed no recognition.  Yet, my gratitude to her will never end.  I will LOVE her until the day I die and beyond

Her kindness towards me has sealed my love and affection for her.  She didn't do it seeking the world's appreciation.  She did it because she loved me and knew I needed something.  The feelings I had then,now  and forever are the epitome of Gratitude.

Since then, I could spend pages and pages detailing her other acts of service to me and my family.  And to others.  I've never known anyone who so willingly serves others.  Most of the time anonymously. 

 I love her.

Thanks Serene for the challenge.

Thanks Deb - you know you have my undying love, devotion, and loyalty.

Now, I extend the same Challenge Serene did.  You know you have much to be grateful for.

Spiritual Sunday - Part I

I was walking to my car last Wednesday morning and for some reason had my head down the entire time  I wasn't in the mood for smiles, or greetings from a passerby - I was feeling quiet, introspective and wanted to stay in my shell a little bit longer

As I walked along, I noticed the sidewalk had  a cool pattern in it that I have never noticed before (even though I walk this stretch of sidewalk on a weekly basis).  I slowed  to look at the pattern a little closer.

Upon further inspection, I discovered the "pattern" was actually not an intended thing at all  Rather it was the marks of leaves that had fallen in the concrete when it was still wet.  As you know, if you touch wet concrete, it will leave an impression that cannot be removed without demolishing that particular section, and repouring fresh cement.

At first glance, the sidewalk was intriguing and cool to look at.  It certainly caught my eye.

Then I thought about the worker who may have poured that section of sidewalk and his frustration of the falling leaves making the permanent "scar" in his work.  What was aesthetically pleasing to me, would likely indicate imperfection to him.

For some reason, the irony struck me.  I picked up my pace, went to my car to deposit my bags, and returned to the sidewalk with my camera.

(I was really wishing I had a super great camera so I could catch the detail)

I got in my car and headed south but the concrete with it's impressions stayed on my mind.

I began thinking of how that concrete is so much like people.  The 'scars' or the 'damage' the leaves had done to the finished product were what made it so appealing to me  It's what made it unique, beautiful and eye-catching.

I thought of the scars that I carry, and that others whom I love carry.  We all have them. 

 A traumatic childhood, abuse (sexual, emotional, physical), death, bullying, mental illness, suicide, drugs/alcoholism, infidelity, rebellious children, health issues, eating disorders, cancer, the list is endless.

Some of these I know first hand, some I experience second person through a beloved family member or close friend.  At any rate, they hurt.  They change us.  They leave a mark.

There are two ways of looking at those marks left behind.  They can be viewed as imperfection and can lead to self-doubt, low self esteem and feelings of frustration and anger OR they can be viewed as part of the pattern of our life that makes us appealing, unique and even beautiful. 

If we allow them to.

When I look at others, I see cool patterns.  I see things that intrigue me.  Things that catch my eye and draw me to that person.  Oftentimes, once I get to know someone and learn their stories, the 'scars' emerge. 

The impressions of life that left marks become apparent.  And I find that their perceived 'damage' is the very thing that endears them to me.   I love them all the more for the life impressions they have and who they have become. When I see them, I see a beautiful pattern  Not a sidewalk with leaf marks.

Today, I sat in church watching a particular family who is having a particularly hard struggle right now.  My heart physically hurt for them.  A real pain that is hard to describe.

My thoughts went to another dear, longtime friend who is currently overwhelmed with indescribable heartache.

And then I thought back to the concrete. 

These life impressions will only make them more beautiful to me.  More unique and more beloved.

Finally, my thoughts went inward. 

Could I ever do the same for myself?  Embrace my 'scars', endear my life impressions?

Become more beloved to my own self?

I'm not sure, but I can try and hope.

This I do know - I feel a little more tender, and little more forgiving, a little more understanding of every person I encounter.  I just never know what scars they carry.

Spiritual Sunday

What?  M-Cat, you realize it's late Tuesday night right?

Yeah, I do.  But this has been stewing and I've been mulling over these thoughts for several days now (since Sunday) and I think I can finally put words to my thoughts.  Warning:  Could be long and some rambling, bear with me.

Sissy spent most of the weekend.  As per ususal.  We love her dearly, and she loves us.  She has entered a very vocal, lovey, cuddly stage, and, not gonna lie, I absolutley love it.  I love her to crawl in bed and sleep with me.  I love her to "cuddo wif you Mimi"  She is surrounded by people in my home who love her, teach her, respect her and let her know that she is a most choice child.  She is seriously the hugest blessing in our life.

She might not have happened.  In fact, a pregnancy that occured before her (with my son and his girlfriend) ended in an abortion.  I was absolutley heartbroken, and I still have struggles accepting it, but I suppose that is for another post eh?   But when it was discovered that they were pregnant again, I prayed and prayed and PRAYED that she wouldn't choose her previous option.

Of course, I had  no say.  In fact, my son had no say.  Even though thier sexual relationship was consensual, after the "deed" is done, the father basically has very little rights.  Interesting.  And I'm sure opens a whole other can of worms that I am not interested in discussing right now.

My point is now, I think what if?  What if Sissy had ended the same way the first baby did?  What if we didn't have her in our lives?  Her smile, her chatter, her laughs and giggles, her cuddles, her funny games, even her melt downs?

Is she in the ideal family unit?  Nope.  I believe the ideal family unit is a loving mother and father in the home who love each other and their children.  Who are committed to raising a family full of strong morals and values.  Sissy doesn't get that right now.  She is being raised by a single working mom, a father who works, and is now awaiting military orders, BUT, she does have many loving adults in her life who fill in the gaps.  And in all reality, many children are in the same kind of situation.  I am not judging anyone here, merely stating what I believe the "perfect" situation is.

My religous beliefs are in part based on the doctrine that we are all spirit children of a loving Father and Mother in Heaven.  We were sent to this earth to gain bodies and to experience life and all it's trials.  We learn, and grow, and develop ourselves spiritually through these experiences to hopefully become as God is.

As I have watched Sis over the past 3 years and observed that while her life situations have changed, one thing is constant.  That is love.  LOVE.  Love from her Mother, her Father, her uncles, her Mimi, her Poppa, other adult people who interact with her.  LOVE.

Will she remember some of the transitory periods in her life of where she lived or whom she lived with?  Perhaps.  But I hope she always remembers how much she is LOVED.

Isn't that what we all really need?  Not only thinking about Sissy, but other relationships.  My spouse, my boys, my friends, my extended family.  Everyone needs and wants love and acceptance.  If we aren't the ones to provide that for them, who will?

If I am not my families best and loudest cheerleader?  Who will be?  No one will love my children the way I love them.  They need to feel it, they need to know it.  They need to have it INGRAINED into their very selves.  Not just my children, but my granddaughter too.

I also believe we were sent to this earth in family units for a reason. I believe we lived in a Spirit world before we came to earth, and I believe we will return to a Spirit world until we become resurrected.  I believe we knew we would have struggles and trials.  Perhaps, we chose our families?  Perhaps we even chose our struggles knowing that they would ultimately serve the intended purpose of refining us to who we need to become.

I look at each one of my family members and KNOW that we are together for a reason.  We learn so much from each other.  As hard as some of the lessons and experiences have been, in hindsight, I see the lessons.  Well, to be honest, most of the time.  Some I am still confused by. 

But when I think of Sissy and that she likely might not have been given the chance to be here with us, I feel literally sick to my stomach.  It's no secret that I am pro-life.  I believe every spirit should have the opportunity to experience life.  When there are so many families ready to adopt, I see no reason for abortion.  I just don't get it.  It hurts my heart.  Especially, when I think of what we could be missing.  I think of her, alive, thriving, growing, learning and my heart is full of LOVE.

I think of my boys.  All that we have been through as a family.  Our good times, our bad times, our scary times, or silly times and my heart is full of LOVE.

I think of my husband.  25 years of living with the same person.  Trying to raise a family together the best we can.  Sharing inside jokes, struggles, joys, and long discussions about our family and future and my heart is full of LOVE.

I think of my extended family.  We just spent a week on vacay with some of them.  They are some of my best friends ever.  I think of all that we have been through.  My heart is full of LOVE.

I think of my friends and other relationships.  I am blessed with not just many in numbers, but AMAZING friends.  Some for 20 + years and some for a few months, but I think of our relationships and my heart is full of LOVE.

Is this how God feels?  Does he feel sad when one of his children doesn't get the opportunity to get a body and live on earth?  Does he think of His children and feel LOVE?  Does he think of his wife, our Heavenly Mother, and find his heart swells with love?  Does he watch our relationships here and when he sees us being kind to one another, is overcome with pride and LOVE?

On Sunday, I learned for myself that I believe that to be true.  And that LOVE, more than any other emotion will help me to become more like Him.  If I can develop more LOVE, then other good virtues will develop.  Patience, tolerance, charity, compassion.  They'll come, if I can refine my skills of LOVE.

And so, I move forward, with more love in my heart.  Trying to crowd out the impatience, the irritation, the disappointment, the negative vibes that tend to overtake me when left unchecked.  Love is the answer.  Love is the key.  "Love is really all you need"

And to anyone who actually read through the entire post - I love you!

Spiritual Sunday; the organ, a young man, and being a parent.

In my church, about 15 minutes before the start of our main meeting, Sacramemt Meeting, we have an organist play some prelude music. It is used to quiet people as they gather and to bring reverence to the chapel.  It also helps to set a spiritual tone for the meeting.

Lately, our prelude players have been young men and women who are working on their piano/organ skills.  The young adults or teenagers play the prelude music and then someone more experienced takes over for the accompianment of hymns.

Today, I was VERY early.  Like 40 minutes early.  I found a bench up near the front and settled in for some scripture reading and perusing my material for an upcoming YW lesson.

At about 15 minutes before the start of the meeting, I watched as the D family made their way in.  The eldest son is J, whom we first started interaction with when he was 12 and in our Sunday School class.  He's now in his mid twenties, completed a service mission in the Salt Lake area, and has become a fine, upstanding and remarkable young man. 

Oh yeah, J is blind.

I watched as his parents lovingly and carefully escorted him up the chapel aisle, and assisted him up the three steps to the stand.  They guided him gently to the organ and helped him sit.  He took a few minutes to orient himself, and they guided his fingers to the right keys.  Within a few minutes, the chapel began to fill with beautiful, perfectly played music.

J's dad returned to the congregation benches, while Mom sat down in a choir chair near the organ.

Watching J, not only immediately softened my heart, but I began to think about some recent events and my feelings about being a parent.

When our babies are born, we have such high hopes and aspirations for them  It doesn't matter what religion you are, or IF you are religious, we all have ideals, values, and morals we want our children to learn and to embody.  We want them to be honest, full of integrity, educated, and to be contributing, functioning members of society.  If we do happen to be affiliated with a particular religion or faith, we tend to want them to choose likewise.  We know how happy it makes us, and we as parents, want the same, nay, BETTER for our kids.  We want them to be sublimely......... happy.

What happens when your dreams for your children don't become realized?  What happens when all that you have hoped for, prayed for, taught them, aspired for them, goes by the wayside?  Until a parent experiences that disappointment for themselves, I don't think it can be understood.  And even then, each of our experiences are different and unique. 

As friends or acquiantences, we try hard to understand.  We attempt to convey our sympathies and offer words of encouragement, but too often, we miss the mark.  It's easy with our mouths to say, "that's too bad about your kid" while nodding sadly, but in your heart you are really saying 'my kid(s) will NEVER do that.'  You might even convince yourself that you are immune.  You're doing all the right things.  Family prayer, scripture study, family nights, individual time with each child.  You are supportive, you attend every parent/teacher conference, you drive the carpool, you're the friggin PTA president for crying out loud!  There is no way that anything other than perfection will cross your door.  Your biggest challenge will be to decide which college to choose out of the several your kid has been accepted to.

To that I say, POPPYCOCK.  I'm refraining from using the BS word since it's the Sabbath and all, but really.  Crap. And trust me, I know.

Just as J's parents walked beside him down the chapel aisle, guided him up the steps and towards the organ, even helping him position and place his fingers, they eventually had to step away and let him play on his own.

As parents we do all we can.  We teach, we show by example, we correct when necessary, but at some point, our kids are on their own.  We can only sit nearby at the ready in case further assistance is asked for.  That's it.

We can no more accept the credit for a "well-turned out" offspring than we can the blame for the one who is not measuing up to her/his full potential.

So why do we beat ourselves up about it?  Why do we allow ourselves to feel the sting of disappointment over something we never really had control over to begin with?  Why do we continue to compare ourselves and our kids against others and their supposed success?  Am I the only one to do this?

Well,  no more.  I've finally come to the realization that for a small period of time, albeit an important one, I was a central figure in my children's lives.  They looked to me and their father for guidance, reassurance, instruction, and love.  We provided it and anything else we could, in the best way we knew how.  Then, they became adults and we are now merely background players.  We are friends who offer support, encouragement and advice if they want it,   but now, they are poised at the keyboard and their fingers will do the playing.  Not mine.

I relinquish not only any false sense of control I had, but also any guilt or pride with the results.  They are not MY  results.  Once, they were my babies, my little boys, my wrestling teenagers, and now my best friends, but ultimately they are fellow adults who are making their way through their lives just like I am.  We enhance one another, enrich each other's lives and bring joy and happiness to our famly as a whole, and most certainly are forever intertwined........ but we are not a direct reflection of each other.  That is simply not in the plan. 

Instead, I am going to sit back and relax.  I'm going to enjoy my sons, enjoy my granddaughter and look brightly to the future and whatever it may bring.  I've cut the chain of guilt and regret, and instead have started a new chain of acceptance, love and happiness. 

And, when the occasion does arise, that I hear one of my babies call out 'Mom?', I am going to be grateful I get to answer.