Why do people care about other people's underwear?

(I've been busy all day, but these thoughts have been running through my head all day. They were more eloquent in my head.)

It started with a question. Several years ago. “Mrs. Kage, why do Mormons wear two pairs of underwear?” I do not shy away from questions from students; I tell my students that I am open book. This question, however, was different. I replied, “Under no circumstances will I discuss my underwear with my class.” We laughed and moved on.

Hours later when relaying this story to two other teachers, one genuinely asked, “Do Mormons wear two pairs of underwear?” It was a sincere question, with a desire to know. I briefly explained the garment to my friends. My explanation was truly inspired. I said, “Just as many Jewish people where a Yamaka as an outward sign of their faith, I wear the garments as an outward sign of mine. The difference is that I do not wear mine for others to see. It is an outward sign of an inner commitment between me and God.” This satisfied my friends better than I could have imagined. Like I said, inspired.

I am faithful in wearing my garments and in keeping my covenants, but recently it was mentioned that garments have become a way for other Mormons to judge the righteousness of others. I have been thinking a lot about this statement, and it bothers me. The truth behind this statement that bothers me. I do not wear the garments for other people to see, and certainly not for other people to judge me. That is not the point. I wear them as an outward sign of my faith…of my commitment. I am ashamed to say that up until a couple of years ago, I, too, would look for the tell tale signs of garment wearing among any LDS that I met…or went to church with. I, like many others, saw it as a way of seeing who was “faithful.” I cannot count the number of times that people came up to me and said, "Hey, your Mormon!" I would inquire as to how they knew, and they would point to a line in my shirt or some other indication of my garments. This always bothered me. Why on earth would someone look that close?? (I truly don't think I ever looked that close.)

It was after too many of these instances that it hit me what a hypocrite I was being. It did not matter that I was not looking that close, I was still looking. I realized that I did not want others to judge my righteousness based on my underwear. I wanted to be judged based on my own actions, and I should afford the same courtesy to other people. So, I stopped. I stopped looking or even noticing whether or not others were wearing garments. I even took off my own garments for a dear friend’s wedding. (Others did not agree with this decision, but I know the Lord understood.) A few hours in a strapless dress for a wedding did not negate my Temple recommend or my righteousness. And those who judged? Let them judge. I do not answer to them.

I digress…why is it that many Mormons feel perfectly justified in judging another’s worthiness by the clothes others wear? Whether it is noticing the garment through clothes or a tank top, when on earth did it become okay for anyone to judge anyone’s worthiness in the eyes of the Lord on that person’s  underwear, shoulders, knees and thighs, or anything else. As covenanted Mormons, we make our sacred promises within sacred walls. We are instructed to keep sacred things sacred…to not talk about them, yet too many people judge the covenants and commitment of others based on clothing! It is quite frustrating.

I faithfully wear my garments as an outward sign of my own faith and commitment. I know that other people judge me based on what I wear. I know that I have been guilty of that in the past. I am so grateful that I had the epiphany that caused me to change my ways. Garments are personal, and they should stay that way.

People really need to stop looking at and worrying about other people’s underwear.

Mother's Day Blessings

I have been blessed to be the mother of two wonderful children....no, blessed and wonderful are not strong enough words. Truly there are no words to express my love for them and my joy in them. They are the best things in my life.

As much as I love them, they understand that today, on this Mother's Day, there is nothing more that I want than to become a mother again. They would like that to happen, too.  I know that Heavenly Father has a plan. So as much joy as there is in my heart today, there is pain and sadness for the child for whom I wait to join our family.

Witnessing History

Disclaimer: I am incredibly emotional writing this post, so please forgive me if this post is awkward...I really just wanted to get my thoughts and feelings down.

First, a confession: I normally only watch the Sunday sessions of General Conference; however, this weekend I was determined to watch all the sessions. While that didn't happen, I did watch parts of both sessions today, and I watched the part that mattered most. 

Today, for the first time in history at a LDS General Conference Session, a woman offered a prayer.

There has been speculation for weeks, and I wanted to see for myself if it would come to pass.  I had to go to work this morning, but as I was driving home I listened to conference. At the end of the first session President Uchtdorf announced that the closing prayer would be offered by a woman. I never expected my reaction to be so strong. No, I did not write a letter to the General Authorities asking them to make this change.  Yes, I was hoping that a woman would pray at Conference. Yes, I was even expecting it to happen. 

President Uchtdorf's calm and quiet demeanor spoke to my soul as he announced that the Sister Jean Stevens, First Counselor in the Primary general presidency, would give the closing prayer. Alone in my car, I wept. The announcement itself moved me. The mantle that was placed upon her shoulders was a significant one, even though there are those who do not realize it. 

I have talked to my children about the significance of a woman having never prayed in General Conference. I told them that there was speculations that a woman would pray at this conference. When I arrived home I gathered them around and told them that I wanted them to listen to this historic moment. I wept during her prayer. It was simple, it was eloquent, and it was perfect. A beautiful prayer, in a beautiful voice, to make LDS history. My children may not fully understand the significance of this event, but I know that one day they will. 

There are those who say "big deal" and those who just never noticed the lack of women praying in conference. It is a big deal, not just for women, but for everyone in the church and for everyone who looks at the church. For the youth of the church. For those women who have felt marginalized by a faith they love so much. For the men who think that women's voices are less than their own. For my sons who deserve to see, in any and all aspects, that women are equal to men in the church. That women are not only revered and loved, but trusted and respected, too.

There are those who chose to ignore this event, and that is okay. I, for one, am celebrating. I know that Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother are smiling down upon their daughters with pride and love. 

Friendship

I have recently come to the conclusion that some things are better left unsaid when talking to one of my best friends. This is the friend that I see most often; however, things have been strained and silent for us as of late. We still hang out, go to movies, sit next to each other at church, but there is a difference. She disagrees with me. She is worried that I am losing something. She is frustrated that I do not make my children go to mutual. (I disagree with the way the leaders are running the program, and my children HATE going. That is another post, but let's just say that making my children participate in something they hate, is not a good way to help them gain a testimony.) She is angry that I disagree so strongly with the discrimination in the scouting program. She laughed when I said that there are young men and women in our ward who struggle with sexuality. She thinks the idea that gay and lesbian youth in our midst is laughable. I love my friend. I am frustrated that I can speak more freely with total strangers than I can with her.

So, I wrote this poem based off of Li-Young Lee's poem "A Story."

Sad is the woman who has strong opinions

And can’t speak them to her friend.

Her friend waits in stressed silence

You can’t possibly think that

Are the unspoken judgmental words

In a world full of injustice

And pain, the woman speaks for those

Without a voice. With everyone

Except her friend.

Already, the woman looks ahead,

How can you possibly be so closed minded?
Just because I disagree, does not mean

I lost my testimony.

Listen and open your mind.

But the friend lives in a world

Where windows must remain closed.

Do you see what you are doing?

The woman screams? Sitting mute

And allowing the passive aggressiveness to overtake you?

But the friend is here.

Where she doesn’t want to let others in.

Looking at what she thinks Heaven must be.

Thinking that looking to heaven

Allows her to overlook the earth.

Ignoring the pain and judging the silence.

Book of Mormon: The Musical.

PART THREE: THINKING FOR YOURSELF

There was message of thinking for yourself. The “righteous and good” missionary was spoon fed everything his whole life. He was told that if God was proud of him, then he would get everything he prayed for. What a load of crap. The play did not address this directly, but it was there. Too many times, people are fed this. But, you know what? We are all given challenges. Heavenly Father loves each of us, and He gives us the challenges we need in order to be better. Sometimes that challenge is learning to think for ourselves. Elder Price was finally able to do that, but it took a crisis of faith. The musical did not end with Elder Price being the most successful missionary, but it did end with him realizing that the most important thing in life helping other people. Sometimes that help does not look like what you thought it was going to look like. Sometimes your values are challenged. Sometimes your faith is challenged. Sometimes your life is challenged. If you close your eyes to the things that are challenging you, then you miss the lesson you are supposed to learn. And sometimes the person who is going to teach you the lesson has no idea that you need to be taught. Or that he is the one who will teach it to you.

There was a message that along with hope, people need practical things that sometimes cannot be given through hope. I truly believe that hope is essential for survival, but in most circumstances hope will not help a person survive physical difficulties. The humanitarian efforts of my church are just phenomenal. We do many wonderful things around the world, but we also send missionaries around the world to preach the Gospel. They are well trained and well intentioned in preaching the Gospel, but how well do we prepare them to physically help the people they teach?  Yes, they can lift heavy things. They can mow lawns and do physical labor, but what else? How difficult is it to teach the missionaries about ways to help the physical difficulties. Health issues. (In the play it was things like dysentery, where the missionary with the imagination added a dysentery storyline to a part of the BOM and in turn told the people not to drink the water they poop in….pretty simple.) A crazy story for those of us in the know, but effective to the people who needed to hear it.) I know that it is not that simple, but I wonder how well we prepare our missionaries for the practical teachings of the area they are serving.

PART FOUR: THE LANGUAGE and MORMON JOKES

Now, a word about the language. I expected it to be SO MUCH WORSE. It really was not bad at all. I have heard worse at school. I have heard worse in the house in which I grew up. I’m aware of the F-you song, but that is a portrayal of reality. How many people in the world truly feel that God has abandoned them? I would be willing to bet a lot. The musical puts into actual words (in song) how people feel throughout the world. Bad things happen and people feel abandoned, and I am sure the song expresses the sentiments of many people in this world. The musical simply puts a group of those people together in one setting. They feel abandoned by God. They are afraid. They are being threatened, tortured, and killed. They have no hope, and the only thing that makes them feel better is the words in the song. But, if you pay close attention to the play, you will see that throughout the play, the Ugandas stop cursing God and begin to thank him. They begin to have hope. And yes, even Elder Price at the end says those words, but he is still emerging from his crisis of faith. He felt abandoned. He was spiritually wounded and abused physically. It is not unreasonable for him to feel that way. But, he still has some hope, and he is willing to continue to nurture that hope with the people who have taught him…with the people who he expected to teach. Everyone learning something from someone unexpected.

As for the Mormon jokes…did the musical make light of Joseph Smith,  the Book of Mormon, and many of the beliefs that I hold dear? Yes, it did. But, in a way, the knowledge that I had made the play more enjoyable. I laughed at things that others did not. It is quite clear that the creators of the musical have both a healthy respect for and understanding of Mormonism. There are clearly things that they don’t understand, and these were definitely in this musical. As a devout and believing Mormon, the fact that I do understand all of these things, made the play even more enjoyable. It did not shake my faith. It made me appreciate what I have even more. Does that make sense? It actually makes me more determined to raise my own boys with these things in mind.  Understanding all of these things made the play even more enjoyable.

Perhaps what is most interesting is that while this show makes fun of Mormonism, it is actually making fun of all religions in a way. Mormon is the easiest one to use for the purpose because it is one that few on the outside understand. It is the religion that seems “weird.” It is a religion that, for whatever reason, people are okay making fun of. Mormons just happen to be the most outgoing of all the faiths. The most willing to venture out into the world and share our “crazy” with other people.  Outsiders rarely know they who story behind the “funny” things (like special underwear, the Garden of Eden in Missouri, and the Golden Plates), but they are more than willing to make fun of it. This musical makes fun of it, and then continues on with some interesting insights into human behavior, motivation, learning.

 

I read this on another blog,  and I really liked it: (I can't remember the blog, sorry.)

Don’t be offended that the missionaries started a new religion. These missionaries care deeply about the people they serve. In the end, they stay behind to help the Ugandans, to support them, and give them hope. In the beginning, the Ugandans are cursing God. In the end, they are thanking Him.
Elder Price’s line: “We are still Latter-day Saints–all of us–even if we’ve changed a few things, or we break the rules, or we have complete doubt that God exists. We can still all work together and make this our paradise planet.”
What does it mean to be LDS? The final song of the show begins:
“I am a Latter-day Saint
I help all those I can
I see my friends through times of joy and sorrow”
How cool is THAT? This is totally a pro-Mo show. At the end I wanted to stand up with my friend and squeal, “We’re Mormons, too!” that’s how proud I was.
I guess what I’m saying is: It’s gotten a lot of praise and good report, and I left feeling completely uplifted.
I wish Mormons weren’t so offended by it.

Book of Mormon Musical Part 2

Part two of my Book of Mormon: The Musical review.

 

PART 2: LEAVING THINGS BETTER

There was a message of leaving things better than when you found them.  The other missionary (Elder Price) goes on a mission to change the world…all by himself. He does not want and does not think he needs the help of anyone else. It should come as no surprise that this is the missionary who struggles the most. His mission is not what he planned. It is hard. It is really hard. It is not what he expected it would be. It is not what he was told it would be. He read the BOM and was ready to “teach” the world. But what he was never taught to do was to listen. He did not know how to listen to the people around him. The villagers needed help but not the help he wanted to give. He wanted them to listen to his every word. He wanted them to see how much better he was than they were. He wanted the villagers to want to be like him and to appreciate what he was offering them. The messenger was more important than the message. Well, that didn’t happen, and he gave up. Several times he repeated the same pattern. What he finally learned (through the “imagination teachings” of the other missionary) is that he needs to not only open his eyes and look around him, but that he needs to look around him as well. People are not the same; people have different needs. He went on his mission to change the world the way he wanted to, the way he was told to, but to really make a difference, to truly serve, he needed to open his eyes and see what the people really needed. In this case, they needed hope first, and then they needed someone to not just preach to them, but to really stay and help improve their physical lives. This was interesting to me because I did not expect it. I did not know how the musical was going to end, and the ending made me love the musical that much more. He learned that helping people means more than preaching and baptizing and leaving. It means staying to make a difference. It means selfless service, and sometimes that selfless service means to sacrifice the thing you were there do in the first place. The people heard the gospel according to Arnold; they accepted that gospel because, in the end, the gospel according to Arnold gave them the hope they  needed, gave this missionary the kick in the butt he needed to truly leave things better than when he arrived.  He ended the musical a better person. And, in the end, he and the other missionaries stay in Uganda to support them and to continue the hope they brought. They do not give them hope and leave…they stay to nurture that hope. To help it grow into something greater. Something that can be sustained even after the missionaries leave.

The Book of Mormon: THE MUSICAL

First, let me say that I do not offend easily. And I was not offended by Book of Mormon: The Musical. It was irreverent. It was funny. It was intelligent. It was fantastic!

I went to see the BOM musical tonight. It was absolutely wonderful. Did it make fun of Mormons? Of course it did. Was it funny? Of course it was. But there was something even better about it than the humor. *(I will say that I do not remember the last time I laughed so hard.)

I have so many things to say about this musical that I am going to do it parts. Seriously, I have  A LOT to say! I should also say there are spoilers in my thoughts. Sorry.

Part 1: HOPE

There was a message of hope. Yes, I am aware that many people think that some of my beliefs are weird. Some people think my beliefs are just plain crazy, but does that negate the message of hope hope that my faith brings? It most certainly does not.

What was so profound about the musical was that it does just that. It takes the fiction of today and uses the vehicle of Mormon missionaries to show that it does not matter the story that is told, what matters is the hope it brings. In the musical one of the missionariesb (Arnold) has never read the BOM, and it becomes his responsibility to teach a group of people who are in need of help. He reads to them, and they get frustrated and ask, “How does this help me, here and now? How does this book tell me how to deal with                     (Fill in the blank)?”  The missionary, not knowing how to answer, adds his own imagination to the BOM, giving the people the words they want to hear. Make no mistake, the “imaginations” of this missionary are just plain ludicrous. But they give the people the hope they need. He gives them hope, and with that hope come a happier and better people. Are they suddenly transformed to a better place? No. Do they get rich and become healthy overnight? No. But what they do find is togetherness. They find hope in helping one another. It does not matter whether the stories are true or not; what matters is that the missionary (unintentional though it may be) gives the villagers hope that they can be happy even the most terrible of circumstances.

It's been a while

I won't go into detail about where I have been...that is for another post...but I have been on such a journey of faith, hope, humility, and gratitude.

That said, let me get to the purpose of this post: I am a feminist. I have shuddered at the thought of making this declaration for a long time now, but after months of thinking and praying, I am, in fact, a feminist.

As an active and happy Latter Day Saint woman, let me tell you first what this means to me:

• I do not want the Priesthood, and I do not think women should have the Priesthood. I am not the only Mormon Feminist to think so, but there is a large number who DO want the Priesthood. I am not a feminist in that category. While I understand those concerns and frustrations, I do not share that desire. I have gone through fire within myself to answer this question, and I stand by that. There is a divine plan for both sexes which I take on faith. 
• That divine plan is not motherhood. I do not think that Priesthood and motherhood should be equated.  One is biology, the other is not. I hate it when people say, "Women don't need the Priesthood because we can have babies." Seriously, that is bunk. I am biologically created to bear children. A penis or the production of sperm does not biologically give a man the Priesthood. If it did, men would not need to be ordained. By nature of their birth (with a penis), they would have that authority.
• I am not sure what that divine plan looks like, and I am okay with that. I take it on faith.

Just because I do not think women should have the Priesthood does not mean that I do not think that women should be treated less because they do not have the Priesthood. Yes, the church teaches the adoration of women. It praises women to high heaven. However, there is a missing element in how  people in the church treat women. Women are rarely respected as leaders. Women cannot pray in General Conference. Young boys are taught that the Priesthood leads and the rest follow. Yes, the Priesthood leads, but that does not mean that women cannot be effective leaders in the church. This is something that needs to be taught. We need to teach our young boys and young men that the words a woman leader in the church says are just as important as what a male leader says. We need to teach our young men that respecting a woman also means listening to her wisdom. That strength in a woman is a good thing. I have always gotten sideways glances at church because I am a woman who is not afraid to speak out, not afraid to lead. I also speak out when I think women are being looked over simply because they are women.

Women should not be subjected to judgement because they are outspoken, strong, and opinionated. That should be celebrated. Women should not be subjected to judgement because they choose to wear pants to church. That should not even be an issue. The Young Women's President should have just as much influence in a Ward as the Young Men's President. The Relief Society President should have just as much influence as the Elder's Quorum President. Young girls and young women should be celebrated equally to the young boys and young men when they accomplish something. The expectations that we set for our young women should be just as high as those set for our young men.

Women should not be criticized and judged because of their bodies. We are not "walking pornography" for men. Men and women need to check their own thoughts and be accountable for them. The young women of the church should be encouraged to be leaders, to get educations, to wait to get married, to go on missions. They should be taught that their worth is the same as the young men. They should be taught that their worth is never dependent on the length of their skirt.

I have so much more that I could go on about, but for now, I will just leave it as that. I am a feminist.

I have been blessed

I have been blessed with the gift of great faith. Faith has  never been difficult for me. It is just something that has always been a part of me. That is not to say that I don't question. That I don't doubt. I do, both. But, I have always had a great faith. I do not believe everything that I am  told; in fact,I believe hardly anything that I am told. I study, I pray, I think, I question. And when I am satisfied with the process and feel that I have an answer, I have faith in whatever principle, commandment, or idea.

Today, I taught the Relief Society Lesson #17 on Faith. (I don't remember the whole title,  but it was from the George Albert Smith book). The examples in that lesson are BIG examples. Examples of seemingly impossible tasks that required faith in the Lord to accomplish or overcome. While I love those faith affirming examples, I decided to take a different route for my lesson.

I started with the fact that if Heavenly Father came to me and told me that I needed to move across the country, I would do it in a heartbeat. If  he told me to build a boat, I would do it. Because I have faith. I went on to say that all of us in the room would do what Heavenly Father told us to do. Those are the easy pieces of faith. (And the unlikely pieces of faith because Heavenly Father does not just come down and tell us things  face to face....at least not to the people I know.)

The hard part of faith is the little things. It is knowing that after four years of pure hell...of adversity, or difficultly, of frustration, of depression, that things are going to be okay in the end.

I was terrified when my husband was sick for over a year, but I had faith that everything would be okay. Did I know what that "okay" would look like? No, I didn't. It very easily could have been my life as a widowed mother of two. It came close to that. Was I scared? You bet I was, but I had faith that everything would happen as it was supposed to. While it did not make the challenge easier, it made it more  bearable. Even when I was pressed down by the world and when I felt the world was gathering against me. When I was alone and scared and needed to be strong for my husband and children, I had a strong faith that lifted me up and helped me to continue putting one foot in front of the other.

And this year,  while my son is sick and we don't know what is wrong. While we know that it is dangerous and needs to be fixed, I have faith that things will be okay. Again, I don't know what "okay" looks like. And quite frankly, it terrifies me. I have had the "What if" thoughts in my head. I can't imagine my life without him. I can't imagine the pain of losing him. My entire being runs away from those thoughts, but that doesn't allow me  to escape them. I still have faith, and that faith gives me peace and comfort. Even when I do not know what the rest of this trial will look like. I have faith.

I have faith. Faith that my Heavenly Father loves me. Faith that He suffers with me. Faith that everything happens for a reason. I may not know why things happen, I may not know how long these trials will last, but I have faith that I am never alone. I have faith that Heavenly Father has blessed me the strength and ability to overcome these trials and accomplish all that He asks of me. And right now, He is asking me to walk with faith through these trials.

When enough is enough

What do you do when you are not a welcome part of your own family? You know, the people you grew up with? The people who were supposed to be there for you when you need them?

My son is sick, major sick. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but there are potentially life-threatening things happening inside his little body. He will have surgery as soon as the doctors have some idea what they are dealing with.

I am...freaking out. I am holding it together for the sake of my kids and husband. Thankfully, my wonderful husband and I have our breakdowns on different schedules. It is a small blessing in our chaos. Thankfully, my husband's family has been wonderful. Our friend's have been amazing. Our ward has been amazing. We feel loved and supported by more people than we could have hoped for.

With one exception.

I emailed the people I grew up with...my siblings. We are all close in age, all four of us. After first learning of this, I emailed to tell them what I know. Things have been strained for the last several years. I have been excluded from many things. Not get-togethers, but information. Important information about the family. Everyone else seemed to know for a while by the time I was told anything. They don't call me, and they never ask how things are going. I tried for a long time to bridge the gap, but it only proved to show me exactly how big the gap really is.

So I considered not telling them, but I decided that would be unfair. I thought, "It is their nephew; of course they will care." I thought I would give them a chance to show that they actually do care about my family. I thought not telling them would be selfish. Wouldn't they want to know about their nephew's life? I could hear them calling me selfish for not telling them. I could hear the yelling..."How could you not tell us about something so big with our nephew?"

So I told them.

I emailed them. I emailed everyone who does not live within 10 miles of me because I just can't talk about it without sobbing. It takes everything I have to not sob in front of my children, so there is no way I could make all the calls saying the same thing over and over again. An email was efficient. I apologized for the email and explained that I just could not re-tell it twelve different times. I told them they could call and talk to me and talk to my son. (Incidentally, I called my parents first and emailed my siblings as soon as I hung up. My parents reacted the way grandparents should. With support. With fear. Even with love---also surprising, but for another post.

But what did I get from my siblings? A one line email from each of them, saying something along the lines of "poor thing". THIS IS NOT A POOR THING MOMENT!

This is a pick-up-the-damn-phone-and-call-your-sister-and-nephew moment.

But I didn't get that. I got equivalent to nothing. Nothing at all. That was weeks ago, and still I have received nothing. Not an email. Not a text. Not a phone call. My son has received nothing. Not an email. Not a text. Not a phone call. Nothing. He wonders where they are. Other people have called. Sent cards. Added prayers to ours.

So I am walking away. I am tired of being the selfish one without reason or justification. I have lived my whole life with them telling me that I am selfish. It was never selfish. It was always self-preservation, from the abuse that I endured from my earliest memory.

This is not the first time this something like this has happened, but it will be the last. This time I am going to be selfish. I am thinking of my children. My own well being.  Being a part of the poison that is my "family" is just too much. Too much strain on my family. So, I am walking away. I don't understand why this all happened the way it did, but I do understand that I can't do this anymore. I have to take care of my son, my children, my husband, my family.

Piercings and Tattoos (and some commentary)

There has been a lot of talk on the internet on this subject, so I thought I would take a stab.

Tattoos first; I don't have any. That is not to say I have never wanted one. When I was 20 I really wanted a daisy on my ankle, or maybe on my hip. The problem? I HATE needles, and the thoughts of a needle with INK being stuck in my body thousands of time to produce a drawing was just not appealing to me. I love daisies but not that much. I also struggled with the idea of having something from my early 20s a permanent part of my body when I turn 80. I can't imagine it would look pretty 60 years later. So, no tattoos for me.

Piercings: I have my ears pierced the standard once in each ear. When I was 15, I pierced just my left ear. That stayed until I turned 18 and went to a school (not a church school) where only one piercing was allowed. When I turned 20, instead of getting the aforementioned tattoo, I pierced both ears a second time. They are still pierced. I took the second piercing out when I was YW President (lest I lead the girls astray with the extra holes in my ears), but put them back in a month after I was released. Earlier this year, I took them out again. I will probably put them back in again. I like my double ear piercings. I really do, and I do not think that a suggestion from a prophet equals a commandment. It is not doctrinal, and with this I struggle.

Earlier this year, I wrote this post about removing my second piercing. I still feel the peace that I felt then, but now I am not sure that a second piercing for me is rebellious.  Does a second piercing make me unworthy? No, it doesn't. Does it make me immodest? No, it doesn't.

Now, a friend of mine will ask if a faithful LDS person cannot follow the suggestion of a prophet, will she follow the doctrine of the Church? This is an interesting question, and, at first, I liked it. However, I think it is too simplistic  a view.  I go to the Temple. I honor my covenants. I go to church. I pay a full tithe. I obey the Word of Wisdom. I am active in the Gospel (not just the church). I honor I body and my soul.  And a second piercing in my ears does not take away from that. A piercing in my nose (which I don't have, but I do know several wonderful people who do) does not make me unrighteous. To me, there is little difference between one piercing and two. They are both vain decorations. It is not part of my culture to pierce my ears. I did it because I wanted pretty and shiny things adorning my ears. I am not putting my second piercings back in, but this post just has me thinking about the perceived meaning of two ear piercings versus the actual meaning of the piercings.

Three Personal Traits that I am Proud of

1. Faith. I am a woman of faith. I accept that there are things that I do not understand. That is not to say that I do not try to understand everything I can, but I know that everything happens for a reason. I live my life based on this faith. I think, I question, but in the end, I live my life based on my faith.

2. Accepting. I am incredibly accepting of all people, regardless of who they are, what they do, or anything else. I know that every person I meet is a child of God. A child that God loves. I try to live every day with this in mind. My students tell me that they know that my classroom is a place without judgement. Where they can come and be. That I will accept them regardless of their past or their present. That I will listen to whatever struggles they have and not judge. That I accept each of them for what they are. I truly believe that each person is more than his/her actions, and I accept that about every person I meet. I love that my students know this. I love that my friends know this. Jesus said, "As I have loved you, love one another." I always remember this and remember that Jesus accepted and loved every single person he came in contact with. He never turned away from anyone. I try to live my life as He did.

3. Intelligent. I have a thirst for knowledge. In my Patriarchal Blessing, it talks about my intelligence and my love of learning. I love the words in that blessing because it truly showed me that Heavenly Father knows who I am. I did not know the Patriarch prior to walking into his home, but the words which he pronounced upon me were me. They were Heavenly Father telling me that He knows me and loves me. I have always loved learning; school is something that always came easy for me. I worked hard, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. I still want to learn everything I can. In the 130th section of the Doctrine and Covenants it states, "Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection. And if a person gains more knowledge and intelligence in this life through his diligence and obedience than another, he will have so much the advantage in the world to come. There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated." I love this scripture so much, and it is another thing by which I live my life.

Here is the thing about these traits; often times people in my ward do not think they should go hand in hand. Take, for example, Faith and Intelligence. I cannot count how many times that I have heard that I need to put my educational aspirations aside and "focus" on my family. I focus on my family just fine. My children are proud of the fact that their mother is intelligent. I can not only help them with their homework (regardless of the subject), but I can also hold an intelligent conversation with them. My children are both naturally intelligent, and they are fortunate and blessed to have two parents who are not only intelligent, but that can help to develop the their intelligence!

Because of my desire for knowledge and education, I have student loans. They are just a part of my life. After we had children, I could not be the fulltimestayathomemom that everyone expected because I needed to work to make my loan student loan payment. I worked around 20 hours a week. My husband had a weird work schedule, so it worked out that when I was working, he was home with the boys. My boys were never in daycare (we could not afford it.) Well, several friends commented to me, "Isn't it funny how you spent all that money and went into debt to get your degree, but if you would have not gone to college, you wouldn't have to work now?" I was livid. I responded, "Yes, that may be true; however, I then I would not have a college degree." My intelligence is important to me. My education is important to me. It is a part of who I am, just like my faith.

Life happens when you least expect it. (This is not a part of the 31 day blog challenge)

I posted a while ago about something being wrong with my son. Even though I knew it was not life-threatening, I was heartbroken and worried. I have been meaning to post an update about it, but I just have not had time. And then something happened to change my perspective.

My son is fine. After many conversations with doctors, we learned that what we feared is highly unlikely. There is still more "watching" to be done (as with any potential neurological issue), but things have gotten so much better with him. The things which scared us in December have all but disappeared. New things have emerged, but doctors have assured us that comes with his age. So, as for my oldest, we wait, we watch, and we pray. But, he is happy. He is not worried. He is fine.

We found peace with my oldest just in time to find fear with my youngest. My youngest is sick. He has been under a doctor's watchful eye for the last month. It has been both a blessing and a curse. It helped us to realize that nothing is wrong with our oldest. It is something that will get better with time. My youngest, however, will need to be monitored and checked for the next year (at least). Doctors are confident they can fix what is making him sick. I believe in them. I know that prayer and fasting work. I also know that everything happens for a reason.

I am so grateful for the Gospel in my life. I am grateful for my testimony of the Savior. I am grateful that my family is an eternal family. I am grateful for the Plan of Salvation. I am grateful for my faith.

I didn't forget about you...

I know…it has been way too long. The end of the year was absolutely crazy, both personally and professionally.

The good news is that school is out for the summer and that things are finally starting to calm down. I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say that I have felt so many wonderful blessings in the last month. I finally feel as though my ward is a true ward family. We had some family difficulties as of late, and the ward stepped in to help in so many ways. There was not much they could do to help, but they fasted and prayed for our little family. I truly felt their prayers and was so grateful for their support.

Another bit of good news…the pesky entitled seniors from my ward that have driven me batty for the last two years FINALLY graduated! Whoohoo! They are gone. Things ended on a nice note for everyone. There did not appear to be any animosity at the end of the year. They are out of my classroom and off to college. Again, Whoohoo!

I have decided to do a 30 day blog challenge on this blog. We will see how it goes. I will start tomorrow.

A few things that I also want to write about this summer:

1. Gratitude
2. Am I a feminist? Sometimes I think HECK YES! And other times I think not.
3. Forgiving (and forgetting)
4. I am teaching Relief Society, and I have decided to post about my lessons.

I will be back tomorrow!

Update: There is just too much going on in my life with my children and family. I will have to postpone the blog challenge. Sorry.

Vindication

Last year I had trouble with several LDS students. These teenagers are the kids that people at church want their sons and daughters to grow up to be; however, I know a very different set of teenagers at school. Don't get me wrong, they are still the same polite, "modestly" dressed, faithful Mormons at school, but there has always been something manipulative, judgemental, and entitled about they way they behave at school that people at church do not see.

I was actually pretty close to these students when I was YW President and several of them were in my class. It was in my class that I noticed that these kids are not exactly what they appeared to be. I had several run-ins with these students over integrity, honesty, and character issues. They would get mad if they got a bad grade, they would not turn in assignments, and they would blame me for both. I won't go into details, but, needless to day, I became very saddened by the fact that the students I thought I knew never really existed. They placed a careful facade over their true selves, and under pressure those facade's began to fade. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that they did anything huge to make me think this way. It was the small things. (Okay, there were some HUGE entitlement issues with these kids).But it was the subtle manipulations of things around them that really got me watching them. And boy, what I saw was HUGE! But, I did not talk about these things with anyone but another teacher. She noticed them, too, but we thought we were the only ones.

For the longest time I thought she and I would be the only ones to see this behavior, but yesterday I learned that we are not. THE WHOLE SCHOOL SEES THEM FOR WHAT THEY ARE! In a meeting about academic awards, one teacher mentioned these students as nominees, and to my surprise, almost every teacher that has taught them, said "no" for one reason or another. The responses were all similar...character, integrity, honesty. I was shocked, but I felt so vindicated. Their carefully constructed facade was not a facade at all.

I feel bad to say that I am happy in this fact, but it is not that I am happy, it is that I feel vindicated. People at church would always ask why I was not a fan of these students, and I always avoided the question (for many reasons). People would go on about how these students are excellent examples of "the youth of today" and that it must be so wonderful to have such "honest and Mormon" kids in my class. To that I always stated, that I have many students, and many non-LDS students, who have more integrity, class, and character than many LDS students...that usually ended the conversation pretty quickly.

I am sad for what this might make students think about LDS in our community, but grateful to know that I am not the only person who was not fooled by these students.

So here goes...

Dear Readers: This was difficult to write, so please read this with that in mind.

So here goes...

Last year I won a national teaching award. I told hardly a soul. My husband, children, my parents (that took a while to tell them) and two sisters. Why didn't I tell everyone? I probably should have shouted in from the rooftops, but I truly thought that it would be a bad thing to brag about myself in such a way. So, my national award went mostly unnoticed by my family, friends, and community. Of course, the school new, but I asked my administrators not to make a big deal out of it.


Thanks to Lisa at FMH I am going to do the "unthinkable." I am going to brag about myself. This is not an easy thing to do, but I like challenges. 


So. Here. Goes.

I am the first person EVER in the entire history of my family to graduate from college. I am the first person (my husband is the second) to graduate from Graduate school. With Honors.

I am intelligent, and I love that I am. It is something that I am extremely proud of. I love learning everything I can and have a wonderful ability to absorb and remember what I learn. I have a ridiculous memory that allows me to memorize anything that I care about...from birthdays of every family member (extended included) and all of my friends to entire passages from books that I love. Even calculus formulas that I haven't used in years.

I am a good teacher. Yesterday a student told me that I am an "usually good teacher." Confused, I asked her to explain. She said there are some teachers who teach really well and students learn in his/her class, but those teachers are not usually fun and personable. They are strict. She said that kids learn a lot in my class but that I am not "strict" in the same sense. I laugh and smile, a lot. I interact with my students as human beings. She said that I am strict in my classroom standards, but I am also a really fun and personable teacher. She said that she learns more from me in my class than any other teacher but that my class is fun. I love that. Teaching is second nature to me, and I truly believe it is what I was born to do. I have created an environment in my classroom where students come to learn. It is also an environment where students feel safe. Other students agreed with this one student and another offered that he always knows that my classroom is a place where he can come to feel better, to celebrate when something good happens, to laugh when something funny happens, and to talk (and even cry) when something bad happens. This is something that I take great pride in and the fact that my student's test scores and success rates are high adds to my pride in this. I am a good teacher.

I read more books than anyone that I know. I read everything from Nabokov to Susanne Collins. And I read fast and still comprehend everything I read.

I am good at almost anything that I try. (I hate not being good at things, so whenever I try something, I go full throttle.) When I am not good at something, I do not stop until I am, thus, I truly believe that there is nothing that I cannot do. I am confident. Maybe over-confident, but I spend a great deal of effort hiding that fact from people who do not know me well.

I am a good dancer. I love to dance and spent the majority of my childhood and teenage years dancing in some shape or form. Dancing comes easy to me, even as 40 is way too close for comfort. (I still have a few years, but it is there...looming in the distance.)

This is really hard...I know that there are other things that I can brag about, but I cannot think of a single one.

Well, other than I am a good wife and mother. Which I am going to add because I am proud of it. My children are amazing. One particular (and unusual) thing that I take pride in is my children's vocabulary and articulation. They speak like adults. They use words that other children their age do not even know. They have a grasp of language that makes people stop and tell me so. (Of course, my children are also well behaved, polite, and all around good kids, but their language is a quirky thing that makes me smile...a lot. And I take full credit for this fact. :-)

Generation Entitlement

I read an article last week about how children/teens of this generation are going to be called "Generation Entitlement." This struck me as both interesting and sad. It also struck me as completely true.

The next day I was talking to a couple of students about the dress code at my school. Of course, they were complaining. One student commented that the principal approached her about her shorts being too short and told her to go to the office. She told me that she walked away from him while he was talking to her. (Now, I don't actually believe her because if she had actually walked away from him while he was talking, she would have gotten in some pretty big trouble.)

Other students began chiming in and saying things like "I don't know who they think they are, telling us what we can and can't wear. They don't have the right." In light of the article I just read, I began a discussion with the students about this very issue.

I explained that teachers and other adults do have the right because there are rules that need to be followed, whether at home, at school, at work, or in the grocery store. I explained that there is a standard of behavior that all people need to follow. There is an expectation of common decency. I told them you don't have to like or agree with everyone, but you should treat everyone with some semblance of respect and common courtesy. I said as teenagers in this generation, they seem to think that they have the same rights as adults. I asked how many of them call most adults they know (other than teachers) by their first name. Most students raised their hands. I asked how many use the terms "sir" or "ma'am" when addressing an adult they don't know. Not a single student raised a hand.

They said that people need to earn their respect. I said that while this is generally true, children need to be respectful (polite and courteous) to everyone, especially adults, because if children are not respectful, they will never earn the respect of adults. I reiterated that you don't have to like everyone you meet, but you should be nice to everyone, and when children act as though they are equal to adults, children assume things that are not earned. They overwhelmingly said that they are "entitled" to treat people how they choose and they are "entitled" to behave and do as they choose.

I once again explained, that you earn things in this world; nothing is given to you, and if you expect things to be given to you, you will be in for a rude awakening when you leave home. I said, once again, that they need to be respectful.

Several students agreed with me, but a few said, "I disagree, I don't have to treat anyone with respect if I don't want to."

To which I said, "Case and point. Thank you for proving my point."

Again, very sad. I am grateful that I can at least teach my children to be respectful of everyone.

It Only Took A Year

I think I am finally done rebelling. Not that I was rebelling against the church, but I was rebelling in my own way. After I was released as YW President, I put my piercings back in. Nothing scandalous...just the several multiple ear piercings. Maybe it was a silly childish rebellion, but I put them back in as if to say, "There...I can do what I want and your criticism won't affect me anymore."

After putting the piercings back in, I actually started looking for ways to rebel. I thought about getting a tattoo, but I knew that was something that I would regret. (Also, I hate needles.) I thought about getting my nose pierced or an industrial. I still attended church, I payed my tithing, I went to the Temple. I did everything I was supposed to do, but my heart wasn't in it as much as it should have been.

I was definitely disenchanted. All of the crap that was thrown at me during my time as YW President had a profound effect on me after I was released. I know that I was truly sustained and uplifted during the calling; I faced everything head-on and stood my ground. I prayed and knew that everything I did, every decision I made as YW President was made with the Spirit as my guide, but after I was released I really began to truly feel everything that happened during my calling. I did not want to be around anyone at church other than my family and my two closest friends. I honored my new calling, but did not attend anything else RS related. I was going through the motions, and, while doing so, I was trying to figure out the tiniest methods of rebellion. My piercings being the most visible.

Well, yesterday, something unexpected happened. As I was saying my personal morning prayer, I felt something that I had not felt in a long time. I felt peace in the Gospel. As I was praying, I felt the spirit of rebellion leaving me. Not only did I feel it leave, I felt an understanding of it that I did not have before. I felt forgiveness; I felt the desire to forgive others. For the first time in over a year, I truly wanted to go to church and be a part of it.

I went home yesterday and took the piercings out.

I have a long way to go in the process, but I am finally ready to begin again.

Too Mormon for some, but still not Mormon enough for others

I pride myself on being able to balance family, church, and work. It is not always easy, but I try very hard  not to let the difficulty show. (I do not always succeed, especially in the confines of my own home.)

I pride  myself on being a good example of a Latter Day Saint everywhere I go; however, in the last two weeks I have learned that I am in fact "too Mormon" for some with whom I work and "not Mormon enough" for some of the people with whom I go to church.

Some people I work with feel "intimidated" by my Mormonness. They are uncomfortable that when we go out I don't drink or swear. I don't care if they drink. I don't care if they smoke. I don't care if they swear. I was raised in the company of sailors and Marines. There are few words that make me blush and it takes a lot to make me uncomfortable. I enjoy going out with my non-Mormon friends. We have a great time, but there are several of my work colleagues who just want to me to "relax and have a drink every once in a while." I live quite comfortably in the world and I am quite relaxed.

The other side of the issue is the people at church. They are frustrated (read that to say judgemental) because I am friends with many people who do not share my same values. This is not new to me. However, also in the last couple of weeks, it has come to my attention that several people do not like the choices I allow my students to make. One parent went so far as to say that she did not want her daughter in my class because I allow my students to write about sex, drugs, and "other objectionable" topics, if they choose to. What is most interesting, is that all teachers allow students to choose topics in which to write. Those "other" teachers are fine because they do not share "our" values. Excuse me? Maybe I am incorrect in my assumption, but to me that means that because I am Mormon, I should not allow my students the freedom to choose their own topics??? What??? Am I supposed to limit my students ability to choose because of my personal religious values?

So that leaves me too Mormon for some and not Mormon enough for others. It is a good thing that I am perfectly comfortable with who I am.

Christmas Day, 2011

There is something wrong with my son. We are not sure what it is, and we will take him to the doctor this week. There is a slight chance that it is something life threatening and scary, but that is a really slim chance and, for now, I am not thinking about that possibility. I know everything happens for a reason, and that this challenge, whatever it is, is just part of a larger picture for my son. But knowing that does not change the fact that I am terrified.

More than likely, he has a neurological disorder that is pretty scary in and of itself. Looking back on the last few years, there have been signs, well small symptoms really. However, in the last couple of months the symptoms have slowly manifested themselves in ways that cannot be ignored or attributed to something else. We have talked to him about what is going on (without saying the words "doctors, tests, disorders,"), and he knows that something is not right. He is a trooper and is trying his best.

The words have been in the back of my mind for a few weeks; I have felt the promptings of the Spirit telling me there is something more,  but today at church, as I watched my son pass the Sacrament, the words hit me with full force. I took out my phone and started Googling. This is not something I ever do during Sacrament meeting, let alone while the Sacrament is being passed. But I needed to know. I read through the first few entries and broke down. All the symptoms matched. I checked different sights, and as I did more things matched. I showed my husband, he said he knew. It hit me then...I am not the only one who has felt the promptings. I am not the only one to be terrified. He hugged me and said it will be okay. I started to cry, walked out of the chapel, went to a primary room, and sobbed like I have not sobbed in a long time.

If my feeling is correct, this will not kill him. He will live a "normal" life, but  his life will be far more difficult because of this disorder. I left my phone in the chapel unable to read more. I sorted through the things in my head. I prayed. A lot. I cried for my son. I tried to go back to the chapel, but every time I thought I had control over my emotions, tears started falling again and my hands started shaking.

I am terrified. How do I even begin to discuss this with him? How do I call the doctors and explain what I already know? We decided not to say anything to anyone until we know.  We will tell our son about the doctor, we will tell him that this is not his fault, but that this needs to happen. He will say that he will try harder, and I will hold him and cry and again explain that it is not his fault. There are steps to be taken, a lot of reading to do, tests to be done before we know anything for certain.

I love my husband with all my heart. I cried a lot yesterday. He held me and let me cry. "I know he is your baby," he said. "But, whatever it is, we will handle it together."

And so I wait and struggle to keep this to myself.