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.

Friendship

I have not written in a while because I have been crazy busy. I love my family, and I love my job. I love the Gospel. Things in my life are actually going quite well. I have re-prioritized some things in my life, and in so doing, I eliminated some unneccessary stress.

My wonderful children are amazing. I love watching them grow and learn. My oldest is about to edge me out in the height division, and my youngest is hot on his trail! It is a good feeling to know that I will soon be the smallest person in my house. That knowledge makes me smile. My husband loves me and tells me so each and every moment he gets. He is my strength. He is patient and kind. He is my example of Christ-like love.

I had the best visit from two dear friends in the last month. One in LDS and the other is not. Not that it makes a difference, but I just thought I would share. I look at my close friends and I am grateful that I have a few really close friends. Friends with whom I would love to spend a girl's weekend. The problem is that my closest friends are not friends with each other. Several do not even know each other. I am lucky enough to have met several women during the course of my life who I love and cherish. Each is unique and each came at a different time in my life.

There is BFF#1 who I met several decades ago as young children thrown into a world we didn't understand. We grew up together, and she is my closest and dearest friend. We have history. We have common ground. We are opposite of each other in many ways, but she is the one person I can talk to about anything, from parenthood to politics and religion. She kicks my butt when it needs to be kicked, but she loves me more than any other friend ever has and ever will. She lives too far away, but if she lived close...oh, how happy I would be! She is more than a best friend. There are no words for what she is to me.

There is BFF #2 who I met over one decade ago. We passed by each other so many times, but we always knew we were best friends. We are so similar. We laugh at the same things. She lives close. We go to movies, to dinner, to Starbucks and Baskin Robbins. We hang out each week. We share books. We get frustrated with each other and continue on. I can talk to her about anything too, but it is different than BFF#1. She is my sister in the Gospel and my best friend every day.

There is BF#3 who I met in my childhood. She is the constant cheerleader. The one who I cried to about boys before I met my husband. The one whose life has never been easy, but the one who is constantly worried about everyone else. She lives closer than she has in over 20 years, but it is still not close enough to see on a regular basis.

There is BF#4 who I also met almost a decade ago. We share a passion for books. We are so different, but we are kindred spirits as mothers, as wives, as women. She moved away years ago, but every time she comes to visit, we talk for hours.

These are four of the "girls in my circle". I am blessed to have each one of them. I have talked to each of them about going away for a "girl's weekend" and each to a different place. A place that fits me and fits them. From Catalina Island, to New York City, to Santa Fe, to Aspen, to Naples. Now, I just have to decide where to go first and with whom to go with!

I am blessed.

Time Out for Women

This is the second time I have attended Time Out For Women. It is a two day event with inspirational speakers, music, and sisterhood. I was excited when I bought my tickets, but as the event approached, I started to feel dread.

I am not sure why. I had an amazing time the last time I went. I was going with two amazing women who I am lucky enough to call close friends. This was an opportunity for me to be with other women who share my faith. Why would I dread this?

I go back and forth in my struggle at church. Not in the Gospel. I love the Gospel. I know the Gospel is true. I have been struggling with the people. Well, at least that is what I thought.

This week, I learned that I was struggling with me.

I was teaching a novel in one of my classes this week, and it hit me. I have been having a "mini" crisis of faith, and I was pulling away from the thing that could help me the most. As I was teaching this novel, it hit me, and I said to my class, "Which is the best way to get through such a crisis? Do you draw closer and truly try to understand what you are struggling or do you turn your back and walk away?" The answer was obvious to both my students and to me, but in that moment of dissecting a literary work, I realized that walking away was exactly what I was doing. I was not turning my back on the Gospel, but I was turning my back on the people in the Gospel.  Pulling away from the people in the church gave an opening to the adversary to place doubt in my head and in my heart.

So, with renewed excitement I went to TOFW. I listened to the women speak from the heart. I felt the Lord bless me in my own testimony. I did not connect to all of the speakers, but there were two who I felt were talking directly to me. I needed their words. I needed to feel their message.

Then, something even more amazing happened. In the middle of Merrilee Boyack's presentation, the power went out. Not just a flicker, but a full on black-out. How grateful I am for Sister Boyack's optimism. She walked to the center of the room and continued her presentation. It was amazing.

When she was finished, Hilary Weeks took to the piano and sang "I Know that My Redeemer Lives". It was the most beautiful rendition of my favorite hymn. There in the dark, the piano filled the hall and the Spirit filled my soul. I wept.

The room remained dark as the final speaker of the day, Emily Freeman, took the stage. The event was going to be cut short, and Sister Freeman was only going to bear her testimony. In the middle of her testimony, the lights came back. She started from the beginning. I know that I am not the only one who prayed for the lights to come back on to hear this amazing presentation. I needed to hear what she had to say.

At the end of the day, I felt the Spirit stronger than I have in a long time. I am so grateful for the events of this week that led me to TOFW.

Sorting out thoughts

Recently in RS we were discussing the law of chastity. I admire the woman who taught this lesson as it is not an easy lesson to teach. She was completely up front at the beginning of her lesson and explained that this lesson can be tough, so she is going to grow straight out of the manual. I don't blame her. This is a touchy lesson.

She began. A discussion ensued. It was actually a good discussion...at first. We started talking about how to teach our children. That was when the discussion went straight to modesty. I understand the correlation between modesty and chastity; however, there are more pressing issues to focus on when discussing chastity and teaching it to our children. (For example: Why don't we talk about how to teach our children that just because something feels good, doesn't mean that it is good. Let's talk about how to teach our children to differentiate between lust and love.)

I digress...several women jumped on the modesty=chastity issue. With vengeance. All of the women in RS today have been through the Temple. They are all active and have temple recommends. (This rarely happens in RS which is why I noticed it.)

Modesty is not something that this group of women really need to discuss, but that did not stop several sisters from casting stones. The conversation started with talking about how little girls should not wear spaghetti straps and that mothers should not allow their daughters to wear such things. (This is where I started to zone out...I don't have daughters, and the modesty of toddlers is not something I worry about.) Then, things changed. One sister actually said that modesty is more than just the clothes a person wears. She said that some women in the ward choose to wear immodest "shoes, jewelry, and hair accessories." She went on to say that when women who are "Temple endowed wear such immodest shoes, jewelry, and hair accessories", she can't help but "wonder what they are looking to get."

Is anyone else confused by this statement? I was literally dumbfounded. Speechless. I could not believe what I was hearing. It caused me to wonder what do modest shoes look like? What exactly is a modest necklace? Yes, there are some shoes (thigh high-patent-leather-read boots, for example) that might cause a stir, but no one in my ward is wearing those to church, or outside of church for that matter. And if a woman does wear these "immodest" shoes, jewelry, and accessories, was this woman actually insinuating that there is something more scandalous going on?

There are many women in my ward who like to wear cute, different, and sassy shoes Each of these women are also the epitome of modest in dress. They are fashionable. They are trendy. They are modest.

Looking back I wish I would have spoken up, but I was just so taken aback by the comment. It makes me sad that the discussion focused so much on modesty instead of emotions. It was a lesson on chastity, not modesty. We all know the importance of teaching modesty to our children; modesty is not confusing. Emotions surrounding chastity can be, especially for teenagers. I was so saddened that the discussion took such a nasty turn as to judging accessories of women in the ward and little girls wearing spaghetti strapped dresses.

It made me wonder, have we really digressed so far that we are casting stones over accessories and toddlers? Very sad.

Progress

I have neglected this blog for a bit, and I do apologize. I have actually had quite a bit to write about; I just have not had the time. School started for both my children and for me, and things just got a little out of hand for a while. In a good way, but still out of hand.

I love my new calling as a Relief Society teacher. I have learned so much about myself, about the Gospel, and about my family. With each lesson that I read, I have a personal experience to go along with the lesson. This has been a great blessing to me.

I don't know much about my mother's family. For reasons that are unknown, my mother refuses to talk about anything. Records are non-existence. Literally. My mother is from a third-world country and the original records for her family were destroyed in a war. This was before computers, so there are actually no records except those that are in my mother's head. Well, that is what I thought.

Let me backtrack. I have always felt a connection to my maternal grandfather. I have had many experiences where I felt him with me. I knew it was him. When I was a child, my mother would have these feelings and she would share them with me. She knew her father was my malaikat pelindung (guardian angel) as she put it. I have known this my entire life.

Recently, I started feeling his presence more. It is undeniable. And, as the lessons in RS focused on ancestors and the Temple, I knew exactly why he has been closer to me as of late. My oldest son turns 12 before the end of the year. I know that my grandfather is ready for his ordinances, and I know that my son is the one who needs do them on his behalf. My son knows this, too. He feels it just as strongly as I do.

But even with the surety of my feelings, problems remained. I know his name. I know he died. That is all. I had nothing else. My mother thinks she knows how old she was when he died, but even that is a guess. Her family lives across the world, and their memory is just as uncertain as hers.

So I was stuck, but as each day passed and each lesson approached, the knowledge that he was waiting pressed upon me. So, I started searching. Random searches. Anything I could find. I followed promptings that led me to initially promising information, but those turned out to be nothing.

Then, last week as I sat at the computer doing another seemingly endless search through scanned documents from my mother's home country, I had a thought. "Call your parents." I don't know why, but I ignored it. I heard it again. "Call your parents." So, I did.

I called my mom. She wasn't there; my heart sank. Then my dad asked what I needed. Reluctantly, I told him that I was completing pedigree charts for my sons and even though it was a long shot, I really wanted to be able to fill in the blanks of my maternal grandparents. We talked for a bit (my dad is kind of fascinated with genealogy), and then he said, "I might be able to help."

Confused, I asked how...the records are gone, mom doesn't remember. He told me he would do some checking and get back to me. I don't know why, but I was hopeful. He said he would call me the next day.

It was afternoon before I could check my phone, and sure enough there was a message from my dad. He said he emailed me and to check my email.

When I opened my email, the message was simple.

"This was tucked under in some of your mom's old paperwork from her country. I hope this helps. Dad."

Beneath this was the full names of both my grandparents and the year of their births and the year my grandfather's death. I wept in gratitude and felt the peace that comes with assurance. I now had the information I needed to do the work that needs to be done. I felt my grandfather's presence stronger than I have in a long time, and I also felt a new presence. I felt my grandmother standing with him ready for her work to be done as well.

So very soon, my family will go to the Temple and do the work that has been long awaited for the family to which I owe my very existence.

"The Standard of Truth has been erected; no unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing; persecutions may rage, mobs may combine, armies may assemble, calumny may defame, but the truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly, and independent, till it has penetrated every continent, visited every clime, swept every country, and sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished, and the Great Jehovah shall say the work is done"