On Compliments and Praise

Today I was reminded (a couple of times, actually) of a moment with my home teachers the spring after Paul died. (I think it was spring, I’m not sure really, that “widow-fog” is real for that first two years or so.) I was serving as a chorister in primary, and John and Jake were both primary teachers at the time. They saw I was a having kind of a rough day (more aloof than usual, caught up in my own thoughts, even a little teary) and already had a visit scheduled that afternoon after church. When they came to my little house, they asked how I was. I remember that I replied weakly, “Fine,” and then, after seeing their looks, “I will be fine, I know it. I will be okay, eventually, so I’m really okay now.” Like I was trying to reassure them (as I was constantly doing then to everyone) not to worry about me. And then Jake Wheadon said, “That’s great, and I’m glad you’re fine, but you know, it’d totally be okay if you were NOT fine. You are dealing with something really big and heavy and crappy and if you’re not okay, it wouldn’t make you any less awesome of a person just because you’re struggling. We would still like you and wouldn’t think any less of you because this is hard.” And I promptly broke down in tears--not because of the dark thoughts that had been plaguing me all day in my grief, but because the words he said were words I don’t recall ever hearing before, and words I desperately needed to hear then (and think about often since).

Of course we all know that everyone else is imperfect and blah blah blah but it’s so rare that we acknowledge and embrace so vocally that imperfection. Especially in the church, when we know we are commanded to “be ye perfect.” More than that, though, I have been very blessed throughout my life in a great many things. I’ve been a pretty quick study with a curious mind, have been told my whole life how good I am at this or that, which I know is better than being bullied, belittled, or condescended to. I’ve been asked more times than I can count, “Is there anything you can’t do?” or told how “strong” I’ve been or how “sweet” I am or have been pooh-poohed as simply being “modest” when I try to point out the many things I’m only mediocre or even incredibly bad at. It’s maddening, actually. Even thinking about it makes me shake a little with frustration.

Because however well-intentioned, however rooted in love these comments might have been, all the cumulative effect has been is to make me feel like I MUST be good at everything and stronger and smarter and braver than I really am, and must maintain the illusion that I am holding it all together, because if I don’t then people will think less of me/won’t like me/will be disappointed/whatever. I’m afraid to try things unless I know I’ll be good at them. The truth is, I’ve grown up into an exhausted and scared and frustrated person, especially when people compliment me or deny me the basic right of self-awareness. Because I know the truth about myself, and yes, sometimes I’m hard on myself or can be self-deprecating, but often I’m realistic in my intimate vision of who I really am. And clearly “they” aren’t. And if they did, the idea they unconsciously put out there is that they know me better than I know myself, or that only the people and things of worth are worth talking to/about. So I have two choices: be isolated further by my truth or try to live up to theirs. And it probably sounds ridiculous, and I know it could be so much worse, but sometimes praise is a spirit-killer, too. Sometimes the things we say to encourage the people we love end up doing a lot of damage and make them scared to try. I want to say to them sometimes:

Just let me be human. Let me acknowledge my vulnerabilities and weaknesses in front of you without you (in misguided kindness) trying to contradict me. I’m a little broken, and the faster I see you allowing for that and loving me anyway, the sooner I can let my walls down and the happier we both will be. If I say I’m overweight and trying to work on that, don’t tell me I’m not. I am. It’s only “bad” if you equate weight with worth. Same with prettiness. I know I’m not pretty, and I’m okay with that, because beautiful is not the same thing as worthy. I am terrible at some things, only average at a great many things, and some of my talents I do have to work REALLY hard for, and that’s all okay, isn’t it? Don’t try to make me feel better by invalidating the things I know about myself, because then I stop trusting you with all the other things, too. How about just saying, “I know. But I admire how hard you work at this,” or “I’m glad you can enjoy things you’re not so good at, at least,” or “How great is it that people have their whole lives--eternity even--to grow?” or just “I love you anyway,” and share the “realness” of your own life with me so I know I’m not alone? I’m not saying we excuse sin or indulge self-harm. How about we let each other be a little broken and tell each other, “It’s okay, I’m broken, too, you’re still important to me, I still like you, maybe even a little more now because I see all the things you’re not and that makes the things you ARE all the more remarkable to me.”

*Sigh.* If only.

I promise I will try to be better about this, too. I know our society has us constantly putting our best sides out there for all to see, and hiding anything that isn't Pinterest-perfect. I know, too, in our daily interactions, we try to be kind by ignoring or even outright denying the imperfection of others. When they say their chicken was a little dry, we tell them not to be so hard on themselves, they're great cooks and that it was delicious. When they share that they are struggling with their marriage or children, we reassure them that they are wonderful wives/mothers. We all do it. It's what we are trained and encouraged and expected to do. We are uncomfortable with anything else. But what if it is doing more harm than good? I'm not saying to walk around and point out other people's imperfections or to be unkind. If you know me, you know kindness is one of the MOST IMPORTANT things to me, and calling out other people unnecessarily is neither kind nor productive. I just think true kindness comes from a true understanding and pure love with no expectations and a focus on the other person's comfort instead of our own.

I Can't

Current mood (but at least it's a snow day and I get to revel in poetry and books and art and naps which is just what my soul needed today):

I Can’t

I can't do it anymore.

I can't lie to you and tell you that tests don't matter when

Everything we say and do depends on the score

And we track all the data

And every moment of your life is a test.

You don't get a participation trophy

And people are always watching but rarely helping

And you don't get unlimited time to reach your dreams

And a little stress is good for you

And what you do with the time limit matters

And pretending that it doesn't or that the world will just let you be

Is not what I want for you, either.

I can't have visions of a better world

And daydreams of the future with you and

Hope

That you bring every day with your

Pebbles in your pockets and your

Made-up words,

Your million wonderful questions

And your view of the world as so black and white

But not the people in it...

I can't let myself soar with you because

I am a grown-up

And I know

That most of those longings will never be

And I wonder if it's fair to you to pretend that they will

If we’ll both just be disappointed,

When I'm holding on to the balloons right along with you

But my feet still touch the ground

And I wonder how long I can keep the air pulling upward for you, just for you.

I can't tell you to be brave

But then run and hide from the world when the light goes out

I want you to feel empowered

But if he has a gun then go behind the bookshelf and be very quiet and still

In the dark and don’t cry,

Make sure you stay inside

Where it's safe.

Don't be a bystander,

And stand up to bullies

And make your strong voice echo from the mountaintops when you're a grown-up

And please be powerful and beautiful and smart and good as a grown-up,

Especially good,

But don't let the monsters come and eat you before you get there,

So for now let's just keep this between us

And be a little scared.

Wafraid

I started a creative writing club this year for motivated and talented young writers at my school. They're working weekly on novels, plays, and books of poetry to self-publish in April. I believe in practicing what I preach, in modeling, and in being a lifelong learner, never asking of my students anything I am unwilling to do myself. While I don't have the time to write a novel right now, I do occasionally feel big feelings that regular words just don't express enough, and I feel the urge to write down some poetic(ish) thoughts, so I figured, why not make a book of (rough, unedited, journal-like) poems to self-publish in April alongside the kids? I have three students who are my "editors" and who ask questions/give me feedback. Sometimes these poems can be quite personal and misunderstood by anyone else who reads them, like this one:

On Souls and Soulmates

(a poem for my beloved Paul on the third anniversary of his passing)

The ocean of memory, it ebbs and flows

And we zoom through space

And cells die and are reborn

And my heart keeps pumping

And I learn things about quarks and photons

And shadows

And the whole universe is singing its motion

Yet

You remain fixed in time and space and are impossible,

Impassable.

Ever a guide (though I am constantly

Lost)

I wander in the wilderness, maybe for forty years but I sure hope

Not (sorry).

I blew you three kisses as I left the garden, and

Three times “I love you” was engraved in rings, and

Three times the earth is moved around the sun.

Three times, so…

I guess you really mean it.

***

People reading that on Facebook at the time thought I was paying such a kind tribute to him, but they failed to see the depth of sadness and longing and anger and finality and giving-up-ness I really meant in it all. (That is my gift, I suppose...to wrap the brokenness up in smiley-faced wrapping paper with yellow bows and try to really mean it.)

However, sometimes, the words are QUITE easy to understand and are really just direct and simply put out there into the universe, like this one I absolutely needed to write tonight in the midst of overwhelming emotion over underwhelming and ordinary things:

Wafraid

I feel afraid about 97.2% of the time.

Not terrified, out of my wits, or shaking, but

(according to the thesaurus):

Worried.

Anxious.

Fearful.

Reluctant.

Alarmed.

Intimidated.

Disinclined.

So I guess I’m really “WAFRAID.”

I’m wafraid that words will fail me (though you’d think I’d be used to it by now).

I’m wafraid that I’ve been wrong all along about everything.

I’m wafraid that my best isn’t good enough

In labor,

In leisure,

In likings,

In love,

In life,

In life beyond life.

I’m wafraid that I’m leading others astray, however unintentional the wandering.

I’m wafraid that I’m unwantable and un-stay-put-able.

I’m wafraid that all my broken pieces can’t be put right again, even with gold.

I’m wafraid that I’m getting what I deserve.

I’m wafraid that someone will see...

Me.

Through me.

Past me.

Me as me was.

Me as me wants to be but never will.

Me looking at myself instead of Someone.

I’m wafraid that I’m actually magnificent light.

I’m wafraid that I’ll never learn how to turn it on.

I’m wafraid that that it might burn out too quickly.

I’m wafraid of the power of explosions.

I’m wafraid of a black hole.

I’m wafraid of feeling.

I’m wafraid of a heart past feeling.

I’m wafraid of answers I won’t accept, so I just stopped asking the questions.

I’m afraid that I’m afraid that I’m wafraid.

***

(Sometimes I write happy things, too. :) Stay tuned for more random insights into my soul in the months to come!

*DISCLAIMER: I do not claim to be a great poet, or even a good poet, or even really a poet at all. That's why my book is entitled "Waxing Poetic(ish)". But it's good for me as a means of coping with life, or at least a nice distraction from it, so I'll probably continue for at least a little while longer. Please judge it kindly. I'm wafraid of you, too. :)

BEFORE Beginning Piano Lessons

My vibrant, sassy, sweet-as-can-be niece, as many of you know, has some special needs that make things like coordination a challenge. But she really wants (some days, anyway) to learn how to play the piano, so for her birthday I got her a little keyboard and some beginner piano books as well as offered to give her free lessons. NOTE: I'm NOT AT ALL a professional piano player or teacher. I took lessons for about 3 1/2 years as a teenager and I can accompany my church hymns and choirs but that's about it...but, thankfully, we live in the information age where we can access the collective knowledge of MANY people much more talented and creative than we are and learn/grow/share. ANYWAY. Caida expressed multiple times that she wants to learn piano. HOWEVER, because of her own unique needs (although many with children could probably relate to this), there is a LOT of ground to cover before actually beginning to learn about things like playing a recognizable tune. When she sings, she doesn't exactly have a sense of pitch or tone or beat or rhythms or ANYTHING that would help (but boy does she love it! And that's all that really matters to me anyway.)

Before songs, before dynamics and tempos, before reading music or studying notation flashcards, before SCALES even, there are some basic skills that little or uncoordinated bodies need to have in order for everything else to make sense. We sort of take these things for granted, but you really CAN'T! Especially when teaching a BEFORE BEGINNER about these things, they need to have a sense of what music and pitch even are, and they also have to have the strength and start developing the hand-eye coordination to move individual fingers. When I was 12, I started piano lessons and learned to "warm up" and improve my dexterity through scales, but that doesn't work when the basics for even scales aren't there!

So, for our first lesson, Caida and I mostly put some music note stickers on her keyboard and played some finger games for the first half. (NOTE: a lot of my ideas came from the internet and from the amazing little WunderKeys piano series, including a LOT of what I'm about to share. If you need a "beginning piano" book for little hands, I highly recommend this one--they have a preschool and a primer series, depending on the age of your little.) I bought some super-cheap gloves from Walmart and used a Sharpie to write down numbers on each of the fingers. If you're going to do this and you don't play piano yourself, just a note that you'll want to make sure both thumbs are 1 and both pinkies are 5. It matters, because that's how fingering is written in every beginner piano book as students learn to move their fingers around and tickle those ivories!

The MOST important thing in all of this is that children learn to control individual fingers at will, mostly independent of the ones around them. They need finger strength, dexterity, and hand-eye coordination to be able to even play scales, let alone anything else worthwhile. :) Here are a few ideas I found and that we tried (new to us, so it was rocky at first, but with practice we'll both improve!):

STRETCHY SPIDER:

Have the hand curved/relaxed, fingers touching the surface of a table, palms down. This is your "spider," taking it nice and easy. When you call out a number (or, when they are more advanced, multiple numbers), have them stretch that finger up as high as they can without moving the other fingers around it (*too* much, anyway). Let that spider stretch his/her legs out!

JELLYFISH:
To build some strength in those little fingers, I put an elastic hairband around her fingers and (after showing her a video of jellyfish, because she didn't know what they were!) had her move her hand along like a jellyfish moving. Here's a video of that:

SILLY POEMS:

The Wunderkeys series I mentioned before has several little poems/motion activities for those fingers to play. We didn't get to any of these today (half an hour goes fast!) but...there is some good stuff out there if you're willing to search for it.

DON'T WAKE MR. POINTER:

Place your hand so that your thumb is on middle C and your fingers rest naturally on up through so your pinky is on G. (It's not natural OR comfortable for little hands, by the way...another thing we take for granted as adults!) "Mr. Pointer" is your forefinger, and "he" is sleeping...so your other fingers are tiptoeing around quietly trying not to wake him! You can start by just tapping the key three times with the thumb JUST quietly enough to make a sound, then skipping "Mr. Pointer" and tapping the E 3 times with your middle finger, etc., but that got old after one round for Miss ADD so we started randomizing it--slowly at first, and then faster and faster until we were in giggles and had to move on. :)

We also practiced, ON THE PIANO, just playing two different notes with fingers 1 & 2, then 1-2-3, back and forth, which was surprisingly hard. So we'll have to keep working on that, too.  A LOT. Before we can get to scales, we have to master 1-2-3. :)

There are some other great ideas here and here if you want more finger exercises, but by this point Caida was bored so we moved on to developing a sense of pitch! I made up some cards with little roller coasters on them. The idea is that you follow the roller coaster cart along the track, and as the track goes higher or lower, so should the pitch. I only picked a few of the easier cards for this first lesson, and I did each card 3 times:

(1) I showed her an example of doing this VOCALLY, making my finger follow along the track and getting higher or lower, as shown. (It doesn't matter at which note you start, but it DOES matter that the higher points on the track are at a higher pitch and vice versa.)

(2) I had her do the same thing VOCALLY along with me. If she made a mistake, I did point it out and we tried again, since that's the whole point of this exercise. :)

(3) We did the same thing on the piano. She loved that, because even though she wasn't making any intelligible "music," she was able to translate the concept to an actual keyboard and realize that the higher she went on the piano, the higher the notes sounded!

After a couple of roller coaster cards, I spent about 3 minutes playing two random notes for her and having her tell me (without looking) if the note got higher or lower the second time. Depending on your child, this may be a challenge, but stick with it! Start with a BIG range and then close the gap later on. (This was SUPER HARD for Caida, even when I did notes several octaves apart, so we'll be working on that some more for SURE soon.)

FINALLY, because the whole reason any kid wants to play the piano is to be able to show off to their friends/family, it's important to teach them at least PART of an actual, recognizable song. (Again, depending on the readiness level of your child, that might look very different to each of you. If you don't know where to begin, use whatever book you have or pick one of their favorite songs and Google a "simplified" version, and then teach them a couple of measures each lesson for a month until they have it!) Here is Caida playing part of Mary Had a Little Lamb (with prompts):

Her "homework" was a set of "musical spelling" cards. She had to read the word out loud to her mom first, then "spell it out" on her keyboard. She has to go through the whole stack each day (I didn't give her the super hard-to-read words yet!). This is really too easy with the stickers right on the keyboard, but that's not really the point, right? The point is that she can find specific keys on the piano and to get her a "sneak peek" into learning some notes...eventually. :)

Not bad for our first 30-minute lesson! The crazy but wonderful thing about this is that, eventually, you can do the same handful of warm-ups over and over again, even once you've gotten them to scales and beginning songs. There is SO MUCH to cover with piano for a "before beginner" (posture, hand positions, finger control, tempo and rhythms, notation, etc.) and it can be extremely overwhelming to know where to start, but I feel good about how it went and I look forward to watching Caida learn a lot this year (and for ME to learn a lot right along with her...we'll be playing duets in no time).

If you have a preschooler or child with special needs and you want some great resources to help them, here are some websites I'm using a LOT this year that have games to download and tips to consider (you can use them even if you have no piano experience yourself!):

Color In My Piano (lots of printables, including more finger exercises but also musical concepts)

Colourful Keys (tips for keeping a preschool piano lesson from going off the rails!)

SpinDitty (musical basics, AKA where to start when the WHOLE WIDE WORLD OF MUSIC is out there to explore!)

I won't be sharing every lesson we do, but I'll share some activities we try from time to time, especially as I find or create things that work out really nicely. Also, taking videos that she knows will be seen by the people of the internet is a BIG motivator for Caida, so expect to be seeing lots of her progress vlog-style throughout the year. :)

2018 Theme..."Let in the Light"

I began thinking about my 2018 theme sometime last August. The start of school is a lot like the New Year for me, in that I start having visions and goals of what the future should hold, and impressions about how I want to improve. I felt very strongly that I should have my theme be the same as what will go on our headstone once I can actually afford it--simply, "Called to Serve." I've spent the last 4 1/2 years since my husband's death thinking and feeling very selfishly, mostly out of necessity...but I want to do more for others and to focus on helping relieve their needs instead of my own. Last year's theme was "Go and do," which became something of a battle cry for those moments when I didn't want to go anywhere or do anything, especially that the Lord asked. It helped me stay motivated to chase after my goals, spiritual and temporal, and to focus on obedience a little more.

It worked. Mostly. For a while.

The problem with this and other themes for me is that I have this faith and goodness thing all backwards. I feel like I have to run around "going and doing" and eventually I will find/earn/create this goodness, this Light that I so desperately crave in my life.

But that Light is already there, independent of myself, whether I "go and do" or "stay and sleep." I can't change it, but I CAN let it change me. I realized that, much like the people building the Tower of Babel, I was trying to "earn" my way into heaven (or, heck, even into peace here and now) through good works. While I DEFINITELY believe in the importance of works, and could cite several scriptures and prophets that verify that our actions DO matter, I realized that my intense focus on this had the opposite effect I so desperately desired. It just left me tired--no, exhausted--and feeling inadequate, like if I didn't feel that peace or see the blessings then I just wasn't working hard enough at it. (And sometimes, that is true! Take promptings about self-correction seriously. But it's also a dangerous and proud way to think sometimes...) OR, even worse, that the Lord just didn't love me like He loves so-and-so so I'll never have what they have so WHY EVEN BOTHER spinning my wheels because I'll NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH to get that goodness in me.

General Conference changed everything for me. In two separate addresses, one to the women of the Church and one to the men, speakers spoke of Light. Light is a powerful word. The brightness that chases away the darkness and confusion, that shows the way; the strength that helps us bear heavy burdens...after listening to/reading these talks, I just had this image of the OPPOSITE of everything I had been doing. Of a moment at a beach, or along a trail, or in a garden, where I am STILL and QUIET and my eyes are closed, my face turned toward the sun and I'm just there, letting it warm me, doing nothing but turning to the sunshine and letting it in. I realized that THAT was what I wanted and needed in my life right now. I didn't want to chase after it like a prize to be won, I just wanted to access what was already there waiting for me. Peaceful and still, and then let it warm up the coldness and light up the darkness that I have seen inside of myself so acutely lately until it fills me up and spills over into everything else I do and everyone else I encounter.

There is still a lot to DO to let in this heavenly Light, I realize this. But the focus is different, and the realization that in doing I just have to turn to it, let it in, and then get out of my own way has made a huge difference in how I go about the doing. 

I'm excited to see where this year takes me. And I'm excited to be blogging and journaling again so that you can be a witness along the way. :)

Coming Back

Hello! Remember me? I'm BA-ACK! Lately I keep feeling like I need to start blogging again, which I don't completely understand. Social media has made blogging almost feel obsolete, and I'm supposed to be journaling already, so...I'm not sure why I need to publicly share some thoughts in this particular way again, but we'll see what comes of it. :)

ALSO. If I actually know you for real and you want a Christmas card, please fill out this Google Form so I can have your mailing address and get you a card in the snail mail before 2018!

THANKS!

This is the day I address mothers and non-mothers

Mother's Day is coming up fast.  You all know I love any excuse to party, but this is a rough one for me. So much so that I am actually blogging my thoughts, because they won't leave me alone when I try to get any of the MANY other things done that I really ought to.

To the mothers, meaning those of you who have born or adopted children that you are legally and morally responsible for: This weekend, you will be smothered with hugs and kisses by tiny bodies, or get a breakfast in bed that you can barely stomach down (but by golly, you with your mother heart, you will!), or  phone calls from older children far away, or receive cards and hand print-covered aprons from grandchildren. Some of you will mourn the wayward child or grieve a child who left this earth before you. Some of you will be so caught up in remembering your own mothers (for better or for worse) that, once again, you will fail to take time to celebrate and pamper yourself. Many of you will feel internally censured rather than celebrated, because Mother's Day focuses on the ideal mother and you feel anything but. There are a thousand ways to be happy and a thousand ways to be sad when you're a mother, and I know Mother's Day only amplifies all those feelings at once. I am aware of you, of the dailiness of every gross, sticky little thing you do to further the human race and to do it well. I hope you take the day, or even the afternoon, or an hour, or a moment, to honor yourselves and all you do so selflessly to keep the world going. It is no small thing!

However, as a non-mother, I do have a few requests. There are few days as difficult for me as Mother's Day...this was always the case, but especially once Paul and I tried to have children of our own and couldn't. I have since had some of the most intimate conversations with women from every walk and station of life, and while everyone has different "triggers," there are a few that seem to be universal. I'm not saying this to be defensive, merely to help you be more aware of what your well-meaning words sound like to those of us on the other side. What I'm writing is especially for you LDS women out there, who know just how very ETERNAL and all-encompassing the doctrine of motherhood is for EVERY woman, regardless of marital status or how many children we raise.

(1) Avoid saying--ESPECIALLY FROM THE PULPIT--"I'm so glad Heavenly Father trusts me to have and raise this child." Not only is it doctrinally false, but it is incredibly hurtful to the faithful woman who wants to raise a child and can't. Yes, Heavenly Father entrusts His precious little ones to your care, but that's not saying every child only comes to those He trusts. (So, what, the 16-year-old drug addict down the street pregnant with her second child is more trustworthy than a stable, loving married couple who have been patiently waiting for 12 years?) If the world were perfectly fair, then those who "deserve" to be parents would be, and those who do not deserve to be parents wouldn't. But life isn't fair. You didn't EARN your children. God gave them as a gift to you, not only for your joy but also for your eternal education. He has entrusted them to your care, and will hold you accountable for what you do with your time and energy where children and family are concerned. When I think about some of my closest friends that have struggled with infertility, and I imagine it would be the same for you, I know they are some of the MOST worthy and willing people in the world. Maybe there is something to that. Elder Paul V. Johnson taught,  "At times it may seem that our trials are focused on areas of our lives and parts of our souls with which we seem least able to cope. Since personal growth is an intended outcome of these challenges, it should come as no surprise that the trials can be very personal—almost laser guided to our particular needs or weaknesses. And no one is exempt, especially not Saints striving to do what’s right." Perhaps, then, some women and couples who already possess many of the divine attributes of loving parents don't need to learn those same lessons in the same way, so they are given other challenges and experiences instead. The Lord loves us all equally, and He doesn't withhold anything from us that we need to achieve the full measure of our creation. Not only will those who are worthy and willing have children in the hereafter ("better late than never? Not really what the Lord is going for there...), but He will perform many mighty works through those who have only Him to lean upon.
(2) Along those lines, please know that, while it is true that there are some things you can only learn from raising children of your own, there are other, equally valuable and important things you can only learn through struggling with the loneliness of singlehood for a decade (or two, or three), or through widowhood, or through infertility. Every experience we have is unique, and all truth is of value. When we earnestly seek to learn and grow from whatever blessing or trial we are handed in this life, we learn and become perfected in that one thing. But there are other things. It's one of the reasons God wants us all to work together, to have our hearts knit together in unity and love, to do our visiting teaching, to get involved in our community...we each have something to give, and we each have something to learn. Motherhood is one incredibly important way to grow into our divine nature, and something we should strive for if possible. But it is not salvation (that comes through Christ, not through motherhood on earth), and it is not a status symbol to hold over those who are not mothers. Yes, you probably know some things now that you couldn't even imagine knowing before you were a mom. But that's true of me now, too, with widowhood and infertility. Hopefully we are ALL learning and growing because of our gifts and our trials...that's kind of the point. Please don't assume that your knowledge now is better or more important than what I have to offer.

(3) Avoid saying--ESPECIALLY FROM THE PULPIT--anything along the lines of the quote from Elder Neil L. Anderson's talk (you know the one, quoted from a Christian mommy blogger--"Motherhood is not a hobby, it's a calling...It is not something you do if you can squeeze the time in. It is what God gave you time for"). Okay, it's a fantastic quote that makes you feel (rightfully) the awesomeness of what you do every day, I get it. But you have to consider the audience of both the blog and the conference in which it was stated. It wasn't used to shame those who, whether by virtue of personal revelation or by having a body that doesn't work right, don't have children. It was a reminder to MOTHERS of where your priorities ought to be. It was encouraging those who were struggling down the path of acceptance that their lives would forever be changed in the best of ways, and warning those who put off having children for selfish reasons that there are more important things than money, travel, etc. When you're a mother, this quote resonates for you, affirming the very honorable choice you have made. HOWEVER. When you say this quote from the pulpit or in a relief society lesson--especially on Mother's Day--then those who want to be mothers only feel an ever-deepening ache, and wonder what on earth we are doing here, then? The truth is, mothers, that mothering is what God gave YOU time for. But those for whom motherhood is not in the cards? Maybe God gave them time for something else. Because otherwise, my very existence makes no sense, and I am a waste of space and time. While I don't think you should have to walk on eggshells around the over-insensitive infertile or single women, this quote is probably one of the LEAST favorite quotes of every righteous woman who would love to have her time taken up by little ones.

(4) Avoid trying to comfort the unattached or the infertile with Sheri Dew talks (we've read them all, and also she was a single, childless member, so she is "one of us" and gets to say things to us that you, frankly, can't), lists of the many ways we can still serve children (we are aware and for the most part we are trying, but sometimes it does hurt too much and we need to take care of ourselves), or "at leasts"/"aren't you glad?"s.  One of the most hurtful things you can say to someone who wants a child is "aren't you glad you don't have to deal with (insert random painful, gross, or silly aspect of pregnancy, birth, or childrearing)? Because, the truth is, most of us would cut off our right leg if it meant we got to experience those things firsthand. I am a school teacher, and I have been in primary for 6 years, and I'm a killer aunt and babysitter, and I happen to find a lot of joy and fill a lot of voids that way. But (a) that's just my personality, not everyone finds peace and comfort in surrounding themselves with children, and (b) I know it's not the same as having a little one cry out only for you, as hearing them call you "mommy" and running up for one-of-a-kind hugs.  

What else CAN you say, then, you may be asking? Well, how about, "I love you. I'm thinking of you. You are an awesome woman of great faith and strength. Let's go out to lunch, or even better dessert (and then you have to actually go and talk about something other than your children!)." Those genuinely-stated sentiments are pretty much always a guarantee to making someone's day, mother or not, am I right?

What you do, mothers, is nothing short of miraculous. I'm not belittling any of the marvelous, selfless, difficult, timeless things you do. I hope you enjoy your special day on Sunday and that the people in your life treat you with all the LOVE that you deserve (and all the LOVE you don't!). But I would love it even more if ALL women could avoid the tears and heartache that this day brings and instead feel honored and valued for what they as strong women of faith contribute to their families, communities, and congregations, and if you can do something to lighten the load of another sister--even if it's just holding some of your thoughts in for a day--then why not?

Now, to all the NON-mothers out there, meaning you who want a child but, for any number of reasons, cannot currently hold little ones of your own in your arms: PLEASE KNOW THAT YOUR LIFE IS NOT A CONSOLATION PRIZE. You came to this planet with seeds of deity within you and a very specific mission to fulfill, and you are NOT a waste of time or space to He who created you! You are so incredible to me, and not because you're "surviving" a difficult thing but because you are radiating positivity and goodness and community right smack in the middle of it. I have been so honored to listen to your stories, so touched by your faithfulness, so saddened by your losses and shattered dreams. I have no idea why some bodies work right to reproduce and some do not or why some people find their soulmate at age 19 and others search the world their whole lives and come up short, nor do I know why you, of all amazing people in the world, must personally endure this trial. But there is One who does know. And I want to tell you that the Lord, God, creator of all, knows your name. He not only weeps with you in the bitterness of your grief, but He wants to rejoice in the goodness He has to offer you.  He is not merely withholding some blessings until the next life by chance or vengeance. As I stated above, He has things He wants to give you and teach you here and now, and sometimes that means having children, and sometimes it doesn't. But that doesn't mean you are in ANY WAY less worthy of every good thing He has in store for you, and not just in eternity.  HERE AND NOW.  Maybe you just have other things to learn and do in this life. Certainly you have a work that ONLY YOU can do, and perhaps that mission could not be accomplished if you had a child. SOMEONE needs to be the teachers, the nurses, the engineers, the artists, the architects, and for now, that someone is YOU. I know it's not enough. But please know *YOU* ARE ENOUGH.

Please don't let your heartache over the things you DON'T have overshadow the many gifts that you DO have. Reflect on your blessings, and improve on your strengths. We need you!

Please don't take offense, even when mothers say the wrongest things. Be gracious.  They mean well. Let them mother you a little in the ways they know how.

Please take time to celebrate and pamper yourself a little this weekend, whether anyone else will or not. You may not be as sleep-deprived but I know you are still a different kind of exhausted. Life is hard and it is tiring for everyone. So enjoy a day to celebrate YOU and the contribution you are already making to the world.

Today is the Day It Has Been One Year

I feel like I should share some of my thoughts on my first year of widowhood. They might surprise you. :) The last year has been quite the journey, and if my thoughts can help anyone else who is struggling with a loss, then maybe my good intentions can be found through the sometimes-confusing words.

A year ago today, I thought I'd never be happy again. When all the condolences started rolling in, I felt as though I knew survival would be my endgame and there was nothing more for me than to "wait it out," this thing called pain, and that to "endure to the end" of my burden of days with some dignity was as much as I could hope for. 

FALSE. 

There is so much more to this life, to my being, than just my grief, and there is so much more to you than yours. Don't let it define you! I am, surprisingly, a creature of joy! And I have found tremendous joy even as I have felt tremendous pain. It has been the most pleasant surprise of the year, that my happiness is not contingent on circumstance, but a conscious choice every day to see the good in my life. That we can be so full of contradictions is what makes us interesting, right? Paul exuded happiness every day of his own short 28 3/4 years in this planet, and the 6 years we were together taught me so much about being happy, come what may. It is possible to not just survive widowhood, but to rejoice through it! It doesn't mean you loved him any less. As one who has struggled with serious depression several times in my life, this has been life-changing to discover and incredible to live.

***

A year ago today, I thought that grief would ebb and flow away slowly as time went by, that holidays and anniversaries would be impossibly hard but that every other day things would get a little bit easier. 

FALSE. 

Grief is not a decrescendo. Yes, I was weepier those first few months as I adjusted to this new life, but it's not exactly ebbed and flowed like I had pictured it. The first Christmas without him was hard, but New Year's was very peaceful. I cried a whole random week in April, but our anniversary (which I had taken off from work) turned out to be just fine, me all bored and sitting at home and wishing I hadn't wasted a day off. The truth about grief is that it hits you at random, a drive-by shooting of tears or giggles at sometimes incredibly inconvenient and surprising times, and you just have to roll with it and enjoy your very valid excuse to be a little crazy. Let yourself be sad on the days you're sad, but also let yourself be happy on the days you're happy.  He would expect no less!

***

A year ago today, I thought that, because I had lost the love of my life, I had no one left to love me...or, more accurately, that all the "lesser" love wouldn't be enough to make up for my loss.

FALSE.

I have had love pouring in from the most unexpected places and at the most unexpected times, and it has not only been "enough" but I truly feel "my cup runneth over," in the best way possible. People surprise me every day with their thoughtfulness. I have a huge family nearby that I get to spend a lot of time with, and a handful of close friends who love me no matter what kind of day I'm having, and that has helped me remember that love comes in many forms but it is never "lesser." It's just different. I'm blessed to work with children at school and in my church calling who give me so many reasons to smile and even cry happy tears, whose hugs and high fives fill a void I don't always pay attention to. Coworkers who never even knew him and really didn't even know me at the time have been a tremendous support, and countless others have just changed me for the better in small, unacknowledged ways. I have also felt God's love for me very truly and deeply, and that has been a transformative experience all on its own. Yes, it is a loss, and it is sad and hard and different. But! Love is everywhere, you just have to accept it into your life from the many, many people aching to give it.

***

A year ago today, I thought I knew what it meant to be gracious.

FALSE.

People sometimes say the worst and very "wrongest" things, but with good intentions.
Love them anyway.
People who never spoke to you before will suddenly try, inexplicably, to "cash in" on your friendship. You'll get invited to a "sympathy" dinner once, and then will be forgotten.
Love them anyway.
People who used to be your friends will suddenly no longer have anything to say to you, and you will not be invited to get-togethers and birthday parties.
Love them anyway.
Life will go on for everyone else, while a part of you will always be stuck in a very tragic moment in time. There will be weddings, babies, new jobs and homes and joys for others, and you will feel robbed of those things (and more) on some days.
Love them anyway.
Being gracious is a lifelong process of becoming, and I am still learning a lot about it myself, but compared to a year ago, I have definitely improved in my ability to be gracious to others who mean well, and I know that it is a HUGE part of finding that peace and happiness and healing that anyone with a loss searches so desperately for.

***

A year ago today, I thought I knew God.

FALSE.

But God knows me. And that has become enough. Coming to know God is a lifelong process, too, but it's worth it on the days when I can catch even the slightest glimpse of how He sees me, and how I should see those around me.  It's worth it on the days when I can see God in the faces of my friends, family, and even strangers I happen across on the street. I have learned more this year about the love of God, of His patience, of His compassion, of His mercy, and of His plans for each one of us, than I ever could have anticipated. I am humbled to think of the one short shot we get at this life, and what I believe He intends for us to do with it.

Leave the world better than you found it, and enjoy the journey!

Time Out For Women (TOFW) 2014

I love going to this yearly conference just for women of faith. (I was about to write women of "my" faith, meaning of the LDS/Mormon variety, but truthfully it is just for any disciple of Christ who wants to draw nearer to Him.) I always come away feeling so inspired, both to morph myself more into the person I want to be and yet still learn to love myself more as I already am. 

Here's me and my travel buddy, Dawn:

(Please forgive my crazy eyes...cute tote bags have a strange effect on me, apparently. :)

It was also the quintessential spring afternoon, so we walked around Covington and enjoyed the city's architecture and the beautiful view of downtown Cincinnati across the river:

This cute lil' church reminds me of a castle!

Stalking wedding photos of strangers, 'cause that's how we roll. Seriously though, the bridge, the blue street lamps, and the"Easter Egg Building"...gotta love it!

Also, another highlight, seeing the ridiculously talented Jenny Oaks Baker perform for the third year in a row:

I also started one of my new books when I had down time:

And ran into this lady, one of the neatest ladies ever and one of my leaders and saving angels during my growing-up years:

God is tender.

The REAL highlight, of course, is the inspiration that comes through all these talks. I always come away with that "one talk that was written just for me," bit this year I felt like they ALL were.

The theme was "inevitable light," which warrants some pondering when you have a moment. But it centered around the scripture of 1 Timothy 4:14-15:

"Neglect not the gift that is in thee...Meditate upon these things; give thyself wholly to them." 

What are YOUR gifts? How can you use them to build up God's Kingdom, to share the light that His love and goodness will inevitably bring? What is your dream? What is your mission? What are the greatest desires of your heart? And what's holding you back? These are the questions we tried to answer. Or tried to START to answer. :)

Many of the things that would be most meaningful to share are also personal enough I don't think I will here and now. And I'm too lazy, frankly, to summarize or copy ALL my notes like I did last year. :) But I invite you to ponder those same questions above and seek answers. Also, be brave enough to accept those answers and act on them. Miracles happen when we do this.

And, because I want to keep these somewhere for you, here are just SOME of the quotes and thoughts that resonated with me this weekend:

Speaking of the parable of the ten virgins and the necessity to seek out oil for ourselves, and then of visiting her oldest son's grave, Heidi S. Swinson said of her grief, "Out of my heart, into my lamp was poured out light, that I could see further." I get this. So much. And it is so much more beautifully put than anything I've come up with in the last 8 months to describe that experience.

From Jenny Oaks Baker, speaking of the desire to use her talents to save the world:

"If you can't do visiting teaching, why would The Lord trust you with the whole world?"

From Elaine Dalton:

"You are not an ordinary woman...none of us has the same divine mission, but all of our parts matter because all of US matter." Also, when you doubt yourself, remember: "We fought a war, and we won! We won!" We were "prepared and reserved" for a divinely personal mission in this life, but Satan distracts, delays, and disqualifies us." We must not let him!

From Whitney Johnson:

"Date your dreams." "Start with what makes you feel strong." "Dreaming is about showing up."

From Chris Williams:

"Let it go." :) The Spirit speaks to things as they really are and as they really will be; that truth is necessary to cultivate and find especially in the midst of trials.

(His talk was a very moving one for me this time around.)

Laurel C. Day (my favorite!):

"God gives us the desires of our heart. Not that He grants us the things our heart desires, but that He can give us the desires to put in our hearts." Align your desires to His, and "make it enough."

From Wendy Ulrich:

"Turn futile hopes into fertile hopes." Stop wasting time and spiritual/emotional energy on false hopes (including undoing the past ["Forgiveness means giving up all hope of ever having a better past"], preventing trouble in the future ["of all of the many names of God, He is never called the Preventer!"], certainty in an uncertain world [for if we had a sure knowledge, what need would we have of faith?], and control (agency matters!). 

From Emily Watts: 

"Remember WHY you're doing what you're doing." "Work toward making 'yes' your default response." "Even in a world of darkness, God's covenant children have light. It is, in fact, inevitable."

I felt so inspired to make changes in my life, to dare to dream a little higher, to live up to the privilege of being a daughter of God, and to stay close to Paul by remembering and emulating him. The music itself was incredibly moving, too. I relearned from Hilary Weeks to "let my dreams be bigger than my fears" and that it's also okay to cry and that in the often-quoted scripture about "mourning with those that mourn and comforting those that stand in need of comfort," mourning is important and it comes first. 

It was a very edifying weekend, and I wish it weren't over!

This is what I do with my spare time.

I learned how to do the chevron stitch, and I'm a little obsessed.

I also have taken to naming my crocheted blankets this winter. 

This one is Vanurt...named for the parents of the baby I made it for:

This one is Heaven (because of the sky colors and the feeling of floating on a cloud):

This is She-Who-Is-Alone (named after the character is dePaola's "Legend of the Bluebonnet"):

And this is the one I just finished for some friends...Neopolitan.

Not a bad way to unwind each night. :)