Becoming Something

A letter I got after my "Bear My Burden?" post.

So, I prayed before posting this. I felt peace. But that wasn't enough for me. I wanted more info. I asked if anything bad would happen. In response, I heard words in my head that some bad and some good would happen and how I handled it would decide if it was worth it or not. I asked Jude and he said that I should post it.

Shortly after posting, something bad happened that got worked out.

And then on the same day, I got this letter, below. AND Jude Law appeared on SNL. Coincidence? I think not. Blessings all around. (His opening monologue was SO good.)

I have frequently felt that talking about this issue is something I should do because there are people who can be helped by my ability to be fairly open and to not care too much about what people think. (Of course, there will always be things I won't talk about to protect my family's privacy.)

But I wrote about this because I wanted people to understand that homosexuality isn't all about sex and the challenge to live with it is not even all about avoiding relationships. I certainly can't avoid all female friendships and I don't like the distance I have to keep in order to not develop feelings for straight friends. It's a much bigger issue than simply choosing behaviours.

I wanted people to have a glimpse into the real feelings and pain that people feel. I wanted to inspire compassion for me, yes, but also some other Mormons who have same sex attractions/longings.

This email, from someone I hope is a new friend, made me cry. I've changed some details to protect her privacy. Also, sorry about the Mormon lingo, all you non-Mormons.

Dear Natasha,

I would be honored to help bear your burden; you have already helped me bear mine. That's what sisters in Zion are for, and though we are strangers, you are also my dear sister, and I am sorry that you hurt. I will keep you in my prayers.

I discovered your blog not long ago; I don't remember what lead me there, but I'm pretty sure it must have been divine inspiration. I read through your experiences with depression, and they are so similar to my own. I know those feelings. It was a comfort to know that someone else understands, and understands them from an LDS gospel perspective. And then, just a few months ago, my husband and I went through an upheaval in our marriage of 14 years as a result of his same-sex attraction. Nothing happened, but I think it came close. It shook a lot of things loose that we're still putting aright. He's had to consider issues he's been trying NOT to deal with his whole life.

I had a very hard time not feeling it was a rejection of me, or that he was using me to cover up who he really was. But I happened to visit your blog and read what you'd written about your own same-sex attraction, and it helped me understand, so much more clearly, what a challenge it must be. Even more, it helped me *calm down*. 

I know this is one of the most difficult challenges of mortality that our Heavenly Father has given his children.

As my husband and I talked, and as I pondered what you had written, I realized that it doesn't matter if my husband is attracted to other people, male or female or both; what matters is that he's made a promise to me and to the Lord that we will work together to build a family in the Lord's way. And I suspect that those who do this while having to reign in attractions that the rest of the world is encouraging them to express, will be blessed in abundance. And I know that doesn't make things any easier right now. Believe me, I know.

One of the things that has always helped me get through my worst depressions is remembering that Christ has experienced, firsthand, everything that we experience.  When he hung on the cross, just before giving up his life, and cried out "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" to me, this shows that he felt the depths of despair: when it's impossible even to feel the presence of the Spirit. I don't believe Heavenly Father turned away from Christ for one second, but it was necessary for Christ to feel *as though he had* so he'd know truly what it felt like to believe he had been forsaken. And I believe he knows, from experience, what it is like to experience homosexual attraction, and to be asked not to express that attraction in his behavior.

I've thought about this a lot. I really do believe he understands this issue from the inside out. I know there are people who would probably see that as some sort of blasphemy; I see it as a remarkable, wonderful thing. Because he understands each of us, and our struggles, perfectly. He knows. He aches for us and with us when we ache, not just from sympathy and love, but from real understanding. I don't know if it helps you to think of that, but it might. Turn your grief and loss and love over to him; he knows how to comfort you. I hope I'm not sounding too preachy or like I think it's easy. I know it's not. I don't know what I would do if I were in your shoes. I've even told my husband that I want him to be happy, and if that means he has to leave the family, then we'll deal with that. I don't want him to leave, but I don't want him to stay and feel he's stifling part of himself, either. It's a hard path to find.

I've been lucky that I have a couple of LDS friends who know me, and whom I could talk with about this, without being judged. But I know what you mean about wishing we could discuss those things that trouble our hearts most closely in church, and get support from our Relief Society sisters without fear of being judged or shunned. The members of the church *should* be able to do this for one another. And maybe it's too much to ask for all of them to be able to handle complicated issues. But I've come to believe that this is one of the blessings of modern technology; we can find those who know how to help us bear our burdens across the miles; around the world. But I hope you can feel me trying to lift you from here.

I hope some of this makes sense; I feel like I'm babbling. But I just wanted to say I'm here, if you ever want to talk; you've already helped me more than I can express through your honest and open writings on your blog. I'm grateful for your words, and hope you will find your way through this grief and back to joy soon. You're in my prayers.

Daily Gratitudes

1. A sunny day.
2. A smidgen of resolution that I can move on.
3. Being able to be a listening ear to another woman in our church ward. Wiping her tear away and seeing that easy, minor act of tenderness made her feel better.
4. Ron rubbing my back (in front of Pam), in an affectionate effort to comfort me, I think, or suggest that he's there for me. That minor act of tenderness meant a huge amount to me and almost had me burst into tears. I so wish that adults could adopt other adults. I'd go to the temple to be sealed to him and Pam. 
5. We finally received our tax refund and the cheque from one of our neighbor's for her portion of the fence.

A poem: Two Distances

There's a whole world in your head, I know.
You lay on your side, your head propped
in your cradled hand, silent
but I hear the traffic
and mingled languages.

I see you from two distances--
one we can touch and climb over and
one we'll always fail to identify
that flits away when we examine it,
as double-vision.

I can spot a world traveler
because I am one.

Absurd article on Meridian.com about the evils of Facebook

Surfing Meridian.com today, I was surprised that they, a mainstream Mormon online magazine, would find this article by JeaNette G. Smith worthy to publish. And apparently, so were many readers who wrote in to complain about the article. A part of Meridian's response to the complaints was,

"Meridian writers are accomplished writers, experts in their field.  We are always awed and amazed by the quality of our content.  These articles are gifts from the writers, born out of diligent study and years of experience."

*choke*

Okay, Meridian, if you say so. "Awed and amazed"? Strong words.

The magazine says they won't publish responses that attack the writer (I'm guessing it wouldn't take much to have them decide the responses are personal attacks). But, since they published this absurd critique, they have sent the message that they will support writers who indignantly attack a large portion of the population and encourage judgmental assumptions. As well as supporting writing that lacks statistics and reasoning that would bolster Ms. Smith's possibly offensive assertion (if one wanted to take it personally).

If Meridian wants to publish vent-y, judgmental, exaggerating opinion pieces, then they should at least drop the guise, when people write in to complain, that the opinion-giver's blather is born of "diligent study and years of experience". They should drop the guise that they're publishing some high-caliber writing. Anyone can write an opinion piece without any references-- that's called blogging. (Although, good blogging is not defined by a lack of research and references, of course.)

Okay, so, I'll take a similar indignant approach. (Because I'm having an angsty life dilemma bad week and I'm transferring my frustration.)

First of all, contrary to Meridian's defensive claim, Ms. Smith is not an expert on Facebook, or sociology, if her listed credentials are any indication. She might be an expert on family therapy but she's not writing about that, is she? Meridian might want to focus on finding experts who are relevant to future articles.

Now, let's take a look at some of Ms. Smith's useless exaggerations:

"Facebook was essential to being part of the “in” crowd, a great way to “dis” the unwanted and to “hook-up” illicitly.  Like the Internet in general, a tool that can be used for tremendous good, can also be used for tremendous bad.

I first became concerned when I noticed Facebook was too often used as a popularity contest.  It was often an arrogant, self-aggrandizing way to keep track of your own fan club.  People post pictures in order to “brag” about how cool their life is, what original things they do with their weekends, what exotic places they go on their vacations.  They want to be admired, perhaps even envied."

(It's humourous that she starts her opinion piece by admitting that Facebook can be used for "tremendous" good, then she spends nearly all of her word count on demonising it, then the one example she gives for how it can "have its functions" is that she couldn't find a book she needed for a book club and when her sister mentioned this on Facebook, within two hours she had located a copy. Balanced commentary, no?) 

I didn't notice "telepathy" listed in her credentials. How does she manage to know the intentions of Facebook users? How does she know that the intention of some photographs is to brag? "They want to be admired, perhaps even envied." (Emphasis added.) So, it's a fact that they want to be admired but she's being so humble as to admit that she doesn't know for sure if they want to be envied as well?

I swear that it has never occurred to me that my Facebook friends are posting photos in order to brag. I define "bragging" as an act of boasting intended to arouse jealousy. I don't assume that my beautiful friends post photos of themselves to brag about their beauty while attributing a more saintly reason to my less-beautiful friends, just because they're less beautiful. Likewise, I don't assume that photos from "exotic" locales are photos intended to brag while photos of camping trips are innocent. I don't assume that because the news or photos that someone wants to share is great, that their intention is not. That would be illogical and unfair. News is news and the perception of that news is the choice of the reader or viewer.

Perhaps my friends do want to be admired for their cake decorating abilities or their motorcycle-fixing abilities but so what? Is there no chance that Ms. Smith wanted to be admired for her opinion piece? Everyone wants to be admired. I am happy to gush over my friends' cake-making abilities. If that's what they need, what's stopping me from giving it, if I love them? Pride? That doesn't seem like a good reason to withhold. If I'm not willing to admire them openly, why are they my friends?

I have one friend who posts gorgeous photos of exotic travels. She also happens to be gorgeous herself, with a pretty great-looking husband, and a terribly cute little boy. I did catch myself envying her once, for her travels and seemingly perfect, creamy skin. I allowed myself all of a few minutes to envy her and I didn't let that envy spur me to assume the worst about her intentions. Why shouldn't she post photos of her travels? I enjoyed looking at them! Why shouldn't she post photo after photo of her gorgeous kid? He's gorgeous! She's proud of him! My gosh, it's not her fault. I'm genuinely happy for her. I haven't seen her in person for many years but I've never known her to be anything but lovely, otherwise, why would I keep her on my friends list?  Certainly not to criticise her. Besides all that, it turns out that she has a terrible case of Crohn's disease and has had to endure some awful operations, and she shared this on Facebook. Should I assume that she shared that just to arouse sympathy and free casseroles? For goodness sake! Maybe people like my friend are trying to focus on the positive in the midst of great struggles. If she only posted negative things, I have a feeling that Ms. Smith would have some colourful interpretation of that, too. Perhaps we should all post one dated profile photo of ourselves, add the most boring and neutral status updates, and never say another word? Or should we keep a white board handy for careful score of our complaints-to-rejoicings ratio?

More fabulous quotes:

"People who post every detail of their life so that 400 fans can ogle them remind me of a small-time celebrity appeasing his fan club.

In contrast, does the person with 400 friends actually visit the pages of all those friends? If he does, I’ll bet you it’s to make comparisons.  He wants to see if any of other 400 friends has as amazing a life, or as hot a girlfriend, or as fancy a car. Too often the life of the Facebook user isn’t inherently satisfying. It’s only satisfying if it is superior to someone else’s life."

People who criticise social media sites like Facebook and Twitter allllways exaggerate about users posting "every detail" of their lives. Very unoriginal choice of words. It's so much more time-consuming to gather specifics and cite examples and if she did so, she might have suffered embarrassment to realise she was really only talking about 10% of users, and that's probably a generous estimate.

And since she's criticising users for having as many as 400 friends, I think it's safe to assume that she does not have this many Facebook friends herself? So, is she summing up Facebook and judging users based on a pool of 100 people? 200? Or does she snoop through the pages of friends of friends to expand her pool to 250? If so, why? What's her reason for analysing the habits of other Facebook users? To judge them, or enjoy them? Why maintain so many friends you think so little of, anyway?

"Too often the life of the Facebook user isn't inherently satisfying." Beautiful, non-scientific, non-revelatory exaggeration. How would she know this? "Too often" my life before Facebook wasn't satisfying either. My life before the internet was even less satisfying. Using her "reasoning", I'm going to blame the absence of the internet for my unsatisfying past life. THANK YOU, AL GORE, FOR INVENTING THE INTERNET. Phewf!

Ms. Smith goes on to say,

"One of my friends was in the habit of accepting anyone who sent a friend-request.  Some of my more voyeuristic clients found ways to stalk me through her Facebook site.  One client would ask me about trips I had taken when I had never even told him that I was traveling.  It was totally creepy."

Perhaps it is here that we get at the real problem behind the problem. Is this really displaced frustration? Is she attacking Facebook because she felt embarrassed when she realised that she didn't know how to use it to make all of her photos and info private to non-friends? Why was it creepy that her client asked her about her trip? Did he close the question by saying, "F-f-f-fava beans"? Isn't it only natural for a client of a therapist to want to know something about the therapist? And maybe the client assumed that since Ms. Smith didn't take advantage of her privacy settings that she didn't mind the whole world knowing about her goings-on. And maybe he was just making conversation.

Use your privacy settings, people. If it's available to look at on Facebook, most people will. Just like how you check out people walking their dogs when you drive down the street; just like how you listen in on conversations near to you in large open settings. Everyone's curiosity gets the best of them from time to time, I'm guessing. (See how I qualified the generalisation with "I'm guessing"?)

"Why does anyone need to keep in touch with 400 people that they hardly ever see, people they would never go out of their way to contact, were it not as easy as it is on Facebook?  ....He probably doesn’t even have their phone number or their snail-mail address. Most of these 400 people the Facebook user would not think of calling to inform of his father’s death, yet they will show up at the funeral because they found out about it on Facebook. Facebook makes all friends equal and therefore no one is truly special."

It's a new generation, Ms. Smith. I know that it's so hard to not judge the rising generation for doing things differently than you did and therefore the wrong way. Personally, I think it's sad that young people don't know how to read handwriting or an analog clock. But if there's no compelling, logical reason to maintain the status quo, if the new way of doing something works just as well if not better, find a bingo hall and commiserate with the people there. In fact, when you suggest that 400 people will show up at a funeral because they learned about it on Facebook, I would say you made my case for me-- Facebook is a more efficient way to accomplish the same thing! If people I don't know very well show up at my father's funeral, I would count that as a lovely example of how Facebook can inspire unity and compassion, since most people don't attend funerals for the barrel of laughs and door prizes.

I think Ms. Smith almost makes a good point when she says,

"If my daughter-in-law emails me photos of my grandbaby I know she wants me, personally, to see those pictures. She is sharing something special to her because I am special to her. It says something about our relationship. If she posts those pictures on Facebook for anyone and everyone to see, I am in no way honored. Does she care about me? Does she care if I celebrate with her? Not anymore than the other 399 people who get to see the photos. It’s possible to discriminate and post photos for only certain people to see, but does anybody?"

I have experienced a similar pang of sadness when one of my closest friends didn't tell me first about some exciting news that I had been privately encouraging her about, but announced it through her Facebook status. But really, it was that she had stopped showing me in other ways that I was special to her that really bothered me. If Ms. Smith's daughter-in-law also sends private messages and phones her, that's how she knows she's special. If she spends her time on Facebook on Ms. Smith's profile, commenting on things Ms. Smith posts, that is another way Ms. Smith could know she's special.

If a loved one uses public Facebook conveniences as her sole link between you and she, I agree, she probably doesn't want to talk to you as much as she does with others, she doesn't want to make time for you, and that sucks. But to say that all friends are equal just because Facebook arranges them so is just stupid. Besides if anyone feels that insecure about their hierarchy, there's an app for that, too!

As for setting up albums so that only certain people can see the photos, yes, people do that. I do that. So do some of my friends.

And I'm not going to email photos to individual people, one-at-a-time. I might do that for the odd person who feels insecure if I don't, if I love them and know that this makes them feel loved, but really, I don't have the desire to make time for 90s technology when I have more sensible technology that doesn't suck my life away. When it works, iPhoto's Facebook uploader is genius, and then lots of loved ones can see our photos, instead of just a few. While Ms. Smith might want me to have a smaller circle of intimates because it makes her feel more special, I like my larger circle because I like them. I see no sense in limiting a circle of intimacy just for the sake of limiting it.

Ms. Smith says that Facebook can "cause tremendous offense". (Emphasis added.) I say that people can opt to take tremendous offense. (Don't make me quote church leaders now.)

She says it can cause offense if you turn down a friend request. Real life can do that too. What about church activities where parents are not allowed to bring their kids? What about baby showers where men are not invited? What about child's birthday parties? To borrow from NRAites: Facebook doesn't offend people, people offend people... (when those people take it personally... when no personal offense may have been intended). (Okay, so I took some license with that.)

Lastly, my favourite part of Ms. Smith's rant is when she discredits her professionalism as a therapist:

"Of even greater concern is the ease of “hooking up” via Facebook.  I was outraged when some of my psychotherapy clients started pursuing romantic relationships with old flames they had become re-acquainted with on Facebook.  I sat dumbfounded across the couch from an LDS mother of five as she described how she was no longer in love with her husband, but passionately in love with a boy she hadn’t seen since 11th grade.  This woman had actually had served a mission and had a strong testimony of the gospel!"

Holy canoli! If I wanted to be judged and cause outrage, why, I'd go to... to... Facebook for that! I didn't have to provide my husband with the appropriate response to this paragraph for him to say it: "It's not a therapist's job to judge. It's their job to help." 

Yes, Facebook makes it easy to get in touch with old flames, but unhappiness is what makes it easy to have an affair with them. People can have an affair with someone they connect with at church, or another parent at the park, or their regular bus driver. Again, it's not Facebook's fault. People need to use prudence on Facebook as well as... every other arena in life. 

And yes, even returned missionaries can make poor choices! Even people with a testimony of the gospel can be desperately unhappy! If the client is voluntarily in therapy, she probably knows she has problems. Why choose outrage over compassion? I'm much more likely to take counsel from someone I feel loves me and feels compassion for my pain, than someone who can't relate and preaches at me. I would think that someone with a career in psychology would be aware of that psychological phenomenon. There's probably a technical name for it. Something like... The Power of Charity.

My favourite sentence from this whole piece sums up the critical thinking:

"It is easy to conclude that adults, particularly married adults, have no business spending time on Facebook."

Hee hee! Well. Haven't we been told? First she criticises Facebook for being a tool for illicit hook-ups, then she takes it away from adults, especially married adults, with the inference being that single youth do have business there. Which is the point that she's trying to emphasise-- that single youth have permission to be tacky and immoral, or that all married people are suspicious because it's not possible for Facebook to be anything but seedy?

Bravo, Meridian. And I didn't even challenge your claim of "accomplished writing" by picking on grammatical errors. That would just seem petty.

Daily Gratitudes

1. Jude was in Edmonton yesterday and went to Planet Organics and ordered a crate of Bottle Green's sparkling elderflower pressé for me, because it always sells out (because it's divine). We don't live close to Edmonton. But when it comes in, he will drive there to get it, his idea. I know, right?
2. The weather is soooo warm and the snow is soooo melting. Whee!
3. Watched Dear John with Sarah last night. Was nice to get out.
4. I still have 21 more days of having a nanny. Anyone want to volunteer to replace her for the next 14 years? *sigh*
5. My physiotheraphy-- IMS, which is when thin wires are put into your muscles and sometimes moved around-- is working a bit. Hurts sometimes like electrocution to my nerves and bones, but it's working.

CMB: The Canadian women's hockey players drinking/smoking "scandal"

Let it first be known that I am Mormon and as such don't drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes or cigars. I don't personally identify with celebration by way of boozing and smoking.

Despite my bias, I think the offense that's being taken over a few players on the Canadian women's hockey team drinking and smoking on the Olympic ice after hours is an overreaction.

The story appears to be dying out in the media, but Facebook friends and acquaintances are still reactionary. One Facebook friend used the words "disgusted" and "stupid".

I'd like to make some quick points:

1. Celebration by boozing is more than just a Canadian past time, it's a worldwide ritual.
2. The players were likely exhausted.
3. They were likely still high on adrenaline.
4. They are young and naturally in a post-win self-absorbed state of mind. 
5. This was their off-time.
6. The arena was near empty. It possibly did not occur to them to analyse the last few people left to see if they appeared to be of the media.
7. I've read no mention of coaches being present or near.

This is an original Canada Moms Blog post and I cannot repost it in full. To continue reading, please click here.

Daily Gratitudes

1. My lovely friend and nanny, Sarah.
2. I applied to college with the intention of completing a 4-year B.A. in English.
3. Jude bought me a new MacBook Pro for college.
4. The weather has been very warm. I'm so anxious for Spring. I am my worst self in February, this year only better because of Sarah's presence.
5. I am getting slimmer and a bit stronger and hopefully healthier.

Pondering addictions and excommunication and salvation *updated*

I am writing this from the local library on a computer whose interface makes me feel like I'm in 1995.  I'm on some proprietary browser and everything is extra-large.  Hi, people-behind-me-who-might-be-reading-everything-I-write.  How are you today? 

For family scripture study this morning, Jude chose a scripture that had something to do with patience.  I'm trying to remember the gist of the scripture as I type within the confines of 1995.

I should be working on my book, 'Becca tells me.  But I need some warm-up time.  I'm not used to this childless freedom and I'm too hyper inside to settle down to purposefulness.  As well, this book on addiction is just something I need to read right now.

* * *

Hey, remember when I mentioned I'm reading a book about addiction?  About that:  Ouch.  What a sad read.  With the people I've known, the stories I've read, the experiences I've had, and the things that Jude goes through in his work, I'm not easy to shock.  But a couple of the stories in this book shocked me.  It's astounding at how destructive people can be whilst aware of and loathing their destructive behaviour.  Or more commonly, people are caught in spells of motion, in disassociated states. 

I already knew that people are prone to addictive behaviours to block out trauma.  However, it's news to me that people also seek out behaviours in order to feel their trauma.  Isn't that interesting? 

In order for recovery from trauma to occur, people need to access their fear and release it.  Unfortunately, while we instinctively seek to be freed from our fear, while a primal part of our consciousness seeks healing, we don't actually know how to achieve our goal.  So we try out different methods:

• alcohol
• drugs
• sex
• love
• food
• gambling
• distraction
• obsession

I would think that most people attempt to be freed from trauma by running away from it via one of the above methods.  However, some people try to recreate it, hoping for a different ending.  I don't understand how this would relate to (for example) a pedophile acting out things that were done to him as a child.  I wonder about the cognitive process that takes place in that situation....

The book I'm reading says, "Chronically overwhelmed with emotions, trauma victims have lost their ability to use emotions as guides to figure out what they need, let alone figure out how to get the need met."

As I've been reading I've been thinking of people I know who have done odd things, things that other people find easy to judge, and my heart is broken for the pain that I know must be embedded within;  I wonder if they even have access to it.  One thing I've learned from personal experience is that a single trauma can affect a person for years because they are not able to feel and manage the pain all at once; it leaks out in little bits throughout their lives.  That's the way it has to happen but it's tragic because it means that just when a person thinks she is healed, she is ready for another hit of pain to manage.  If the pain is dealt with in a healthy way, it gets easier each time.  If pain is dealt with in an unhealthy way, it gets more and more difficult to feel or block the pain until it all comes to a head.

I find it most frustrating that despite knowing as much about my pain, problems, and behaviour as any psychologist has been able to infer, I still go about dealing with the pain in unhealthy ways.  I know just as well as anyone what is healthy and what is unhealthy.  I'm not doe-eyed;  I'm overwhelmed with emotion.  Pain is... painful.  And unless masochism is a hobby, most people seek the first exit off Torture Highway.

Everyone does this.  We all seek refuge from our emotions from time to time.  Many, many people do this through food and because it's such a common experience, people feel like they can talk openly about their unhealthy noshing, and even joke about it.  "I'm 300 lbs and slowing killing myself though it worries or outright scares the people who love me and interferes with how I interact with people and helps determine the activities I'm able to do but [insert joke about food or being fat here], ha ha ha this is your cue to laugh with me because you identify with this common problem." And people do laugh back at the fat jokester because being addicted to food is not as shocking or pitiable as alcohol, drugs, or the internet, even though it is destructive.

Yet, when we learn about a shocking sex scandal our first reaction is disgust and judgment, and we have no qualms about vocalising these reactions. Why is it funny to joke about food addiction or internet addiction but if Tiger Woods sleeps with a town-full of women we feel comfortable judging him?  He can't be really happy or at peace with this behaviour. There must be some dysfunctional self-regard that drives his compulsion.

The only thing that makes an obese over-eater different from someone with a sex addiction is chance.  (I could write an essay on that sentence but I'm going to move along here and expound upon that only if anyone wants to argue with my assertion.)

* * *

Of all the destructive things that people do, all the stupid things, all the outbursts, I think we'd be hard-pressed to find pure selfishness as the root of the problems.  Sure, people are selfish, but why?  It's never as simple as "I chose my pleasure over your pain because I don't see anything wrong with that or I don't care".  Never.  Even when someone is a sociopath or psychopath, there are good reasons for that.  Is it possible that these are brain disorders brought about by neglect or abuse and there will be more forgiveness for people with these brain disorders than there will be for the people who judge them?

I wonder about Judgment Day.  Sometimes I get the feeling that some people view things like our coming to earth, God's commandments, and excommunication mainly as a test or filtering process of Good Guys and Bad Guys. Like God made these spirit children and then he wanted to know which were the really good ones and which were the not-so-good ones.

I can't wrap my mind around this idea that God sent us here mainly to test our faith.  It's ridiculous.  Think about it:  We sat (or stood, lounged, did jumping jacks) up in heaven, discussed our plans for mortality and we agreed to take on relationships and responsibilities that we really knew nothing about.  (We had no idea how painful this life would be, so how relevant is it that we chose it?  It's like asking a child if they want to do a calculus assignment so they can receive a lollipop after-- what do you think they're going to say?  Even those spirits who chose Lucifer's plan over Jehovah's wanted to come to earth.  We all did.  We just disagreed on the terms.)

Then, God removed all of our premortal living from our remembrance.  We got sent to parents who barely qualified to raise plants, or, at the very least, were flawed humans who didn't meet all our needs to help us grow up perfectly without any neuroses (because no parents are perfect);  we suffered pain and humiliation;  we were submersed in a thousand distractions both important and not;  we were forced into time, space, and non-telepathic communication, all unnatural to our eternal spiritual beings.   Then, if we fail to uphold our covenants--  covenants we make with more desire to keep than raw ability to keep, covenants we make without really knowing what we're getting into, without knowing how difficult the future will be, trusting that we will want our eternal reward even if right now it doesn't sound all that desirable (possibly)-- that's it?  We failed the test?  God allows thousands of obstacles to litter our path and then when we give up, we don't love him enough or we didn't have enough faith?  It's just that simple?

One could argue that if people fail to keep their covenants it's simply because they weren't reading their scriptures prayerfully and they weren't praying, yadda yadda, but,

1. with all the people who have been disfellowshipped and excommunicated I'm skeptical that every single one of them was not reading their scriptures and praying, and
2. some people are just really, really damaged, period:  even whilst doing the things they're supposed to be doing, they can be doing things they're not supposed to be doing because their dysfunctionality simply overrides their desire to be spiritual and obedient. 

We're told that the Lord won't tempt us more than we can bear but the reality is that we ALL, at some point, lack enough faith to believe in that.  And what counts as a temptation, anyway?  Everything that is difficult?  And what does "bear" mean, exactly?  I've never met one person whose only sinning came from not knowing what was right.  We all do things we shouldn't do, knowing we shouldn't do them, so if that doesn't prove that by giving us this existence and allowing free will to have reign that God has given us more than we can bear at times, then it at least brings the meanings of "tempt" and "bear" into question.  Everyone knows what it's like to give up on something and, whether large or small, I'm not sure that the thought process to giving up differs between people.  So, if we all give up on something, how can we judge that which our brothers and sisters choose to give up on?  I would think that when people give up on something big and difficult -- like striving for a temple marriage when you feel as gay as a blue Spring day -- that it should be easier to understand and forgive than when someone gives up on something smaller and easier, like reading scriptures everyday. 

Is it possible that God's understanding is greater for some of the bigger sins we might commit?  I don't mean that he'll be more lenient -- because consequences are for our own benefit -- merely, compassionate, understanding, sympathetic. 

That said, we are told that Christ is merciful.  I think of my uncle who molested me and think of his abusive upbringing and I feel forgiveness and mercy for him, wanting him to receive the same reward I might one day receive if all goes well.  And I'm just a mortal with pride issues and a limited view of my uncle's life and no insight into his heart and mind.  So imagine how much more merciful Christ will be, he who knows exactly how my uncle felt, he who knows the limitations of his understanding and intelligence.  If I would be willing to let my uncle into heaven if he wanted to be there, why wouldn't Christ? 

I do believe that there is a strait (straight) and narrow pathway to heaven.  However, I don't believe that even those of us who know all the motions required will need to reach the end of that narrow pathway in this life.  I don't believe that the teachings and strivings and choices available in the spirit world are for non-LDS people only.  I don't believe that even dying in a state of excommunication is the end.  I used to think that and I don't know why.  Maybe because of the scripture that whatever is bound or loosed on earth is also done so in heaven?

However, what does that mean, really?  It's in reference to the power of the priesthood but even the power of the priesthood given to men does not supercede the power of God, or the power of the Holy Ghost.  Ordinances have been performed by unworthy priesthood holders without needing redoing because it's the Holy Ghost that witnesses to it and sanctifies it.  Surely, excommunications have taken place because the letter of the law pointed clearly to that conclusion while the priesthood leaders did not know the heart of the matter because maybe the person being excommunicated didn't even know. 

Our leaders work with the best information they have, not always having all the relevant information.  We don't always have all of the relevant information for why we do the things we do.

So, of course, the Lord has the last say.  And thank goodness because I trust him completely. 

This is all leading to my belief that the main reason we came to earth was not to be tested to prove that we really, really love God, but to fill the measure of our creation, become wise and experienced, and to truly know love and compassion.  God doesn't need us to prove that we love Him.  He already knows that we do and those who act like they don't have just forgotten that they do.  One day they will remember all, and whether they are with Him or not they will love Him and want to be with Him.  I'm not so sure that He needs us to prove by our actions that we're good, either.  Our actions could signify much or very little.  Only He knows our hearts. 

We come here clouded in forgetfulness and sometimes shrouded in misery.  Then, even when we think we've connected all the dots in our own lives or the lives of others, between stimuli and response, we miss some.  We might make huge mistakes.  But they're not necessarily the end of our stories. 

All these commandments are less about testing and more instructions on how to be happy, healthy and strong, and how to not hurt each other.  Is it possible that the Mormon sound bite that we came to earth to receive bodies and to be tested and tried refers not to testing by way of being under trial with one of two results at the end, but rather assessment and identification?  One can be assessed without that assessment being the actual pass/fail test.

I just don't see Christ saying to us, "Erm, sorry.  We added up your results and you failed the test."  Like C.S. Lewis says, the doors to hell are locked from the inside.  If this is true, then the doors to heaven must be open wide and we won't go in only if we choose not to.  We'll be given many chances to choose to because Christ and Heavenly Father want us there.  Their arms are open wide. 

There are many mansions in our father's kingdom, the scriptures say.  The path to exaltation, the highest degree of glory in the Celestial Kingdom might be narrow, but there are other degrees to be found where there will be learning and growth and love and joy and I believe that some of the people who will be there will be starting out with only the ability to want to be there and the discipline of being perfect will come in graduations.  It only makes sense.

I don't believe that God's predominant personality trait is vengeance.  I don't believe that he judges us as harshly as we judge ourselves or each other.

(I don't have a sex addiction in case you were wondering.  But if I did, that would be okay because it would just be where I was at, and probably for good reason. Our spiritual ailments matter less than what we're doing to overcome them.  Even baby steps is good enough.)

(Katie thought this was a weird and out-of-context comment. I just thought that this is what I would speculate if I read a post like this. Also, I thought it would sound funny, which, of course, it doesn't because it's out of context.)

Daily Gratitudes

1. Sarah our temp nanny.  She is funny and a go-getter and fabulous with our kids.  And it's so much fun to copy each other's accents. 
2. The opportunity to remember what it's like to sit in a library for hours just to read, research, write and to not be responsible for anyone.  I remembered being a student and I missed it.  And I came home feeling so much more patient with my kids, and when Daisy asked me to sleep with her in my bed I didn't feel like she was tearing me away from my writing.  I wanted to be with her to cuddle.  I usually don't at the end of the day.
3. Jude making me laugh via email and Twitter.
4. A nice gospel discussion with my friend Ron.
5. New friends.

Verdict: The Happiness Project actually *was* depressing

 
A short while ago I started a blog post by saying that I was depressed about the book The Happiness Project.  I felt that I knew what the book was about and that I could have written it but now that it was written by someone else, my idea for a self-help book was taken. I said I was "depressed" as a humourous play upon the title of the book -- it seems counter-intuitive that a book about happiness would make someone depressed, right?

Except now that I have finished reading the book, the joke's on me:  I actually am depressed about it.  It was a sad read, in parts, because it was abundantly clear to me that the author doesn't really understand the secret of happiness.  I don't feel like the book came to any conclusions on how to be happy in a lasting way.  I think the book managed to get published because she was already a published author, so she had connections, and because the publishers were cashing in on what author Gretchen Rubin mentions as "stunt genre journalism", in this case, doing something for a year and then writing about it.

Before I delve into my criticisms, the book was not without merit.  There are little nuggets of inspiration, like when Gretchen drastically improves her drawing ability by taking a class that gave her profound anxiety.  I would be surprised if anyone could read The Happiness Project without feeling inspired to go outside her comfort zone and do something new.

But the inspiration ended there.

Basically, Gretchen wants to be happier.  Her husband doesn't understand why she wants to be happier because she seems happy to him but it becomes clear before long, as she describes many insufferable habits and traits of her own, that she's not really happy.

So, instead of digging deep, getting at the root of her issues, she makes monthly theme resolutions, travelling the surface streets of why she's obnoxious, putting a superficial band-aid on her flaws. 

This is not a book to read if you're looking to identify with someone else's unhappiness to have a "light bulb moment" about your own, unless you really are so uncomplicated and flawless that your only source of unhappiness is not enough extra-curricular busyness in your life, in which case you don't need to read a book to solve that problem.  If she were relaying her poor behaviour so that she could follow it up with an explanation of the root reason for her behaviour and what she realised about herself and how that realisation changed her, then this book would be a worthwhile pursuit.  Instead, it reads like a confessional journal, a list of sins and the penance that followed, and the lack of profundity made me sad.  I felt uncomfortable for her knowing that this self-flagellation was not bringing her any lasting insight into why she was unhappy with herself.

For example, on page 266 she starts,

2010 and a mild panic attack

Wow, writer's block much?

Did you have a nice Christmas?  I did.  A lovely, simple, content, snowy white Christmas.  Nice lead up.  Glad it's over.  I took down our decorations on Boxing Day.

Now I'm supposed to get excited about the turning of a new year.  People typically even get together to party out the last seconds of a year-- never mind a whole decade-- but we have no plans; we never do for New Year's.  If the coming of a new year included a money shower, or an alien visitation, or a flash of neon pink sky, or a freebie pass for boozing and schmoozing, then I would reconsider my outfit and location.  Alas, I can only look forward to flubbing my cheque dates for a few weeks.

One thing I'm happy about is being able to finally apostrophise the year from four digits to two digits.  (Nearly certain I made up that verb.  Good on me.)  Did anyone ever write '00?  It's just too ridiculous.  It's an embarrassment upon... All of Time, or something like that.  Even worse was saying, "the Zeros".  Anyone ever say that?  Of course not.  The '80s, the '90s but not the '00s, nor the Zeros, nor the Oh-Oh's.  Finally!  We're in the '10s!  The Tens!

What an awkward decade that was.

I feel like I should write something about resolutions and new beginnings, something cliché.  But I'm starting to get annoyed with this New Year's resolution thing.  I mean, EVERY YEAR.  Can we get more predictable?  What if I don't want to resolve to anything in January?  What if I want to wait until April when I become a new year? What if I want to wait until July 16th because no one pays it any attention?  

Well, so then don't, you might say. 

Uh huh.  Well, in church on Sunday, the talks given were all about goal setting, as if it's a commandment or something to improve upon ourselves.  Which, okay, it is a commandment but is it a commandment to do it on New Year's?  No.  It was a VERY ANNOYING high-pressure-salesman Sunday.  For me.

And it's not that I have no resolutions.  I totally do.  But I think I've made them less cheerfully this year than I have in years past.  You see, they felt like options in my twenties.  Now that death is looming ever so closer, now that the lines between my eyebrows have become wrinkles that I can see in photographs, I feel forced into becoming something. Do or die kind of thing. 

The truth is that this decade will bring more choices and I'm nervous about that.  In my twenties I was breastfeeding and changing diapers and cleaning messes and I knew I was making the best choices I could with my time because they weren't really fair options.  It was Feed Baby/Let Baby Die.  I'm smart enough to figure that one out. 

Now, my thirties around the corner, my children are self-sufficient enough that I have soooo much time on my hands and I feel paralysed every day by choice.  This year I feel like I'm birthing myself into a new life and I don't entirely know how I want that life to look.  What I birth for myself affects my family, too, so there's that to consider.

There, that's what I'm feeling: fear.  Fear of distraction, fear of frustration, fear of failure, I guess.  Mostly I'm afraid of wasting time.  I'm afraid of starting down the wrong path and figuring it out after the blisters have set in and I'm even more wrinkled and sagging and puckered.  What if, five years from now, I realise that it's my destiny to become a naked weather forecaster on Fox TV? And it will be too late!

I have all these things I want to do and no clear idea on how to do them and no one to turn to for advice and mentoring.  I kind of miss the days when people were paid to care about me.  Where's a high school guidance counselor when you need one?

So, I've been feeling restless and queasy for a while.  That's why I have nothing to write about.  I feel blah.  Blah and restless and nervous and confused.

Happy new year!

Daily Gratitudes

1. I will certainly have lots of time in February and March to figure something out.  A friend from the UK will be coming to nanny.  I don't really need a nanny but she needed the opportunity and I could really make some good use of this time if I want.  So, actually, that scares me too.  I feel a lot of pressure to do something great with all my free time.
2. Jude took extended holidays so it's very relaxed around here with everyone home. 
3. I'm glad to have a well-heated home in winter.
4. I bought myself some fabulous books for Christmas. 
5. I experienced the most stunning winter day two days ago and since I didn't blog then, I am mentioning it now.  Here are some photos I had to share of the amazing frost. My aunt saved the first photo from my Facebook album and put it on her Blackberry and said she thought it was a frosted leaf. No, that IS the frost.  The frost built itself up in layers to make furry crystals, inches thick, hanging off of thin, delicate grasses and twigs.

 
 
 
 
 
 

Should we encourage penmanship instruction in school?

A friend of mine went to school in Canada where handwriting instruction was given, but then moved back to her country where it was not taught or encouraged, and she lost the art. 

Yesterday I stumbled upon this letter to me from my friend Suzanna. (You can click on the photo to make it bigger.) I have never not drooled over her handwriting.  <whine> Why don't I write like this? </whine>

I've been told I have nice handwriting but I'm always comparing mine with Suzanna's, so mine never measures up.  Suzanna's writing is always consistent.  She doesn't have bad writing days.  I do.  (Actually, this IS her bad writing day.)  Her capital C's are always perfectly curved, her little S's are always the same and perfectly pointy, her little R's are perfection.  She doesn't have many extra lines coming in and off of letters.  Her writing is crisp and clean.  Mine is not.  

The thing is, Suzanna spent a lot of time practising her handwriting.  I know because we've discussed this.  Does anyone do that anymore?  

I've heard that some North American schools, like those in England, no longer include instruction on cursive handwriting.  Is your child's school one of them?

My son's school does still instruct on this. (I think.)  And my son is very interested in perfecting his handwriting, which pleases me, even though he may never send a thank you card to anyone. By the time he's grown, will people still send postcards?  Handwritten letters?  Christmas cards? If it can be made on a computer, will anyone ever think to make it by hand? 

People used to be hand-writers for a career.  If you really wanted to fancy something up, you'd hire a calligrapher.  Of course, they still exist, but then so do blacksmiths. 

Do people value nice handwriting anymore?  Is it a dumb, vain ambition to want to improve your handwriting?  Do people even consider it possible or do they just think of their handwriting like their fingerprints, like we're destined at birth to write a certain way?

Heber J. Grant, a late prophet of the LDS church, was teased in school for his handwriting.  He said, "These remarks, while not made to hurt my feelings but in goodnatured fun, neverhtheless cut deep, and aroused within me a spirit of determination.  I resolved to live to set copies for all who attended the university and to be the teacher of penmanship and bookkeeping in that institution... I commenced to employ my spare time in practicing penmanship, continuing year after year until I was referred to as 'the greatest scribbler on earth.'"  He later won first prize in a penmanship contest and did go on to teach it at what is now the University of Utah.  [Teachings of Presidents of the Church; Heber J. Grant; page xii]

His signature:

 
 
 Maybe I should start practising my handwriting.

Daily Gratitudes

1. Every now and then my sewing machine's tension stops working. Nothing I do to adjust it works. So, I set it aside for a few months and then when I go to use it again, it's all fixed. This has been happening for years.  It fixes itself. Or the elves come out at night. Either way, I'm grateful because I don't even know what any of the parts are called nevermind how to fix them.
2. Jude and I found some decent used furniture at an out-of-town shop, for our bare basement.  Three solid wood pieces: $150. 
3. I have not forgotten preschool today.  I have forgotten for weeks but not today.
4. It's been very sunny the past few days.  Glorious. 
5. I'm almost done making Christmas presents. Just have the kids left. Hooyah!

How to spot the cool bloggers

I have a very simple formula for spotting the "cool" bloggers.  It's so easy to remember that after I tell it to you you're going to gasp and say, "I never noticed that before!" and you'll realise just how brilliant and observant I really am and you'll wonder what other special abilities I've been hiding. Maybe I'm trained as a heart surgeon but gave it up so I could spend more time with my family and, oh, did I forget to mention I graduated high school at age 9?  Well, that's because I've also a talent for modesty.  Obviously.

You ready?

The cool bloggers don't smile, yo.  Or, they have slight smirk-smiles. But the most important thing to remember is that they don't show their teeth.

It doesn't matter how gorgeously Chicklet-y their teeth are, they don't show them in their About photos.

So, if you are a blogger and you're trying to nonchalantly muscle your way into the cool crowd, my first suggestion to you is to put up a photo of yourself that really captures that elusive, ephemeral combination of subversive-but-just-exactly-as-much-as-all-the-other-cool-girls, disenchantment, intrigue, wit, and MILF appeal.  Also, see if you can manage to look as if your photo was captured with reluctance on your part, as though you did not doll yourself up for the purpose of a blog profile photo.

It's a really artful balance.

For examples of how to pull this off, just see:

Dooce

The Bloggess

Sweetney

Girls Gone Child

Suburban Bliss

Mamalogues

(Note: One of the About pages above should make any self-respecting person want to stab their eyes with a fork. Can you guess which one?)

Disclaimer: Not all mentioned bloggers will manage to perfectly photographically encapsulate the aforementioned qualities.  With a little more practise, maybe one day.

There are more, I know, I know.  But it's not like I have all day.

Never, under any circumstances, look earnest, at peace, happy.  People might stop looking up to you and start actually respecting you.

The next step is harder:  Your blog tagline.

Daily Gratitudes

1. My daughter Daisy, 6-years-old, has very grown-up, subtle, funny, vibrant facial expressions.  I'd be willing to wager all my best body parts that she will be involved in theatre one day.  She is such a joy to have.
2. Lulu had so much fun playing with my Martha Stewart glitter collection (I don't even know why I have it-- I don't scrapbook, I have hardly any craft supplies, but I just could not resist that glitter), that I didn't even mind the HUGE mess.  And I usually mind big time, so that's saying something.
3. Jude let me sleep way in this morning.  And I'm not so sick anymore.  I didn't really need that left nostril anyway.
4. That coconut lime rice pilaf with Indian sauce that Jude slopped together for lunch was intuitive improvisation on his part and you know that's the hallmark of genius.  Mmmm.
5. SO relieved that My Burtons received their Christmas package safely in Spain.  'Cause here's the thing:  You have to list the items contained within and their value.  And if you want to insure the package for a certain amount, you have to LIST that amount where people can see it.  It's like a big arrow saying: STEAL THE STUFF INSIDE THIS PACKAGE.  NO ONE WILL KNOW IT WAS YOU AND THE SENDER WON'T GET STIFFED ANYWAY BECAUSE CANADA POST WILL FOOT THE BILL.  It gives me anxiety.  We literally said prayers for this package.  Thanks for not spoiling Christmas, People Who Transported My Parcel! Whoo hoo!

All I want for Christmas

I'm expecting nothing for Christmas and nothing would be just fine. 

I do love to receive thoughtful gifts but I hate to receive gifts that make it clear that the giver doesn't know me at all.  I do get gifts like this from family members, mostly.

"Natasha, for Christmas I give you Dejection and Loneliness.  I hope it fits.  If it doesn't, you can't return it because I stole it."

"Thanks, Gift Giver.  I was running out of the Feeling Misunderstood and Unloved from last year's obligatory gift. I think this will be a suitable substitute."

Jude used to say I'm hard to buy for.  If total strangers can tweet me or write me and say, "This is so you!", then I'm not hard to buy for;  you are just maybe not good with patterns and trends and should never try a career in marketing or business.  Or you need a hearing aid.  Or you have bad taste.

(I guess that means I think I have good taste.)  (I do.)  (Have it, that is.)

Jude is better now at buying me gifts because he knows me better, has been paying closer attention.

I'd rather get nothing than something completely disheartening.  I'm not put out about getting nothing. 

For one thing, I buy what I want.  If I want it that badly and have to ask for it, I might as well just get it for myself.  Making a list and then getting what you want on your list is not real gift giving or receiving.

As well, words, not gifts, are my love language.

I do love to give gifts.  The best gift someone can give me is appreciation for the gifts I give them.  Not all my gifts are awesome, I'm sure.  I once sent some people some guitar ice cube makers.  But when I make you a day-by-day calendar, completely by hand (365 pieces of paper cut and written on by hand, bound by hand), titled 365 Reasons Why I Love You, you better say more than just, "Wow, thanks."  A more appropriate response would be to weep and cut off your right arm and bronze it for me.  (Unless you're left-handed, in which case your left arm will do fine.)

I don't ask for much.

It makes me happy to know that I made you happy.  That was the point, after all.  Perhaps some people make gifts to receive praise and gushing over their talents but if that was the case for me, I'd have got around to opening up an Etsy shop.  I realised last night that unless I'm making something for someone I love, I have no motivation to finish it.  

Now, for a jarring interjection that breaks up this already lurching writing.

Shallow things I want for Christmas:

• the Swiss army knife of the 21st century:  iPhone.  I'm too stupid to learn how to use anything else.  I still have never read my camera manual.
• tickets to see Prairie Home Companion live
• a stand-up freezer for my garage
• drywall on the ceiling of my garage, then paint on the walls, then some curtain across the storage part of the garage, so that our home gym in our garage is more welcoming
• a treadmill for the dog.  I'm so tired of having to feel guilty all the time at all the dog walking Jude does.  It's exhausting.
• recessed lights in my dining room because this light fixture that we have is way dimmer than I expected.  I even put it ON a dimmer, which is such a laugh.  A private laugh because I'm too embarrassed to tell any visitors. 
• this weathered leather sofa in a lighter brown.  Lulu has stained the sage out of our Ikea Ektorp number.  And wouldn't you know, Ikea stopped making sage-coloured slipcovers.  Grrr.
• a seagrass blind for my front door, and ones for my dining room windows and something for the basement windows.  Although privacy after two years of putting ourselves on display?  Photos are probably already circulating the web.
• book shelf unit for the basement so stuff can be put away instead of just spread about on the floor
• laser treatments
• Garrison Keillor's Good Poems, and Good Poems for Hard Times
• a new book by Michael Chabon, any will do
• this original, stunning work of art that combines my love of letterpress, with my love for black and white art, with my love for fonts and language, with my love for the Salt Lake City temple

That's all.  Nothing much.

All that said, I do get gifts that are not exactly my style and if I love you a lot, I will love it a lot too.  When I was 16, Jude bought me a fitted but matronly navy dress I did not like, but he guessed at the size and it fit perfectly.  He loved me and went shopping alone for a dress for me.  I wore it with pride for years until my breasts got too big.  (Note me pretending that's all that got too big.)

Isn't that what gifts are really about?  Tokens of love?  Buying something off a list-- is that a token of love or of met expectations? 

I'm not expecting anything this year.  I look forward to Christmas morning for when Jude opens my homemade somethings and does a little better than a bland "Wow, thanks." 

If you feel loved by me on Christmas, and you love that you do, then I'm sitting here grinning, saying, "Aw, shucks."  I feel triumphant, my heart is full, my Christmas is good.

(But seriously: iPhone.)

Daily Gratitudes

1. A bright, sunny snow day.
2. Had a great idea for my son:  Write a play for us to act out on Christmas morning, incorporating words I've given him, and have them mostly make sense.  I'll video it and show you, if all goes according to plan.
3. Flirting with Jude quoting The Godfather on Twitter.
4. Sleeping in with delicious dreams.
5. Knowing what I'm going to make for supper tonight and just otherwise feeling lazy and happy today.
6. Lulu putting a blanket over her head, wearing only underwear and lots of pen markings (she calls them "love marks"--??), and saying in a ghostly voice: "I am thirstyyyyy!"

P.S. I decided to opt out of the Best of 2009 Blog Challenge.  Almost decided to opt out of blogging altogether, just because I didn't feel like it anymore.  We'll see where the wind takes me.

"Wildly, messily you": The best article I can remember reading in 2009

It's day 3 of the Best of 2009 blog challenge and the topic is: Best Article You Read in 2009.

I love this article.  I read it twice and I typed it out to email to a friend.  Anne Lamott writes about becoming something better, and it sounds like something my friends and I could have written, we discuss things like this so much.

I'm going to share portions of the article here and hope that I'm not stepping on any toes by so doing.

She writes,

"We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously, who we were born to be.  The only problem is that there is also so much other stuff, typically fixations with how people perceive us, how to get more of the things that we think will make us happy, and with keeping our weight down.  So the real issue is how do we gently stop being who we aren't?  How do we relieve ourselves of the false fronts of people-pleasing and affectation, the obsessive need for power and security, the backpack of old pain, and the psychic Spanx that keeps us smaller and contained?  Here's how I became myself:  mess, failure, mistakes, disappointments, and extensive reading; limbo, indecision, setbacks, addiction, public embarrassment, and endless conversations with my best women friends; the loss of people without whom I could not live, the loss of pets that left me reeling, dizzying betrayals but much greater loyalty, and overall, choosing as my motto William Blake's line that we came here to learn to endure the beams of love.

Oh yea, and whenever I could, for as long as I could, I threw away the scales and the sugar.

....You have to make mistakes to find out who you aren't.  You take the action, and the insight follows:  You don't think your way into becoming yourself.

I can't tell you what your next action will be, but mine involved a full stop.  I had to stop living unconsciously, as if I had all the time in the world.  The love and good and the wild and the peace and creation that are you WILL reveal themselves, but it is harder when they have to catch up to you in road-runner mode.  So, one day I did stop.  I began consciously to break the rules I learned in childhood:  I wasted more time, as a radical act.  I stared off into space more, into the  middle distance, like a cat.  This is when I have my best ideas, my deepest insights....

Every single day I try to figure out something I no longer agree to do.  You get to change your mind-- your parents may have accidentally forgotten to mention this to you.  I cross ONE thing off the list of projects I mean to get done that day....

...You are probably going to have to deal with whatever fugitive anger still needs to be examined-- it may not look like anger;  it may look like compulsive dieting, or bingeing or exercising or shopping.  But you must find a path and a person to help you deal with that anger.  It will not be a Hallmark card.  It is not the yellow brick road, with lovely trees on both sides, constant sunshine, birdsong, friends. It is going to be unbelievably hard some days-- like the rawness of birth, all that blood and those fluids and shouting horrible terrible things-- but then there will be a wonderful child right in the middle.  And that wonderful child is you, with your exact mind and butt and thighs and goofy greatness.

Dealing with your rage and grief will give you life.  That is both the good news and the bad news:  The solution is at hand.  Wherever the great dilemma exists is where the great growth is, too.

It would be very nice for nervous types like me if things were black-and-white, and you could tell where one thing ended and the next thing began, but as Einstein taught us, everything in the future and the past is right here now.  There's always something ending and something beginning.  Yet in the very centre is the truth of your spiritual identity:  it's YOU.  Fabulous, hilarious, darling, screwed-up you.  Beloved of God and your truest deepest self, the self that is revealed when tears wash of the makeup and grime.  That self is revealed when dealing with your anger blows through all the calcification in your soul's pipes.  The self that is reflected in the love of your very best friends' eyes.  The self that is revealed in divine feminine energy, your own.... You are divine.  I absolutely promise.  I hope you have gotten sufficiently tired of hitting the snooze button;  I know that what you need or need to activate in yourself will appear;  I pray that your awakening comes with ease and grace, and stamina when the going gets hard. To love yourself as you are is a miracle, and to seek yourself is to have found yourself, for now.  And now is all we have and love is who we are."

I'd like to ask what you think William Blake meant when he said that we came here to learn to endure the beams of love?  This instantly resonated with me and I have my own interpretation but first I'd like to know yours.

I can add my testimony that so much of what Lamott writes is true.  Dealing with anger does blow through all the calcification in your soul's pipes.  It's not a Hallmark card.  It does feel like birth.

Becoming something better unfortunately requires "mess, failure, mistakes, disappointments, and extensive reading" and often comes with moments of "limbo, indecision, setbacks, addiction, public embarrassment" and thank the Lord for "endless conversations with [your] best women friends", those beautiful people who save us from ourselves.  I can attest to this and I firmly believe that the more determination we put into trying to avoid failure, mistakes, embarrassment, the less we will grow. 

Just one big Daily Gratitude for today:

The self that I see reflected in the love of my very best friends' eyes.  In that reflection I don't see stomach rolls.  I see someone I love too.

Falling upon the sexiness of frigid Canada

The lovely, earnest, sincere Gwen Bell has issued a blog challenge to do a year in review, writing each day in December.  The theme:  Best of 2009.  (You can click on the above link to see what my daily blog topics will be this month.)

Today:  Best trip of 2009.

Well. If you've been reading along for a while, you know already that in August I flew sans enfants to London-- England, not Ontario-- where I met up with My Burtons who drove me to their old stone mill-home in rural West Wales.  It was dreamy, waking up alone in a cushy captain's bed with the sound of a stream outside my window, waiting for lovely people with charming accents to bring me breakfast.  I didn't want to come home.  I was seriously bummed out by Canada for a good long while.  Specifically, until yesterday.  Okay, truth be told I'm still bummed out but I did have a small epiphany yesterday.

* * *

A sudden blizzard had turned our bare roads and blessed browny-green grass into 4 inches of fluff and it was still coming down hard.  In a rush to get to the post office, I drove with a small mountain of snow on the hood of my Standard Mom Vehicle to the full-serve Co-op gas station where the nice ladies, somewhat bewildered at my snow-besotted state, voluntarily swept me clean.  I sat upon my heated seat, giving them a thumbs up and a smile. 

I was happy, despite this attack upon my September soul because a package was wedged in the passenger seat beside me, a package assembled with love and destined for Spain, and I thought about how my expat Spanish friend has probably never had the pleasure of driving in a Canadian blizzard.  Sure, she's visited castles and ancient Roman ruins.  So the Spanish beaches are only an hour's drive away and on a whim she can decide to spend part of her day snapping photos of terribly old Gothic cathedrals.  But has she had to stop her van every ten minutes to manually brush the snow from her side windows so she can back up safely?   Has she experienced the rush of adrenaline that comes from not knowing whether the van will stop in time to not hit that oncoming car that has the right of way, as the van struggles to brake on the packed snow, despite its slow pace well in advance of the stop sign ahead?

I was happy because I imagined the package to her family beside me was really her, and I talked to her in my mind, touring her around my town.  It was exciting, this first big snowfall of the season.  We sat at the bar in Taco Time, looking out the window at the frozen diagonal downpour and waited for little Lulu to finish her "Mexifries".   Looking out on the white expanse only vaguely resembling a parking lot because of some white shapes vaguely resembling some vehicles parked randomly, I mused with pride at how cities in the US would declare a snow day over what is just business as usual for us soldiers.  We trudged through the snow back to the van, some of it getting into our boots, snowflakes pelleting our hair, making a thin crunchy helmet after sticking.  I brushed the windows again.  I scraped some snow that had melted on the previously warm windows that cooled to ice beads while Lulu took her time desecrating potato corks with plum sauce.  I gloated for my guest's nervousness as I twisted about slightly on the roads.   Noticing the flickering TCS light on the dashboard she asked what it meant. "Traction Control System", I answered with cool importance.  Glamorous stuff.

(What a tease I am.  Sorry.  This is an original Canada Moms Blog post and you'll have to click here to finish reading the rest of this post.  It gets better.  I'm not allowed to post the full piece here.)

#best09

Trauma clean-up in aisle 11

I've finally figured out the cycle of trauma recovery:

1. Life is lovely.  It's annoying and tiresome but still overall delightful.  When the day is done, you laugh about the mishaps and the messes on Facebook, diffuse frustration via wise cracks on Twitter.  You go to sleep with a few longings but no angst.


2. A trigger occurs.  Someone says something, a scene in a movie happens, a song, a smell, a feeling happens.  You're annoyed or critical.  You may not know what you're really upset about.  That's why you need to talk about it with someone.  Or think a lot.  But talking to someone smart who knows you well is preferable.  (I'd lend you Jude but he's a bit exhaustified* by me.)


3. Once you realise what ancient hurt is gnawing at you, you may feel like you've been kicked in the stomach.  You might get angry because you thought that you had sorted all this out.  But here's what you didn't understand:  God doesn't give you everything to chew on at once.  You might know that ya, your daddy abandoned you, or that your brother ran over your pet chimpanzee with his BMX repeatedly while you watched-- whatever.  And you might think those are the only issues you have, but there are usually more.  Or you might think the damage is straightforward but there are usually many deep layers to the damage.


4. You sit with the pain because you don't have any choice.  It comes upon you like labour pains.  You are birthing yourself into a full consciousness of who you are and why you feel and do the things you do.  You're making connections between past trauma and the way you've lived your life to avoid any reminders of that trauma. OR! (and this is more likely) you make the connection between past trauma and the way you've been living your life, seeking out that same trauma so that you can deal with it differently.  It's like having a nightmare and trying to get back into your nightmare before you fully awake so that you can change the outcome.  If you can change the outcome of this new situation that mirrors the trauma of the past, you feel the victor instead of the victim.  Bye bye victim mentality.
   
   You sit with the pain you thought you'd healed and you sit with the embarrassment of your self-delusion and näiveté for thinking you'd healed it.
   
   It's so raw that inside you're screaming, crying out for relief, and this reminds you of childbirth.  You are birthing yourself into what you hope will be a purer, higher version of yourself.
   
   You want an epidural for this birth and you don't care what your birth plan said, how stupid were you to make a birth plan, you had no idea how bad the pain would be, just give you the freaking epidural already.  You're angry that your support people aren't more sympathetic.  They're acting like this is a totally normal process when it can't possibly be normal to be experiencing this much pain!  No one is listening.  "This is not normal!  Put me out!" you scream.  You wish they knew how bad you felt.  You turn to those who have a pretty good idea of how you feel:  your doula, or nurse, or mother.  (You still following the analogy?  You seek out people who can empathise because they've experienced the same thing.) 
   
   How terrible if you get stuck with support staff who tell you to keep the wailing on the down low because you're scaring everyone or stressing them out.  You want to murder whoever minimises your pain and put their skulls on a stick in your front yard.
   
   If you're smart, you do know that all this pain is necessary and comes with the territory.


5. However necessary, you want anything but to feel this.  You don't want to take a hard look at yourself.  You don't want to have to change.  You don't want to follow this intense pain with the work of change.  After pain like this you should be on a beach somewhere being massaged with coconut oil. 
   
   You want to numb this now.  You might consider hard drugs, inappropriate sex, suicide.   You might turn to music.  You might turn to food or shopping, whatever your favourite vice is to distract yourself.  But if the trauma is really bad, you will consider doing things you'd never before considered.  If it's really bad you won't care about the consequences.  You'll gladly trade one problem for this one.  Considering these things is understandable.  Just don't be fooled into thinking they'll help anything.  You won't heal anything and you'll have a new problem on your hands.


6. After crying and mourning, after anger and rage, you reach a point where you can't feel anymore.  You're just tuckered out.  You've made it through the worst of it.  Your crazy coping thoughts are distant, silly memories.  You utter a lot of inward, "Whatever"s and "I guess it doesn't matter"s and "Whew, that was weird"s.  You think that because you've sat with your pain and acknowledged it and figured out what you can change, and accepted what you can't, and forgiven everyone who's hurt you, that you'll never have to go through this again.  At least not for THIS specific trauma. 


7. You put on some music to help drag yourself out of the lingering depression.  You start a conversation or a project.  Anything to distract yourself.  You'd like to move on to Fully Functioning Normalcy, thank you very much.  You say, "Heh heh, sorry about that, heh," to everyone you brought into your trauma breakdown.  You resolve to not let it happen again because you're so tired of feeling dysfunctional and even when you explain yourself, no one REALLY, totally understands.  You'll prove yourself healed and normal.


8. Everyone is comfortable for a while.  Your spouse, your friends, yourself.  You're healthy, happy, and productive.  Life is so great.  Whew!  What a relief that you're no longer that crazy person crying in bed and fantasising about drug addiction, huh?  


9. A new trigger occurs.  See step #2.


10. You realise that there's even MORE to your past trauma that has been hurting you and hindering your personality/development.  Greeeeat.


11. Repeat steps 4-9.

Ahhh.  Life is great, ain't it?

At least I've finally figured out that this is the way it is.  I've finally figured out that I may never escape the triggers.  The scars may remain pinkish purple, never disappearing to white in this life.  But hopefully, I can experience shorter recovery times.  Hopefully, my friends and family will recognise what's happening and be patient with me and help me through it.  

Why do we go through this pain?

Because God is refining us so that we can be stronger, happier.  He's refining us to be of better use to Him by being more useful to people around us.  Precious metals are not mined immediately usable.  The impurities that surround the precious metals must go through a fiery refining process and the refiner must sit with the metals to make sure the timing is just right.  Christ said he would "sit as a refiner and purifier of silver: and He shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver." (Malachi 3:2)  The language used here is important:  He would sit "as", meaning "like", a refiner.  He will sit and watch carefully to make sure the timing is right and that we're not destroyed by the process.  It feels like we'll be destroyed.  It feels wretched.  But when it's all done, we're stronger and better and we see the wisdom in it.

Too many people resist this process and stall their own progress, stuck in the angry stage, and abandoning all faith in God because if God loved them he'd just take away their pain.

Anger is so easy.  Faith is so hard.

* (I just love it in Little Women when Amy, who's always messing up her words, says, "I'm exhaustified of playing the boy!")

Daily Gratitudes

1. I'm almost done with this bronchitis.
2. Holy carp, do I ever need a weekend!  And voila-- here it is.
3. November 27th, Alberta, Canada, and NO SNOW! (Frost, but it's NOT SNOW!)
4. Jude made a cranberry-pear crisp last night from scratch and it was a nice breakfast change of pace.
5. That True Colours number on Glee last night was SO beautiful!  I can't emphasise that enough.  Was so much better watching it, though, rather than just hearing it.  Wasn't the tv version a capella?  Anyway, here's the available version:

The Judgmental Mormons

Remember when I used to blog? Okay, wasn't that long ago but sure feels like it.

I have had nothing much to say here lately except for some pensive possible-grumpiness posts that I know are favourites for some of you but I haven't been able to piece my thoughts together, mostly because I just don't wannna give the effort, mostly because I've been sick with swine flu and have been around all my family 24/7 for two weeks and that's not the way I fly.

Even though I haven't figured out yet what I'm going to say here, I'm going to say it anyway.  Because that IS the way I fly.  It's a genetic disorder, I can't help it.

Lately Segullah has given me reason to be grumpy. Not because of the website and blog itself but because of the Mormon commenters.  Most are sensible.  Most get the whole Spirit of the Law thing.  But inevitably there are some who rankle my sensibilities.  And it takes effort and strength of character (which, let's be real, I don't always HAVE handy) to not silently say things like, "Ah, it's Mormons like these who make me want to leave the church and become a gay Communist magical vegan genealogy-eating drug dealer and be all up in their suburban faces JUST TO BUG THEM."  Being naturally rebellious is a hard way to be, you know.  Have sympathy for me.

So, I think these thoughts and I have to squelch them because they're stupid thoughts that turn me into a hypocrite.  No one can make me feel annoyed about anything I'm not already sensitive about.  So, thoughtless comments shouldn't bother me.  It's my fault I let them bother me. 

But let's pretend for a moment that this is not true.  Let's pretend it's the commenters' faults for creating a hostile environment for me to live in.  Let's just pretend because this creates a larger space in which I can vent and I feel like venting right now and it's my blog so there.

The very lovely Carina (Azúcar) wrote a blog post for Segullah, about how she finds it difficult to not watch R-rated movies.  (See, a late prophet once told Mormons that they shouldn't watch R-rated movies.  This doctrine is now outdated and has been trumped by the more wide-sweeping doctrine to not watch anything that promotes or encourages, explicitly or implicitly, violence and immoral sex (as opposed to the good stuff) and other bad things.  So, basically almost every movie ever made, even some Disney fluff.  Also, it was a US-centric doctrine because hello! only the US of A uses the US of A ratings system!  Your R-rated stuff is my "yeehaw! let's party!" stuff.  Guess that means I get to be more wicked than you, right?  No.  See, that's why it's a defunct commandment.)

Anyway.

Some commenter left this gem.  Her name is Carrie.  Anonymous-then-not-Carrie.  I've highlighted the parts that interested me.

"These conversations appall me. Why don’t we talk about how many of us have sipped some alcohol or who has a tattoo or how many times we went ‘too far’ with our high school boyfriend? Conversations like this have absolutely no merit. I said it, and now the next 50 comments are going to disagree with that. Whatever.

I really dislike how Mormons (women especially) sometimes use their past or current indisgressions as a badge of on honor once they’ve justified and rationalized it loudly and adamantly. I completely and one hundred percent agree that the rating system is “capricious” and that the MPAA is harder on low budget, independent movies. But I personally think there are very few PG 13 movies that Pres Benson would think appropriate for his viewing. And I’m guessing that means we probably don’t need to be watching it either, since we are ‘trying to be like Jesus’ and a prophet would be much closer to that ideal than little old me.

As you can probably tell, I’ve never seen a rated R movie. There have been MANY PG 13 movies that offended me and I turned off. I can’t imagine how I would feel watching something that was R rated. There are VERY few things in the gospel that I can do perfectly. I can pay tithing perfectly. I can not smoke perfectly. I can avoid alcohol and hot coffee perfectly. And I can follow Pres. Benson’s counsel perfectly and not see an R rated film. I can’t always be selfless. I can’t always be patient. I can’t always be charitable. I can’t always say the prayer that I should, or even remember to pray when I should. (I guess, potentially, I could do those things perfectly, but I personally find that VERY difficult) The counsel that I can follow 100%, I do, because those types of commandments are few and far between in the church. The latest Coen Brothers movie is most certainly not worth my salvation, and that is what we are putting on the line. Call me dramatic, but that’s just the way I see it.

Have you ever served in the Young Women organization? They counsel leaders there not to discuss in lessons wrong choices they’ve made and how they repented and it all worked out okay in the end with a temple marriage. I love this counsel and feel like it applies to every gospel conversation that occurs in a large group setting. Inevitably there will be someone reading this that will use this post to justify a future indisgression, thinking that others do it or that they can repent later. You think our thoughts and thought processes are more elevated than that, but I’m not so sure. I don’t think an organization like Segullah should assume that, having the large audience and public forum that they do.

In the mission statement, Segullah states that “[they] publish insightful writings which explore life’s richness and complexity while reflecting faithfulness to the gospel of Jesus Christ.” This doesn’t explore life’s richness. It’s a Hollywood movie! I don’t care what the topic is and how many awards it’s won. Any individual could have an extremely rich life and NEVER watch any movie, ever. And it certainly doesn’t reflect faithfulness to the gospel to out our sins in a somewhat public forum."

Okay.  So, Carrie makes some good points, absolutely.  Still, here are my point form thoughts on this comment:

-I was taken aback when Carrie said, "As you can probably tell, I've never seen an R rated movie."  Wow.  Doesn't that say a ton about Carrie?  She is assuming that we're judging her.  And why is she assuming that?  Because she's a judgmental person herself.  I mean, that's safe to say, right?  The whole comment oozes judgment in its tone, as well as in some things that are said. She probably can't imagine my answer that, no, I could not tell.  How could I tell what she's done in her past?  Didn't even occur to me to wonder if she's ever seen an R rated movie.  All I know is that now, today, she is quite adamant that they're avoidable. Tells me nothing about her past.

-Carrie is appalled by Mormons having conversations about struggling to live certain commandments.  I guess if we don't find it easy, if we don't struggle with the logic behind certain commandments, if we're tempted, then we should just shut up about it and put on a good face.  Because conversations like this have "no merit".  Whatsoever.  None.  Except that's not really what she said, is it?  No, she lumped Carina's post into a category of conversations glamorising and confessing past sins for the purpose of... glamorising and confessing past sins.  Except that's not what Carina did.  Way to stomp all over Carina's conscience and feelings which she laid out so generously. 

-There are many PG 13 movies that are way worse than R rated movies.  So many teen movies are raunchy-gross. There are plenty of R rated movies that are rated that way only to entice a mature audience, not because the rating is deserving.  So, Carrie not being able to imagine what an R movie is like?  Imagine a PG 13 movie only not as bad.

-Carrie, how do you know for certain that God is not going to ask for a Fargo impersonation as currency for the Celestial Kingdom?  How do you know?  If anyone is under the impression that there's a strict checklist or that watching a movie or saying a bad word is going to keep them out of the Celestial Kingdom, then they're not paying close enough attention.  What you do is less important than WHY YOU'RE DOING IT.  We're judged on our hearts too, dummy.  (If you got the irony there for humour's sake, good for you!)

-Anyone who thinks they can do Y because Carina does Y and admits to it with some mixed feelings, or because I do Y without regret and put on a good Mormon face otherwise, is either ignorant, in which case they won't be held accountable, or IS AN IDIOT.  And if they're truly idiots, then God will probably be lenient on them. Because it's hard to be smart when you're an idiot.  In which case, there's nothing for me to feel responsible for because it's all good. Thank God for mercy.  Anyone who isn't an idiot and uses someone else's sins for permission for their own knows exactly what they're doing deep inside and the real sin is lying to God about it. 

But what bugged me, the main thing that bugged me, was the way Carrie flaunted her indignation.  I could just imagine her saying, "I can't understand why you act like this is so hard! It's easy!" 

Then, we have this blog post.  Check out this portion:

"Angie and I both stood in the church hallway, bouncing our fussy babies on our hips. Our conversation turned to temple attendance. I sighed, “I’ve been going once a month to do sealings. I should probably go more often, but I’m doing the best that I can.” Angie stopped bouncing and looked at me, ”You’re not doing the best that you can. You could go more often. The temple is only five minutes away. I have two more kids than you and I go every week.” I was flabbergasted. I barely knew Angie. How dare she say that I wasn’t doing my best? But I thought about what she said for months. Was I doing my best?"

GROOOOOOAAAAAN.

Okay, it's possible that Angie could be right and that the blogger is NOT doing her best.  But there's no way in Hades that Angie can properly know that!!  Imagine how embarrassed she would have been if the blogger would have responded, "Well, actually, I've been dealing with recurring yeast infections and the temple sessions are so long."  or  "I have an anxiety disorder.  People in white remind me of that time I died and while the spirit world was peaceful and all, it reminds me that I could go at any time and that scares me because I have kids to raise."  WHO KNOWS?!  Who freakin' knows what the blogger's issues could be?  There are like, 534 possibilities for why she's not going to the temple as much as Angie. 

People who think the gospel, Life, and human beings are cut and dry make me want to reassemble their brains.  Here's a list of things that are cut and dry:

-mathematics
-the hotness of Jude Law

That's pretty much it.

Things that are not cut and dry:

-commandments
-salvation
-psychology
-forgiveness
-pretty much everything else

There are always exceptions and there are always things that you nor I can't know.  Yes, it's rare for there to be exceptions to commandments (like, Nephi killing Laban despite the commandment Thou Shalt Not Kill) but just because a commandment exists for the whole population doesn't mean that God expects you to keep it the same way he expects me to keep it. That is why we're given the gift of the Holy Ghost and the ability to receive personal revelation. 

And because nothing is black and white, generally, there's no point in debating the rightness or wrongness of someone else's decisions, really.  I mean, it's pretty difficult to not fall into that trap, but we must continue to avoid this trap with all our might.  Because to properly judge, you would need to know so many details.  The facts are never enough; you need to know hearts and that's impossible to know perfectly.

And that is why, whenever I rub (accidentally, of course) up against someone who sees things in black and white, like Carrie or Angie, I think to myself, "And praise God Almighty that you will not be our Saviour and judge!  Funny how that worked out, huh?"

Now, Mormons probably aren't more prone to being judgmental than any other demographic.  But it's the demographic that bugs me the most because I figure they should know better.  But then, I'm judging.

I just have to come to accept that, generally, there are Letter of the Law Mormons and Spirit of the Law Mormons.  The Letter of the Law Mormons like rules and wish for more rules because then it would be easier to judge other people and would be easier to govern themselves.  They wouldn't have to rely on maturity and conscience and faith in God's mercy and atonement.  The Spirit of the Law Mormons understand that the principles are more important than the practise.  

I also need to remember that I used to be a Letter of the Law obsessive, that I used to judge others all the time-- like, practically as a hobby, and that I used to think the gospel was so easy to live because I hadn't really run up against temptation yet and I didn't even know who I was. 

I need to remember that for every time someone opens her ignorant mouth to say, "I am appalled that we're having this discussion! We should follow the prophet, period and that's all there is to say about it!" I can always open my mouth and say, "Speak for yourself.  It's not so easy for some of us and we're okay with that.  Because it makes our living of the gospel, and our attendance here today, all the more impressive.  In the meantime why don't you make yourself useful and bend over so I can warm my cold hands on the warmth of your fiery righteousness."

I need to remember that even if I feel like I'm in a minority amongst Mormons, it doesn't necessarily mean that I'm the one in the wrong.

If you find it easy to be Mormon, good for you.  I don't.  And that's why I'm so extremely awesome:  Because I choose to be Mormon anyway.  If you're nice, I might ask the Relief Society to make you a quilt to keep you warm as you sit there in my shadow.

Daily Gratitudes

1. I can't believe I'm writing this and not lying:  Everyone but Lulu ate and loved the bacon shrimp butternut squash risotto I made for dinner.  Cue Handel's Messiah.
2. It still hasn't snowed.
3. I'm almost back to normal after this swine flu.
4. I still get to sleep in all week. At least that's one good part about the kids being off another week.
5. I had a lovely conversation with my dear friend Pam today.  She's a significant blessing to me.

Deep (fun) theological questions

Did Adam and Eve have belly buttons?

Will we eat in heaven and if so, a) will we eat meat, and b) will we poop?

Will there be refuse in Heaven?  Will there be a super high-tech recycling program?

WHAT DO YOU THINK??

Daily Gratitudes

1. Having people to cherish and dote upon.
2. Lulu cuddling with me and lightly dancing her tiny hands upon my face and kissing me.
3. Jude did a bunch of laundry and cleaned off the kitchen island.
4. It was sunny today and I slept better today than I have in days.
5. I'm really groggy and drained but feel better overall, than I have in 7 days.