The following is the talk I gave in sacrament meeting on February 22, 2009:
As you’ve learned by now, our family was asked to speak about 3 Nephi 11-13. I had the great joy of teaching the Sunday School Book of Mormon course this past year, and my testimony of the Book of Mormon was increased beyond measure. I love the Book of Mormon and how rich it is in teachings about and of the Savior. I have a feeling that the entire theme of General Conference, both April and October, could be 3 Nephi 11-13, and the sessions might just go beyond their usual time frames. Fortunately for all of you, each of us is taking only a portion of the riches to share with you today.
3 Nephi 12:48 reads as follows: “Therefore I would that ye should be perfect even as I, or your Father who is in heaven is perfect.” Okay. Piece of cake. I should probably tell you that Bro. Christopherson asked us to speak about this because he knows I *am* perfect. If you don’t believe me, ask my sweet husband or our wonderful children. Okay, I confess, I’m not REALLY perfect. Not even a little.
So why would Jesus direct us to be perfect? He didn’t say, “Try to be perfect.” He didn’t say, “Be good.” He said, “I would that ye should be perfect.” We all know that none of us will attain perfection in this life. At least not the way we usually understand the word. We commonly think the word means “unimprovable.” But that is rarely what is meant in the scriptures. As Latter-day Saints, we believe in eternal progression. My Sunday School kids will tell you that I love the use of “action” words in the Book of Mormon. We’re instructed to feast on the scriptures, to hearken to the words of Christ, to pour out our souls in mighty prayer. In my mind, the word “perfect” in the scriptures is also an action word; not a passive one. So what did Jesus mean?
In the New Testament the Greek word translated “perfect” is teleios, and I apologize to anyone here who speaks Greek and finds my pronunciation to be painful. Teleios means ripe, mature, ready, complete, whole, etc. As Stephen Robinson described, “An apple on the tree might be called teleios when it was ripe and ready to be picked, but that doesn’t mean it was an unimprovable apple. It might still have a worm in it.”
Brigham Young explained:
“We all occupy diversified stations in the world, and in the kingdom of God. Those who do right and seek the glory of the Father in heaven, whether their knowledge be little or much, or whether they can do little, or much, if they do the very best they know how, they are perfect….‘Be ye as perfect as ye can,’ for that is all we can do, though it is written, ‘Be ye perfect as your Father who is in heaven is perfect.’ To be as perfect as we possibly can, according to our knowledge, is to be just as perfect as our Father in heaven is. He cannot be any more perfect than He knows how, any more than we. When we are doing as well as we know how in the sphere and station which we occupy here, we are justified.”
Some of you may know that I am a court reporter by profession. It is my job to capture verbatim deposition testimony as well as court proceedings. I have two certifications to my name. The first I received in 1993. I had to take a test; four-voice dictation at 200 wpm, transcribed with 98-percent accuracy. The other certification came after I took a three-part test, the last of which was a two-voice dictation at 225 wpm. My family will tell you that I have told them that they are to keep those certifications active until I draw my last breath. I am not interested in taking those tests again!
In the spring of 2005, I took a job in Fresno Superior Court. I had to sign a contract stating that I would write “realtime” for any judge for whom I worked. There were about 36 judges at that time, none of whom I knew. The day before I took that job, I actually had a dream that I was giving birth. I was very anxious about having my imperfections there for all to see. Well, okay, so just some judges. But have you seen how mean judges are on TV? They call this “writing naked” for good reason. Have any of you read closed captioning on television or the movies? This is done by court reporters or captioners who are capturing extremely difficult, rapidly spoken words. I confess that I often get a chuckle at some of the mistakes that are made by the captioners. But I have great respect for these professionals, and I know that their job is really hard and many people benefit from their effort to get it as accurately as possible.
Anyway, I had that court job nearly a year and a half and loved it. Some days my writing was really good; other days it was embarrassingly bad. We had at least one judge who spoke like that guy in the old FedEx commercial years ago. I received compliments from several of the judges. They loved having the ability to read the proceedings as they were occurring. Whenever an attorney would object, the judge just had to look at his or her computer screen to review what had transpired before the objection and then make a ruling. It saved a lot of time. They had good things to say about my skill. And did I puff up with pride and accept that as my due? Of course not! Being a true LDS woman, I had a running monologue in my head that said things like, “Oh, no way. Doesn’t the judge know I’m really bad? I’m a fraud! I hope they never get to see a REAL realtime reporter’s work,” etc.
Darryl has been after me for a long time since I returned to the deposition arena, even conspiring with some of the agencies who hire me, to start accepting realtime jobs. That means I would hook up my laptop, which is already hooked up to my steno machine, to the computers of others in the proceedings. It is very daunting. But what really holds me back is that my brain has convinced me that I must be perfect in every way BEFORE I can write realtime. Will that day ever happen? Of course not. But what I learned when I was a realtime reporter in court is that my writing was better when I knew that I was not the only one seeing it before it was edited. The judge was “watching.” I can promise you that my writing was the best it has ever been. And I know that will happen again. I am in the process of preparing to be a realtime reporter again, and it scares the daylights out of me. Not because I can’t do it; intellectually, I know that I can, but because it’s going to be hard. It will require all my concentration, my willingness to accept the mistakes I will make and find better ways to write. I will have to practice. Even after 16 years as a reporter, I need to practice. Because what is the saying? “Practice makes perfect.” Now, what I really wish I had was a “sacrament” to take after each week’s work, to renew my promises to be a better reporter next week…
When I joined the Church at age 15, I was barely familiar with the Book of Mormon. I had a tender testimony that required study and learning and prayer and mighty doses of the Holy Ghost. I was blessed with phenomenal teachers and leaders who helped me to nurture my testimony. When I was 16, I received my patriarchal blessing, where I was told that I had a testimony at an early age that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is true, and that that testimony would carry me through the temptations and trials I would face. Boy, if I had been given a glimpse of what I would face over the next 30 years, I think I might have run the other way! But a regular reading of my patriarchal blessing has reminded me that the Lord DID have more than a glimpse, and He was encouraging me to hang on for the ride.
I have learned over the years that I need to continue to “practice” being a Latter-day Saint. I struggle with reading my scriptures and praying…why? Not because I don’t believe in the power of scriptures and in prayer, but because that awful monologue comes back and tries to tell me that I’m not worthy enough, I’m not good enough, the Lord doesn’t want to hear me whine again. But when I DO read the scriptures, my mind is overwhelmed with absolute certainty that these are the word of God. My heart swells with love for Heavenly Father and with a desire to be a better daughter. I realize how much I miss Him and want to be with Him forever. And sometimes when I pray in private, I feel overcome with emotion. I remember that God loves me. That He WANTS to hear from me and that He misses me too. So I realize that practice makes perfect, well, it is a divinely inspired quote. If I practice living the Gospel, I will become more perfect every day. I will never BE perfect in this life, but thankfully, the Atonement of Jesus Christ is there to help me complete the process of perfection. I just need to keep practicing. And practicing. And practicing…..
Bruce R. McConkie said:
“We begin to keep the commandments today, and we keep more of them tomorrow, and we go from grace to grace, up the steps of the ladder, and we thus improve and perfect our souls. We can become perfect in some minor things….and so degree by degree and step by step we start out on the course to perfection with the objective of becoming perfect as God our Heavenly Father is perfect, in which eventuality we become inheritors of eternal life in his kingdom.”
He also said:
“I think we ought to have hope; I think we ought to have rejoicing. We can talk about the principles of salvation and say how many there are and how people have to meet these standards. And it may thereby seem hard and difficult and beyond the capacity of mortals so to obtain. But we need not take that approach. We ought to realize that we have the same appetites and passions that all of the saints and righteous people had in the dispensations that have gone before. They were no different than we are. They overcame the flesh.”
So, no, I am not perfect. But I want to obey the Lord’s command to BE perfect, and I remembered that this morning as I partook of the sacrament; my opportunity to renew my covenants made at baptism to take upon myself the name of Christ. And I hope that this week I will be just a little better than last week. And so on.
I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
My Miserable Mid-Life Crisis
WARNING: This blog uses a naughty word. Read at your own peril.
I spent a sleepless night some time back fretting. And pacing.
I gave up caffeine for Lent (no, not really... just gave it up) several weeks ago... and have been feeling pretty good. Usually sleep better, but the other night was difficult. I was on duty, and when I went to bed, I tossed and turned all night, and never slept. Heart pounding, mind racing... all the symptoms of acute caffeine poisoning without the actual caffeine. :(
About my 43rd lap around the apparatus bay (it's about the size of 1/2 of a football field), it dawned on me why they call it a "Mid-Life Crisis." I'm mid-life. And I'm in crisis. And I have no idea how I got to this point in my perpetual train-wreck of a life. Well, that's not totally true. I do, I guess. I got here by one heaping failure after another.
In my youth, I had wide-eyed hopes. Dreams. Aspirations. Goals. And I don't think I've accomplished many... if any... of them in the decades since. It always amuses me when my wife (or anyone else) talks about my "many accomplishments." I don't see them. I see 51 years of unwavering failure. 51 years of regrets, heartache, sadness and sorrow. I see children who I love with all that I am, who no longer speak to me, or want me to be their father. I see grandchildren that I'll probably never have the chance to know... because of nothing more than the mean-spiritedness of their parents. Did *I* raise them that way? Was I really that bad of a dad? What crime did I commit besides trying desperately to keep my emotional head above water to merit being treated like this?
I'm truly baffled here... my step children's father physically, verbally, and emotionally abused them for years and made their lives a living Hell before he ultimately took his own life and abandoned them forever. And yet, most of them still love him and miss him... and despise me. I love my children with all my heart... and they want nothing to do with me. What's wrong with this picture? Oh, wait. I already know. I'm a loser. And a colossal disappointment. I tried to recover from the unbelievable pain of losing my family and my children when I went through my last divorce by pouring myself into "doing it right" with the next family who was unfortunate enough to be in my life-path. The first kids resented me for not being there for them... the new set of kids resented me for.. being there for them. Lose-lose all the way around. Now neither set speaks to me.
Around my 67th lap around the apparatus bay, I came to the realization that not only do I have no clue what went so terribly wrong in my life, but I have no clue where I'm going or how to fix it, either. I'm kind of like Tom Hanks at the end of "Castaway," where he finds himself at a crossroads on a very lonely stretch of road... trying to decide which way to go (except for the fact that he has money, no kids, and his whole life ahead of him). One way leads, hopefully, to happiness. One way to continued failure and despair. And then there's the knowledge.. the SURE knowledge... that no matter WHAT road I take... it won't be the one I want.
Everything that I've touched in my life, with very few exceptions, has turned to crap. Everything. Marriages, children, professions, possessions, interpersonal relationships... doesn't really matter. It's all a colossal steaming pile. I spend most days trying to figure out what great cosmic competition my poor wife failed so as to be stuck with ME as the consolation prize. I truly feel desperately sorry for her. She is stuck with me, and more than likely BECAUSE of me, has no friends. Of course, neither do I. Not really. Haven't had for years.
Oh, now don't get your panties in a wad. I have long-distance-we-really-like-you-because-we've-never-met-you-in-person friends. But they don't count. Not really. The only real friends that count are the ones that are actually, physically HERE for you. The kind who can sense that you're in pain, and who take you out to lunch so they can kick your butt back into normalcy. The kind who can quietly listen to you pour your heart and soul out, and who have a tear of empathy in their eye when you're done... but who don't then try to "fix" you.
I haven't had a lot of luck with Best Friends. The best friend I ever had turned on me 12 years ago. Had a traffic ticket I hadn't paid... slipped my mind. He was the city manager. So one day, out of the blue, he had 2 detectives come to arrest me in front of my house.. handcuffs and all... in front of my children. That was his intentional plan. For a traffic ticket. Fortunately for me, his wife called me and tipped me off, and I scampered down to City Hall to pay it before returning home that day. When I got home, there they were... waiting for me. They (and he, who was probably waiting in the bushes with binoculars, I'm sure) were truly disappointed that I had paid the ticket. And this man was my best friend for over 16 years. We hung out together, worked together, went camping together... we did everything together. He was the brother I never had. And he turned on me in the blink of an eye... for what reason I still don't know to this day. That's a succinct encapsulation of my life so far. Loss. Betrayal. More loss. More betrayal. Both being betrayed, and betraying others. Having your guts ripped out on a regular basis.. both by things done to you, and things you know you have done to others you love... for reasons not even you really understand.
Tried counseling... a bunch of times. Went all the way through Impact... a "self-realization-find-the child-within-through-three-different-sets-of-three-20-hour-days-of-sleep-deprivation-intensive-group-therapy"program that managed to simultaneously strip you of your dignity, your emotional baggage AND your life savings in one fell swoop. Felt good for a while. For a while, I felt like I actually had some worth as a human being. And then I woke up. Then it all came crashing back. Went through 6 years of therapy during my second marriage after which the therapist actually threw me out. Told me nothing was wrong with me anymore. And so, of course, more therapy during my third. Boy, THAT was a trip.
Poor Zoobie therapist at LDS Social Services. What a lost little lamb. LOL!!!! He didn't know WHAT to do with me. He was a Bishopric Wannabe, died-in-the-wool-wearing-the-uniform product of LDS Higher Education. He was adorable. :) This guy would've looked at a can of Diet Coke the way most people would look at a bag of uncut Cocaine.
He came up with a great therapeutic "assignment." He had me list those things that I had "lost" in my life. 2 1/2 pages of single-spaced itemized heartbreak later, he stared at me with those "wow, they never prepared me for THIS" eyes, and said, "I don't know how you're still standing upright." No shit, Sherlock. Me neither. That's why I'm HERE. I honestly believe that by the time I was done with him, HE was in therapy.
I discovered one valuable thing during that foray into the Jungian forest though... came in the form of an epiphamy right in the middle of listening to a droning clot of graduate school textbook 'talk-therapy' wisdom: I'm angry. As soon as the thought struck me, I started weeping inconsolably. Kinda freaked Zoobie-boy out. I think he was trying desperately to remember what masterful thing he had just said that had triggered such a huge "break-through." I was ANGRY.
I know. Pretty profound. And not just your everyday "My bra's on backwards" annoyance or petty irritability, mind you... but Cosmic Angry. Angry at God. Angry at life. Angry at the poor waitress at Denny's who had the audacity to give me eggs that were over easy instead of over medium. Angry at people I didn't even know. Angry at the frustrating nothingness that is Hell-bent on cheating me out of a cogent thing to be angry AT. Just all-consuming anger. And not the "over-the-top" sociopathic shoot-you-in-the-head-road-rage angry. The more insideous kind. The kind that's always right there... smoldering just under the surface, ready for one more playful shriek to trigger your already-metal-on-metal sensitivities and meltdown. Angry when I see anonymous best friends laughing, playing, spending time with each other... knowing that I'll never have that in my life.
Wow. This is waxing morose. I'm even depressing ME, and I started OUT depressed. That's quite a feat! But I digress.
The only thing worse than the anger is the feeling... of nothing at all. An all-encompassing numbness, mixed with a generous helping of emptiness. It's the feeling of overwhelming abandonment. Of isolation. Of desolation. Of... hopelessness.
I guess that's it in a nutshell. Hopelessness. Hopelessness secondary to Infinite Cosmic Anger. Sounds like a diagnosis from House, or a pronouncement from the Genie in Aladdin, I can't make up my mind which. The feeling that no matter what you do, you won't be able to "fix" anything. Ever.
Your stomach will never stop hurting. You'll never stop feeling tired and weary and beaten up. You'll never get a home of your own. You'll never get a job. You'll never pay off your back taxes. You'll never be out of debt. Your children will never love you. Your wife will never respect you. Your Bishop will never look at you with anything more than nervous discomfort before he skittles off in another direction... ANY direction... away from you.
You'll never be happy. Ever. Worlds without end.
The ever-pervasive "I'm-So-Done-With-This-Life-I-Just-Wanna-Go-Home" hopelessness has helped me understand what both Hell and Satan are like. As awful and overwhelming as it is to realize that NONE of your hopes, dreams, or yearnings will ever be achieved, it is second only to the soul-stabbing misery whose hunger for company seems to rise in direct proportion to the amount of pain one is in.
OK. I better stop. Stepping in front of a commuter train is looking pretty damn good to me right now.
I spent a sleepless night some time back fretting. And pacing.
I gave up caffeine for Lent (no, not really... just gave it up) several weeks ago... and have been feeling pretty good. Usually sleep better, but the other night was difficult. I was on duty, and when I went to bed, I tossed and turned all night, and never slept. Heart pounding, mind racing... all the symptoms of acute caffeine poisoning without the actual caffeine. :(
About my 43rd lap around the apparatus bay (it's about the size of 1/2 of a football field), it dawned on me why they call it a "Mid-Life Crisis." I'm mid-life. And I'm in crisis. And I have no idea how I got to this point in my perpetual train-wreck of a life. Well, that's not totally true. I do, I guess. I got here by one heaping failure after another.
In my youth, I had wide-eyed hopes. Dreams. Aspirations. Goals. And I don't think I've accomplished many... if any... of them in the decades since. It always amuses me when my wife (or anyone else) talks about my "many accomplishments." I don't see them. I see 51 years of unwavering failure. 51 years of regrets, heartache, sadness and sorrow. I see children who I love with all that I am, who no longer speak to me, or want me to be their father. I see grandchildren that I'll probably never have the chance to know... because of nothing more than the mean-spiritedness of their parents. Did *I* raise them that way? Was I really that bad of a dad? What crime did I commit besides trying desperately to keep my emotional head above water to merit being treated like this?
I'm truly baffled here... my step children's father physically, verbally, and emotionally abused them for years and made their lives a living Hell before he ultimately took his own life and abandoned them forever. And yet, most of them still love him and miss him... and despise me. I love my children with all my heart... and they want nothing to do with me. What's wrong with this picture? Oh, wait. I already know. I'm a loser. And a colossal disappointment. I tried to recover from the unbelievable pain of losing my family and my children when I went through my last divorce by pouring myself into "doing it right" with the next family who was unfortunate enough to be in my life-path. The first kids resented me for not being there for them... the new set of kids resented me for.. being there for them. Lose-lose all the way around. Now neither set speaks to me.
Around my 67th lap around the apparatus bay, I came to the realization that not only do I have no clue what went so terribly wrong in my life, but I have no clue where I'm going or how to fix it, either. I'm kind of like Tom Hanks at the end of "Castaway," where he finds himself at a crossroads on a very lonely stretch of road... trying to decide which way to go (except for the fact that he has money, no kids, and his whole life ahead of him). One way leads, hopefully, to happiness. One way to continued failure and despair. And then there's the knowledge.. the SURE knowledge... that no matter WHAT road I take... it won't be the one I want.
Everything that I've touched in my life, with very few exceptions, has turned to crap. Everything. Marriages, children, professions, possessions, interpersonal relationships... doesn't really matter. It's all a colossal steaming pile. I spend most days trying to figure out what great cosmic competition my poor wife failed so as to be stuck with ME as the consolation prize. I truly feel desperately sorry for her. She is stuck with me, and more than likely BECAUSE of me, has no friends. Of course, neither do I. Not really. Haven't had for years.
Oh, now don't get your panties in a wad. I have long-distance-we-really-like-you-because-we've-never-met-you-in-person friends. But they don't count. Not really. The only real friends that count are the ones that are actually, physically HERE for you. The kind who can sense that you're in pain, and who take you out to lunch so they can kick your butt back into normalcy. The kind who can quietly listen to you pour your heart and soul out, and who have a tear of empathy in their eye when you're done... but who don't then try to "fix" you.
I haven't had a lot of luck with Best Friends. The best friend I ever had turned on me 12 years ago. Had a traffic ticket I hadn't paid... slipped my mind. He was the city manager. So one day, out of the blue, he had 2 detectives come to arrest me in front of my house.. handcuffs and all... in front of my children. That was his intentional plan. For a traffic ticket. Fortunately for me, his wife called me and tipped me off, and I scampered down to City Hall to pay it before returning home that day. When I got home, there they were... waiting for me. They (and he, who was probably waiting in the bushes with binoculars, I'm sure) were truly disappointed that I had paid the ticket. And this man was my best friend for over 16 years. We hung out together, worked together, went camping together... we did everything together. He was the brother I never had. And he turned on me in the blink of an eye... for what reason I still don't know to this day. That's a succinct encapsulation of my life so far. Loss. Betrayal. More loss. More betrayal. Both being betrayed, and betraying others. Having your guts ripped out on a regular basis.. both by things done to you, and things you know you have done to others you love... for reasons not even you really understand.
Tried counseling... a bunch of times. Went all the way through Impact... a "self-realization-find-the child-within-through-three-different-sets-of-three-20-hour-days-of-sleep-deprivation-intensive-group-therapy"program that managed to simultaneously strip you of your dignity, your emotional baggage AND your life savings in one fell swoop. Felt good for a while. For a while, I felt like I actually had some worth as a human being. And then I woke up. Then it all came crashing back. Went through 6 years of therapy during my second marriage after which the therapist actually threw me out. Told me nothing was wrong with me anymore. And so, of course, more therapy during my third. Boy, THAT was a trip.
Poor Zoobie therapist at LDS Social Services. What a lost little lamb. LOL!!!! He didn't know WHAT to do with me. He was a Bishopric Wannabe, died-in-the-wool-wearing-the-uniform product of LDS Higher Education. He was adorable. :) This guy would've looked at a can of Diet Coke the way most people would look at a bag of uncut Cocaine.
He came up with a great therapeutic "assignment." He had me list those things that I had "lost" in my life. 2 1/2 pages of single-spaced itemized heartbreak later, he stared at me with those "wow, they never prepared me for THIS" eyes, and said, "I don't know how you're still standing upright." No shit, Sherlock. Me neither. That's why I'm HERE. I honestly believe that by the time I was done with him, HE was in therapy.
I discovered one valuable thing during that foray into the Jungian forest though... came in the form of an epiphamy right in the middle of listening to a droning clot of graduate school textbook 'talk-therapy' wisdom: I'm angry. As soon as the thought struck me, I started weeping inconsolably. Kinda freaked Zoobie-boy out. I think he was trying desperately to remember what masterful thing he had just said that had triggered such a huge "break-through." I was ANGRY.
I know. Pretty profound. And not just your everyday "My bra's on backwards" annoyance or petty irritability, mind you... but Cosmic Angry. Angry at God. Angry at life. Angry at the poor waitress at Denny's who had the audacity to give me eggs that were over easy instead of over medium. Angry at people I didn't even know. Angry at the frustrating nothingness that is Hell-bent on cheating me out of a cogent thing to be angry AT. Just all-consuming anger. And not the "over-the-top" sociopathic shoot-you-in-the-head-road-rage angry. The more insideous kind. The kind that's always right there... smoldering just under the surface, ready for one more playful shriek to trigger your already-metal-on-metal sensitivities and meltdown. Angry when I see anonymous best friends laughing, playing, spending time with each other... knowing that I'll never have that in my life.
Wow. This is waxing morose. I'm even depressing ME, and I started OUT depressed. That's quite a feat! But I digress.
The only thing worse than the anger is the feeling... of nothing at all. An all-encompassing numbness, mixed with a generous helping of emptiness. It's the feeling of overwhelming abandonment. Of isolation. Of desolation. Of... hopelessness.
I guess that's it in a nutshell. Hopelessness. Hopelessness secondary to Infinite Cosmic Anger. Sounds like a diagnosis from House, or a pronouncement from the Genie in Aladdin, I can't make up my mind which. The feeling that no matter what you do, you won't be able to "fix" anything. Ever.
Your stomach will never stop hurting. You'll never stop feeling tired and weary and beaten up. You'll never get a home of your own. You'll never get a job. You'll never pay off your back taxes. You'll never be out of debt. Your children will never love you. Your wife will never respect you. Your Bishop will never look at you with anything more than nervous discomfort before he skittles off in another direction... ANY direction... away from you.
You'll never be happy. Ever. Worlds without end.
The ever-pervasive "I'm-So-Done-With-This-Life-I-Just-Wanna-Go-Home" hopelessness has helped me understand what both Hell and Satan are like. As awful and overwhelming as it is to realize that NONE of your hopes, dreams, or yearnings will ever be achieved, it is second only to the soul-stabbing misery whose hunger for company seems to rise in direct proportion to the amount of pain one is in.
OK. I better stop. Stepping in front of a commuter train is looking pretty damn good to me right now.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
When do people just get along?
We had a bit of drama around here this past week. Because I have personally been hurt by someone else who used names and particulars in a rant on that "someone's" blog, I will leave out the pertinent details so as not to offend, embarrass, or slander.
That said, I will say once again that I will never wish to be back in high school. One of my children has had the misfortune of being named in a rumor (probably more than once) which has been embarrassing as well as hurtful. Said child also has a "friend" who is really a drama queen in disguise (though just barely). She seems to find it absolutely necessary to run to my child whenever she learns something that has the slightest thing to do with my child; whether that something is beneficial for my child to know or not. I've learned in my years that it's not necessary to tell everyone everyTHING. Sometimes it's a kindness to NOT share things you know or hear or even feel. It's really best to take it on a case-by-case basis. For instance, last year someone called me right after the Pinewood Derby, which Scott had won, miracle of miracles. Turns out this caller (she says) overheard two of the other dads complaining about how Scott and his dad had cheated and, boy, they were gonna tell the bishop, and he was gonna fix it! It got my hubby all riled up (there was no cheating, thankyouverymuch!) and had him running to the bishop to make sure his character was not defamed. Of course, we don't know who the mystery men were, nor did this make the caller and me friends (she never particularly noticed me after that). It was kind of a chance for her to be in the center of a drama that really didn't need to go any farther than her overhearing it and rolling her eyes privately.
Anyway, that's old news. Most recently one of my kids had a little get together at our house and invited everyone. Several kids did come, and they all seemed to have a good time. One person who did not come told my child that that person's parents were "uncomfortable" with their child coming to our house. First, if that were true, why would you tell that to your "friend"? How could that be anything but embarrassing and hurtful? And secondly, if it were not true, wouldn't you think you could come up with a kinder lie?
Unfortunately, in a moment of hurt and anger, my hubby wrote an e-mail to the parents of the offending person, who were unhappy about it and confronted their child, who denied saying any such thing. And I didn't know about the e-mail until we both received a reply from one of the parents. Thankfully, these parents were never too friendly to us in the past, so not much will change, but still... And one of the parents is in a leadership role at church, which can only be awkward.
And then we get a call on Tuesday night, asking Lauren, Lindsay, Darryl, and me to speak in church on Sunday. Our topic is Chapters 11, 12, and 13 of 3 Nephi. Since I recently finished teaching a Book of Mormon course this past year, I'm pretty excited about the prospect of delving into this much-loved book of scripture. I just hope we can do justice. Well, let me amend that. Darryl WILL do justice; the girls will probably do a great job; me, I dunno.
Right now it's a Thursday, almost noon, and I am sitting in a very empty, very QUIET house. I think the silence is echoing :) It is amazing how therapeutic it is to spend a few hours alone. Of course, work has been pretty dead, and I really don't feel like working on what little I have to do. So here's my effort for the day.
That said, I will say once again that I will never wish to be back in high school. One of my children has had the misfortune of being named in a rumor (probably more than once) which has been embarrassing as well as hurtful. Said child also has a "friend" who is really a drama queen in disguise (though just barely). She seems to find it absolutely necessary to run to my child whenever she learns something that has the slightest thing to do with my child; whether that something is beneficial for my child to know or not. I've learned in my years that it's not necessary to tell everyone everyTHING. Sometimes it's a kindness to NOT share things you know or hear or even feel. It's really best to take it on a case-by-case basis. For instance, last year someone called me right after the Pinewood Derby, which Scott had won, miracle of miracles. Turns out this caller (she says) overheard two of the other dads complaining about how Scott and his dad had cheated and, boy, they were gonna tell the bishop, and he was gonna fix it! It got my hubby all riled up (there was no cheating, thankyouverymuch!) and had him running to the bishop to make sure his character was not defamed. Of course, we don't know who the mystery men were, nor did this make the caller and me friends (she never particularly noticed me after that). It was kind of a chance for her to be in the center of a drama that really didn't need to go any farther than her overhearing it and rolling her eyes privately.
Anyway, that's old news. Most recently one of my kids had a little get together at our house and invited everyone. Several kids did come, and they all seemed to have a good time. One person who did not come told my child that that person's parents were "uncomfortable" with their child coming to our house. First, if that were true, why would you tell that to your "friend"? How could that be anything but embarrassing and hurtful? And secondly, if it were not true, wouldn't you think you could come up with a kinder lie?
Unfortunately, in a moment of hurt and anger, my hubby wrote an e-mail to the parents of the offending person, who were unhappy about it and confronted their child, who denied saying any such thing. And I didn't know about the e-mail until we both received a reply from one of the parents. Thankfully, these parents were never too friendly to us in the past, so not much will change, but still... And one of the parents is in a leadership role at church, which can only be awkward.
And then we get a call on Tuesday night, asking Lauren, Lindsay, Darryl, and me to speak in church on Sunday. Our topic is Chapters 11, 12, and 13 of 3 Nephi. Since I recently finished teaching a Book of Mormon course this past year, I'm pretty excited about the prospect of delving into this much-loved book of scripture. I just hope we can do justice. Well, let me amend that. Darryl WILL do justice; the girls will probably do a great job; me, I dunno.
Right now it's a Thursday, almost noon, and I am sitting in a very empty, very QUIET house. I think the silence is echoing :) It is amazing how therapeutic it is to spend a few hours alone. Of course, work has been pretty dead, and I really don't feel like working on what little I have to do. So here's my effort for the day.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Cupid's Target
Today is Valentine’s Day. It’s really all about the marketing opportunity for retailers anymore, but I have to admit that I’m really glad I have a Valentine, and that I *am* someone’s Valentine (thank goodness it’s the same person, because THAT would be awkward!)
We’re quickly closing in on 12 years of marriage. I know that Darryl will agree with me when I say that they have been 12 really hard years. Mind you, the 12 years have not been hard BECAUSE of our marriage. In fact, if we hadn’t had each other for the past 12 years, while going through so much heartache and frustration, I can’t imagine the awful place we’d be right now.
So I’m going to tell you about my Valentine, my best friend, the love of my life. He’s awfully hard on himself, and most recently he’s taken sort of a beating from a family member, so I want to make sure to set the record straight.
Darryl is one of the most talented people I have ever known. He is a great photographer; a self-taught programmer in several programming languages; he served a mission in Japan and would take very little effort, I believe, to return to his near-native fluency; he has been an Intermediate Paramedic and is soon going to be recertified at the same level; he delivered our two babies at home – I can’t speak enough about how amazing those experiences were; he is a fantastic cook (if he leaves the stale potato chips off the casserole); he has a vast knowledge of the Gospel and has been able to answer so many questions and has been a tremendous help to the missionaries.
Darryl took me on, an “aged” 35-year-old mother of five kids. He took on my kids with their assorted issues and needs, and he never ran away, no matter how hard it got. There have been many times that he has been the better parent and has been able to help me deal with a sticky issue. I never realized before that I was doing it all by myself, something I wouldn’t recommend to anyone. We argue over which is the more thankless job: stepfather or stepmother. His children made their feelings known pretty thoroughly, so I don’t really feel like a stepmother anymore. But even when I was, I only had six months of actually having one of the stepchildren living in the home. So I guess, for our family, Darryl wins that contest :)
What’s really weird is that Darryl thinks he’s a waste of space. It makes me so sad. He has made such a contribution to the world during his short life (so far), and I look forward to seeing what’s next for him. The best thing, for me, is he is the most entertaining person. We talk and laugh and generally have a great time when we are together. We go out a lot, whether it’s for lunch or for a real date night. My life before was kind of like a dry desert; there was no talking and no sharing.
I am so grateful that we found each other and that we are able to share our 13th Valentine’s Day. I hope there are many other Valentine’s Days to come :) I love Darryl with all my heart and feel grateful that he's been mine for all these years. Heavenly Father loves me, and my Valentine tells me so :)
We’re quickly closing in on 12 years of marriage. I know that Darryl will agree with me when I say that they have been 12 really hard years. Mind you, the 12 years have not been hard BECAUSE of our marriage. In fact, if we hadn’t had each other for the past 12 years, while going through so much heartache and frustration, I can’t imagine the awful place we’d be right now.
So I’m going to tell you about my Valentine, my best friend, the love of my life. He’s awfully hard on himself, and most recently he’s taken sort of a beating from a family member, so I want to make sure to set the record straight.
Darryl is one of the most talented people I have ever known. He is a great photographer; a self-taught programmer in several programming languages; he served a mission in Japan and would take very little effort, I believe, to return to his near-native fluency; he has been an Intermediate Paramedic and is soon going to be recertified at the same level; he delivered our two babies at home – I can’t speak enough about how amazing those experiences were; he is a fantastic cook (if he leaves the stale potato chips off the casserole); he has a vast knowledge of the Gospel and has been able to answer so many questions and has been a tremendous help to the missionaries.
Darryl took me on, an “aged” 35-year-old mother of five kids. He took on my kids with their assorted issues and needs, and he never ran away, no matter how hard it got. There have been many times that he has been the better parent and has been able to help me deal with a sticky issue. I never realized before that I was doing it all by myself, something I wouldn’t recommend to anyone. We argue over which is the more thankless job: stepfather or stepmother. His children made their feelings known pretty thoroughly, so I don’t really feel like a stepmother anymore. But even when I was, I only had six months of actually having one of the stepchildren living in the home. So I guess, for our family, Darryl wins that contest :)
What’s really weird is that Darryl thinks he’s a waste of space. It makes me so sad. He has made such a contribution to the world during his short life (so far), and I look forward to seeing what’s next for him. The best thing, for me, is he is the most entertaining person. We talk and laugh and generally have a great time when we are together. We go out a lot, whether it’s for lunch or for a real date night. My life before was kind of like a dry desert; there was no talking and no sharing.
I am so grateful that we found each other and that we are able to share our 13th Valentine’s Day. I hope there are many other Valentine’s Days to come :) I love Darryl with all my heart and feel grateful that he's been mine for all these years. Heavenly Father loves me, and my Valentine tells me so :)
Saturday, February 7, 2009
The Honda 2010 "Atonement" Model
I love it when the sister missionaries come over. :)
They graced us with their presence this past week to deliver a message and to seek some help with an investigator they've been dealing with. This particular woman who they were teaching was from an Evangelical background, and told them that our religion could NOT be true because we "required works," which, according to her, "cheapened what Jesus did for us on the cross."
Now. If you've ever been a missionary before, this was definitely not a new argument. We used to hear it all the time, especially in San Diego, right before I came home. Long the stronghold of consumate anti-Mormon Walter Martin, that particular area had a large and disturbingly frothy following of his, including one passionate but misguided soul who actually started chasing my companion and I down the street one day when we rode by on our bikes, waving his Bible at us like a weapon, and shouting. Much to my companion's dismay, I stopped. He had long since come to know this about me... even then, I couldn't resist a great "discussion." He circled back around, rolling his eyes, and pulled up for the show. :)
This individual's argument was precisely the same as the woman that the sister missionaries were teaching... not even a syllable had changed... and it goes something like this: "The gospel that we as a Church teach as the 'true, restored gospel of Jesus Christ' can't be, because it relies on a 'works theology' as opposed to 'what the Bible teaches...' and that our insistence that obedience is necessary cheapens the value of the Gift of the Atonement given to us by the Savior." Apparently, the only way we can truly appreciate the great gift of the Atonement, is to be totally disobedient. And as ludicrous as it may sound, this was precisely the ideology of many of the Great Reformers, namely Martin Luther.k But I digress.
As I was sharing some ideas with the sister missionaries about how to handle this, an analogy popped into my head which really speaks to this idea of our obedience "cheapening" the work of Christ in the Atonement. I shared it with the missionaries, and they became very excited about using it with this woman the next time they saw her. I share it with you now, in case you have a modicum of interest. The reality is that if I don't commit this to writing, I'll forget it in a few days given the sorry state of my memory lately. :(
So.
Imagine your self as a newly-minted 16 year old on your birthday... full of excitement... full of passion for life... sure in your knowledge that you're going to somehow change the world. As your birthday celebration reaches its' peak, your parents lovingly take you aside and ask you to close your eyes. You do so in eager anticipation of what they might have in store for you... what will it be?
When they finally give you permission to open your eyes, you find yourself standing in front of your dream car. A brand new Honda (yes, this is a "green" analogy) 2010 model hybrid... in your favorite color... with a huge red bow on top!!! They hand you the keys, hold you tight, and tell you how much they love you.
In the midst of your shrieking and squeeling with delight and gratitude, your father arches one eyebrow and says, "you know... this does come with some strings." Uh oh. What does he mean?
"We know you are a good student... we've watched you for a long time. We know you could never afford this on your own, so we are giving this to you as a free gift. No payments, no taxes, no insurance, we'll cover everything."
The daughter, now grinning ear to ear, says "So... what are the strings?"
The father smiles back and says, "The only strings are that you obey the rules of the road."
"That's ALL? Of course I will!" the daughter exclaims.
Many of those in the world reject the Doctrine of Salvation as taught in the Bible and the Book of Mormon because they do not understand the nature of covenants with the Lord. There are those, for instance, who would point to this analogy and claim that by putting ANY conditions on the gift of this brand new car, that it "cheapens" or "demeans" the value of the gift itself. This is not the nature of covenants. Covenants are never "free." They are never one-sided. Covenants with God are always two-sided. And they NEVER degrade, diminish, or cheapen the Lord's side of the covenant.
Now... imagine how that loving father and mother would have reacted if the child had thrown a fit, pouted, and shouted at them, "How COULD you! This brand new car is worth NOTHING if I have to obey TRAFFIC rules! I want to drive any way I WANT!"
Imagine the loving, patient, yet concerned father trying to explain to his now-hysterical daughter, "Sweetheart... I put that condition on you to keep you SAFE... to make sure that you will be HAPPY and to ensure that you return home safely to us at the end of the day!"
"I don't CARE. If you make me do that, this gift is worth NOTHING to me."
Can anyone imagine behaving this way in the face of receiving such a magnanimous and generous gift? Yet, in their lost and ignorant state, this is the attitude of Apostate Christianity when it comes to the greatest gift given to mankind.
In the case of the atonement, Paul's epistle to the Hebrews clearly and irrefutably lays out the covenant relationship that exists with the atonement, and the conditions upon which we become partakers of that great gift:
"And being made perfect, He [Christ] became the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey Him." (Heb 5:9)
THAT is what the Bible teaches about the atonement and obedience.
If we are obedient, He is the author of our eternal Salvation. If we obey the rules of the road, He has given us the most magnificent brand new car we could ever hope for. If we disobey the rules of the road, we risk losing that precious gift in a painful "accident" that could "total" our precious new car, and inflict permanent and devastating injury to our eternal souls.
In His omniscience, Heavenly Father has given us "rules of the road" to keep us safe, to help us be truly happy, and to be able to return to Him at the end of the day. They are there because He loves us, and knows what kinds of treacherous conditions exist on the freeways of our lives.
Remember. Satan and his angels don't drive so well.
They graced us with their presence this past week to deliver a message and to seek some help with an investigator they've been dealing with. This particular woman who they were teaching was from an Evangelical background, and told them that our religion could NOT be true because we "required works," which, according to her, "cheapened what Jesus did for us on the cross."
Now. If you've ever been a missionary before, this was definitely not a new argument. We used to hear it all the time, especially in San Diego, right before I came home. Long the stronghold of consumate anti-Mormon Walter Martin, that particular area had a large and disturbingly frothy following of his, including one passionate but misguided soul who actually started chasing my companion and I down the street one day when we rode by on our bikes, waving his Bible at us like a weapon, and shouting. Much to my companion's dismay, I stopped. He had long since come to know this about me... even then, I couldn't resist a great "discussion." He circled back around, rolling his eyes, and pulled up for the show. :)
This individual's argument was precisely the same as the woman that the sister missionaries were teaching... not even a syllable had changed... and it goes something like this: "The gospel that we as a Church teach as the 'true, restored gospel of Jesus Christ' can't be, because it relies on a 'works theology' as opposed to 'what the Bible teaches...' and that our insistence that obedience is necessary cheapens the value of the Gift of the Atonement given to us by the Savior." Apparently, the only way we can truly appreciate the great gift of the Atonement, is to be totally disobedient. And as ludicrous as it may sound, this was precisely the ideology of many of the Great Reformers, namely Martin Luther.k But I digress.
As I was sharing some ideas with the sister missionaries about how to handle this, an analogy popped into my head which really speaks to this idea of our obedience "cheapening" the work of Christ in the Atonement. I shared it with the missionaries, and they became very excited about using it with this woman the next time they saw her. I share it with you now, in case you have a modicum of interest. The reality is that if I don't commit this to writing, I'll forget it in a few days given the sorry state of my memory lately. :(
So.
Imagine your self as a newly-minted 16 year old on your birthday... full of excitement... full of passion for life... sure in your knowledge that you're going to somehow change the world. As your birthday celebration reaches its' peak, your parents lovingly take you aside and ask you to close your eyes. You do so in eager anticipation of what they might have in store for you... what will it be?
When they finally give you permission to open your eyes, you find yourself standing in front of your dream car. A brand new Honda (yes, this is a "green" analogy) 2010 model hybrid... in your favorite color... with a huge red bow on top!!! They hand you the keys, hold you tight, and tell you how much they love you.
In the midst of your shrieking and squeeling with delight and gratitude, your father arches one eyebrow and says, "you know... this does come with some strings." Uh oh. What does he mean?
"We know you are a good student... we've watched you for a long time. We know you could never afford this on your own, so we are giving this to you as a free gift. No payments, no taxes, no insurance, we'll cover everything."
The daughter, now grinning ear to ear, says "So... what are the strings?"
The father smiles back and says, "The only strings are that you obey the rules of the road."
"That's ALL? Of course I will!" the daughter exclaims.
Many of those in the world reject the Doctrine of Salvation as taught in the Bible and the Book of Mormon because they do not understand the nature of covenants with the Lord. There are those, for instance, who would point to this analogy and claim that by putting ANY conditions on the gift of this brand new car, that it "cheapens" or "demeans" the value of the gift itself. This is not the nature of covenants. Covenants are never "free." They are never one-sided. Covenants with God are always two-sided. And they NEVER degrade, diminish, or cheapen the Lord's side of the covenant.
Now... imagine how that loving father and mother would have reacted if the child had thrown a fit, pouted, and shouted at them, "How COULD you! This brand new car is worth NOTHING if I have to obey TRAFFIC rules! I want to drive any way I WANT!"
Imagine the loving, patient, yet concerned father trying to explain to his now-hysterical daughter, "Sweetheart... I put that condition on you to keep you SAFE... to make sure that you will be HAPPY and to ensure that you return home safely to us at the end of the day!"
"I don't CARE. If you make me do that, this gift is worth NOTHING to me."
Can anyone imagine behaving this way in the face of receiving such a magnanimous and generous gift? Yet, in their lost and ignorant state, this is the attitude of Apostate Christianity when it comes to the greatest gift given to mankind.
In the case of the atonement, Paul's epistle to the Hebrews clearly and irrefutably lays out the covenant relationship that exists with the atonement, and the conditions upon which we become partakers of that great gift:
"And being made perfect, He [Christ] became the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey Him." (Heb 5:9)
THAT is what the Bible teaches about the atonement and obedience.
If we are obedient, He is the author of our eternal Salvation. If we obey the rules of the road, He has given us the most magnificent brand new car we could ever hope for. If we disobey the rules of the road, we risk losing that precious gift in a painful "accident" that could "total" our precious new car, and inflict permanent and devastating injury to our eternal souls.
In His omniscience, Heavenly Father has given us "rules of the road" to keep us safe, to help us be truly happy, and to be able to return to Him at the end of the day. They are there because He loves us, and knows what kinds of treacherous conditions exist on the freeways of our lives.
Remember. Satan and his angels don't drive so well.
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