There was a recent Facebook post of a picture of the LDS temple in San Diego, California. It said, "Share if you are proud to be a Mormon." I did, because I am.
I am a Latter-Day Saint. I know that Jesus Christ lives. I know that I am a daughter of God. I know that my Heavenly Father loves me. And I am proud to be nick-named "a Mormon".
Now, why am I proud to be a Mormon?
I am proud to be a Mormon, because there was a time when I wasn't -- well, at least not a very good one. There was a time in my life when I wasn't living the way I should. When I wasn't living up to the knowledge and testimony that I had previously acquired by study and faith.
Through a lot of hard work, I repented, and I changed. I fought hard. I fought harder trying to forgive myself, but eventually that happened. And that's why I'm proud. I'm proud because through exercising the gospel of repentance, through two great bishops, and a lot of love from family and friends --- I became a better person. I am grateful for both bishops, one bishop who laid down the law, and the other who convinced me it was okay to forgive myself. I am proud to be a Mormon, someone who sets high standards for themselves and fights to live up to those standards. Someone who doesn't give up, but strives every day to do a little better.
And isn't that what a religion should do?
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
Ode to My Honda CRV
He started life on the freeways of southern California in 1999, and entered the "car witness protection program" two years later. He reappeared in Sacramento with 68,836 miles, and a new zest for life. He hung out at "witness protection headquarters" eagerly waiting for his relocation assignment.
Then, two short blonde chicks walked in one night, and thought they could make a deal on a car. Late that night, they finally claimed this dark green Honda CRV and drove him off the lot for good. The smarter, prettier, and wiser blonde girl made herself at home in the front seat, and proceeded to name this Honda, "Skeeter". What was in store for Skeeter?
To his dismay, she loaded him high with her stuff, drove west and picked up more stuff, then drove south -- and kept driving. She took her time, seems she was overdue for a vacation. Eventually, they made it to their destination -- very near Skeeter's original home.
She drove like a mad-woman. Seems she was also over-due for some fun! Skeeter kept up with her freeway antics, long drives to meet her "friend", and forgetfulness for oil changes and regular maintenance. They had fun. And she made sure he had regular trips to the carwash. He liked being clean.
Fairly quickly, this "friend" became her husband, and they both drove him around -- and drove each other crazy. The hubby ensured Skeeter got regular maintenance -- and took Skeeter off-roading when the blonde wasn't around. That was fun! Skeeter out-did those big fancy trucks. Skeeter and the hubby even pulled a tree stump out of the back yard one day --- to the objections of the blonde.
There were outings to the mountains, up the coast of California & down the coast & up again, up the central valley of California & down again & up again, adventures to Utah and Idaho and Nevada, camping twice -- once even they slept in the car while camping. Chili cheese fries, soda, and burritos spilled on Skeeter's floor mats and always cleaned up. Because she loved him, she wasted some money on new rubber window gaskets, and eventually a reclaimed spare tire cover.
Then these little ones arrived -- always dropping sippy cups and milk bottles on the floor. What a mess! Maintenance got very regular, but carwashes declined. Skeeter hated the trailmix and fruit snacks that were constant companions in the back seat, but loved the company. Eventually Skeeter started to feel his age. He was hospitalized for awhile for engine work, and he felt good for awhile. Then, Skeeter's transmission needed a face lift. That didn't go so well, that took some revisits to the doctor's office.
Then, both Skeeter and the blonde could see the writing on the wall. They knew that time was short. Skeeter was left at home when the family left on vacation. He was very sad, but knew he couldn't make it anymore. One day, his starter was having trouble. She gave him a little gas, and he managed to get going, and that was good for a couple of weeks. She was afraid to take him to the doctor this time. He had many miles on him, but was giving her everything he could give.
Late in June almost 10 years from the time they met, Skeeter couldn't make it over the freeway hill and he over-heated. She turned him around and limped him to the mechanic. The news was bad. He needed a new engine gasket, his second. And his crank pulley was wobbly. If they could fix the gasket, it was just a band-aid and a new engine would be needed soon. They both knew he was unsafe to drive the kids around in.
She felt bad, almost disloyal, but she couldn't afford to fix him. She cried. Skeeter cried, but they said their good-byes. She sold him to somebody who could afford to fix him with his own skills. And she hoped, for his sake, that it gave him another chance. He still had his original engine and transmission, and had served her faithfully and reliably until he had 341,026 miles. And she'll never forget him.
Her life had changed over the last 10 years, and Skeeter had been with her for every mile -- whether difficult or fun or disappointing. He had been there, and she'll never forget him.
Then, two short blonde chicks walked in one night, and thought they could make a deal on a car. Late that night, they finally claimed this dark green Honda CRV and drove him off the lot for good. The smarter, prettier, and wiser blonde girl made herself at home in the front seat, and proceeded to name this Honda, "Skeeter". What was in store for Skeeter?
To his dismay, she loaded him high with her stuff, drove west and picked up more stuff, then drove south -- and kept driving. She took her time, seems she was overdue for a vacation. Eventually, they made it to their destination -- very near Skeeter's original home.
She drove like a mad-woman. Seems she was also over-due for some fun! Skeeter kept up with her freeway antics, long drives to meet her "friend", and forgetfulness for oil changes and regular maintenance. They had fun. And she made sure he had regular trips to the carwash. He liked being clean.
Fairly quickly, this "friend" became her husband, and they both drove him around -- and drove each other crazy. The hubby ensured Skeeter got regular maintenance -- and took Skeeter off-roading when the blonde wasn't around. That was fun! Skeeter out-did those big fancy trucks. Skeeter and the hubby even pulled a tree stump out of the back yard one day --- to the objections of the blonde.
There were outings to the mountains, up the coast of California & down the coast & up again, up the central valley of California & down again & up again, adventures to Utah and Idaho and Nevada, camping twice -- once even they slept in the car while camping. Chili cheese fries, soda, and burritos spilled on Skeeter's floor mats and always cleaned up. Because she loved him, she wasted some money on new rubber window gaskets, and eventually a reclaimed spare tire cover.
Then these little ones arrived -- always dropping sippy cups and milk bottles on the floor. What a mess! Maintenance got very regular, but carwashes declined. Skeeter hated the trailmix and fruit snacks that were constant companions in the back seat, but loved the company. Eventually Skeeter started to feel his age. He was hospitalized for awhile for engine work, and he felt good for awhile. Then, Skeeter's transmission needed a face lift. That didn't go so well, that took some revisits to the doctor's office.
Then, both Skeeter and the blonde could see the writing on the wall. They knew that time was short. Skeeter was left at home when the family left on vacation. He was very sad, but knew he couldn't make it anymore. One day, his starter was having trouble. She gave him a little gas, and he managed to get going, and that was good for a couple of weeks. She was afraid to take him to the doctor this time. He had many miles on him, but was giving her everything he could give.
Late in June almost 10 years from the time they met, Skeeter couldn't make it over the freeway hill and he over-heated. She turned him around and limped him to the mechanic. The news was bad. He needed a new engine gasket, his second. And his crank pulley was wobbly. If they could fix the gasket, it was just a band-aid and a new engine would be needed soon. They both knew he was unsafe to drive the kids around in.
She felt bad, almost disloyal, but she couldn't afford to fix him. She cried. Skeeter cried, but they said their good-byes. She sold him to somebody who could afford to fix him with his own skills. And she hoped, for his sake, that it gave him another chance. He still had his original engine and transmission, and had served her faithfully and reliably until he had 341,026 miles. And she'll never forget him.
Her life had changed over the last 10 years, and Skeeter had been with her for every mile -- whether difficult or fun or disappointing. He had been there, and she'll never forget him.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
When Moses Went to Mexico
When I was married, it was a long week. My mother-in-law died the week before we got married, and it got worse from there. When the elderly officiator at my wedding saw this young couple in front of him, he thought it was a good time to impart some of his life-long wisdom to us. Because it had been a terrible week and because I try to look for meaning in my life, I listened very intently to what the wise man had to say. I had been taught that if they have gray hair, you owe them an attentive ear. I thought surely something he would say in the next 10 minutes would somehow come to mind and save my marriage some day in the future.
I soon realized he was delivering an encapsulated version of the entire history of the Gospel of Jesus Christ --- sooo, I acted my age and politely nodded. I knew this already.
When I left the temple, my sister was waiting outside and said, "SO, I hear Moses went to Mexico!" "Huh?" "The officiator, he said, "and when Moses went down to Mexico"". Hmmm -- my wheels turning. "He did! You're right!!!" (Since we all know Moses went to Egypt, this was a good chuckle.)
I was thinking of this the other day. My mind was also wandering to the fact that my 10-year anniversary is approaching. I was thinking of what I could say I had learned after a decade of marriage, and then thought of this officiator. How my search for deep meaning that day had turned up an empty harvest.
And then, "Duh!"
What I have learned in almost 10 years of marriage, and what I learned from the officiator that day (now that I think about it) --- was a reminder to never take yourself too seriously. Here we were, a long, hard week which almost resulted in no wedding at all .... making an eternal, never-ending commitment. Seeing ourselves beyond this life, in a way only God sees us. And in the midst of it, "Moses went down to Mexico!"
Take your promises/ commitments/ covenants seriously. Take your duty to your spouse seriously. Be dedicated to them in every way --- even when you have to tell them to just "Cool It!". But never, ever take yourself or each other TOO seriously. Laugh. Laugh in your anger. Laugh while you cry. Laugh when you pay a bill off. Laugh when you can't pay it off, because the car broke down. Laugh when you're ready to kill each other. Laugh when you know you're wrong and just can't admit it. In the grand scheme, compared to our Father in Heaven, you are still two kids playing house, trying to figure out how it all works.
May all your Moses' go down to Mexico!
I soon realized he was delivering an encapsulated version of the entire history of the Gospel of Jesus Christ --- sooo, I acted my age and politely nodded. I knew this already.
When I left the temple, my sister was waiting outside and said, "SO, I hear Moses went to Mexico!" "Huh?" "The officiator, he said, "and when Moses went down to Mexico"". Hmmm -- my wheels turning. "He did! You're right!!!" (Since we all know Moses went to Egypt, this was a good chuckle.)
I was thinking of this the other day. My mind was also wandering to the fact that my 10-year anniversary is approaching. I was thinking of what I could say I had learned after a decade of marriage, and then thought of this officiator. How my search for deep meaning that day had turned up an empty harvest.
And then, "Duh!"
What I have learned in almost 10 years of marriage, and what I learned from the officiator that day (now that I think about it) --- was a reminder to never take yourself too seriously. Here we were, a long, hard week which almost resulted in no wedding at all .... making an eternal, never-ending commitment. Seeing ourselves beyond this life, in a way only God sees us. And in the midst of it, "Moses went down to Mexico!"
Take your promises/ commitments/ covenants seriously. Take your duty to your spouse seriously. Be dedicated to them in every way --- even when you have to tell them to just "Cool It!". But never, ever take yourself or each other TOO seriously. Laugh. Laugh in your anger. Laugh while you cry. Laugh when you pay a bill off. Laugh when you can't pay it off, because the car broke down. Laugh when you're ready to kill each other. Laugh when you know you're wrong and just can't admit it. In the grand scheme, compared to our Father in Heaven, you are still two kids playing house, trying to figure out how it all works.
May all your Moses' go down to Mexico!
Monday, June 18, 2012
Out-laws
I had a boss one time that referred to her in-laws as "the out-laws". She was married, with a daughter in college, and her mother-in-law was still encouraging her son to divorce his wife because she hadn't given birth to a son. They had a beautiful daughter, but couldn't have any more.
I know that family businesses can tear families apart. People get greedy, or feel their survival is threatened, and they do cruel things. Money has this strange effect on even the tightest bonds, people kick into anything between "fighting for survival" and "fighting for a pipe dream" that wouldn't do them any good anyway or one they will never live long enough to see to fruition. I know good people, grown adults, who are still seeking the approval of their abusive parents, and it will never happen.
Some families deal with theft, abuse, violence, psychoses, and hatred. And on the other hand, some families just can't communicate well. The former have good reasons to be estranged, to protect themselves from further harm. The latter, just don't get it. Oh how short these moments are on the stage of eternity!!
I know a wise woman, one I admire, and she taught me, "Consider the source." This advice has saved my career in more than one moment, but I think it has further application.
If you are in one of those families that doesn't have any "real" issues besides terrible communication, and you are at a family function .... just, "Consider the source." Be pleasant, kind, and outgoing. Be helpful. When all is done, get in the car, drive away, give your spouse an earful about your family and your in-laws, etc., etc., etc. But when all is said and done, consider the source.
What was said that you didn't like? Why was it said? Were you actually there or did it get relayed 2nd hand? Was it said out of love and concern, or hatred and cruelty? Every family communicates differently, most individuals communicate differently. Some individuals, even though they have adapted to their family communication style, still feel like its a "one size fits all" style that well, ... ... doesn't truly fit them. Then, what do we do? We go and throw in a bunch of in-laws, who don't know the "code of conduct", or will never fit into that "one size fits all" dress. And before you know it, we have some more "out-laws" because they don't fit into the dress. You've spent a lifetime learning to fit the mold, and you've fit it because that's all you've known. In-laws are lucky enough to see the mold, and know that it doesn't have to be.
So, consider the source. Ask yourself, which category it falls into: 1) different than my world view, 2) more open and frank than I appreciated, 3) insensitive, 4) vengeful, 5) intended to do harm, or 6) intended to incite war. What do I know about this person? Do they usually aim bows and arrows at the hearts of others OR are they generally a good person who married and cares for a member of your family? And how much do you care for that member of your family? Does your mutual past, memories, or shared lifetime, mean anything to you? .... Then, consider the source.
And after you "consider the source", pray for them. Get on your knees and pray for their health and happiness. Pray that you may know what they need and how to help them. Pray that they my know the joys you have in your life, and pray for understanding. Pray for forgiveness and gentleness of heart.
The other person in my life that I admire is my husband. He would give away our very home to help someone in need, if I let him. He remembers others, he prays for others. I am so buried in getting through each tough day, but he is the one who looks around for those eternal service opportunities. I wish someday to have the courageous heart he does. I yearn to have his courage to speak out about what I see, and what I care about. I wish people could see him as I do, and know that I am better because of him. He values family. He is the in-law, and still comes home and prays for my family. He prays for every single need he sees, and I don't know how he does it.
Like my blog subtitle says. My life is perfect, but I'm not ... I'm working on it.
I know that family businesses can tear families apart. People get greedy, or feel their survival is threatened, and they do cruel things. Money has this strange effect on even the tightest bonds, people kick into anything between "fighting for survival" and "fighting for a pipe dream" that wouldn't do them any good anyway or one they will never live long enough to see to fruition. I know good people, grown adults, who are still seeking the approval of their abusive parents, and it will never happen.
Some families deal with theft, abuse, violence, psychoses, and hatred. And on the other hand, some families just can't communicate well. The former have good reasons to be estranged, to protect themselves from further harm. The latter, just don't get it. Oh how short these moments are on the stage of eternity!!
I know a wise woman, one I admire, and she taught me, "Consider the source." This advice has saved my career in more than one moment, but I think it has further application.
If you are in one of those families that doesn't have any "real" issues besides terrible communication, and you are at a family function .... just, "Consider the source." Be pleasant, kind, and outgoing. Be helpful. When all is done, get in the car, drive away, give your spouse an earful about your family and your in-laws, etc., etc., etc. But when all is said and done, consider the source.
What was said that you didn't like? Why was it said? Were you actually there or did it get relayed 2nd hand? Was it said out of love and concern, or hatred and cruelty? Every family communicates differently, most individuals communicate differently. Some individuals, even though they have adapted to their family communication style, still feel like its a "one size fits all" style that well, ... ... doesn't truly fit them. Then, what do we do? We go and throw in a bunch of in-laws, who don't know the "code of conduct", or will never fit into that "one size fits all" dress. And before you know it, we have some more "out-laws" because they don't fit into the dress. You've spent a lifetime learning to fit the mold, and you've fit it because that's all you've known. In-laws are lucky enough to see the mold, and know that it doesn't have to be.
So, consider the source. Ask yourself, which category it falls into: 1) different than my world view, 2) more open and frank than I appreciated, 3) insensitive, 4) vengeful, 5) intended to do harm, or 6) intended to incite war. What do I know about this person? Do they usually aim bows and arrows at the hearts of others OR are they generally a good person who married and cares for a member of your family? And how much do you care for that member of your family? Does your mutual past, memories, or shared lifetime, mean anything to you? .... Then, consider the source.
And after you "consider the source", pray for them. Get on your knees and pray for their health and happiness. Pray that you may know what they need and how to help them. Pray that they my know the joys you have in your life, and pray for understanding. Pray for forgiveness and gentleness of heart.
The other person in my life that I admire is my husband. He would give away our very home to help someone in need, if I let him. He remembers others, he prays for others. I am so buried in getting through each tough day, but he is the one who looks around for those eternal service opportunities. I wish someday to have the courageous heart he does. I yearn to have his courage to speak out about what I see, and what I care about. I wish people could see him as I do, and know that I am better because of him. He values family. He is the in-law, and still comes home and prays for my family. He prays for every single need he sees, and I don't know how he does it.
Like my blog subtitle says. My life is perfect, but I'm not ... I'm working on it.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
A Family's Decisions
I have a few thoughts tonight. My son just finished Kindergarten. He scored the highest in his class on the standardized test in the subject of reading. There were other awards earned, given, and received, but I am very proud of my son. And, I am very proud of this family.
People say a lot of stupid things about working moms, about families with two working parents, and even about families who choose private school over public. When it comes to these trades in life my theory is: Be happy with your decision. Be honest enough with yourself to change it when it doesn't work. And respect the other woman or mom enough, to let HER be happy with HER decisions.
Our family juggles a crazy schedule, a good dose of hardship, long commutes, and ........ regardless of all that ...... my child has still learned to read. We have made our decisions with a lot of thought and prayer. Depending upon the choice, we continue to "check-in" to make sure that this is the only solution or that it is the solution we still desire. We are not my mother's family, or that other family at church, or that other family at school. We are OUR family. Our children are loved, and they and their education is a priority.
And I am very proud of my son and our little family tonight.
People say a lot of stupid things about working moms, about families with two working parents, and even about families who choose private school over public. When it comes to these trades in life my theory is: Be happy with your decision. Be honest enough with yourself to change it when it doesn't work. And respect the other woman or mom enough, to let HER be happy with HER decisions.
Our family juggles a crazy schedule, a good dose of hardship, long commutes, and ........ regardless of all that ...... my child has still learned to read. We have made our decisions with a lot of thought and prayer. Depending upon the choice, we continue to "check-in" to make sure that this is the only solution or that it is the solution we still desire. We are not my mother's family, or that other family at church, or that other family at school. We are OUR family. Our children are loved, and they and their education is a priority.
And I am very proud of my son and our little family tonight.
Friday, June 8, 2012
I am helping to index the 1940 census for easy computer searching. Go to https://familysearch.org/1940census for more info.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
My Sabbath
I'm a Latter-Day Saint (LDS). We have a lay clergy -- which means every member has a "job" at church in additional to their "normal" job and family duties. Our bishop is also a high school teacher, his first counselor is a draftsman and handyman, and his second counselor (my husband) is a financial services representative. I also have an assignment -- I'm the Primary President, which means I'm responsible for the religious education of the 18 month olds through 12 year olds.
I have known and still know some adults who resent the amount of time their parents spent in their church assignments. They feel that their parents cared more about their assignments or "callings" at church, than their own kids. I don't know, I think we all find something to resent our parents over. I was the kid who's parents didn't always come to church. My parents weren't very active until I was in high school, but they were always good people, I knew they believed in God, and we always prayed as a family. I didn't really understand the advantage of a temple marriage over a civil-only marriage until my parents were married in the temple when I was 16 years old. The four of us kids were also "sealed" to them for "time and all of eternity" at that time. Then, as a judgmental, opinionated teenager, I saw two good people with a good marriage, become something greater. This lesson has served me well over the years.
I guess I don't have a lot of sympathy for the adults who were active kids with active parents -- seems like a strange thing to hate your parents over. However, I do worry about my kids feeling this way some day. I don't want them to hate the Church because their Mom and Dad were busy serving everyone else, but them. I am very careful about how many hours I ask them to be adults in little kid bodies. Because really, the end goal is for them to love the Lord and His Church, as much as I do -- if not more.
So, back to today's sabbath:
This morning, my husband and I both needed to attend Ward Council (basically, our congregation's staff meeting with the bishop), which meant also taking the kids -- an almost 5 1/2 year old and an almost 2 year old for a 1.5 hr adult meeting. (Who is going to babysit at 7am on a Sunday?) Thankfully, I have two wonderful counselors who trade off months with me, but this month it was my turn. As I pulled up to the church 30 minutes late -- totally my fault this morning, but I didn't lose my cool -- my kids cheered and screamed, "Yay! Church!". I said, "Okay, but first we go to bishop's meeting." Then screams of "Yay! Bishop!" Man!!! That did my heart good!! This made my month!!! These two "little" adults were great during the meeting, and help me set up chairs in the classrooms afterward. Then, during church, with everyone watching and my husband helpless in the front of the room, I was in the back pew with two little ones who decided to be children again. I racked up 400 steps on my pedometer while "sitting still" in church, and my last comments were, "No touching!!!". I was handling it okay, better than some days, but I was ready to turn them over to their teachers. A member of the Stake Presidency (leaders over ~10 local congregations) walked by afterward and smiled "You did a good job." I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, right!" He smiled again, "I know its hard." Thank you, I needed that.
I have known and still know some adults who resent the amount of time their parents spent in their church assignments. They feel that their parents cared more about their assignments or "callings" at church, than their own kids. I don't know, I think we all find something to resent our parents over. I was the kid who's parents didn't always come to church. My parents weren't very active until I was in high school, but they were always good people, I knew they believed in God, and we always prayed as a family. I didn't really understand the advantage of a temple marriage over a civil-only marriage until my parents were married in the temple when I was 16 years old. The four of us kids were also "sealed" to them for "time and all of eternity" at that time. Then, as a judgmental, opinionated teenager, I saw two good people with a good marriage, become something greater. This lesson has served me well over the years.
I guess I don't have a lot of sympathy for the adults who were active kids with active parents -- seems like a strange thing to hate your parents over. However, I do worry about my kids feeling this way some day. I don't want them to hate the Church because their Mom and Dad were busy serving everyone else, but them. I am very careful about how many hours I ask them to be adults in little kid bodies. Because really, the end goal is for them to love the Lord and His Church, as much as I do -- if not more.
So, back to today's sabbath:
This morning, my husband and I both needed to attend Ward Council (basically, our congregation's staff meeting with the bishop), which meant also taking the kids -- an almost 5 1/2 year old and an almost 2 year old for a 1.5 hr adult meeting. (Who is going to babysit at 7am on a Sunday?) Thankfully, I have two wonderful counselors who trade off months with me, but this month it was my turn. As I pulled up to the church 30 minutes late -- totally my fault this morning, but I didn't lose my cool -- my kids cheered and screamed, "Yay! Church!". I said, "Okay, but first we go to bishop's meeting." Then screams of "Yay! Bishop!" Man!!! That did my heart good!! This made my month!!! These two "little" adults were great during the meeting, and help me set up chairs in the classrooms afterward. Then, during church, with everyone watching and my husband helpless in the front of the room, I was in the back pew with two little ones who decided to be children again. I racked up 400 steps on my pedometer while "sitting still" in church, and my last comments were, "No touching!!!". I was handling it okay, better than some days, but I was ready to turn them over to their teachers. A member of the Stake Presidency (leaders over ~10 local congregations) walked by afterward and smiled "You did a good job." I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, right!" He smiled again, "I know its hard." Thank you, I needed that.
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