For over ten years now I have had an idea in my head. I go through phases where I am more or less serious. But now, I'm really serious. Really.
I had a companion who suggested to me some years ago that I write a book about being a sister missionary. Because, she reasoned, our experience is just different because what we bring to it is so different than what the elders bring. I have given in a lot of thought and half-heartedly collected stories over the years. I think the slump has passed, however, and I'm hoping to spend a lot of time on this project this year.
What I am hoping to produce will be something more than a self-help manual and more than chicken soup for the sister missionary's soul. I think I want to create something more like a collective memoir.
My publishing track record is dismal, so there is little fear of my profiteering from your stories. :) When the result is in, if no publisher will pick it up, then I will possibly self-publish and send all contributors a copy.
Potential topics I'm seeking anecdotes for:
joy in the work
companions
obedience
hard work
faith
Holy Ghost
Joseph Smith
Priesthood
temple
charity
missionary's mantle
conversion
I've even set up an email account: sister.missionary@hotmail.com for stories or queries to be sent to. My real email address contains my name, so that is the reason for the alternative. So, here is your chance to tell YOUR story. If you did not serve a mission, but you have a sister or friend or female relative that did, please encourage a contribution. I think our voices need to be heard.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Snow Day = No Church?
We got a ten year storm in our portion of the NW today. It was beautiful, oh, except for the part where I delivered the hated Sunday papers in the snow. And tomorrow will likely be a big icy mess--there isn't a snowplow within 50 miles of our fair city. After Sacrament Meeting, the Bishop called off the rest of church as snowflakes the size of silver dollars were still coming down hard. Pictures to come.
I wasn't going to blog today; I'm trying to have a no Sunday policy, but I read something over on Foxy J's blog--an old post I missed--and I decided to post instead of comment. Before my remarks make a lot of sense, you probably should read the post, and the comments.
Basically, in response to her post, somebody commented that she had recently been heckled for attending a funeral in Utah. Why? The young man who passed away had committed suicide and was homosexual. The person who wrote in did not say whether or not the two were related, but my impression is that the persecution this young man had endured probably did not make for great mental health.
Now I'm going to tell a long story, but it really has a point, I promise. I once had a roommate who was dating a guy I couldn't stand. He was in training to be a seminary teacher, but he was probably one of the most judgmental people I'd ever met. I was a sophomore in college and going through my detox from my ultra-Republican upbringing. I had a microbiology class. One section was about viruses and we talked at length about AIDS, as it was just really hitting the news then and it was before a lot of the successful anti-retro-viral drugs were available.
Anyway, the teacher's brother had died of AIDS a few years before and he just taught with such pathos, that I was really moved and interested. I was speaking about the situation to my roommate and ick-boyfriend happened to be there. He interupted the conversation to say, "AIDS is just God's judgment for the wicked." He shrugged off the deaths of women and children in Africa as collateral damage, and then I described the horror of dying from AIDS. He just shrugged and said, "Fags and drug users deserve it."
I was in complete shock. Complete.
Never before had I visted a bishop when I hadn't been called in, but I really liked the man who was serving as my bishop at the time and I'd had him for Institute. He was especially sensitive and attuned to the Spirit. I set an appointment and spoke to him. I didn't go to tattle on the wanna-be seminary teacher, I was more concerned that I too, as a member of the Church with a rather fledgling testimony, was supposed to feel likewise.
This wise bishop listened very carefully to me and said with great deliberation, "You know, I don't understand homosexuality all that well. I can understand why women sometimes turn to one another--women are sensitive and kind and men can be very cruel. But I don't know how men can be attracted to other men.
"But still, those emotions are real and powerful. It would be very hard to go through a lifetime of not acting on those impulses. They are very strong. But what I want to tell you is this:
"That young man your roommate is dating does not speak for the Church, and he especially doesn't speak for God. See, the thing is, we will all die in our sins. It doesn't matter if they are "little" or "big." Any act of disobedience keeps us seperate, spiritually, from our Father in Heaven. We will all have to learn to lay those sins, our OWN sins, not somebody else's at the feet of the Savior."
He then sighed and shook his head, "I hope your roommate's young man never makes it as a seminary teacher. How will he react when a sensitive young man comes to him for counsel? His attitude and judgments have no place in the Church Education System. I hope she doesn't marry him."
She didn't. But she almost did. In the end he couldn't believe that she was really wanting to go to medical school when she could have a life of raising his babies and living on $30,000 a year. He was actually dating another girl at the same time and when roomie got cold, he was engaged within two weeks.
I hope he isn't your kid's seminary teacher.
I wasn't going to blog today; I'm trying to have a no Sunday policy, but I read something over on Foxy J's blog--an old post I missed--and I decided to post instead of comment. Before my remarks make a lot of sense, you probably should read the post, and the comments.
Basically, in response to her post, somebody commented that she had recently been heckled for attending a funeral in Utah. Why? The young man who passed away had committed suicide and was homosexual. The person who wrote in did not say whether or not the two were related, but my impression is that the persecution this young man had endured probably did not make for great mental health.
Now I'm going to tell a long story, but it really has a point, I promise. I once had a roommate who was dating a guy I couldn't stand. He was in training to be a seminary teacher, but he was probably one of the most judgmental people I'd ever met. I was a sophomore in college and going through my detox from my ultra-Republican upbringing. I had a microbiology class. One section was about viruses and we talked at length about AIDS, as it was just really hitting the news then and it was before a lot of the successful anti-retro-viral drugs were available.
Anyway, the teacher's brother had died of AIDS a few years before and he just taught with such pathos, that I was really moved and interested. I was speaking about the situation to my roommate and ick-boyfriend happened to be there. He interupted the conversation to say, "AIDS is just God's judgment for the wicked." He shrugged off the deaths of women and children in Africa as collateral damage, and then I described the horror of dying from AIDS. He just shrugged and said, "Fags and drug users deserve it."
I was in complete shock. Complete.
Never before had I visted a bishop when I hadn't been called in, but I really liked the man who was serving as my bishop at the time and I'd had him for Institute. He was especially sensitive and attuned to the Spirit. I set an appointment and spoke to him. I didn't go to tattle on the wanna-be seminary teacher, I was more concerned that I too, as a member of the Church with a rather fledgling testimony, was supposed to feel likewise.
This wise bishop listened very carefully to me and said with great deliberation, "You know, I don't understand homosexuality all that well. I can understand why women sometimes turn to one another--women are sensitive and kind and men can be very cruel. But I don't know how men can be attracted to other men.
"But still, those emotions are real and powerful. It would be very hard to go through a lifetime of not acting on those impulses. They are very strong. But what I want to tell you is this:
"That young man your roommate is dating does not speak for the Church, and he especially doesn't speak for God. See, the thing is, we will all die in our sins. It doesn't matter if they are "little" or "big." Any act of disobedience keeps us seperate, spiritually, from our Father in Heaven. We will all have to learn to lay those sins, our OWN sins, not somebody else's at the feet of the Savior."
He then sighed and shook his head, "I hope your roommate's young man never makes it as a seminary teacher. How will he react when a sensitive young man comes to him for counsel? His attitude and judgments have no place in the Church Education System. I hope she doesn't marry him."
She didn't. But she almost did. In the end he couldn't believe that she was really wanting to go to medical school when she could have a life of raising his babies and living on $30,000 a year. He was actually dating another girl at the same time and when roomie got cold, he was engaged within two weeks.
I hope he isn't your kid's seminary teacher.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Admit It, Indiana Jones Is Pretty Much a Babe
If I was a little lego-girl, I'd have to say that THIS is the guy I would really go for:
And speaking of things made in China. . . .
I think Huckabee must know his campaign is nearly at an end (funding reasons) because he was the only one willing to really tell it like it is as the various campaigning politicians gave their opinion of those fat checks coming in the mail this summer. Republicans, of course, praised Bush up and down. Democrats, of course, said it was too little too late. Huckabee? "Well, seeing as how we'll have to borrow money from the Chinese to pay for it, and most of the money will go to buy products made in China . . . it is hard to say whose economy we are really helping." Amen, preacher.
In an unrelated bit of news, what do you think you would do in this situation?
And speaking of things made in China. . . .
I think Huckabee must know his campaign is nearly at an end (funding reasons) because he was the only one willing to really tell it like it is as the various campaigning politicians gave their opinion of those fat checks coming in the mail this summer. Republicans, of course, praised Bush up and down. Democrats, of course, said it was too little too late. Huckabee? "Well, seeing as how we'll have to borrow money from the Chinese to pay for it, and most of the money will go to buy products made in China . . . it is hard to say whose economy we are really helping." Amen, preacher.
In an unrelated bit of news, what do you think you would do in this situation?
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
I Heart Utah
In the middle of my second year at USU, I interned for the Utah State Legislature. (I have always balked a little bit about saying I was an "intern" since the whole Monical Lewinsky thing. I wasn't THAT kind of intern.) Details from my time in the trenches will be in a forthcoming post about non-career jobs, but I just wanted to link you to this little tidbit from the 2008 Legislative Session, which opened this week.
The link is to an official site, and the friend who forwarded it is pretty sure the bill is legit.
So, what should the name of our 51st state be?
And will it be a clean cut, or will they break it up by county so the bottom of Utah is all jaggedy?
State monument?
State animal?
State flag?
First governor? First ladies?
The link is to an official site, and the friend who forwarded it is pretty sure the bill is legit.
So, what should the name of our 51st state be?
And will it be a clean cut, or will they break it up by county so the bottom of Utah is all jaggedy?
Where would the 51st star on the flag go?
State capital?
State monument?
State animal?
State flag?
First governor? First ladies?
Friday, January 18, 2008
Notes From the Weekend
Church is always an adventure, isn't it? Our Sacrament meeting theme was "Temples." There are so few RM's in our area that we actually have TWO High Councilmen speak on High Council Sunday (which reminds me of the only other joke I know, KimBlue; I'll have to pass in on sometime).
(Aside: I've just noticed a ridiculous number of capitalized words in the preceding paragraph, some of which I'm not sure about. If you have any corrections, I welcome them!)
Anyway, the first talk, from a new councilman was exceptional. Though I hated when he said, "This is the fourth time I've had this calling. I guess I haven't gotten it right yet." I hated it because first of all, that joke is old and tired: almost as bad as when the Bishop says of every advancing kid, "They've reached that ripe old age of _________." But I digress. This guy had not been called four times because he didn't have it figured it out. Quite the opposite. He was one of the best High Council speakers I've heard in ages.
The ward choir was good, and then the second speaker.
The. Second. Speaker.
I know you have to be careful about criticizing your leaders. I know. I learned that lesson the hard way once. (Not a bad story--maybe later.) But I think you also have a reasonable expectation to go to Sacrament Meeting and feel uplifted. I should have known we were off on the wrong foot when he prefaced his remarks by saying that he felt impressed by the Spirit to speak off the cuff. Even under the best of circumstances, he would not have been eloquent. That is okay, I don't really expect speakers in Sacrament meeting to be eloquent, but this was well. . . .
* He talked about a lot of temple symbolism, but not in a spiritual way. He talked about signs and symbols on the building itself and what they mean and he was all over the place. I kept waiting for him to whip out the Abraham papyri and wax poetic.
*He talked about temple dedications, quite specifically, sharing a few things that made me feel quite uncomfortable in the chapel.
*He came down really hard about choosing NOT to go the temple, particularly not to be married in the temple.
*He berated other churches for their lack of understanding of our beliefs and their criticisms of our practices.
Now, this ward, probably has more single sisters, sisters in part-member families, and sisters with less-active husbands than any ward I've ever lived in. So the worst is when he said, "No doubt many of you sitting here today feel," and he paused for a long time, "I'm looking for just the right word here," another long pause and then the moment that made me cringe more than any other, "chagrin . . . over not having a family sealed in the temple."
Plantboy had kind of a blank look, I felt the blood leave my face. I leaned over and hissed, "that is NOT the right word."
Chagrin (n): mortification, vexation, disappointment, embarrassment, sorrow, annoyance.
NOT the right word. At all.
Especially synonyms 1 and 4. Why should any sister in the congregation feel mortified if her husband walked out? Or if she never married? Or if she brings her kids on her own week in and week out because her husband's faith has faltered? Or if she felt inspired to chose a good marriage to a decent, supportive, non-member man over a life time of loneliness?
He then took a few minutes to share some really good doctrine on being faithful and no blessings being denied, but the tenor of the meeting had so changed by that point that is was really too little, too late. He then gave a personal example of a single sister in our ward and went through a complicated what-if/story about what would happen to her in the next life. I leaned over to Plantboy again and said, "This is making really uncomfortable." I was secretly hoping my baby would start bawling his head off so I could have a reasonable excuse to leave.
Now I sound like a real snob. I promise, I'm not. I can even concede that he probably was doing his best and felt like he'd really reached a lot of people. But for me, it was the most awkward 17 minutes I've had at church in a long time.
One of those "embarrassed" non-temple married sisters later gave one of the most wonderful RS lessons I've had in a long time as she testified powerfully about the nature of our Father in Heaven and understanding our relationship to him.
Saturday I went to Goodwill on my own and was able to really dig. I found a 3 dollar corduroy skirt from the Gap, that I really love. I also paid $4 for a gray Merino wool sweater from Banana Republic. And yes, I know that BR clothes are made in the same sweat-shop in Malaychinphilippico as clothes from Old Navy and the Gap. But this sweater spoke to me. And for $4 it didn't matter if I just bought a gray sweater around Christmas time.
Two funny things and a link, and then I'll be done. Promise.
My mom and dad went to buy a humidifier at Sears. Mom waited in the section where they were, while my dad went to find a sales associate so they could ask some questions about the model they were looking at. While standing there, a friendly Asian man walked up to my mom and smiled at her. He pointed at the humidifier and said, in very broken English, "We buy one from War-mart. Rast four day. We take back to War-mart and rady says, 'we have 20 return this week.'" He then shook his head, "Very cheap. Made in China."
My mom just smiled, though she wanted to laugh. She also admitted that what she really wanted to say is, "You look like you were made in China." My mother doesn't have much cultural sensitivity, but at least she did refrain from saying THAT.
Check out this video. If you have ever had an airline lose your luggage (as I did at Christmas), or if you really just love British humor, you'll think this is hilarious.
And click on this link. This guy has some ideas about the tax system that I really like and back up a lot of things that irk me: noticeably that tax-cuts during war time are just asinine and that an extra 4% tax on the super-rich doesn't really affect them, but cutting it undermines the government's ability to run its programs. And not just the Social Security programs the Reds are always railing against. Student loans/grants, public education, scientific innovation: the types of things that are programs that invest in people over the long run and have a proven track record of improving our society. Anyway, very interesting.
(Aside: I've just noticed a ridiculous number of capitalized words in the preceding paragraph, some of which I'm not sure about. If you have any corrections, I welcome them!)
Anyway, the first talk, from a new councilman was exceptional. Though I hated when he said, "This is the fourth time I've had this calling. I guess I haven't gotten it right yet." I hated it because first of all, that joke is old and tired: almost as bad as when the Bishop says of every advancing kid, "They've reached that ripe old age of _________." But I digress. This guy had not been called four times because he didn't have it figured it out. Quite the opposite. He was one of the best High Council speakers I've heard in ages.
The ward choir was good, and then the second speaker.
The. Second. Speaker.
I know you have to be careful about criticizing your leaders. I know. I learned that lesson the hard way once. (Not a bad story--maybe later.) But I think you also have a reasonable expectation to go to Sacrament Meeting and feel uplifted. I should have known we were off on the wrong foot when he prefaced his remarks by saying that he felt impressed by the Spirit to speak off the cuff. Even under the best of circumstances, he would not have been eloquent. That is okay, I don't really expect speakers in Sacrament meeting to be eloquent, but this was well. . . .
* He talked about a lot of temple symbolism, but not in a spiritual way. He talked about signs and symbols on the building itself and what they mean and he was all over the place. I kept waiting for him to whip out the Abraham papyri and wax poetic.
*He talked about temple dedications, quite specifically, sharing a few things that made me feel quite uncomfortable in the chapel.
*He came down really hard about choosing NOT to go the temple, particularly not to be married in the temple.
*He berated other churches for their lack of understanding of our beliefs and their criticisms of our practices.
Now, this ward, probably has more single sisters, sisters in part-member families, and sisters with less-active husbands than any ward I've ever lived in. So the worst is when he said, "No doubt many of you sitting here today feel," and he paused for a long time, "I'm looking for just the right word here," another long pause and then the moment that made me cringe more than any other, "chagrin . . . over not having a family sealed in the temple."
Plantboy had kind of a blank look, I felt the blood leave my face. I leaned over and hissed, "that is NOT the right word."
Chagrin (n): mortification, vexation, disappointment, embarrassment, sorrow, annoyance.
NOT the right word. At all.
Especially synonyms 1 and 4. Why should any sister in the congregation feel mortified if her husband walked out? Or if she never married? Or if she brings her kids on her own week in and week out because her husband's faith has faltered? Or if she felt inspired to chose a good marriage to a decent, supportive, non-member man over a life time of loneliness?
He then took a few minutes to share some really good doctrine on being faithful and no blessings being denied, but the tenor of the meeting had so changed by that point that is was really too little, too late. He then gave a personal example of a single sister in our ward and went through a complicated what-if/story about what would happen to her in the next life. I leaned over to Plantboy again and said, "This is making really uncomfortable." I was secretly hoping my baby would start bawling his head off so I could have a reasonable excuse to leave.
Now I sound like a real snob. I promise, I'm not. I can even concede that he probably was doing his best and felt like he'd really reached a lot of people. But for me, it was the most awkward 17 minutes I've had at church in a long time.
One of those "embarrassed" non-temple married sisters later gave one of the most wonderful RS lessons I've had in a long time as she testified powerfully about the nature of our Father in Heaven and understanding our relationship to him.
Saturday I went to Goodwill on my own and was able to really dig. I found a 3 dollar corduroy skirt from the Gap, that I really love. I also paid $4 for a gray Merino wool sweater from Banana Republic. And yes, I know that BR clothes are made in the same sweat-shop in Malaychinphilippico as clothes from Old Navy and the Gap. But this sweater spoke to me. And for $4 it didn't matter if I just bought a gray sweater around Christmas time.
Two funny things and a link, and then I'll be done. Promise.
My mom and dad went to buy a humidifier at Sears. Mom waited in the section where they were, while my dad went to find a sales associate so they could ask some questions about the model they were looking at. While standing there, a friendly Asian man walked up to my mom and smiled at her. He pointed at the humidifier and said, in very broken English, "We buy one from War-mart. Rast four day. We take back to War-mart and rady says, 'we have 20 return this week.'" He then shook his head, "Very cheap. Made in China."
My mom just smiled, though she wanted to laugh. She also admitted that what she really wanted to say is, "You look like you were made in China." My mother doesn't have much cultural sensitivity, but at least she did refrain from saying THAT.
Check out this video. If you have ever had an airline lose your luggage (as I did at Christmas), or if you really just love British humor, you'll think this is hilarious.
And click on this link. This guy has some ideas about the tax system that I really like and back up a lot of things that irk me: noticeably that tax-cuts during war time are just asinine and that an extra 4% tax on the super-rich doesn't really affect them, but cutting it undermines the government's ability to run its programs. And not just the Social Security programs the Reds are always railing against. Student loans/grants, public education, scientific innovation: the types of things that are programs that invest in people over the long run and have a proven track record of improving our society. Anyway, very interesting.
Wherin We All Had a Great Laugh About Mormon Culture
My sister in law just sent this to me. I haven't ever posted an e-mail forward, but I really though this was so funny:
If Mitt Romney became President of the United States (code name POTUS) won't we have something we've never had before -- a president who goes to a specific church? Other presidents belonged to religions that didn't have tight congregational boundaries. Now, think about this...
WHAT WARD WOULD POTUS BE IN? AND IF YOU WERE HIS NEW BISHOP, HERE ARE YOUR TOP 11 QUESTIONS!(plus more)
1. Will you allow an inaugural ball to be held in the cultural hall? If so, do you mount security cameras on top of each basketball rim and have a secret service detail stationed on the stage?
2. Can you call Mitt and Ann as the Nursery leaders... even if you really feel inspired?
3. Who is going to home teach them? Will you call someone who needs activation but may not pass the vetting and national security screening?
4. If Harry Reid and Mitt Romney are in the same High Priest group, will you need to be there to keep order?
5. Exactly how will tithing settlement work? Will the Secretary of the Treasury come too?
6. Will you be inviting the new Romney family to speak in Sacrament Meeting... and if they go over, at what point do you ask them to sit down?
7. Will the Secret Service do a sweep of the building before each meeting? And if the Romney's always leave before Sunday School, will the Sunday School President need to interview them? If they stay, where will you hold the class?
8. Can you call the Secret Service agents to help out in Primary?
9. If you give Mitt a calling and the two Democrats in the Ward raise their hand AGAINST sustaining him - partly out of habit - does the Supreme Court need to be involved?
10. If you can't give them a calling (job), and they don't attend very often (for presidential stuff) will that mean they're 'inactive?' If they're not active, can you give them a Temple Recommend? And if you do, can they go or will the Secret Service have to screen the temple too?
11. If the President wants to hold Sac rament Meeting at Camp David or the White House for security reasons, is that a conflict of Church and State?
NOW IF YOU WERE ASSIGNED TO BE THE ROMNEY'S HOME OR VISITING TEACHER...
1. Can you just drop by, no appointment?
2. Can you even call them for an appointment or do you have to go through the Chief of Staff?
3. Can you bring by Christmas sweets and cookies? Will they be analyzed? And for how many people - family, secret service details?
4. If you don't come can the IRS do an audit on you?
5. Will they want to do a national security background check?
6. Do you have to have a permanent companion who has been vetted or can you just grab any teacher or priest to come with you? And what if that priest has been a little wayward? Do you need to search him first?
7. Do you have to help him move in and out of the White House?
8. If Ann Romney gets sick, are you allowed to bring in meals or at least tell the Relief Society about it?
9. What can you share with the Bishop about the Romneys?
10. Do you have to ask them about their year's supply?
11. If you get a late night call for a blessing will reporters follow you around wanting to know what was wrong and what you said?
FINALLY, IF MITT ROMNEY IS ASSIGNED TO BE YOUR HOME TEACHER . . .
1. Is telling the group leader you haven't been home taught a national security breech?
2. If he wants to come at the end of the month, do you accept his reason, 'I've been out of town'?
3. Will he drop by unannounced or will the media crews give him away?
If Mitt Romney became President of the United States (code name POTUS) won't we have something we've never had before -- a president who goes to a specific church? Other presidents belonged to religions that didn't have tight congregational boundaries. Now, think about this...
WHAT WARD WOULD POTUS BE IN? AND IF YOU WERE HIS NEW BISHOP, HERE ARE YOUR TOP 11 QUESTIONS!(plus more)
1. Will you allow an inaugural ball to be held in the cultural hall? If so, do you mount security cameras on top of each basketball rim and have a secret service detail stationed on the stage?
2. Can you call Mitt and Ann as the Nursery leaders... even if you really feel inspired?
3. Who is going to home teach them? Will you call someone who needs activation but may not pass the vetting and national security screening?
4. If Harry Reid and Mitt Romney are in the same High Priest group, will you need to be there to keep order?
5. Exactly how will tithing settlement work? Will the Secretary of the Treasury come too?
6. Will you be inviting the new Romney family to speak in Sacrament Meeting... and if they go over, at what point do you ask them to sit down?
7. Will the Secret Service do a sweep of the building before each meeting? And if the Romney's always leave before Sunday School, will the Sunday School President need to interview them? If they stay, where will you hold the class?
8. Can you call the Secret Service agents to help out in Primary?
9. If you give Mitt a calling and the two Democrats in the Ward raise their hand AGAINST sustaining him - partly out of habit - does the Supreme Court need to be involved?
10. If you can't give them a calling (job), and they don't attend very often (for presidential stuff) will that mean they're 'inactive?' If they're not active, can you give them a Temple Recommend? And if you do, can they go or will the Secret Service have to screen the temple too?
11. If the President wants to hold Sac rament Meeting at Camp David or the White House for security reasons, is that a conflict of Church and State?
NOW IF YOU WERE ASSIGNED TO BE THE ROMNEY'S HOME OR VISITING TEACHER...
1. Can you just drop by, no appointment?
2. Can you even call them for an appointment or do you have to go through the Chief of Staff?
3. Can you bring by Christmas sweets and cookies? Will they be analyzed? And for how many people - family, secret service details?
4. If you don't come can the IRS do an audit on you?
5. Will they want to do a national security background check?
6. Do you have to have a permanent companion who has been vetted or can you just grab any teacher or priest to come with you? And what if that priest has been a little wayward? Do you need to search him first?
7. Do you have to help him move in and out of the White House?
8. If Ann Romney gets sick, are you allowed to bring in meals or at least tell the Relief Society about it?
9. What can you share with the Bishop about the Romneys?
10. Do you have to ask them about their year's supply?
11. If you get a late night call for a blessing will reporters follow you around wanting to know what was wrong and what you said?
FINALLY, IF MITT ROMNEY IS ASSIGNED TO BE YOUR HOME TEACHER . . .
1. Is telling the group leader you haven't been home taught a national security breech?
2. If he wants to come at the end of the month, do you accept his reason, 'I've been out of town'?
3. Will he drop by unannounced or will the media crews give him away?
Monday, January 14, 2008
Number 100
Today is my blog's centennial!
Now that is out of the way, I will tell you about the marvelous date that Plantboy took me on Friday afternoon. Tickets to this were in my stocking on Christmas. He had even secured the babysitter like a month in advance. We went to lunch at a fabulous little Greek place and a used book shop before the show. This is not normally Plantboy's kind of thing, but I can hardly thing of a better way to spend 5 childless hours.
The show was really excellent; I especially loved the Riverdance, flamenco, Russian ballet and men's tap numbers. I was not crazy about the women's ballet numbers. The Riverdance girls had a quite a variety of body type, but none of them really had that long, lean, ballet-dancer look. The result was really athletic ballet dancing rather than the more graceful pointe dancing that I love so much. As wonderful as the music was, sometimes I felt like it was distracting to the tapping. The completely "a cappella" numbers were my favorite as the dancer's feet pounded in perfect, relentless unison in a way that vibrated the whole hall. So great.
The trade off was that he ended up working for a good chunk of the day on Saturday, but he did let me sleep in first.
Now, since everyone else has posted their New Year's Resolutions in this format, I think I should do the same. Maybe this is a way of keeping us honest with one another? I suppose we should check in on one another from time to time so this list isn't just revisited NEXT year when it is time to make more resolutions. So here goes:
1) Finish the Book of Mormon with my family this year and read the weekly lessons for the Book of Mormon. I'd also like to get some kind of book to go along with it--evidences, commentary, something. Any suggestions?
2) Submit my manuscript for publication to another publishing house; and a second, as needed. :)
3) Really put my heart and soul into my calling. We've had some very interesting discussions here about the purpose and the role of the Enrichment meeting. Church leaders have also had a lot of pertinent information to share also. I think I'm finally getting a good sense of the direction I want to go, and the counselor and I are totally on the same page. We are meeting tomorrow and I think it will be really positive.
4) Learn to do some basic sewing. I just procured a sewing machine yesterday. Although it is nearly 30 years old and missing a footplate, I called Sears today and they said they still make a pedal for it. I am the proud owner of this 80 pound behemoth and I'm now committed. Or I need to be.
5) Get back to work on my scrapbooks. I would like to have Pirate's finished by the end of the year. I only do kiddo scrapbooks up to age three. I would also like to get another two years done in my family scrapbook. Then I'll only be three years and one kid behind.
6) Read that whole stack of classics I bought at the used bookshop the other day. I will be brilliant by December. (Unless I keep following the campaign. In which case, my brain will be jello.)
7) With Plantboy, take our turn planning his family reunion. We are planning on heading to Bear Lake and already have a huge cabin reserved. If you have any marvelous suggestions for activities in that region, PLEASE let us know.
8) Work with Scallywag until he is reading more fluently.
9) Keep doing my morning paper route until we have cleared some debt and purchased a couple of furniture items that will make our home MUCH more comfortable. Oh, and we are paying off the student loan with this year's tax return! Yeah!
10) With Plantboy's help, put in what he calls a "salsa garden." He also wants to do some berries. Bring on the organic fertilizer, I can take it.
Phew! That is a bigger list than I expected, but my self-expectations seem to always exceed my grasp. . . but that is another story.
Now that is out of the way, I will tell you about the marvelous date that Plantboy took me on Friday afternoon. Tickets to this were in my stocking on Christmas. He had even secured the babysitter like a month in advance. We went to lunch at a fabulous little Greek place and a used book shop before the show. This is not normally Plantboy's kind of thing, but I can hardly thing of a better way to spend 5 childless hours.
The show was really excellent; I especially loved the Riverdance, flamenco, Russian ballet and men's tap numbers. I was not crazy about the women's ballet numbers. The Riverdance girls had a quite a variety of body type, but none of them really had that long, lean, ballet-dancer look. The result was really athletic ballet dancing rather than the more graceful pointe dancing that I love so much. As wonderful as the music was, sometimes I felt like it was distracting to the tapping. The completely "a cappella" numbers were my favorite as the dancer's feet pounded in perfect, relentless unison in a way that vibrated the whole hall. So great.
The trade off was that he ended up working for a good chunk of the day on Saturday, but he did let me sleep in first.
Now, since everyone else has posted their New Year's Resolutions in this format, I think I should do the same. Maybe this is a way of keeping us honest with one another? I suppose we should check in on one another from time to time so this list isn't just revisited NEXT year when it is time to make more resolutions. So here goes:
1) Finish the Book of Mormon with my family this year and read the weekly lessons for the Book of Mormon. I'd also like to get some kind of book to go along with it--evidences, commentary, something. Any suggestions?
2) Submit my manuscript for publication to another publishing house; and a second, as needed. :)
3) Really put my heart and soul into my calling. We've had some very interesting discussions here about the purpose and the role of the Enrichment meeting. Church leaders have also had a lot of pertinent information to share also. I think I'm finally getting a good sense of the direction I want to go, and the counselor and I are totally on the same page. We are meeting tomorrow and I think it will be really positive.
4) Learn to do some basic sewing. I just procured a sewing machine yesterday. Although it is nearly 30 years old and missing a footplate, I called Sears today and they said they still make a pedal for it. I am the proud owner of this 80 pound behemoth and I'm now committed. Or I need to be.
5) Get back to work on my scrapbooks. I would like to have Pirate's finished by the end of the year. I only do kiddo scrapbooks up to age three. I would also like to get another two years done in my family scrapbook. Then I'll only be three years and one kid behind.
6) Read that whole stack of classics I bought at the used bookshop the other day. I will be brilliant by December. (Unless I keep following the campaign. In which case, my brain will be jello.)
7) With Plantboy, take our turn planning his family reunion. We are planning on heading to Bear Lake and already have a huge cabin reserved. If you have any marvelous suggestions for activities in that region, PLEASE let us know.
8) Work with Scallywag until he is reading more fluently.
9) Keep doing my morning paper route until we have cleared some debt and purchased a couple of furniture items that will make our home MUCH more comfortable. Oh, and we are paying off the student loan with this year's tax return! Yeah!
10) With Plantboy's help, put in what he calls a "salsa garden." He also wants to do some berries. Bring on the organic fertilizer, I can take it.
Phew! That is a bigger list than I expected, but my self-expectations seem to always exceed my grasp. . . but that is another story.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Words Overheard At My House This Week
Bork bork bork.
Bwah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Scallywag when he is laughing, Pirate when he is tantruming, and Tootypants when he is trying to get everyone's attention--his face turns purple when he does it.)
Beebo.
Bananapants
Bananastinkyhead
Bananapoopooheads
Bananamushface
Banana ___________
(Scallywag has decided that banana is his favorite funny word and Pirate has figured out that Mommy gets a lot less angry about "naughty" words if they start with "banana," because it means they are just being silly. I swear, the Poopy Pirate has Tourette's Syndrome. Besides his love of naughty words, often under his breath, he has a real OCD thing going--shuts doors and drawers like a man possessed, and he cannot tolerate even a crumb of dirt on his clothes or hands.)
Bwah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Scallywag when he is laughing, Pirate when he is tantruming, and Tootypants when he is trying to get everyone's attention--his face turns purple when he does it.)
Beebo.
Bananapants
Bananastinkyhead
Bananapoopooheads
Bananamushface
Banana ___________
(Scallywag has decided that banana is his favorite funny word and Pirate has figured out that Mommy gets a lot less angry about "naughty" words if they start with "banana," because it means they are just being silly. I swear, the Poopy Pirate has Tourette's Syndrome. Besides his love of naughty words, often under his breath, he has a real OCD thing going--shuts doors and drawers like a man possessed, and he cannot tolerate even a crumb of dirt on his clothes or hands.)
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
People Who Make a Difference
Plantboy forwarded this clip to me from work. This engineer is an Oregonian who does work with Jeff's company occassionally. I really love this kind of thing. He needs to get a grant from the Gates Foundation or something.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Are You My Mother?
Some weeks back I posted about my first job experience and what I learned there. I promised a series of these (I know, you are all really hacked to not have seen the sequel before now); so here is the long awaited Part II.
During my junior year I blew all my savings (as well as a chunk of cash my Dad had saved for me) on a trip to London. It was marvelous and, I'm not exaggerating, life-altering in many ways. That might be another post some time, but back to the point. My parents had struck a deal with me as I cried my eyes out over $10 in change on the table my last night of work: that if I would work very hard during the school year, maintaining my GPA, then I would only be required to work summers and I would be given a generous allowance during the school year that would cover most of my basic expenses and my lunch. If something bigger came up--like a dance--then my parents would pay for that also.
It seemed more than fair to me; I was perfectly happy to spend all my afternoons at 16 going on 17 hanging out in the drama room after school, never missing a football game or stomp. I even went on a few dates and to a couple of dances. I took stats for the wrestling team and fell in love . . . . yes, my junior year was very nearly perfect (except for the one-sided love, but I digress again). I kept my end of the bargain and maintained an A average all year long, passed my AP test and began looking at colleges. Oh, and don't forget the London trip.
Then, in April, Daddy dropped the bomb I had forgotten about. Summer was coming and it was time to consider gainful employment once again. I hit the pavement, putting in applications everywhere within reasonable distance of our quiet suburb. The mall first. A grocery store. Then the fast-food places. NOBODY called me back. Of course, if they had, the interview would have quickly come to naught when they called my first boss.
The end of May rapidly approached and I began to panic. It wasn't just the money thing, or even the obligation I felt under to my parents, but there was something seriously boring about sitting around all summer, just waiting for my life to restart. Then Mom stepped in with a plan that was just about the best thing that ever happened to my life.
She was wanting to work more hours at the hospital where she was a nurse just one or two shifts each week, but she didn't know how she would manage to get everything done. She proposed paying me to play mom on the days she was gone. I would do laundry, grocery shop, run the kids around (the still-at-homes were 10 and 13), cook, clean and basically keep the house running. A maid-nanny-errand girl.
I was paid, though it was really a pittance. I think it was like $20 a day for the days I worked, and I basically worked all day. I agreed, not really caring whether or not I earned a lot of money, and grateful for the way out while still feeling I was keeping my committment to my dad. I also believed I was helping my mom out. And maybe I was.
So while the pay was lousy, the lessons were invaluable. I learned to make several different, simple meals. I learned how to grocery shop, and still know a trick my mom taught me: I'm able to estimate, usually within a dollar, exactly how much my final bill will be, just by calculating the groceries in my head as I place them on the conveyer belt. My husband thinks I'm magic, just like I used to think my mother was magic. I learned about the laundry and the stupidity of washing clothes that were not actually dirty. I learned that running a household is challenging, often complicated, an exercise in frugality and can be very frustrating.
After that summer, I was very diligent about making my bed, keeping a clean room, eating all my supper, washing my own laundry, and mostly
SHOWING GRATITUDE TO MY MOTHER.
Sometime before all of this, I told her one day that if I ever got married I only wanted one, maybe two kids. It was much easier in those days to see myself as a career woman than a wife and a mother. I don't know why; I didn't really know anybody like that, but mothering, especially small children, was very unappealing to me. My mother's reply was, "What will you do with the kids while you are working?"
Shrug, "I don't know, day care?"
"So, you want to have kids, but you want somebody else to raise them?"
I had to think about that. That summer was the first time in my whole life that my mother hadn't worked nights. I knew she loved her job and she was very good at it, but her career was NEVER more important overall than what was going on with her children. I could see that she had given up half her life so that we would be good, stable, happy individuals. That summer, I also learned that mothering, while not without its difficulties, was a really good thing.
As my attitude changed, so did my career plans. I began looking into various nursing programs and decided that was the path my life would take. Despite a series of personal setbacks that had happened in the late spring and early fall of 1992, I applied to be the General Sterling Scholar at my high school. My application was more of a whim than anything else and, as rejection had been such a constant companion at that time in my life, I had little expectation of a favorable outcome.
Then, to my surprise, less than 24 hours after my interview I was selected. My counselor told me that while my application wasn't quite as stellar as the other two (Honor Society President and the only Asian student in my class), my interview blew the judges away; the other two had hardly been able to look them in the eye. The district interview went just as well and in the winter of my senior year, I was on my way to Salt Lake for the state competition. (Bear with me, this will get relevant very quickly.)
During the interview, a really bitter, bearded professor from SLCC said, "This is a prestigious scholarship; you have written down here that you are interested in nursing. Why nursing? Why don't you want to be a doctor?" (I am sure my mother would have set him straight about how much MORE important doctors are than nurses.)
Almost without thinking, I said very simply, "I would like to have a family also. I am not sure that, for me, becoming a doctor would be compatible with my personal goals ."
He narrowed his eyes at me and said nothing more. Nor did he say anything through the remaing ten minutes of the panel interview.
That night, we sat in a great reception hall at the Capitol Building waiting for the big announcement. I was sweating buckets in my bright red, shoulder padded jacket and turtleneck. I was nervous to be on television in front of all those people. I was, after all, going to win, right?
Just before the announcement came, a tiny voice whispered to my heart, "Sorry, not this time." I brushed away that annonying voice until it came a second time. And then I KNEW. I knew that I wasn't ambitious enough to satisfy the panel. Especially bearded guy. I knew that my simple declaration and committment to family had been the nail in the coffin. Almost without thinking and certainly without realizing what I had done, I had chosen family over career.
I was just seventeen, and though kids would almost be another decade away, I didn't look back. So, the part-time job that paid the very worst probably gave me the most important lessons. Hm . . . . except for the part-time bit, it sounds like real mothering.
During my junior year I blew all my savings (as well as a chunk of cash my Dad had saved for me) on a trip to London. It was marvelous and, I'm not exaggerating, life-altering in many ways. That might be another post some time, but back to the point. My parents had struck a deal with me as I cried my eyes out over $10 in change on the table my last night of work: that if I would work very hard during the school year, maintaining my GPA, then I would only be required to work summers and I would be given a generous allowance during the school year that would cover most of my basic expenses and my lunch. If something bigger came up--like a dance--then my parents would pay for that also.
It seemed more than fair to me; I was perfectly happy to spend all my afternoons at 16 going on 17 hanging out in the drama room after school, never missing a football game or stomp. I even went on a few dates and to a couple of dances. I took stats for the wrestling team and fell in love . . . . yes, my junior year was very nearly perfect (except for the one-sided love, but I digress again). I kept my end of the bargain and maintained an A average all year long, passed my AP test and began looking at colleges. Oh, and don't forget the London trip.
Then, in April, Daddy dropped the bomb I had forgotten about. Summer was coming and it was time to consider gainful employment once again. I hit the pavement, putting in applications everywhere within reasonable distance of our quiet suburb. The mall first. A grocery store. Then the fast-food places. NOBODY called me back. Of course, if they had, the interview would have quickly come to naught when they called my first boss.
The end of May rapidly approached and I began to panic. It wasn't just the money thing, or even the obligation I felt under to my parents, but there was something seriously boring about sitting around all summer, just waiting for my life to restart. Then Mom stepped in with a plan that was just about the best thing that ever happened to my life.
She was wanting to work more hours at the hospital where she was a nurse just one or two shifts each week, but she didn't know how she would manage to get everything done. She proposed paying me to play mom on the days she was gone. I would do laundry, grocery shop, run the kids around (the still-at-homes were 10 and 13), cook, clean and basically keep the house running. A maid-nanny-errand girl.
I was paid, though it was really a pittance. I think it was like $20 a day for the days I worked, and I basically worked all day. I agreed, not really caring whether or not I earned a lot of money, and grateful for the way out while still feeling I was keeping my committment to my dad. I also believed I was helping my mom out. And maybe I was.
So while the pay was lousy, the lessons were invaluable. I learned to make several different, simple meals. I learned how to grocery shop, and still know a trick my mom taught me: I'm able to estimate, usually within a dollar, exactly how much my final bill will be, just by calculating the groceries in my head as I place them on the conveyer belt. My husband thinks I'm magic, just like I used to think my mother was magic. I learned about the laundry and the stupidity of washing clothes that were not actually dirty. I learned that running a household is challenging, often complicated, an exercise in frugality and can be very frustrating.
After that summer, I was very diligent about making my bed, keeping a clean room, eating all my supper, washing my own laundry, and mostly
SHOWING GRATITUDE TO MY MOTHER.
Sometime before all of this, I told her one day that if I ever got married I only wanted one, maybe two kids. It was much easier in those days to see myself as a career woman than a wife and a mother. I don't know why; I didn't really know anybody like that, but mothering, especially small children, was very unappealing to me. My mother's reply was, "What will you do with the kids while you are working?"
Shrug, "I don't know, day care?"
"So, you want to have kids, but you want somebody else to raise them?"
I had to think about that. That summer was the first time in my whole life that my mother hadn't worked nights. I knew she loved her job and she was very good at it, but her career was NEVER more important overall than what was going on with her children. I could see that she had given up half her life so that we would be good, stable, happy individuals. That summer, I also learned that mothering, while not without its difficulties, was a really good thing.
As my attitude changed, so did my career plans. I began looking into various nursing programs and decided that was the path my life would take. Despite a series of personal setbacks that had happened in the late spring and early fall of 1992, I applied to be the General Sterling Scholar at my high school. My application was more of a whim than anything else and, as rejection had been such a constant companion at that time in my life, I had little expectation of a favorable outcome.
Then, to my surprise, less than 24 hours after my interview I was selected. My counselor told me that while my application wasn't quite as stellar as the other two (Honor Society President and the only Asian student in my class), my interview blew the judges away; the other two had hardly been able to look them in the eye. The district interview went just as well and in the winter of my senior year, I was on my way to Salt Lake for the state competition. (Bear with me, this will get relevant very quickly.)
During the interview, a really bitter, bearded professor from SLCC said, "This is a prestigious scholarship; you have written down here that you are interested in nursing. Why nursing? Why don't you want to be a doctor?" (I am sure my mother would have set him straight about how much MORE important doctors are than nurses.)
Almost without thinking, I said very simply, "I would like to have a family also. I am not sure that, for me, becoming a doctor would be compatible with my personal goals ."
He narrowed his eyes at me and said nothing more. Nor did he say anything through the remaing ten minutes of the panel interview.
That night, we sat in a great reception hall at the Capitol Building waiting for the big announcement. I was sweating buckets in my bright red, shoulder padded jacket and turtleneck. I was nervous to be on television in front of all those people. I was, after all, going to win, right?
Just before the announcement came, a tiny voice whispered to my heart, "Sorry, not this time." I brushed away that annonying voice until it came a second time. And then I KNEW. I knew that I wasn't ambitious enough to satisfy the panel. Especially bearded guy. I knew that my simple declaration and committment to family had been the nail in the coffin. Almost without thinking and certainly without realizing what I had done, I had chosen family over career.
I was just seventeen, and though kids would almost be another decade away, I didn't look back. So, the part-time job that paid the very worst probably gave me the most important lessons. Hm . . . . except for the part-time bit, it sounds like real mothering.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
A Few Great Things
I thought about posting a really snarky bit about 32 hours in the car with our kids, a last minute flight to Denver and sitting for a whole day in the SLC airport with a baby, too many politics, getting ready for a family wedding, the stress of three year-olds and the expense of Christmas. . . .
I would have titled the post "By Big Fat Christmas Mormon Wedding On The Road."
But I will refrain. I will refrain because the paragraph above gives you a taste of what the last few weeks has been like and the GOOD things about this vacation were just too good to treat lightly. So that is what I'll talk about instead.
Plantboy is the 6th of nine children and his youngest sister got married a few days after Christmas. When she was endowed, Plantboy's parents and all 8 siblings and all but one of their spouses was in the temple. The moment with us all dressed in white in the Celestial Room was just too great for words, and too sacred for much detail. I knew as I looked at Plantboy's mom that she was thinking that moment was probably the crowning spiritual achievement of her entire life, and a thing that will not be likely to ever happen again. It was a moment that gave the tiniest glimpse of eternity.
Plantboy's youngest sister is years younger than the rest of his siblings and there has always been a very heavy degree of resentment over this. As a teenager, she always overlooked the blessing of getting so much attention, not to mention money, from her parents and felt like an outsider to most of her brothers and sisters and more like a grandchild to her parents (she is just a month older than her oldest neice). I've come to know her quite well over the last few years and she and I have had some very frank talks, but in all that time, and with all her cooped up bitterness, I have never seen her emotional. In the Celestial Room that day, the tears just poured down her face. I think for the first time in her whole life she understood the nature of the love that exists in her family . . . . the love they really have tried to show over the years. In that moment, knowing that we had gathered from as far away as Guatemala to be there for her, she understood what it means to be a FAMILY. I hope she never forgets.
The wedding was lovely too, with all in-laws present and accounted for too, but there was just something about being all in white the day before with such an intimate group. The groom is a convert of just 13 months and had no family in the temple. And though the family wasn't sure to begin with if he was right for their sister, I hope he felt some of that love too and will understand the blessing of becoming an eternal part of such a group of people and that his own, new testimony, will continue to grow. I pray that they will learn to be unselfish and to sacrifice. I pray that the storms of life that beset every normal, young couple will not be too much for them.
I love temple weddings because you get such good temple instruction and doctrine that you don't hear anywhere else. It made me wish again that we lived just a little closer to a temple. Right now, when we go, I have to find somebody willing to babysit my three kids pretty much ALL day. Not something you can ask a person more than a couple of times a year. And many of the friends I've begun making here all seem like they are just one step away from a complete nervous breakdown. Not a situation where you want to throw three extra kids into the mix.
Before leaving for the wedding, we spent time with my friends from college. It is kind of an annual tradition that all of us debate doing, and then we get together and it is like NO time has passed. I had such a special group of college buddies--guys and girls--that really helped me hold it all together through some really difficult times. And though we are now scattered from Oregon to Dubai, some friendships are always meaningful. That was a stressful, busy day, and that night Plantboy and I had a fight that lasted about 20 minutes. I know that doesn't sound like much, but those of you who know my darling husband know how mild-mannered he is. I can count on one hand the number of times we shouted at one another. We both felt so bad that making up was quick and sincere.
After getting home from the wedding, I went shopping with my sister. Which. Was. Wonderful. Even better than going down the hill on an Snotube together while Scallywag laughed his guts out. I wish we could have spent two more hours just acting like mall-rats, sis. Oh, and the matching sweaters are a must for next year's Christmas party!
But duty called me away from shopping, and I'm glad it did. We went to visit Plantboy's aging grandmother in SLC. It was cold and I really didn't want to drag the kids back out and make the longish drive the day before we were heading home, but I am SO glad we went. She was thrilled to see us all. Plantboy took pics of her with the kids. When you live like nomads, you never know when you'll get a phone call that will tell you the last time you saw a person is the last time you'll ever see them in this life. My hubby is certainly no prophet, but it was plain to me that he felt an urgency about this visit that I haven't seen before. His goodbye was tearful, and the pictures were important to him. . . .
I don't know if that means anything, but even if it doesn't. I'm glad we went.
So, it was another vacation where all we do is run around a lot, attempting to help our children build relationships with extended family, and most of our activities were obligations more than choices. Still, we chose to move away and that is one of the consequences.
But we are really thinking of NOT traveling next winter and maybe taking the kids to Disneyland. Am I brave enough?
I would have titled the post "By Big Fat Christmas Mormon Wedding On The Road."
But I will refrain. I will refrain because the paragraph above gives you a taste of what the last few weeks has been like and the GOOD things about this vacation were just too good to treat lightly. So that is what I'll talk about instead.
Plantboy is the 6th of nine children and his youngest sister got married a few days after Christmas. When she was endowed, Plantboy's parents and all 8 siblings and all but one of their spouses was in the temple. The moment with us all dressed in white in the Celestial Room was just too great for words, and too sacred for much detail. I knew as I looked at Plantboy's mom that she was thinking that moment was probably the crowning spiritual achievement of her entire life, and a thing that will not be likely to ever happen again. It was a moment that gave the tiniest glimpse of eternity.
Plantboy's youngest sister is years younger than the rest of his siblings and there has always been a very heavy degree of resentment over this. As a teenager, she always overlooked the blessing of getting so much attention, not to mention money, from her parents and felt like an outsider to most of her brothers and sisters and more like a grandchild to her parents (she is just a month older than her oldest neice). I've come to know her quite well over the last few years and she and I have had some very frank talks, but in all that time, and with all her cooped up bitterness, I have never seen her emotional. In the Celestial Room that day, the tears just poured down her face. I think for the first time in her whole life she understood the nature of the love that exists in her family . . . . the love they really have tried to show over the years. In that moment, knowing that we had gathered from as far away as Guatemala to be there for her, she understood what it means to be a FAMILY. I hope she never forgets.
The wedding was lovely too, with all in-laws present and accounted for too, but there was just something about being all in white the day before with such an intimate group. The groom is a convert of just 13 months and had no family in the temple. And though the family wasn't sure to begin with if he was right for their sister, I hope he felt some of that love too and will understand the blessing of becoming an eternal part of such a group of people and that his own, new testimony, will continue to grow. I pray that they will learn to be unselfish and to sacrifice. I pray that the storms of life that beset every normal, young couple will not be too much for them.
I love temple weddings because you get such good temple instruction and doctrine that you don't hear anywhere else. It made me wish again that we lived just a little closer to a temple. Right now, when we go, I have to find somebody willing to babysit my three kids pretty much ALL day. Not something you can ask a person more than a couple of times a year. And many of the friends I've begun making here all seem like they are just one step away from a complete nervous breakdown. Not a situation where you want to throw three extra kids into the mix.
Before leaving for the wedding, we spent time with my friends from college. It is kind of an annual tradition that all of us debate doing, and then we get together and it is like NO time has passed. I had such a special group of college buddies--guys and girls--that really helped me hold it all together through some really difficult times. And though we are now scattered from Oregon to Dubai, some friendships are always meaningful. That was a stressful, busy day, and that night Plantboy and I had a fight that lasted about 20 minutes. I know that doesn't sound like much, but those of you who know my darling husband know how mild-mannered he is. I can count on one hand the number of times we shouted at one another. We both felt so bad that making up was quick and sincere.
After getting home from the wedding, I went shopping with my sister. Which. Was. Wonderful. Even better than going down the hill on an Snotube together while Scallywag laughed his guts out. I wish we could have spent two more hours just acting like mall-rats, sis. Oh, and the matching sweaters are a must for next year's Christmas party!
But duty called me away from shopping, and I'm glad it did. We went to visit Plantboy's aging grandmother in SLC. It was cold and I really didn't want to drag the kids back out and make the longish drive the day before we were heading home, but I am SO glad we went. She was thrilled to see us all. Plantboy took pics of her with the kids. When you live like nomads, you never know when you'll get a phone call that will tell you the last time you saw a person is the last time you'll ever see them in this life. My hubby is certainly no prophet, but it was plain to me that he felt an urgency about this visit that I haven't seen before. His goodbye was tearful, and the pictures were important to him. . . .
I don't know if that means anything, but even if it doesn't. I'm glad we went.
So, it was another vacation where all we do is run around a lot, attempting to help our children build relationships with extended family, and most of our activities were obligations more than choices. Still, we chose to move away and that is one of the consequences.
But we are really thinking of NOT traveling next winter and maybe taking the kids to Disneyland. Am I brave enough?
Thursday, January 03, 2008
My Predictions
Plantboy asked me what I thought happened at the Iowa caucus before revealing results. I called it--except for the Fred Thompson out of no where thing. I think that is just an attempt to vote for somebody DIFFERENT than the choices offered.
What do I think will happen?
Democrats: Obama will continue to gain momentum as independents frustrated with the Republican Party register as democrats to vote for him. Smart democrats will also vote Obama in order to get somebody less polarizing on the ballot because the Democrats really can't afford to lose another presidential election. Hard-line Democrats will absolutely not vote Republican no matter what, but I think Obama could win over a fair number of disillusioned Republicans that would NEVER vote for Clinton. Way too much history. John Edwards might raise a stink for a while, but Obama took 38% in Iowa. That is almost a mandate. (Even though voter turn-out was pathetic.)
Republicans: Romney and Huckabee will split the evangelicals in states where they turn out to vote. In states where evangelicals aren't as big a force, Romney will come out ahead. Unfortunately, Romney's tactics (running a lot of negative ads, critical of other candidates, etc.) is going to fracture the party. The best chance the elephants have for a November victory is to follow the Democratic lead and try to get somebody on the ballot who is an experienced bridge builder--John McCain. Yes, yes, Romney has been enormously successful in any venture he has undertaken, but he didn't spend 18 months alienating the people he was supposed to be working with before beginning any of his assignments either. However, ultimately, I think Romney will get the nomination by a very narrow percentage. In November Barack Obama will soundly beat any Republican candidate except McCain (which will be closer, but still a Democratic victory).
My dream team ballot? Barack Obama for President with running mate John McCain. Don't laugh, McCain was on John Kerry's short list for VP's.
What do I think will happen?
Democrats: Obama will continue to gain momentum as independents frustrated with the Republican Party register as democrats to vote for him. Smart democrats will also vote Obama in order to get somebody less polarizing on the ballot because the Democrats really can't afford to lose another presidential election. Hard-line Democrats will absolutely not vote Republican no matter what, but I think Obama could win over a fair number of disillusioned Republicans that would NEVER vote for Clinton. Way too much history. John Edwards might raise a stink for a while, but Obama took 38% in Iowa. That is almost a mandate. (Even though voter turn-out was pathetic.)
Republicans: Romney and Huckabee will split the evangelicals in states where they turn out to vote. In states where evangelicals aren't as big a force, Romney will come out ahead. Unfortunately, Romney's tactics (running a lot of negative ads, critical of other candidates, etc.) is going to fracture the party. The best chance the elephants have for a November victory is to follow the Democratic lead and try to get somebody on the ballot who is an experienced bridge builder--John McCain. Yes, yes, Romney has been enormously successful in any venture he has undertaken, but he didn't spend 18 months alienating the people he was supposed to be working with before beginning any of his assignments either. However, ultimately, I think Romney will get the nomination by a very narrow percentage. In November Barack Obama will soundly beat any Republican candidate except McCain (which will be closer, but still a Democratic victory).
My dream team ballot? Barack Obama for President with running mate John McCain. Don't laugh, McCain was on John Kerry's short list for VP's.
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