What Next?

I can't decide if the whole future seems open at the moment or if it is all too terrifying to think about.

I need to get a job because of the small matter of the student loan. There are other, pressing needs too, that my bit of part time work isn't really cutting it with. Cars that are aging and in need of attention. Children that seem to grow out of shoes every 17 minutes. Food and fuel prices that are going up WAY faster than wages. You know the drill.

But I also want to get a job. This is what I've worked toward. . . this blissful nirvana where you work the same hours your kids are in school. But those of you who know and love teachers, or who have been teachers, understand that realities are seldom what we idealize. There are basically three local school districts here, two of which are conveniently close. Only one of which my children are in and the two don't have very compatible schedules. The one my children are in is by far the smallest of the three and may not hire ANYone this year despite myriad retirements and huge classes.

Working regular hours would bring me enormous personal satisfaction. And, I've got to face it. I want to go on a big vacation that can never happen on one income. I want to go to the GAP and not have to hope something wonderful got relegated to the clearance rack so it could find its way to my closet. I want a house with room to walk and make messes and put stuff away and towel racks and a laundry room.

But none of these things are more important to us than the boys. We have sacrificed much for me to be home with them for the past 11 years. They are happy and well-adjusted and delightful. How do I look these sweet little souls in the eyes and say, "Sorry! Mom is gone until five next year. Here's your key and good luck growing up!" Please, working mommas who read this, don't take offense. I truly believe that we all just do our best, and some day care or babysitting situations are wonderful; I don't have that luxury.

On the positive side, another year of under-employment and kids in school all day probably means almost daily exercise which will help so much with my stress and energy levels. It might also mean that I get to finish the novel finally. So many wonderful ideas there. I have also just been asked to join a blog called "Aspiring Mormon Women" that starts in June. Hopefully they will want to hang on to me even if I don't find a job!

Oh, sweet Moses, I'm probably going to end up substitute teaching. I'll need your prayers then for sure.

When Faith Fails

Something happened this week. And man . . . it was just such an awful thing. This church apologetics bug strikes both ways. For people who ask questions slowly with one eye on faith all the time seeking to understand and enhance, it is a godsend. At least it has been for me. When I found FAIR a few years ago it was like coming home to my people. Over the years I found many answers to periphery things and much to stimulate my mind and grow my testimony.

Now imagine that you stumble across LDS apologetics all at once. . . and in a way that simply creates questions for you that you had never had in 40 years. Suddenly it just looks like a gateway to what-else-have-they-been-keeping-from-me and an invitation to visit other venues as well. Venues where people share their poignant and sometimes angry exits with such logic that you doubt every spiritual impression you've ever had. Well, if you can imagine that, then you can imagine the conflict that has played out over the last two months in two very dear, once-faithful friends. Maybe this broad statement reminds you of some people that you love too.

I can't help thinking if they had just hung on long enough to hear Elder Holland's wonderful April Conference talk things might be different. But I don't know. Maybe there is nothing that will help. At least not today.

Plantboy sent me a Q & A that was done with President Hinckley by the Ensign back in 1985. There is one quote in particular from his remarks that I love. When asked about seeming discrepancies in Church history and if was all right to seek answers, he affirmed that it was all right. However, he did leave a caution,

"When we are called before the bar of God to give an accounting of our performance, I think it unlikely that any of us will be commended for wearing out our lives in an effort to find some morsel of history, incomplete in its context, to cast doubt on the integrity of this work. Rather, I believe we will be examined on what we did to build the kingdom, to bring light and understanding of the eternal truths of the gospel to the eyes and minds of all who are willing to listen, to care for the poor and the needy, and to make of the world a better place as a result of our presence."

Well, said, President Hinckley. Very well said.

This Is Really Happening

Ladies and gentleman, the degree is so close I can taste it. Two major things left to turn in, but they are already very thoroughly drafted. I'm starting to look in terms of hours left instead of projects instead of weeks instead of months instead of years.

I can't believe I did this.

I'm proud to bursting and so relieved. I'm a woman a new generation--now as educated as my brothers and husband and more educated than my father. No, it wasn't just about that, but I have to admit that it was a little bit.

Now if someone would just hire me for about 20 hours a week . . .

Works Without Faith Is Dead

No, you didn't read the post title incorrectly. This was actually said to me many years ago, and a  discussion over at Times and Seasons this morning has brought if forcefully back to me today.

Some context.

I had been a missionary for six months, but I had not seen anyone get baptized yet. Nor had anyone been baptized that I had taught. I had met lots of remarkable people, been in lots of powerful teaching situations and even extended invitations to be baptized. I felt like I was growing personally and that my experience was valuable, but in a culture that (sometimes unfortunately) favors counting converts, I was beginning to feel like a bit of a failure. Even as my reputation for hard work and gifted teaching grew, I questioned my purpose. 

Overlaid with these feelings were other things. I was training a remarkably faithful companion and worried that I was failing her. It was hot and our area was very hilly. We rode bikes daily and I never stopped sweating. My lovely companion's English was not proficient enough to converse easily (and I never learned more than "Called to Serve" in Japanese), and I would some times go hours on end without speaking to anyone. We tracted up to 8 hours a day. I was so stressed on every level that hadn't menstruated in seven months. I felt deep, depressing sorrow for the unwillingness of people to change or even acknowledge the existence of God.

In the midst of all this we held yet another Zone Development Meeting. My feelings about these types of meetings were mixed. Occasionally I would feel the Spirit in a really great discourse, but too often they were merely pep talks for unmotivated missionaries and usually carried an unhealthy obsession with numbers. Elder Wilson, our boyish and smirky ZL spoke from James about how faith without works was dead.

I felt . . . 

Angry.

I was working. I was working so hard that my feet and back ached all the time. I was working so hard that college seemed like a distant vacation. I was desperate and depressed and didn't know how to do anything but work. My homesickness came back in spades as my mind often wandered to the budding romance I'd been involved in the year previously.

I had been told so many times that hard work was the key to success in missionary work, and yet there I was, working as hard as I knew how to work and having no outward sign of what counted for success in missionary work. I tuned out the talk, not listening for any message it, of the ZL might have to teach. No doubt my mind drifted to new places we might still have to tract, or streets we could re-tract or members we might bother about their friends.

At the close of the meeting, the ZL asked if he and his companion could come work in our area the following day. This is kind of a weird mission practice that will probably fade away as more sisters have opportunity for leadership positions. The way this worked in our mission is that leaders would come and visit for the day. They studied with us in the morning and then we would tract together, but nobody was ever quite sure how this was meant to work. This particular leader had us all walk together on one side of the street but three of us would go to the door at a time, to be less intimidating than four of us, I suppose. I really hated it; it made me feel like a Jehovah's Witness or something. Anyway, Elder Wilson and his companion came the next day, a thing I never looked forward to. (Probably because the first time he came he asked why we didn't make them pancakes like the other sisters always used to. I told him that we were too busy doing missionary work to worry about whether or not he'd had breakfast.)

While we were at one of our weird polygamy (one elder, two sisters) door knocks, Elder Wilson told me that he knew the ZDM the day before had been worthless to me. He said that he felt stupid standing up there telling me to work harder when I knew how to work harder than any elder he'd ever met. Then he said this, "But Sister, works without faith is also dead. So I have to ask you. How is your faith?"

I burst into tears.

After I had reinforced to him every stereotype he held about sister missionaries I calmed down enough to tell him that I wasn't even sure what the question meant. That I didn't really even know what faith was. To me, faith meant working and working and working. 

He told me that I had done enough.

I told him that we must not have, because why weren't we seeing more blessings?

He then explained something to me that I have never forgotten. Or at least the essence of it; no doubt the lesson he taught me that day has been colored by my own experience over the years. He told me that by always believing I needed to do more and more, I was putting all the responsibility for conversion squarely on my own shoulders. I needed instead to get on my knees and tell the Lord that we had done all He had asked and now we expected the blessings.

His phrase "expect the blessings," sort of terrified me. I was raised with a deep hatred of any form of entitlement and to my 21 year old self, this "expecting the blessings' is exactly what that looked like. But something about his earnestness, and his insight into my problem, deeply impressed me, and so I tried it.

I got on my knees that night and with many more tears told the Lord I had done all I could and that we expected Him to bless us. 

In the following weeks, everything changed. It wasn't just that there were some baptisms, though there were, by I changed too. I felt more deep and genuine love for the people. I felt excited to get out of bed each morning. I worked as hard as ever, but that weighing weariness wasn't ever-present. I turned more of my sorrow for the sins of the world over to Christ. That spring I sang The Spirit of God with the Saints as we gathered one Sunday. The third verse where it says, "That we through our faith may begin to inherit/the visions and blessings and glories of God" was impossible for me to sing through the deep emotions that filled very part of me. I had caught the barest vision of what faith was. 

You see, I had begun to understand that when my works were performed with the wrong motivation, I didn't allow the Lord to bless me. I had been motivated by some very good things--a heavy sense of responsibility to the Lord for my blessings, a desire to keep my covenants and do my duty, a genuine desire to bring the gospel to others, cultural obligations, etc. etc. But I somehow had it all wrong. The Lord wants to bless us and to give us that peace that passeth all understanding, but He wants us to love Him and to stop trying so hard to do everything ourselves. I still believe that faith VERSUS works is a false dichotomy; and I said as much at Times and Seasons today, but what motivates our work is very important.

Plantboy has been reminding me of this again lately. I am fearful as Jedi Knight prepares for middle school in a few months. I am afraid that we live in the wrong ward . . . or the wrong neighborhood. That we are going to the wrong schools. Etc. Etc. But Plantboy talks instead about having faith and says that we are doing everything we can to keep our covenants, to follow our callings, to show the compassion for others the Lords wants so much, and to truly love the Lord. He looked me in the eye the other night and was blunt, "The Lord doesn't want the boys to fail any more than we do. We must expect Him to bless us."  He is right. I must keep my covenants because I love the Lord and then I must count on Him to take care of the details.

Of Good Report of Praiseworthy

General Conference was this weekend. It was mostly filled with wonderful moments, though there were also a couple of times that my teeth were set on edge. No doubt you had the same kind of experience . . . or you are a much better person than I am and you didn't have any of those teeth-on-edge moments. 
The bad news first. 

Conservative language creeping into doctrinal talks: I am getting increasingly annoyed that though ALL political extremism is decried, it is really only specifically liberal ideas that get pointed out as “evil.” For example, Elder Ellis talked about the dole being evil. This is nearly a direct quote from a talk given many years ago by President Benson. But my question is, what does he even mean by that? In the United States, the “dole” is a rather outdated term. And while still used in other places (and with plenty of problems) what does he mean by that to a largely American, English-speaking audience? WIC? Unemployment benefits? Medicaid? Elder Ellis’ talk was very good, and I understand and believe in the doctrine he was trying to express—personal responsibility is important and we must do all we can to take care of ourselves and our families and others. But people hear what they want, and to many people a “dole” means different things. I am concerned that when an elder of the Church says something like this over the pulpit, then many people think less about the doctrine behind the statement and instead use it to bolster political opinions that are outside the realm of doctrine. The term “secularism” took a beating again. Elder Oaks used “political correctness” as his example. Again, I understand and agree with the underlying point—that we must be very careful about using language that waters down truth to the place where it ceases to have meaning. But he can’t really mean that he would prefer people to say “faggot” to “homosexuality” when it is necessary to use this kind of descriptive term. I am sorry to be so blunt, but political correctness is sometimes about using more precise, not to mention kinder, language. I don’t see how this is a bad thing.

I was grateful for the ending on a high note with President Monson. He is a very positive, and optimistic person. I didn’t have this impression from all the talks. In fact, I didn’t want to leave my house this morning. There is always so much talk about the evil OUT THERE. When examples of this evil are given they are nearly always related to chastity. I don’t argue about this being a problem, but I think there are other deeply disturbing trends in LDS culture that don’t get enough traction—greed, money and success equating to the same thing, covetousness, forms of idol worship. While sexual sins can be egregiously damaging, particularly to self, these other sins destroy our ability to be kind to others, the hallmark of any person trying to follow the Savior.

This second is less about conference and more about rhetoric observed outside conference. I was really discouraged to hear so much negative language from members of the Church toward other members of the Church regarding women’s issues. I think this rhetoric has gone both ways. The Mormon Feminists need to be careful about deliberately sowing discontent where none currently exists, and those less inclined toward the feminists need to be careful about ostracizing them and speaking in harsh judgement. I have been shocked to read some incredibly uncharitable comments from people within in the Church insisting that such sexist cultural practices don’t happen; these types of comments serve more to reinforce grievances than to address them.

But lots of good news.

Elder Holland’s talk was, again, amazing. The poor man has really put a lot of pressure on himself, but he keeps delivering. His talk is one that I will think back on in months to come. I loved that he validated the asking of questions, but from his talk, I felt so strongly that I need to be asking questions because I’m genuinely seeking answers and not just being contentious. This is something I want to diligently seek to work on in the coming weeks.

President Monson’s talk about the fire he and his buddy set was delightful. It has probably taken him more than 70 years to find the humor in it! And he had to be certain that all the frustrated adults who put the fire out that day are dead! Anyway, my thought was that his talk was a really wonderful way to describe what prophets do. Little Tommy Monson and his buddies didn’t mean to burn down the meadow, and certainly not houses or forests; they didn’t mean to hurt anybody. What they wanted was a shortcut way to achieve what they saw as a desirable outcome—a circle of weeds gone. We are a bit like children, aren’t we? We think we have a lot of knowledge and great ideas, and sometimes, without meaning to hurt anybody or anything, our ideas and knowledge cause great destruction. Prophets essentially warn us about fire. I know, I know that chastity and fire are often mixed up in metaphors together but I’m not necessarily talking about that specifically. My point is (all this made sense last night at midnight when I was trying to sleep) that compared to our Father in Heaven, we are no more wise than children playing in the woods. Prophets attempt to teach us and guide us to help us navigate our way. Many times even they cannot see the outcomes that God can, but they still attempt to warn us.

As mentioned before I also really liked his closing talk. After he spoke it helped to reaffirm to me that this can also be a time of hope and opportunity. Like bad cop, good cop. I’m glad that he spoke last.

I love Elder Christoffel Golden’s voice. But what I love most is that I called his accent; I don’t remember hearing him speak before yesterday. I told Plantboy that he sounded South African, but there was something European (Dutch) going on in there too, like perhaps he hadn’t spoken English first. When he mentioned his nationality near the beginning of his remarks I told Plantboy that I bet he was South African, but not British South African. I thought he might be Afrikaner. We looked him up and I was right! His background is fascinating, and he does speak both Afrikaans and English fluently. Very cool.

All the African references and connections in general were wonderful. It is like after a decade or more of linear growth, the church is set to take that exponential leap that it did in South America a generation ago. It is very exciting. A few years ago one of the general authorities spoke about some of the problems in Africa but then declared that the true gospel could save the continent. His words may very well be prophetic . . . in turn, I think the faith and humility infused into the Church from the African members will have the power to save the Church as well. With numbers of missionaries swelling by the thousands it is a cinch that hundreds and hundreds of them will go to Africa. Lessons learned there will be valuable leavening in a Church whose membership sometimes sees the Lord’s “blessings” too much manifested in personal wealth.

It was fun to make several Texas connections during conference. The above referenced Elder Ellis was officially in my ward when we moved to Texas, though he was actually serving as a mission president. A couple the same age as Plantboy and I were living in their house while they were gone and we became quite good friends. She threw me a baby shower for Jedi Knight in the Ellis’ house! We only lived in that ward a few months after the Ellises returned and I became friends with the wife, though Elder Ellis was almost immediately called to be an area authority Seventy and I only met him once or twice. When we moved from our apartment into our house, we were part of the Cypress Stake. The Cypress Stake later split. President Oscarson was our stake president in the newly formed Klein Stake; he was a remarkable man who had served as a mission president in Sweden when he wasn’t very old. His lovely wife happens to be a woman name Bonnie Oscarson. Yes, that’s right: THAT Bonnie Oscarson. She moved to Salt Lake City a couple of years ago. The Young Women of the Church are so lucky to have her. Sister Dalton has been in the presidency for over 10 years and has had enormous influence over the direction of the YW program in that time. I’m grateful for her hard work, and for her lovely, heartfelt talk on Sunday. She is strong and faithful.

Now to read it and really get the meat of it all! I hope it was just as great on your end.

This last is another one of those Mormon cultural moments from conference weekend than anything related to conference. If you aren’t following Sistas in Zion on FB or their blog, you really should repent. Their status updates during Conference were really just so funny.

Sprint to the Finish

One month of school left. Laying on the beach on Saturday made me realize just how bad my senioritis is. I'm close enough to taste it, and far enough out to feel pretty discouraged at all there is yet to do. Still, I didn't get this far in life by giving up before I was done. I have no doubt that I will finish and finish well. I suppose that might sound prideful, but I think it also comes from long experience in knowing my limitations. 

Still, Plantboy seems to have timing that saves my sanity, and our mini yurt vacation was just what I needed to make it through the home stretch. Despite the horrible head cold I've come down with and the Mount Washmore that I'm still working on, I'm still so glad we went. Here is the run down:

Reading Peter and the Starcatchers while sitting around the smoke. I mean fire. It was smoky because we were working on coals for foil dinners. Add sweet potatoes and a bit of rosemary to your foil dinners next time; you will not be disappointed. I forbade the boys from bringing technology on trip and look what we ended up with: quality family time with a book. Wow. Novel. Yes, of course, the pun was intended. In the background is our yurt. Isn't it cute? Plantboy wants to put one in the backyard. We figure that we'd never see the children again.

 The yurts and the campground were on a lake surrounded by a one mile trail. Just up the hill was the lighthouse and the Pacific ocean. If we cut off and took another "secret" trail we ended up in the sand dunes. And as long as we stayed to our side of the line . . . the ATV's didn't smash my children. They spent about three hours rolling, skiing and somersaulting down the dunes. The sunshine was exhilarating. We didn't get down to the ocean that day, but we weren't far from it.

Coolest kids ever. Okay, not really. But they sure THINK they are. 

It is crazy how much I love these monkeys. Mom missed this picture. I went to the two little nearby towns looking for someone, anyone who was renting a canoe for our lovely little lake. No luck. It was all ATV rentals. Raspberries. Next time, we will find a way to bring a canoe. It would have made this mini trip 100% perfect. The little sticker on The Youngling's shirt celebrates him seeing his first blue whale. We lucked out and this week is near the beginning of the whale migration. Before hitting the dunes we went to the whale watching station up by the lighthouse and saw several "blows." Yeah, it was way cool. 

We eat good even on campout. I made a really delicious (homemade, of course) chicken pot pie filling that we brought with us. When the coals were hot, we threw the mixture in the bottom of the dutch oven and added some tube biscuits to the top (those will be home made next time too). It was really so delicious, especially with a shmear of jam on that top flaky biscuit layer.

Skillet apple crumble. We chopped the apples fresh that night, but I made the topping ahead and brought it in a bag. It needed a bit more topping and fewer coals on the top, but it was still quite delicious.

Though we've lived in Oregon nearly six years, this is only my second sunset over the Pacific. Usually our weather is too cloudy or we leave too early. It was glorious.

Umpqua lighthouse. If you ever get a chance, you have GOT to see this thing at night. It is so bright and alternates red and white beams of light. It was like looking at a carousel with 4 bazillion stars shining through the other side. So lovely.

Enjoying a little nature hike around the lake on our last morning. The Youngling informed Plantboy that he would like to a be tree scientist. Plantboy nearly wept for joy and the proceeded to teach Youngling how to identify various coniferous trees. Guess who has a pine cone collection at her house (and in her dryer) now? That's right! This girl.

We put the bandana on to keep his precious Padawan forehead from sunburning the second day. And he was just so stinking cute. He kept stopping and doing this little hip jiggling thing that kept me in stitches all day. 

The lake. Pristine above. Spoiled by man (boy) below. 

 The beach was a wonderful, if windy choice. Plantboy and I each got to take a long, solitary and much-needed walk. Padawan and the Youngling spent about two hours pretending to be puppies rolling in the sand, and then at least an hour throwing handfuls of mud into the oncoming tide. 

 After the camp clean up and trip to the beach, we convinced the boys to do one more hike. We took the short arm of a loop that can be backpacked down to the ocean. (Plantboy and I are trying to figure out how we can do it on our own in June). They were up for it; truthfully the three of them are getting more fun all the time. We don't have nearly the vacation melt-downs that we used to. The five year old still gets pretty cranky when he is hungry, but even that is getting better. Vacation is still a lot of work, but now it is starting to get FUN again!

 The kids take pictures of the parents. They all turned out blurry or had soembody's head cut off. This was actually the best. Good job camera boys.

 Chillin' with my peeps somewhere between Highway 101 and the Pacific Ocean. In another month, this forest will be ablaze with rhododendrons. I think another day trip will be in order then.

Yurt camping is excellent. We did get rain the first night, but there was no worry that it would hold. And on those cold mornings when you aren't too keen on building a fire because it will warm up soon, the yurt had a small electric heater that was just the thing for a quick warm up. Our yurt was a pretty basic variety, but we are thinking of heading back in the summer with some extended family and renting a couple of the fancier ones. But whether it is this year or not, this will be a vacation we definitely repeat.