Butterfly Wings

Many years ago, I taught kindergarten at a private school. I had several memorable students, but one little girl stands out in my memory. I don't remember her name, but I remember her pictures.

In those days, I wore colorful eyeshadow, and one afternoon she said, "Close your eyes." I did and she exclaimed, "Your eyes are like butterfly wings!"

In most ways she was delightful. But her pictures worried me. It didn't matter what she was drawing or coloring, everything was brown. Brown flowers, brown grass, brown sun in a brown sky with brown birds flying by. He drawings were pretty good, except that they were the color of mud.

I worried. Was she depressed? Was something wrong at home that she couldn't express any other away? Was she being abused?

Or maybe all the other colors were simply gone by the time the crayon box got the her.

I rearranged seats and made sure she got the crayons first. She picked out the brown and passed the box on. I watched in dismay as she covered the flowers and butterflies in mud.

On day when I stopped to look at her muddy sky picture, she said, "Teacher, do. you know what my favorite color is?"

Yes, I thought. Mud.

She sighed with a smile.

"It's root beer."

Finding The Prince

Have you ever thought about the prince?

He comes out of nowhere. No name. No history. Nothing. He is tall, dark, and handsome. Her savior.

But she! She has a history in every sense.
She's been abused, cursed, and nearly killed. She ran away from home as a teenager and lived with several different men. She made a deal with the devil. She's beautiful. And she can sing.  But oh, her history.*

In almost every Disney princess story, the girl is abused. And the man is nothing but a body.  Tall dark and handsome equals savior.

I'm not ranting on Disney. Just thinking about Prince Charming. I've been wondering how to find him. You know, singing in the woods. Waiting to be swept off my feet.  But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if I really want to find him.

I mean, who is this Prince guy, anyway?
Why is he still single, if he's so good looking? Wait- IS he still single? Did he dump his last girlfriend? Or did she dump him? If she dumped him- why? How many have there been? Can I talk to a few of them before riding off into the sunset with him? What kind of family does he come from? Was *he* abused? (There seems to have been a lot of that going on in the Disney kingdoms.) Does he have any kids? If so, is he current on is child support payments? How about addictions? Does he know how to do dishes? Does he do them? Has he ever cleaned a toilet? Does he drop his royal cloak on the floor when he takes it off? How obsessed is he with video games? Football? Or is it jousting? And let's talk about ego. How are his listening skills. Is he kind to his mother?

Actual photos from Match.com

Dating web sites promote themselves by flashing pictures of Prince Charming. No background. No history. Just tall dark and handsome saviors. Reading profiles is a little like reading ads for houses for sale. (I've moved a lot, so "house for sale" ads are he ones with which I'm most familiar.)  If a house is called "cozy," you should interpret as "cramped." Dating ads are kind of the same.

"I'm not perfect," is code for "I cheated on my wife and am hoping you'll be ok with that."
Income: "I'd rather not say." Code for, "I live in my mother's basement and play video games."
On LDS dating sites, over 50% of the men claim to be "temple worthy" but to not have recommends. Really? You all filled out your profile in the week between your recommend expiring and your appointment with your bishop? How odd is that?
But most upsetting of all is the fact that of the 5 men I've contacted more than once, (we've had actual conversations or gone on dates), 3 of them have turned out to **still be married!**

Thank you, PI skills.

But hey! They were all tall, dark and handsome!

I'm thinking Cinderella, Snow White and Aurora should learn to do background checks.

And I've been reevaluating my position. 

The more I think about it, the more I realize, I really like having the bed to myself. I like staying up as late as I want, fixing-- or not fixing-- what I want for dinner, watching the shows I want to watch, listening to my music, having all the preset stations, being able to read with the light on all night if I want, and basically calling all the shots myself. 

Because, the fact is, I never lived on my own before! I went from my parent's house, to my grandma's house, to my husband's house. I never got to chose what I did, how I budgeted, or what movies I watched. At age 44--welcome to independence! 

Is it lonely sometimes? Absolutely. Do I wish I had a partner in parenting? You bet!  Am I willing to give up the benefits of being single for a jerk who lies to get on a date with me? 

Not in a million years.   

If Prince Charming is out there, he'd better be as good on the inside as he is on the outside. But honestly, I don't think I'm ready to find him quite yet.  =)

*Princesses alluded to here include, in order of reference--
abused: Cinderella, Snow White, and Rapunzel
cursed: Ariel, Snow White, Aurora
nearly killed: Snow White
ran away as a teen and lived with several different men: Snow White
made a deal with the devil: Ariel
beautiful and can sing: all Disney princesses 

It's Ok

It's like a mantra.  I find myself repeating it inside my head, over and over, when things are hard.
"It's going to be ok. It's going to be ok. (deep breath) It's going to be ok."  Like a constant drum beat behind everything I do.

Last night I noticed a subtle difference. It's not just going to be ok.
It is ok.

Sometimes that's not true. Sometimes, life is really, genuinely not ok.

Your husband's office has just been bombed and your friends are lying dead in the street.
The kidnapper slams his car door with you inside.
The guy in front of you pulls a gun and aims at your chest.
Your newborn daughter is blue and the doctors can't figure out why.
The smears on the wall are blood, painted by you five-year-old who cut herself with a toy she broke.
The doctors tell you to take lots of pictures of your nine-year-old's birthday, because it will be her last.
Your son huddles in a corner, shaking, as he tells you his dad sexually abused him, too.

No, sometimes things are really not ok.
But today is not one of those days.

As I realized this last night, part of my mind fought back. "Things are not ok!" my mind shouted.  "Just look at all the things that are not ok."

 
No, I thought. Look at all the things that are ok.

I laid in bed and decided to count off on my fingers ten things that are good about my life right now. It was slow going at first, but after I came up with a few, things picked up.

My granddaughter was born and is healthy and happy.
I have a house and food.
I'm enrolled in a great university.
I'm employed, and at least some of the time, my work is interesting.
I have an agent who is working to find a publisher for my book.
My back is getting better.
My daughter gets to direct extreme choir this weekend.
My other daughter and I got to spend the evening watching White Collar and eating Oreo's together.
My other daughter was accepted to a prestigious writing conference.
My oldest son and his wife are doing well.
My youngest son is getting help and making progress in treatment.
I have A's in all my classes.

And hey! Guess what!  That was more than 10 ten things!

Then I acknowledged the other half of my brain that was grumbling in the background. "Not everything is good. Some things stink.  You do know that, don't you?"
Yes, it's true. Some things are not good right now. So I listed off things that are not going well. And guess what? I had to struggle to get to 10.  =)

Then I listed more good things. Then a couple more bad things. And a few more good things.

And then I told myself to look at the whole picture.  Good and bad.  This is where my life is right now.  It's a changing landscape, a work in progress.  It's not perfect, but there are a heck of a lot of good things going on.

And yes.
It's ok.

Snowplows, Snowblowers, and Snow Shovels

Last year was the winter-light version, but never fear! This winter is going to make up for it.

As I drive my kids to school in the morning, I am very aware, as we slide to a stop in the middle of the intersection,  that my little car does not have the best winter tires ever.  When I look up to see the snowplow coming down the road, and I honestly want to jump out and hand the man a cup of hot cocoa and a cinnamon roll and kiss him on the cheek! Think about it! Imagine being a snow plow driver. It's cold and snowy, and the roads are horrible, and it's your job to get out of your cozy bed before dawn, get into your freezing truck and get the roads ready for people like me. Man, I'm glad that's not my job!

I have not ever actually handed a snow plow driver cocoa or a cinnamon roll or a kiss on the cheek. Mostly because I don't drive around with cocoa and cinnamon rolls in my car. (I would eat them if I did.) And I generally avoid kissing strangers, even if they are driving snow plows. But don't you feel like you want to?

And then there are the sidewalks on campus. Picture penguins sliding down icebergs, and you might have a close approximation of what some places on campus have been like. Last week, after I passed 3 accidents and 4 cars off the side of the road, I imagined myself walking down the ramp from the parking lot to class and knew for certain I would break multiple bones-- and not just my pinkie toes!-- if I tried to get to class. So I turned slowly around and went back home, where I studied and worked on my computer in front of the fire. When I got to campus the next day, there were these guys with shovels everywhere I went, with red, frost-bitten faces and determined looks, shoveling paths between the buildings. I still didn't have hot cocoa or cinnamon rolls, but my lips were functioning! So I kissed them all!

Just kidding. But I did thank them. Most of them only grunted in reply. Probably the kisses would have gotten a better response.

Then at home, there I was, studying political theories by the fire, all cozy under a blanket, with my girls doing homework beside me, when I realized the snowblower I'd been hearing was actually in my own yard! I looked out the front window, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a man so hidden behind blowing snow and coat and hat that I have absolutely no idea who he is. I threw off my blanket, carefully put my laptop to sleep (because it's getting temperamental in its old age) and rushed to the front door.

But he was gone. The only evidence he'd really been there was a clear path from my front door to the mail box, and a snow-free driveway.

If he'd known about the cocoa, cinnamon rolls and kisses.... he probably would have left anyway.

So there you have it. Snow, cold, ice and storms. Followed by people with snow plows, snow blowers and shovels. May they have warm homes and hot cocoa and sweet cinnamon rolls and someone to kiss their cheeks.

:)

A Tale of Two Toes

I have only ever broken two bones in my body: my right pinky toe and my left pinky toe.

I broke my right pinky toe in February, 2000, two days before I was scheduled to fly to Ukraine to adopt two children.  I was walking out of the bathroom and caught my toe on the door frame. The snapping sound and instant pain, coupled with the odd angle of my toe, were pretty good clues it was broken.

We were living in Korea at the time, and one of the surgeons on base happened to be a friend. I called him on his cell phone. "Is there any point in going into the ER?"  He said there wasn't. "Just buddy tape it to the toe next to it. That's all we would do."  I looked at my toe. "That's going to be difficult, since it's sticking out the side of my foot at a 90 degree angle."

There was a pause before he said, "In that case, you need to come in. That's the only time we would do surgery for a broken toe. We'll need to put in a pin. You won't be walking for a few weeks."

I was stunned. "But, you know I can't do that! I'm flying to Ukraine in two days!"  I could almost hear him shrug. "Not any more, you're not. Surgery and a pin are the only way to fix that kind of break."

In my church we believe in healing through the priesthood. I called some men from church and they came to give me a blessing. With their hands on my head, they asked the Lord to bless me with a healed toe, so that I could travel and complete the adoptions. At the end of the prayer I opened my eyes and looked at my toe. It was straight. Still painful. But completely straight. I buddy taped it, finished getting ready for my trip, and went to Ukraine where I adopted 2 two year olds. (An adventure for another story.) My toe healed nicely.

I broke my left pinky toe in 2009. This time I caught it on my daughter's foot, and the same cracking sound and searing pain let me know I was in trouble. I pulled off my sock to put a bag of frozen broccoli on my foot, and thought, "Not again!" It was sticking out at a 90 degree angle.

The orthopedic surgeon said, "Did you know, this is the only kind of broken toe we do surgery for!"   After drilling and pinning and 6 weeks on crutches, the pin was removed and I compared my pinky toes.


My left toe was pretty straight. The surgeon had done a good job. However, even now, almost 5 years later, it still aches sometimes, and thanks to the pin, the bones are fused together, so sometimes it doesn't fit as nicely in dress shoes as I would like. Still- it's a lot better than it was!

My right toe is completely and perfectly healed. No aching. It bends (as well as a pinky toe can). And it fits perfectly in shoes.

I was thinking about my toes tonight- probably because I wore dress boots in the snow today, so my left toe is aching. What a great illustration, right at my feet (literally), of the difference between trusting God to fix our problems, and trusting man. Don't get me wrong. The surgeon was wonderful. And I am very, very grateful for what he was able to do. But when things are broken, there is one source of true healing.

I went back to school this last fall. (Thus the lack of posts here over the last few months.) And it's hard.  Memorizing takes a lot more time than it used to. My classmates are the ages of my kids. Some of my professors are younger than I am. And at the same time, I'm trying to heal from a lot of emotional damage.  Feelings are a lot harder to mend than broken toes. I've been struggling with questions like Why? and Is this really my life? and Can I ever recover?

Then I look down, and my toes are right there, reminding me that through faith, all things are possible.

Are You A Mormon?

I have been a lot of things in my life.

I've been called a saint,
and have been spit on for being American.
I've been slapped for being white,
and kissed for being a girl.
I've been seated beside an ambassador,
and stood in line for food stamps.
I've been admired as a physics major,
and ignored because I was "just a homemaker."
I've been too afraid to speak up,
and won prizes for my writing.

I've been a lot of things.
And for my whole life, I've been a Mormon.

I was sitting in a lounge recently, reading a book while CNN played on the TV nearby. I wasn't too surprised when they started discussing Mormons.  We come up a lot in the news lately, thanks to Broadway and Mitt Romney.
I know a lot of people have questions about who Mormons are and what we believe. I thought I'd answer a few of the most frequent ones I'm asked, and open up comments for any questions you might have. I'll do my best to answer.  =)

Here are the most common questions I get asked:

Are you a saint?
Umm... really?  Do you see a halo?
Then I realize they are trying to ask if I'm a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  And yes.  I am a member.  And no, I don't have a halo.  But thank you for asking.

Members of the church usually call themselves... well, members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints!  =)   Or LDS, or Mormon.

Are you Christian?
Yes.  Absolutely.  I believe Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world and the only way people can get back to heaven.

Do you believe the Bible?
Yes.
A few years ago my son, Joshua, and I went to Rome for his birthday.  He's a huge history buff and this was his dream trip.  While there, we were privileged to be escorted by a Catholic nun-- Sister Esther, a former PhD student of my dad's who was getting a second (or maybe third?) PhD- this time in Church History at the Vatican. She was wonderful!  In every church, at every monument, she could tell us, in detail, the story of the saints and battles and people involved in making history.  She brought ancient Rome to life.  Standing in front of the sculpture of Moses by Michelangelo,  Sister Esther asked if we knew why Michelangelo had depicted Moses with horns.  When we couldn't come up with any answer, she explained that the Latin Vulgate translation of the Bible Michelangelo had read, contained a mistranslation in Exodus. "And when Moses came down from the mount Sinai, he held the two tablets of the testimony, and he knew not that his face was horned from the conversation of the Lord." This was corrected in a later translation, but Michelangelo was doing the best he could with what he had.

I told her our church has 13 Articles of Faith, and that one of them states in part that "We believe the Bible to be the word of God as far as it is translated correctly."  She pointed to the marble Moses and said, "Here you can see-- carved in marble by Michelangelo-- why you need to beware of translation mistakes."

So yes.  I believe the Bible as far as it is translated correctly.

What's up with the Book of Mormon?
It's a companion to the Bible.  It's a record of a band of Christians who left Jerusalem about 600 BC, just before it was destroyed (Daniel's time), and settled in what is now America.  They kept records about God's dealings with them, and the book reaffirms everything the Bible teaches.  Jesus Christ visited them in America after he was resurrected (remember: "Other sheep I have which are not of this fold") and taught them the same things he taught his followers in Jerusalem.  About 400 years after His visit, the people killed each other off in a war, but one man buried the records so God could bring them out when people were ready to receive them.  You can get a free copy, or read or listen to it online, no strings attached, here.

The rest of that Article of Faith I quoted above states, "We also believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God."

So- who's Joseph Smith? 
He's a modern-day prophet.  We believe God still talks to the world today the same way He did in the Biblical times- through prophets.  (And also personally, to individuals, through His Spirit)  Joseph Smith lived in the 1800's and like many people, was confused about which church was true. After reading in James 1:5, he decided to do as James suggests and ask God.  When he did, God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, appeared to him personally.  Joseph spent the rest of his life, until his martyrdom, doing the work God asked him to do. He founded The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, nick-named the Mormon church (after the Book of Mormon, which he translated) and like many prophets throughout history, was killed for living what he believed.

Do you practice polygamy?
No way!!!  The church does not allow polygamy.

What do you eat, what don't you eat, and why?
Members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints believe in taking care of our bodies. (As do most people)  A revelation to Joseph Smith gives a few specific points on how to best do this.  In it, the Lord asks people to eat fruits and vegetables, especially when they are in season, to not eat too much meat, to eat whole grains, and to avoid tobacco, alcohol, coffee and tea.  We are also advised to avoid anything that is addictive, which would include illegal drugs and pornography.  Contrary to some popular beliefs, there is no church directive- nor has there ever been- not to drink cola drinks or caffeine.  Some members chose to avoid them because they see them as falling under the "addictive" category, and some don't.  We don't have any problem with pork.  That would be our friends of Muslim and Jewish faiths.  =)

Do you wear dresses all the time?
Nope.  I usually wear jeans and a t-shirt or hoodie.  I do wear a dress to church on Sunday, but I don't have to. You might be thinking of Amish people.  We are asked to dress modestly, meaning no short shorts, halter tops or bikinis.  But no one's going to throw you out if you chose to wear these things.

What do you do in the temples?
We have two different types of church buildings: chapels and temples.
We have Sunday worship services in the chapels, along with Sunday school and other meetings, including youth groups, scouts, and children's worship. Most members are in the chapel a couple of times a week. There are thousands of chapels around the world and anyone can attend services or visit a chapel anytime.

Temples are different.  We get married in temples for time and eternity, meaning we believe that if a couple is married in the temple and keeps the covenants they make there, they will still be married and be a family after they die.  Not "till death do we part."  Temple work is all about helping families be together forever. Some members go to the temple only once in a lifetime, and some go every week to remember the covenants they made and help others.  There are over a hundred temples around the world.  In order to go inside a temple, you need to be a worthy member of the church.


A few other interesting facts about the church:
There are more than 14 million members of the church, and less than half of them live in the United States.
Women lead church services and hold positions of authority in the church.
Members of the church are found in every level of society, and in the US are politically active in both Republican and Democrat positions.
Mormon missionaries are volunteers, pay their own way, and serve where ever they are called by their church leaders.
The church has sent humanitarian aide to 179 different countries since 1985, and assists people of all faiths. Funding is provided by donations from church members.

I hope I've been able to answer some questions you may have had.  If there is anything you wonder, don't be shy!  Please ask!  You can also visit Mormon.org to find out more.

=)

Heros

A few weeks ago I went to see Hunger Games (again) with my kids. It was opening day in the dollar theatre, and we got the last seats.  The movie had already started and after my eyes adjusted to the darkness I found seats for my kids-- one here, one there, one Way Over There.  After hunting, I found the one remaining seat.  It was next to two guys who were being weird about letting me sit by them.  First they said I couldn't sit there. I insisted, in whispers, that it was the last seat, and they still refused. I got a manager and they relented, but gave each other looks like this was some huge problem. I wondered if I'd forgotten deodorant.   

Right before Katnis blew up the food supplies, the older of the two got up and left.  And I had a horrible mental flash to the Colorado shootings at Batman.  Holy cow, I thought.  He could be going to get a slew of weapons to shoot us all during the explosion scene!  Maybe he needed this end seat for his plan.  And I messed things up by sitting here!  I'll be the first one he shoots!  I started making plans to get out of the way and keep my kids from being killed.

Ok, so apparently the news reports have been affecting me.  But honestly, it's not so much the guys doing the shooting that I think about, as the ones who died to save others.  The men who threw themselves on top of their girlfriends and took the bullets themselves.  The heros.  

By Glenn Loos-Austin

Every culture has a concept of the hero. Every culture tells stories about them.  Some give them medals, others honor them as saints, some even make them into gods. 

But I wonder, what makes a person a hero in the first place?

Studies have been done on this subject, and several articles and papers written.  Not surprisingly, people have different opinions about what makes a hero.  Almost everyone agrees, though, that being willing to die for someone else is a qualifier.  

But what about smaller things?  We had a lesson in church today about how through small and simple things, great things are brought to pass. And I thought about small and simple heros.

Jesus was a hero in my book, but he didn't start by dying for anyone.  He helped at a wedding.  He listened when people talked. He forgave.  Mother Theresa was a hero to many, not because she died for the people of India, but because she did thousands of small acts of kindness.  Buddah went out of his way to help those who needed help, one small service at a time, and his actions inspire millions still.

But there are smaller heros.  Like my son-in-law, Mike, who gets up quietly after dinner and begins washing the dishes with a smile.  There are the guys on campus who open a door for one person, and then stand there, holding the door for 20 more students. There are people on the freeway who slow a bit to let a stranger change lanes, and the person who asks, when I struggle to carry groceries to my car, if I could use a hand. There's the girl who talks to me in a friendly way before class, and the old woman who shuffles up to me after church and says with a twinkle in her eye that her name is Sister Smith and she likes my dress.  

I don't think any of these people know how much they affect my life.  I think about them long after they've gone home, I appreciate the happiness they brought into my day, and wonder if I helped anyone have a better day by being there for them.     

Studies have been done on heros, usually posthumously, since by the time someone's been declared a hero, they're often dead.  But occasionally, as in the case of the officer at the Sikh temple shooting, a hero survives.  And here, in a nutshell, is what the studies and interviews have found.

People who risk their lives for someone else have a much higher than average rate of selfless service than those who don't.  These are people who were uncommonly good at helping others, who were noticed for their kindness even before the huge act of heroism.  It's true that many of these reports are coming after the hero died, and people may be remembering the good times more than the bad, but I really think that if Joe Schmoe The Hero had been a jerk his whole life, people would comment on how uncharacteristic his final act was.  While instead we get reports on how he was always willing to help others, and how this final act was very much in character.

I think heros grow, like everything else, one small inch, one act, one word, one smile at a time. It's not the dying that made them a hero.  They became heros along the way, while doing small but heroic things to add happiness to the lives of those around them.  Dying just showed the rest of the world who they had become on the inside. 

I want to add happiness to the world.  I want to be a hero.  Not in the dying sense, but in the living, small-acts-of-service kind of way.  Because really, the world could use more heros. 

Oh- and by the way- the guy in the movie theatre apparently just needed to use the restroom.  =)