See Men As They Could Be

“I have come to realize that I am like an old 20-dollar bill

—crumpled, torn, dirty, abused, and scarred. 

But I am still a 20-dollar bill. 

I am worth something. 

Even though I may not look like much 

and even though I have been battered and used,

 I am still worth the full 20 dollars.”*

I was born to parents who were already members of the LDS church, but Kyle learned about and joined the church much later in his life, shortly before Damien was born. Because of the disparity in our levels of experience and gospel knowledge, he often claims that he couldn't make it on his spiritual journey without me. This is sweet, but it's also a gross misrepresentation of facts. I may know where to find quotable scripture or conference material; I may have a slew of religious analogies; I may have a vast array of Mormon trivia hidden away in the recesses of my memory; I may withstand some of the oddities of Mormon culture a little better than he does; but he consistently blows me away with his willingness to serve, his dedication to bettering himself, and his ability to be in tune with the Spirit and follow its promptings.

We are currently in Monterey, CA on assignment from the military for the third time. If you've ever visited or lived in Monterey, you know what I mean when I talk about the homeless people. It's a city where it never gets freezing cold or boiling hot, where there are many public tourist attractions, beaches, forests, and many people with cash in their pockets, and therefore there are beggars. At Safeway, on the Fisherman's Wharf, on Cannery Row, at the Farmers Market, at Home Depot, at Target... you name it, there they are. We've noticed the situation becoming progressively worse on each return to the area. In general, we make a practice of not carrying cash, because if we're carrying it, we spend it. We also make a practice of not giving money to panhandlers, but if we feel so inclined we increase our monthly donations to the church instead, so that we know our money is being used in the best possible way.

That said, when Kyle came home from Safeway yesterday and told me "When you check the bank statement you'll see that I took some cash out to give to a homeless guy..." and I immediately (and rudely, I apologized a few minutes later and you'll see why) cut him off, saying "Why? We don't give cash to panhandlers, remember?" He patiently waited for me to finish (he knew I would say exactly that, because under normal circumstances he would say the same to me) and then told me the following, shaking as he tried to quell his emotion:

"I was going to walk by like I always do, maybe just give him a smile or an apple and say hello and good luck, when a voice in my head said clearly, 'See men as they could be.' And I just had to go back in and get some cash, because it was the strongest desire to give that I have ever had."

Well shut me up.

I'm so grateful for him. I'm grateful for our wonderful life. I'm grateful that we can be here, in one of the most expensive cities ever, and have food on the table and a roof over our heads and employment and insurance and warmth and love. I'm grateful that by whatever luck or grace rained down on us, we are not in a situation where it's so difficult for others to see us as we could be. So from yesterday forward, I've resolved- not necessarily to give money to beggars, because I think that may simply have been the situational device the Spirit used to teach our family this lesson- but to see others as they could be. And to help them get there, if I can, or feel so prompted. 

*Deiter F. Uchtdorf, "You Are My Hands," LDS General Conference April 2010 (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2010/04/you-are-my-hands?lang=eng)

My mama told me I should start a blog

         "They say happiness is the folly of fools 

pity poor me: one of the fools..."*

My mama told me I should start a blog. She claims it's because my life is funny, and funny lives are great for blogs, but I think it might be because a blog might be easier to navigate than Facebook, and then I might spam Facebook less. So, I'm making a blog, because my mama told me so. And I shall start blogging where every good day should begin. No, not inside a can of Monster Absolute Zero, although that's a close second; On My Soapbox.

I've noticed a trend that's been growing since I can remember. It's an infuriating trend to me because it's not one that's mocked into oblivion over time like fishnet undershirts or romantic mix-tapes; it's one that has grown and ballooned and spread and festered until it's a dark cloudy monster of irritating despair over my life. The trend of which I speak is negativity. Life-is-miserable, unending-sarcasm-rocks, if-I'm-breathing-I'm-complaining, by-the-way-you-should-be-miserable-too NEGATIVITY. It mocks happy people and turns them into undesirable stereotypes; it tells us that happy people must be hiding something; it tells us that happy people are "creepy." It tells us that a good life can't possibly be, and anyone who says otherwise is a lying liar who lies and only wants to make you more miserable by telling you that your life isn't good enough while skillfully hiding dancing skeletons in top hats in their many closets, or a fool.

WRONG.

Positivity is, and has been for the last few years, the ultimate goal of my existence. I embrace positive parenting methods; I am, perhaps at times, unrealistically optimistic; I will everything and everyone around me to find and be grateful for the happy things in their lives; and I drive people CRAZY! I know I do. But gosh darnit if I have to be a creepy fool one way or another, I'd rather be a happy creeper, so I'm going to keep fighting my peppy way through my Pollyanna life- because it IS a Pollyanna life. I'm not saying my life is perfect, or that I'm a perfect parent or that I have a perfect marriage- what I AM saying is that I have learned by my experiments and experiences in choosing happy for the last few years that I can choose to be happy in the most miserable of circumstances. Don't get me wrong- happiness isn't my personality. I can easily slip into self-depricating, self-pitying, sullen and doleful puddles of misery if I let my nature take over. It takes a lot of energy to choose happiness, but I am blessed to be able to do so and I will take advantage of that blessing every day for the rest of my life.

The above was both your introduction to Only Fools Are Positive, and a disclaimer. This is going to be a happy blog. A positive, optimistic, Pollyanna-world blog full of obnoxiously warm fuzzies and silliness, so if candy-coated cotton-candy clouds aren't what you're looking for on any given day, pass me by. I promise you'll be disappointed. That's all you'll find here.

Another set of introductions is in order. Here are the faces of the regular-to-be denizens of this blog:

Damien

Damien is a ninja transformer badguy-fighter barbarian. He's four years old, at the time of this post, but will quickly interject that he will be five very, very soon, if I don't say it myself. And he doesn't type well, so I said it for him.

Lyric

Lyric is a year and a half old, and she is the Queen of the World and All the Drama Therein. She's also a fashionista and a non-hydraulic excavator.

Me

My name is Holly. I'm 27, which Damien would tell you if I didn't. Things you might not know about me that I will almost definitely touch upon in this blog and will therefore mention now so as not to take you by surprise: I married and divorced a very abusive man. I've recovered from addiction to several illegal substances. I've had a lot of abdominal surgeries. And now I believe I've broken the ice sufficiently.

The Love of My Life

It's hard to find a picture of him without at least one of the kids. He's an awesome daddy, and an awesome partner. He's also freakishly strong and Damien will tell you that he's stinky but that's a product of being The Incredible Hulk, I'm told. His name is Kyle.

One more thing you should know is that we belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. We are a happy family, and we are Mormons. We sing about Popcorn Popping on fruit trees and we go to church for approximately one million hours per week, and while this blog is not specifically a religious blog, much of my happiness comes from following and studying the doctrines of our religion, so I will probably refer to it from time to time.

That's it for now. We'll see where this can go. Happy Reading. :)

*"Happiness" by Leslie Bricusse, from Scrooge