I Am Thankful For the Doctrine of Gratitude

So, not only am I writing this blog, but I was asked on Sunday to speak next Sunday on developing an attitude of gratitude. Can I just say, first off, that I really wish those words didn't rhyme? I worked on my talk today and had to make sure I didn't put them anywhere near each other- I HATE rhyming, unless I'm reciting poetry. Which I AM doing in my talk, so that's plenty. Anyhow. Having a thankful heart is one of my soapbox issues... and since, from my soapbox, I usually only reach... well... me... I'm excited to get to speak about this topic. It means a lot to me.

One thing I realized, while I was formulating my thoughts earlier, is that I am incredibly grateful that I've been taught all my life that gratitude is a commandment. I really think "commandment," with its modern connotations, is a terrible word for the expectations Heavenly Father set out for us. I much prefer guidelines... blueprints... advice. Or maybe just... "Plan of Happiness." Diligently following the commandment to be grateful has turned out to be single most instrumental piece of the puzzle of happiness in my life. Gratitude has successfully filled every hole that ever needed filling. And maybe it's turned me into an insufferable Pollyanna-type, but I can live with that. In fact, I can't live without that.

I found this verse in my research today, and I love it: "And he who receiveth all things with thankfulness shall be made glorious; and the things of this earth shall be added unto him, even an hundred fold, yea, more." (Doctrine and Covenants 78:19) 

I can definitely live with that.

I Am Thankful For Prayer

One of the first songs I ever learned in voice lessons when I was young was "Christopher Robin is Saying His Prayers." There was a line I didn't quite understand, back then: "Hush! hush! whisper who dares! Christopher Robin is saying his prayers." Teaching my children how to pray has given that silly little song new meaning. Christopher Robin is a representation of all children, and I imagine that when my children say their prayers at night, not even the angels would dare whisper over them. I imagine that Damien's earnest pleas that our new cat will be less scared tomorrow are taken as seriously as they are offered. I imagine that every night when Lyric gets to "in the name of Jesus Christ" and giggles with glee over the name, its owner laughs with her. I imagine that every time one of God's tiniest children speaks to Him, a hush falls in the Heavens, that their voices won't be drowned out.

Most importantly, I believe that every one of us is a child of that same Great Listener. And I believe that He leans as intently to hear me as He does my children. I am so thankful to be heard.

I Am Thankful For November... and sharing

Last year Thanksgiving came too early. I decided to write a gratitude post every day of the month leading up to it, and there weren't enough days! This year is one of those awesome years that only happens every so often, when Thanksgiving is as late as it can possibly be: November 28.

Growing up, I really disliked those years. In my family, it's a tradition to kick off Christmas the day after Thanksgiving. We put up the Christmas tree, we watched Christmas movies, we ate Christmas candy (and Thanksgiving leftovers), and settled in with the lights and sparkles to enjoy the Christmas season. The problem here? My birthday is November 29. Those years, I still enjoyed our family tradition, but always with a selfish little sense of being pushed to the side on a day to which I felt personally entitled.

How silly of me!

I wish that I had learned to share that day with the Christ-child. Knowing Him as I know Him now, I would have realized that He- the Giver of all- would have been perfectly happy to share it with me. This year, I'm thankful that I get to celebrate my birthday on the day after Thanksgiving. I can't wait that long to put up my Christmas tree- fortunately, I'm the mistress of my own household now so it'll probably go up tomorrow (muahahaha). But the day after Thanksgiving will still be filled with Christmas movies and candy and lights and sparkles, and maybe a birthday cake. And definitely the Spirit of Christ, the baby who gave all.

So that's it, folks: today I am thankful that I get to share my birthday with Christmas. And also, that I get to write so many gratitude posts this year. If ever you seek happiness, seek gratitude. Happiness always hides behind a thankful heart.

I'll Treasure the Things You Are

I've read a lot of wonderful blog entries lately- specifically, letters and counsel from loving parents to children who can't read yet, children who aren't here yet, children in general. As a result, I've spent a lot of time thinking about what words of wisdom I'd like to leave for my children- what I want them to remember. And I haven't been able to figure it out, until recently I was reminiscing and the answer came in a memory. Let's go back.

Once upon a time, I was in a play. This may shock those of you who know me best- I am a terrible, terrible actress. I just don't do it. I am a behind-the-scenes-or-the-piano kind of girl. Fortunately, I was a cute little six or seven-year-old child at the time, and I played a cute little six or seven-year-old pioneer girl, so it wasn't too much of a stretch. Even so... despite how awesome I thought I was in the moment... I've seen videos. I was cute, but I wasn't good. It's ok- my character, as did many young pioneers, died on the trek. Probably a blessing to Act II. I just am not and was not a thespian. What I WAS good at, however, was memorizing my lines. I totally rocked that business. So much so, in fact, that I still remember the vast majority of them. I especially remember my one solo lyric. It was part of a trio with my stage-sister and stage-stepmom. Honestly, it was mostly a duet between them, but I had one little winning, childlike interjection of my very own:

"I may not remember a thing you say, but I'll treasure the things you are.*" 

What a brilliant and accurate bit of wisdom. I know that my own mother sometimes agonizes over certain moments, certain choices in her childrearing career. Occasionally, she'll recollect things that happened that she felt may have been particularly regretful moments... and the thing is- 98% of the time, I don't have a clue what she's talking about. As I've grown up a little and gotten over angsty teenage resentment and unjust grudges against my parents, and learned to forgive the Moments and dwell instead on the character of Mom, this little solo lyric of mine took on real meaning. My mom is one of the most committed givers I have ever known. She is a woman of great faith. She is a brilliant speaker, who teaches with the Spirit. She is intelligent and wise- qualities that don't always go hand-in-hand. I could go on. 

What I've realized is that I need to focus less on saying all the right things, and more on doing the right things. I can tell my kids how to behave and who they should strive to be until I'm blue in the face, but what they'll remember is who I am. And they'll learn who I am by watching what I do... even, and maybe especially, when I don't realize they're doing it. So here are some things I commit to showing, not just telling, my children:

1. I will be a wise steward over our family's finances. Needs come first. Wants come when we can afford them, and "affording" will never involve "I'll pay for it later."

2. I will respect my body. I will beautify it modestly, as I would a Temple, and maintain it as I would my home (ok, better, hopefully).

3. I will continually increase my education throughout my life, for the rest of my life. Spiritual education, academic education, social education. I firmly trust that "whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection.**" Personally, I'd like to be well-armed with this life's arsenal of information in the next life so I can start learning the even cooler stuff ASAP.

4. I will be kind to those around me and seek out the good in my fellow man. Life is so much happier when I look for reasons to love, and recognize that as my weaknesses are consistently forgiven, so should I forgive the weaknesses of others. I will audibly build up my fellow man. Heaven knows my strengths could use some extra encouragement so I have something to lean on in moments of weakness.

5. I will treat my marriage as a precious and beloved gift. I will speak to my spouse with kindness, compassion and respect. I will show my children that an equal and eternal partnership is not only a reasonable possibility, but a joy to be sought and worked for. 

6. I will fail. The only thing I've ever done perfectly was standardized testing in elementary school, and judging from the large chunk of my resume consumed by low-paid menial labor, that didn't get me far. When I fail, I will admit it. When I fail with my children, I will apologize and make amends, despite my pride. 

7. I will allow my children to see the healing power of the Atonement in my life. I will never ever allow my children to believe that I believe that I am perfect. I need Jesus to cover my sins and weaknesses, and I won't try to hide that undeniable fact.

My kids are watching, whether I like it or not. It's time I step up and accept that my responsibility is far heavier than simply telling them how to behave. Hypocrisy has got to be one of the greatest enemies of leadership, so it's time I re-evaluate to make sure I'm living as I want them to live. "The prophet Brigham Young said: 'We should never permit ourselves to do anything that we are not willing to see our children do. We should set them an example that we wish them to imitate.'***" 

I would give my children everything, if it were within my means to do so. Security, wealth, education, love, happiness. I hope to say someday that I helped set them on the path to those things, though they will ultimately have to earn them on their own. There are so many things I can't do for them. What I can do is give them a Me they will treasure, because someday they may not remember a thing I say. They'll always remember who I am.

*"The Lesson That I Love Best," by Sally DeFord

**Doctrine and Covenants 130:18

***"Be An Example of the Believers," Mary N Cook, LDS General Conference Oct. 2010

Feel Free To Call Them Beautiful

If there is anything virtuous, lovely,

or of good report or praiseworthy, 

we seek after these things.

The home in which I grew up has a lovely neighbourhood view of Pike's Peak. I remember looking at that mountain and loving its beauty: in the winter (and fall, and spring, and sometimes summer) with its peak capped with snow; in the fall, laden with the orange and yellow and red of native leaves; during a thunderstorm- backlit by huge streaks of lightning. I remember the awe it inspired, and I remember wondering why it needed to be there. Sometime in my young adult life I came to the conclusion that it didn't "need" to be there. The words of the verse ring true to me: 

"When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur and hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze: Then sings my soul, My Savior, God, to Thee; How great Thou art!" 

The beauty of the Lord's natural creations is a testament to me of His love. He didn't NEED mountains in order to save me. He didn't NEED the forests and flowers and fields and beaches to save me. He didn't NEED the world to be a beautiful one in order for the power of His atoning sacrifice to be sufficient. But He created Beauty, perhaps, because He knew that I would need it. There was a time, up in a different, secluded house, in a national forest in the mountains in which I lived, when the stars in a clear sky were the only reminder I had that maybe He was still near me. Beauty has given me hope when there was no other hope and hints of joy in situations of misery.  

I value beauty. And yes, I value beauty in people. I believe that human beings are God's greatest creations, and I believe that He intended us to find each other beautiful. I find beauty in freckles, and muscles, and hair colors and styles, and eyes that smile, and symmetry and asymmetry. I find beauty in graceful movement and athletic prowess and tasteful, flattering clothing, and charming clumsiness, and the human form and figure. And I find value in the recognition of beautiful people. I love to watch people and find the outward things that make them beautiful to me.

What I don't love are societally-imposed definitions and boundaries on what physical qualities we're "supposed" to find beautiful. I don't love that we're so encouraged to be "more beautiful than" or "beautiful like." I strive to show those around me (especially my children) that beauty doesn't need to be comparative. A comparison of two people should register as apples to walruses. An apple will never be a beautiful walrus, and people should be beautiful because they ARE, not because they have smaller feet than Jennifer Aniston. I teach these ideas to my children, and I will continue to do so because I think it is important.

I've read a lot of highly popular blog posts recently about the need to recognize qualities other than physical beauty in children, especially in little girls. While I agree that it's vitally important to seek out and build up those invisible traits, I also feel the extent to which compliments on a child's appearance are sometimes demonized ignores an important gift that we are given as human beings. Physical attraction (not even in a romantic or sexual sense) is an important aspect of human interaction. I want every child to feel confident in his or her appearance, and empowered to recognize the beauty of others- in every different way in which it may manifest. There's no need to reduce the value of beauty, only a need to broaden its definition. So if you look at my children and you happen to think they are beautiful, please feel free to tell them. And trust me to teach them what that really means.

The Thing About Poison

Here is an up-front disclaimer: This post is about pornography. It is directed specifically at women whose spouses have used or are currently involved with pornographic material, and it is written from an LDS-specific perspective that all pornography is detrimental to homes and societies, and morally unacceptable. There are other situations I could write about (people currently addicted to porn, men whose wives use porn, people who aren't married, etc) and there are many people, including some of my readers, who vehemently disagree with my fundamental beliefs regarding porn. I understand that we may not agree; all I ask is that comments remain respectful and considerate, or blank. On with the show.

I want to address some of what I consider to be current culture's greatest logical fallacies and outright lies, told to women who seek advice, devastated by their husbands' pornography use. The reason I feel the need to express my thoughts on this subject is that I hear the constant and deafening cry for celebration of diversity, and yet on this subject I see women who are struggling, tragically and brutally beaten into submission (most often by other women) and servitude to social norms with many of the following statements:

*"All men look at porn. If you find one who says he doesn't, he's a liar."

*"If you accommodate him more, he'll only do it when you're not around."

*"Maybe you should try watching it with him! You could learn a lot!"

*"It doesn't matter where he gets his appetite, as long as he comes home for dinner!"

*"I would never presume to tell my husband what he can and can't do- I'm not his mother."

*"I think you should question, deep down, why you're so uncomfortable with it. It probably means you're just insecure."

Have you heard them? I have. Far too many times. Aimed sometimes at people I love, sometimes at strangers, sometimes at people of whom I am less than fond. We are not allowed to be Not-Ok with porn. Each and every time these statements tear down a human being, I watch them crumble and I cringe. I want to catch their broken souls up as they fall to the ground and shake them and look them in the eye and SCREAM, "Don't believe this! Don't take it in! You don't have to accept this! Listen to me!!

And since I can't force anyone to listen, here are some rebuttals I'd like to make, if I could:

*Every man does not use pornography. Period. Whether a person who would say this to you believes porn is good or bad, it is a dismissive and subjugating view of mankind. There are men who believe, of their own accord, that pornography has no place in their lives and stick to that conviction wholeheartedly. This position also implies that because "they all do it," it's something we just have to accept. Well, doesn't that just take us back 100 years.

*Never let anyone tell you that if you were more available, he wouldn't have to turn to pornography to fill his needs. Not only is this psychologically unsound (pornography addiction has been found to be less about sex and more about filling some other emotional void), it places responsibility for his actions on your shoulders. Pornography use is a choice. He has the power to choose another alternative to express the emotions that lead him to it.

*Watching pornography with your husband as an attempt to reduce his pornography use is like taking up smoking in an effort to help him quit. Nobody wins. One of the most incredible promises a partnership can make is to give 100% of their sexual experiences to each other. To learn together, with no outside input.

*Don't excuse treatment that hurts you. Just don't do it. You have a right to be treated like a daughter of God. Like a person of infinite worth. He has the power to control his appetite, and you can empower him to do so.

*You're not his mother, you are his wife. He is your husband. You are the person to whom he committed himself and his fidelity. No other woman or man need be involved in your sexual relationship, and you are not unreasonable to expect that. You are not telling him what he can and cannot do by inviting him to reconsider his use of pornography: you are reminding him of his divine potential, his power over the natural man inside him, and his strength to overcome temptation. And you make an equal commitment in return.

*If you knew there was poison in your food, would you be comfortable eating it? If you knew there was a serial killer in your home, would you feel secure? There are things in this world about which it is rational to be uncomfortable and insecure. So go ahead, question deep down why you're not comfortable with porn. Is it insecurity? GOOD. Pornography is the most insidious poison. Don't ever let feelings of deep discomfort, a desire to protect yourself and your home, make you believe there is something wrong with you. Don't let anyone tell you you are wrong not to go invite the serial killer in your basement up to share a bowl of poisoned stew.

Finally, if you are struggling with this monster in your life, please know that your Heavenly Father loves you. He sees your pain. He counts your tears. You are not alone. Don't believe those lies of the adversary. Don't take them in. It is ok to not be ok with pornography. And it can get better. 

If you are in need of inspiration or support because of a loved one's pornography use, please visit  http://overcomingpornography.org. It is full of truly enlightened information and help.

Father's Day

I'm so glad when Daddy comes home- glad as I can be! 

Clap my hands, and shout for joy, and climb up on his knee; 

put my arms around his neck, hug him tight like this; 

pat his cheeks, then give him what? A great big KISS!

It's a classic. Tomorrow my Primary kids will sing that song in Sacrament meeting, because what would Father's Day be without Sunbeams blowing Great Big Kisses from the stand and giggling? But I hate dragging all the kids up on the stand for one 14-second song and then sending them back to their pews, so I needed to pick another one. I went through all the "Daddy" songs in the Children's Songbook and wasn't impressed- I knew my mom had a couple of great Father's Day pieces... but not for Primary kids. I searched Jackman and everything in my (very limited) personal music library. Finally I had to go back to the Children's Songbook to decide which additional piece I disliked least. Leafing through, I stopped on a song entitled "Grandmother" and read through the words and decided that was the one. Replacing the title with "Father," of course. Here are the lyrics:

You give me a kiss,
You give me a hug,
You smile when you see me too!
I wish every child in the whole wide world had a [Father] just like you.

You read me a book,
You sing me a song,
You whisper you love me too!
I wish every child in the whole wide world had a [Father] just like you.

I'll try to be good,
I'll do as I should,
I'll whisper I love you too!
I wish every child in the whole wide world had a [Father] just like you.

This world needs good dads. Desperately. So many torn families- so many youth without positive male influences in their lives- so many children who so desperately want and need their fathers to wake up and be men. It makes me so grateful for the good dads that ARE out there. Dads like mine. Dads like Kyle.

I am a bit of a daddy's girl. Ok... I am a LOT of a daddy's girl. As a child, I thought my dad was the greatest person in the world. As an adult, well, I haven't changed my mind. I was also a fairly over-sensitive child, and my beloved daddy was a fairly scatterbrained person. I remember once I had failed to check to make sure I had tights for church on Saturday, and thus discovered I was tightless on Sunday. In summertime, or a state other than Colorado, this might have been ok, but in this situation, it was not ok. My dad had to go buy me tights before church. He dutifully went without saying anything that would increase my already intense guilt about being the cause of my dad breaking the Sabbath and returned... with footless tights, accidentally. And my mom and sister teased him. And my heart broke. It was my fault- he had to break the Sabbath AND he had to be mercilessly mocked for it!

Of course, what I didn't realize was that he took teasing just fine. I had to grow up a little bit to realize that. It was all in good fun, and I don't think his eternal salvation was threatened by buying his little girl tights on Sunday. But I think that experience- that fierce desire to defend my dad- my overwhelming guilt at having caused him pain- and the fact that I still remember the feeling today- are evidence of a crucial role my dad has played in my life, all my life. I love him so much, with adoration he earned by being amazing, that I can't bear to hurt him with my choices. This made a difference he doesn't even realize, later on.

It was a life-saving inspiration. It's something that happened that I'm not even sure if anyone but he and I know about, til now. My dad was not the disciplinarian in our home. Maybe it was because of his very long work hours and church obligations, maybe it was my eagerness to please him, but I recall being chastened by my father maybe twice, as a child. I'm positive that's why this particular incident resonated so intensely:

Years ago, when I moved back in to my parents' home in an effort to get clean, I lacked guidance in how to do it. No state rehab program would take me without a guaranteed source of exorbitant amounts of money and I knew nobody who had been on and then off drugs for reference. So my method of detox was to hide in my parents' basement. If I had cravings I couldn't manage, I would find someone online who would share or trade. If I couldn't find that, I would drink. The whole process was agonizing. One Saturday night I spent in company with a large bottle of rum. By morning, the rum was gone and I was... well, pretty far gone too. My family was at church, and I thought I was alone, but I heard someone coming downstairs. To my surprise, it was my dad. And he came down and launched into a tearful, pleading lecture about alcoholism. I sat in stony silence, so angry at whichever of my siblings had tattled on me (that was how I assumed he knew- maybe that's true, maybe not. If it's true, and that sibling happens to read this... thank you for tattling.) and so annoyed that I, an adult, was being lectured by my father. And then he went back to church.

I got in the shower. And the reality of what had just happened punched me in the gut like an iron fist. My dad left church to come home and say what needed to be said and infuriate me. He had to know that would be the effect, considering the person I was at that time. He could have waited until after church, instead of interrupting his meetings. But he came when he needed to come, not knowing that I had another bottle and no reason not to drown in it, and said the hard things I needed to hear. I sat on the floor in the shower and sobbed through the pain of hurting my dad. Of disappointing him, of worrying him. I think I spent two hours in that shower. It was very cold by the time I got out. And then I got the other bottle of rum and poured it down the drain. I didn't quit drinking then, but I quit drinking alone. And I started to realize that someone I admired and adored still loved me enough to risk making me hate him.

The world needs dads who play with their children. Dads who talk to their children. Dads who read to their children. Dads who give their children time- which is what most children want more than anything. The world also needs dads who will do the hard things. Who will say things that make their children furious, but need to be said. Who will refuse to enable and refuse to support bad choices. If every child in the whole wide world had a dad like my dad, oh what a world this would be.

My dad was and is a monumental influence in my life, but of course he isn't the only dad who affects my everyday existence.

When I found out I was pregnant, Kyle and I weren't married. He'd only just realized he loved me, and we were very young in our relationship. He was in the Delayed Enlistment Program for the Air Force, set to go away to train as soon as he was called. We were both unsure whether we even wanted children, let alone together. I had no idea how he would react to the information that we had created a baby (especially knowing that I would choose to keep the baby, regardless of his reaction, even if that meant the end of us) and honestly, he could have gone either way. I was terrified. I thought he would probably have a panic attack, not know how to react, not know how he felt about it, and I would have to leave and wait for him to come around or be done with me. The conversation went as follows:

H: "I'm pregnant."
K: "What? How."
H: "Well, when a man loves a woman..."
K: "No I know that. Well ****. Ok. Well, you don't want to get rid of it, right?"
H: "No."
K: "Well I guess we're having a baby then. We should probably start working on getting married."

And from that moment, he wanted a baby. With me. Because there was a baby coming, and he was responsible for it, and therefore he would choose to want and love that baby. Six months later, he was called up to leave for Basic Training. We (newlyweds of 11 days) went to the hotel he was ordered to, the evening before his swearing-in in Denver, and I booked a room there so we could spend as much time together as possible before he left. He had been assigned a separate room and another recruit with whom to share it, but the desk clerk looked at my gigantor belly and said "You're checked in, as far as I'm concerned that means you're here- go sleep in your wife's room." He woke up very early the next morning to get ready to join his group at the shuttle to MEPS, and before he left the room he kissed Damien through my belly and cried (don't tell Hulk I told he cries) over the unborn child who, six months prior, before he knew he existed, he wasn't sure he wanted. That's a daddy.

Kyle is not a perfect father. There's no such thing, on this Earth. But he tries. He tries ever so hard. Even when it hurts. I've watched him make changes to his life and standards. I've watched him dig deep into his past and recognize influences that were harmful to him, and resolve to vehemently protect our children from those things. I've watched him make choices he didn't want to make for the sake of our kids' happiness and comfort. I've watched him apologize to Damien when he's made mistakes. If every child in the whole wide world had a dad like Kyle, oh what a world this would be.

I am blessed to have had these fathers in my life. When I choose songs for my Primary kids to sing, I have an obnoxious need to select pieces with which I personally identify. I know I can teach better when I believe in what I'm teaching. That's why when I read the words of "Grandmother" (Grandmothers are awesome, sorry for stealing your song!!) it had to be the one. I love children, mine and otherwise. I want every child to feel happy and loved and valued and safe. If I could make one wish, it would be that every child who lacks a positive paternal influence in his or her life, for whatever reason, could have one just like either one of the most important daddies in my life.

Here's one more pic, just for the sake of awesome. :)