I just deleted an obnoxious post listing all the things I did yesterday. I listed them under categories: Things I did for my kids, husband, church, community, and self. Here is the breakdown of how long the paragraphs under these headings were:
Things I did for my kids : (7 lines)
Things I did for my husband : (3 lines)
Things I did for my calling : (4 lines)
Things I did for my community: (1 line)
Things I did for myself: (2 lines)
So why did I delete the post? As I surveyed the intricacies of my day, it seemed to me that a lot of what I do is menial. A lot of what I do is repetitive. In all the listing and doing, I lost sight of the beautiful, most important parts of the day. What I want to remember about August 31, 2016 is not how many errands I ran, but who I ran the errands for and who I interacted with along the way. The most important things I did were not things, they were the interactions and connections I had with others.
Some reached out to me; I reached out to some; Others I visited, called, or wrote.
Here is a list of the people of August 31, 2016:
Richard
Paige
Daniel
Timothy
Mark
Tiffany
Courtland
Rachel
Jen
Kristy
Charlene
Cindy
Heidi
Dean
Roy
Camille
Sam
Janine
Steve
Ray
Shauna
Annette
Connie
Heather
Kiana
Cree
Sue
Kaye
Jennifer
Maren
Kelly
Wow, I didn’t realize how long this list would be. I am feeling really blessed to be surrounded by so many good people.
The women in our family wear a tiara when they advance to a new decade.We have a 20 year old.11th and 8th grade. Sorry, the picture is blurry because we were laughing.Our free range child, in 5th grade this year in home school
She’s back at BYU. They’re back in the hallways and classrooms. Mark and I are back in session with home schooling. This transition to school felt pretty easy this year. No one started a new school, moved, or needed a lot of clothing and books.
It’s been a few years since I have been in this state about sending kids away each day to school,
Michael Carson
and I am very thankful that I can teach Mark at home. I have tried to write this post several times since school started, but I learned that I don’t want to share much on this topic. I feel these milestones and beginnings deeply. I feel my differences in approach strongly at this time of year. So be it.
I posted this, took it down, posted it, took it down, and now it’s back, seasoned with more love. I decided this view is needed in a culture that encourages women to speak publicly of their faults and failings and parade negative details of their personal relationships. I received more feedback on this post than any I have written this year. This tells me that this is something we need to think about.
I was in a room full of women and someone asked me a very pointed question, that if I were to answer truthfully, it would set me and someone I love in a negative light. I answered truthfully, and I instantly regretted it. I think she was trying to humanize me, or make me more relatable. I felt crucified; my relationship with the person she asked about, tarnished. It made me sad that she thought it would help the group to hear me admit something negative about a personal relationship.
This kind of thing happens often among women. I’m not frustrated with a particular person, but a trend.
Some women have a habit that I rarely see in men, and that is the desire to compete for “last place.” Comments among women will often include someone admitting how bad they are at something. I try not to talk like this. However, it can feel really lonely to say I am doing well with something, or I have come to know something after a lot of effort. I admire women who speak from years of experience with confidence and positivity.
Some people want to “keep it real.” Some abase themselves so others can relate to them, or because they want to avoid bragging. Some women are just modest and don’t say anything. It is not wrong to be quiet, but I hope they feel empowered to speak when they need to.
I read reviews recently of a best selling book, a memoir of a woman exposing terrible, personal details of her marriage. Her aim is good, to help women be strong, but it feels sad to me that she felt the need to relate the most personal, horrible things to empower others.
No one FEELS perfect so it’s difficult to change the expectation of admitting failings publicly. If we focus on our negatives in order to feel accepted, are we really serving others? Or will the attention just be temporary, the definition of ourselves set as a victim or failure, as people hurry on to the next negative story? I wonder.
I will admit that my biggest trials and failures are where some of my most treasured understanding has come. Like pearls, my pain won’t be shown to just anyone, but the lessons I have learned, such as strength, empathy, and perspective can be shown in hundreds of ways without betraying myself.
I believe that it’s not necessary to broadcast our weaknesses or greatest pains, parading them like badges of humanity. Our weaknesses are still there, visible to many, whether we broadcast them or not. Our lives will have times when we need to acknowledge that we are grieving, or that we are experiencing difficulties. However, most of the time we can frame our lives in positives rather than negatives. I also believe we can change the outcome for our lives as we emphasize triumphs and hopes instead of our defeats and fears.
I read this on Facebook today. It was not directed at me, but it really made me think. We live in a time where people are looking for strength and signs of faith from their friends. Expressions of faith become an important responsibility in perilous times.
How will we share our faith today? Our electronic devices are powerful. How will we use them? We can contact hundreds, even thousands of people at a time through social media. Peter and Paul and Timothy would be astounded at the power we have to share the message of hope in Christ.
Here is some of what “Charity Never Faileth” means to me:
It’s possible to have courage and wisdom during difficult visits to the grieving, lonely, sick, and depressed. (Charity won’t fail you in challenging moments.)
My love for a person can endure, whether my hopes for that person are realized or not. (Charity doesn’t stop when a person chooses a different path than we imagined for them.)
When my feet are tired after many hours of standing, I can still smile. (Charity gives physical and emotional strength.)
Love for an individual is not contingent on a person’s behavior or any other thing. (Charity doesn’t limit us to our own circle; it expands our hearts to others.)
Expressions of charity are possible even when a person is going through a difficult time herself. (Charity allows a person who is grieving to support others.)
It is one of those qualities that we will take with us when we die, and it is one mark of a true disciple. (Charity defines us as Christ’s in the eternities.)
People will never forget even simple acts which are motivated by pure love. (True charity is etched in hearts, unforgettable and treasured.)
I also believe that daughters and sons of God can have this gift of charity in abundance, equally, but expressions of it will look very different. We need both men and women to develop charity. When men and women are motivated by the pure love of Christ, miracles will happen.
I think I change a little bit every day, becoming a different person. Yes, I have received the same Myers-Briggs personality type every time I have taken the test since I was 20 years old, but I think my heart changes and capacity to handle challenges grows or shrinks, depending on how I spend my time. I’ve decided to evaluate some things I did and some things that happened recently. It’s a little weird, but I am writing to my past self. Sometimes you just need to give yourself a little talk.
Dear July self,
I am so glad you were able to visit with Julie Smith one Friday evening in a little restaurant in downtown Provo. There are few things more valuable than real connection with a friend, sharing experiences without fear of judgment. I’m also glad that you took the time to see her speak at BYU about her work in the Gospel of Mark. You should have taken a picture of the two of you instead of stealing that shot from Eric Huntsman’s Twitter feed.
You missed out on a day on a boat with the family to pursue one of your interests. You second-guessed your decision all day, but I think it’s really ok. There are things you learned that day that you will need later.
You heard some heartbreaking stuff from several friends and also received a hateful letter on social media. This was difficult, but I am glad people trusted you and you responded with respect.
Someone took advantage of your kindness and the result wasn’t what you hoped. But all well.
I am glad you read Hamilton.
I am also glad that you went to Fish Creek for a day even though there are no bathrooms there. It was worth it to see Rob and Melinda and the kids.
You wrestled with some decisions before finding some answers. Prayer, time, and temple worship are parts of a pattern that worked again.
The time you spent looking at social media was wasted time. You got into the habit of going to bed later and later. But these things can be fixed.
The days you prayed for Richard were better marriage days.
Lots of people were kind to you: Janine performed beautifully and helped compose the accompaniment for the violin piece you played; your presidency prayed for you; your parents planned a wonderful reunion; Richard fixed the broken sink, the door knob you installed upside down, and the washer. Shelene brought you bread and Cindy brought popsicles when you thought your whole family had Strep. You were able to speak up in church councils and teach Relief Society and share your testimony. You were blessed by the people around you every day.
August has come, and the schools are sending us emails and mail and phone calls. In an act of solidarity with the spirit of summer, today Mark, Timothy, and I went on a search for Lego figures, specifically the rare Lego babies. We passed Pokémon GO players, fixated on their screens, keeping our heads high and alert for the small yellow packages in stores. On our fifth stop we finally found them, zealously guarded at a counter at a toy store.
The blind yellow packaging made it challenging to know which figure we were handling. We were joined by other seekers at the counter, one clearly more dexterously confident. I would take a good two minutes to handle a package, while our neighbor, who brokered a deal with the cashier to bring out the remaining stock of figures, cast aside packages quickly. When the boys and I thought we found a Lego baby, he offered to feel the package to validate it. Instant friend! Expert in his field. He did not disappoint. We came away with two Lego babies…and several other novice (not pictured) surprises.
Richard takes the boys on grand adventures. Mine are designed to be shorter, less dangerous, and closer to fast food restaurants. It was delightful to be a kid with a couple of my boys, opening Lego packages as soon as we got to the car and exclaiming joy or bewilderment at what we discovered. It was a simple 3 hours, full of conversations, and I’m really glad we found something, or else the boys may not have agreed it was so fun. I was just happy to be with them, and not driving them to school and back.
They even offered to let me keep a Lego baby. My heart melted.
I finished the binding on this quilt last night, making it a strictly July project. The women in my family hand-stitched the flower squares at our family reunion and I put them together in a quilt. Truly, it was a collaborative effort. I asked the ladies to bring small scraps of fabric and we combined them to make this very happy result. My friend Kaye machine quilted it. I love that the squares show our individual personalities, but also how harmoniously they come together. Almost every petal in our flowers is a different fabric, and combining our collections made so many more possibilities. What a perfect metaphor for family relationships.
We sat together to sew these over a couple of days when our kids were asleep, etc. English paper piecing became an obsession. To make the hexagon flowers, you wrap fabric around paper hexagons, and sew the edges together. “Must. make.more.hexies.” I heard again and again, in automaton voices. We also solved the world’s problems as we sat and talked while wielding needles and thread. Quilting might possibly be the solution to everything, or at least it is a worthy distraction with a beautiful result.
A wise teacher taught me on Sunday that it’s not boasting to show ourselves as heroines in our stories, sharing our efforts to be disciples of Christ. Implied in every miracle in our work to follow the the Savior is the presence of the Savior, not the greatness of the disciple. Therefore, it would be a mistake to avoid sharing goodness for fear we sound like we are boasting. Miracles are not human made, not possibly earned, nor perfectly deserved. God is generous!
I draw a star on my calendar on days when I see miracles in my life or the lives of my friends. I can’t leave the month of July without trying to relate that I have seen miracles this summer, so I have decided to share two miracles with you. I want to show gratitude for these things, and if you, dear reader, are struggling, perhaps acknowledging miracles could be a good exercise for you.
Richard’s absence from home this month wore on me, and one day I felt especially tired, but followed through with my plan go to a viewing before a funeral to comfort my friend. I didn’t even wash my face before I left; I just threw on my dress and wore whatever was left of the makeup I had applied the day before. When I walked in the room, Linda K. Burton, Relief Society General President was standing right in front of me. I didn’t realize the deceased was her niece. She pulled me aside and asked me who I was, not allowing me to leave my introduction of myself as “a friend of the grandparents,” and asked to know my full name. She complimented me on my good countenance. Finally, I confessed that I was serving as a Relief Society president and she gave me a big hug and said no wonder she felt drawn to talk to me. She asked about my ward and listened to me rave about how good the sisters are. I felt the Lord had guided sweet Sister Burton to talk to me and tell me that she thought I looked like a good person. I don’t think of myself as someone who seeks the approval of others, but it felt so good to feel validation from her. This miracle makes me want to spread the love she showed to me.
I saw miracles from single verses of scripture. The previous Relief Society president in my ward always sent beautifully wrapped treats up to Girls Camp, so I was trying to follow the tradition to do the same. I realized as I looked down at the table of snacks that my secretary had prepared that this was NOT ME. I needed to add something; something truly from me, not just copy someone else’s tradition. I pulled out my phone and found my list of scriptures I have tagged as “words of encouragement” and wrote one scripture reference on the tag of each gift. I sent no other words, just a different scripture for each girl and leader to look up. Several people have stopped me to tell me how meaningful those verses were; that the words seemed to be “just for them.” These stories represent miracles. God was involved in the details of that day when those gifts were prepared and when the gifts were passed out at camp.
I don’t believe there are small miracles. If a miracle of “coincidence” or “kindness” gives someone strength to go on or change, this is no small thing. These miracles were important, even vital to me, and hopefully others this month.
This morning I went through the pictures from the last month. The High Adventure trip began on June 28, and since that time, someone in our family has been away on camps or vacations almost constantly. Richard came home from 3 weeks of missed work, ready to plan more trips. I don’t understand this man sometimes.
Timothy and Richard spent a week at Bear Lake for Scout camp. As I look through these pictures, I see how Timothy has matured this year. Richard didn’t get any photos of himself, except on the last day when he went water skiing with a couple of the dads.
Can we talk for a minute about what it’s like to be married to a Scoutmaster? In one word, for me, the experience is sleepless. Often I leave my lamp on all night, not fearful, but uneasy, and unable to sleep. I honestly don’t worry about their safety. I give that worry to God in prayer, but I feel loss when my family is away. I’m thankful that they are all home again. Timothy was still healing from a terrible motorcycle burn and came down with a case of Strep while at scout camp, but this week, all is well. Scout camp teaches all of us, even those at home, that we can do hard things. (Ha! These pictures don’t look like a trial at all.)
