What it Means to Me to be Mormon

Sometimes when a person I know finds out I am a Mormon, I get some interesting reactions.  Many people of the world have no idea or totally false ideas of what it means to be part of the Mormon faith.  Here are a few points, as told from my perspective, to try and clear up some of that confusion:

1.  Our religion is not called Mormonism.  Actually, our religion is called The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, or LDS.  The name "Mormon" comes from our book of scripture that is unique to our religion, The Book of Mormon.  Most members of the Church have embraced this name.  But when you hear Mormon, LDS, Saints, Latter Day Saints...they all mean the same thing.

2.  We are Christian.  While we hold a book of scripture unique to our Church, The Book of Mormon, we still believe and hold the Bible as sacred holy scripture.  We believe Jesus Christ is our Lord, Savior, and Redeemer and, in fact, our entire religion is based on that fact.  The Book of Mormon itself it known to be a second testimony of Christ.  This makes us Christian.

3.  We are not racist, bigots, homophobic, or anything else of that nature.  Our Gospel preaches love and acceptance of all others, especially those who are different from us (individually and collectively).  Yes, you may meet some judgmental and not so nice Mormons, just like you meet judgment and not so nice people from every group.  The people in our Church are not perfect, but our Gospel is.  And those who strive their best to follow it will treat all people with love and respect.

4.  Acceptance is not the same as condoning.  While out Gospel teaches acceptance of all others, this does not mean that we condone the actions and decisions of others that do not hold with our values and standards.  We believe in agency.  Every person born into this world has the right and the responsibility to choose for themselves what they will believe and do and how they will choose to live their lives.  We respect that.  And we do not pass judgment.  But we will not support or condone that which is contrary to our beliefs.  This tends to be a difficult principle to understand for those who are not very familiar with us.

5.  Our meetings and gatherings are public and we invite to come anyone who wishes to.  But we do have a few sacred meetings and gatherings that are only available to those who are members of our Church and are currently their lives in ways which qualify them to be there.  This includes our temples.  You will find that we do not discuss much of what occurs there, not because we wish to mystify it, but because it is considered sacred and we hold it dear. 

6.   We do not expect perfection.  But we do strive toward it.  Some people may take this idea more seriously than others.  And some will drive themselves crazy expecting of themselves and others more than is possible.  But, again, that is because our Church is populated by imperfect people.  One of the cool things about our Church is that we promote and provide opportunities for constant personal development, in youth as well as adulthood.

7.  We may not drink, smoke, use foul language, participate in impure media or activities, shop or do other fun and "worldly" things on Sundays, dress immodestly, drink coffee, or have sex outside of lawful marriage, but you will find it hard to find a happier bunch of people.  And that is because we have found that happiness is better created by abiding by the principles of the Gospel than by any other means.  So while we do not participate in many activities thought to be "normal", we are beyond thankful for the blessings we receive because of the things we choose to do.  This may set us apart from the world (very, very far apart in some cases....), but we usually do not care because of the wonderful things we get to experience as a result.

8.  Women are very highly valued and honored and, along with men, hold leadership positions as well.  While we believe that men and women are equal, we also believe that they are different and hold different roles, which is illustrated in The Family: A Proclamation to the World, written by our Church Authority.  Starting with young childhood and continuing throughout life, members of both genders are given opportunities to take leadership roles, practice public speaking, provide fellowship, and serve the Church and other people.  There are entire programs in our Church run solely by women.  Our men are taught to love, respect, and provide protection for women, eventually serving them well as husbands and fathers.  In fact, we believe that the highest level of salvation can only be obtained by a husband and wife together.  Even in the world we usually maintain separate gender roles.  Traditionally, fathers support the family while mothers raise and nurture the children.  But often in today's world there are many families who cannot financially swing that dynamic anymore.  And in any case, no matter what the roles may be, husband and wife, man and women stand on equal footing.  Dr. Valerie Hudson Cassler has a wonderful article about this subject, entitled I am a Mormon Because I am a Feminist, which can be found here.

9.  Our Church is run entirely by volunteer work.  None of our authority are paid.  From the teachers who watch over the children to the President and Prophet of the entire Church, members give their time and effort voluntarily in what we term "service" and filling what we term "callings".  Yes, members are expected to pay tithing, a minimum of 10% of their financial increase, but that money is put into the building up and maintaining of the organization as a whole and does not contribute to the support of any person.

10.  We believe in forever families and forever marriages.  It's the most beautiful concept, really.  How can Heaven really be Heaven if you don't have those you love the most with you, connected to you for eternity?  Who wants a marriage that lasts for life when you can have one that lasts forever?  And how can you fathom existing for eternity without your dear children with you?  The love and families we form are created to be strong, withstand challenges and hardships, and maintain through time and all eternity.  Death is never the end of a relationship with another human.  Like I said...it's beautiful.  Wonderful.  And something I cannot survive this life without knowing.

11.  We believe in what we term the Thirteen Articles of Faith, which outline the basic beliefs of our religion.  Everything from knowing that God is our Father in Heaven to being subject to governmental reign to being honest, true, chase, benevolent, virtuous, and doing good in all things and everything in between.

12.  As the Piano Guys say on their website, "We believe the purpose of life is to be happy.  We believe the best way to be happy is to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ and to love others more than yourself.  We believe family is most important.  We believe we are all children of a God who loves us dearly...."  Our beliefs provide the foundation for which we live our lives.  They are our anchor.  They give us conviction.  And they are unyielding in the face of societal ebb and flow.  But they are our own and we hold them dear.

So that, in a very small nutshell, is what I think you should know about the Mormon, or Latter Day Saint, faith.  So next time you meet a Mormon and get the feeling there is something a little different about them, now you know there is and you know why.

P.S. For more information, check out mormon.org.

Undateable

You know how there are some girls who walk into a party scene and, every time, will inevitably be hit on?  Usually by multiple men, who happen to be the more interesting and attractive men in the room, nonetheless.  And then there are the friends of those girls.  The ones who only get the pity or second choice dances.  The purse/phone holders of the world.  The permanent wall flowers whose unspoken job develops into that of wing woman.  That’s me.  I’m always the “and this is my friend, Lisa” part of the conversation that no guy really cares about.  OK, sometimes a guy will pay me some special attention.  But when that happens, it’s by the odd fellows I would rather avoid.

Over the years the kinds of party scenes I occasionally attend have changed drastically, as have the company I keep.  But the dynamics have remained the same.  And I have no idea why.  Is it my friends?  Do I just happen to choose the tall, beautiful companions that I can’t begin to compare to?  Or is it me?  Is it the way I dress?  My uncontrollable head of hair?  Do I smell?  Do I make too much eye contact?  Not enough eye contact?  Is there something about the way I carry myself that makes me unapproachable?  I don’t know the answer.  But it is clear that I am invisible.  Always.  And that’s a really lonely place to be.

The worst part is that with each passing year, my chances of meeting someone and starting a family plummet.  I count my blessings, believe me I do.  But there is always that nagging thought in the back of my head that it is just not happening for me.  I’m nearly 30 and I’m a never married, single mother of a 5 year old.  I work full time and I am in grad school.  My life is busy so meeting men is hard and it seems just as difficult to meet men online these days as well.  When I do put myself into social situations, I am reminded of my talent of invisibility.

The funny thing is that nearly all men I’ve been with in my life, I had to throw myself at to be noticed.  Obviously, those relationships did not work out successfully.  Usually their interest dwindled after so long.  And now that I am older, I am afraid that kind of behavior would reek of desperation, which is even less attractive.  

So what’s a girl to do?  I guess if I knew the answer to that question I wouldn’t be writing this post.  Alas, here I am.  So world, won’t you tell me?

Insomnia

It's passed midnight. Outside the crickets are chirping. My daughter is asleep beside me. As much as I would love to join her in dream land, I remain awake. This is my curse. The biggest reason why I'm always exhausted. On nights like tonight, I dread the morning. But what can I do? I will just lay here with my eyes closed listening to the crickets signaling the end of summer. It's a sad song, but as with most sad things, inexplicably beautiful. Maybe their lullaby will lull my brain to sleep...

Wish me luck!

to the man who took my innocence

You know who you are.

Why, you might ask, am I putting this out on such a public platform?  Well, I'm not ashamed of what I've experienced.  There are many people who have gone through similar things in their lives and I think it's important to have the knowledge that your not alone; that someone else in this world knows how you've felt.  And so I'm allowing my story to be public, on the off chance that someday it might matter to another.

It's been many years since our acquaintance ended.  But I'm sure you can't have forgotten so easily.  I know I haven't.  If you need a refresher, here is one:

I was eleven.  You were twenty-one, at least.  You had lived next door to me almost my entire life.  You were my best friend's big cousin.  You were important to the people who were important to me.  Looking back, I'm surprised I didn't notice the change in your mannerism towards me.  I don't remember you ever acknowledging my existence until that last year.  The first memory I have of you talking to me was that night when your sister and I were hanging out downstairs with you.  It was then that you told me no matter what happened I would always be family.  I took that message to heart.  So when you suddenly started paying actual attention to me I thought it was just a normal thing for a pseudo big cousin to do.  Then came the night I was babysitting and you invited me to come hang out downstairs after the girls had fallen asleep.  I have to admit I was flattered.  I felt very grown up.  As I walked down the stairs the thought came to my mind of what might happen...but I laughed it off because it seemed so ridiculous at the time.  Just a few short seconds later my entire life changed.

Did you know you were my first kiss?  I'm sure you did.  I mean, I was eleven.  Who would I have kissed at that age?  I'll spare you any further details.  Except pain.  Pain and fear.  Pain and fear and detachment.  And guilt.  So much guilt.  That's what my experience was.  In the middle of it your aunt called to check in on everything.  You talked to her as if nothing significant was happening.  And I just laid quietly.  Why didn't I yell out?  Why didn't I walk away?  Why didn't I ask you to stop?  It is that absence of a fight that ate away at me for years.  I justified blaming myself vs you, the adult in the room.  I'm over that now.  I don't "blame" anyone.  After all, I was just a kid.  Maybe I didn't look it, but I was.  And you knew it, too.  Anyway, I was obedient and did as I was told.  Even though it hurt so much I thought I would scream.  And then suddenly it was over.  And you were almost in tears apologizing.  You seemed so ashamed.  So of course I promised not to tell anyone.  But when I went back upstairs, I stayed in the bathroom crying until the sun came up.

It almost seemed like I imagined it.  Everything went back to normal.  The world did not change.  Your behavior did not change.  No one knew.  Except you, me, and the closest friend that I had who was not related to you.  Of course I had to confide in someone.  But she kept her silence for me.  Especially when it seemed it was all in the past.  Suddenly, months later, there you were again.  Stealing away kisses in the dark outside when no one was around.  And then the second night.  Your cousin and I were playing video games in your room and, behind her back, you were silently inviting me to come visit you later.  I don't know why I came.  There was no good reason for it, except maybe a naive curiosity.

Pain.  Again, so much pain.  That was the night I asked you to stop.  You didn't.

Again, you apologized profusely.  I think I was a little less forgiving this time, but still not wanting to unravel the world around me by breaking my silence.  I did confide again in the one friend who already knew.  How was I to know that she would tell?  In her mind (and she was most likely right), if it happened twice it would happen again.  She could not bear to stand by while I became pregnant or diseased at twelve.  And so the truth came out.

I denied it.  I refused to admit it.  It was my sister, who over the phone, coaxed me to tell the truth.  If you don't remember, you had already broken her teenage heart.  Her love and understanding made it impossible to lie anymore.  Sometimes I've regretted telling.  It felt like my entire world was stripped from me as a result.  You, of course, denied it.  So your aunt, who was once a second mother to me, became cold and cruel.  I was never allowed to talk to or see my best friend and little sister again.  Did you know that before that day I had never gone 24 hours without seeing or talking to her in my entire life?  But she wasn't allowed to be my friend anymore.  She was taught to hate me.

Your aunt would pull the car over as she passed by and scream foul words at us.  When my friends and I were walking home from school, if she happened to pass by, she would rev her engine and act like she was going to run us over.  I became fearful.  It came to the point where outside wasn't a safe place anymore.  My life became lonely.  My backyard became quiet.  And your life went on.

What you probably don't know is the impact it had on my own family.  My sister was so hurt that, at least in my childhood memory, she didn't talk to me for a year.  My mom could barely look at me.  Conversations in my house were minimal and guarded.  After a year, we were all uprooted.  After all, we could not live somewhere if it meant constant harassment.  So we moved.

I've run into your cousin a few times over the years.  You know what hurt the most out of all of it?  Four or five short years later when I saw her at a school dance I had to explain to her who I was.  She literally seemed to have a limited to no memory of me.  It was as if I wasn't a significant part of her childhood.  I've reached out a few times, but never received an answer.  The last time I saw her she showed absolutely no signs of recognition.  I couldn't handle more rejection from her so I just went through her checkout line as if I was any other customer.  And I really think she didn't know me.  That's what hurts the most.  In contrast, two years ago, her little sister immediately recognized both my sister and me.  She wasn't even in school yet when we broke ties.  And here she was all grown up and knew us on sight.  She showed us much kindness.

Anyway, I wanted to give you some basic idea of how those three interactions you and I had affected my entire life.  I'm quite happy with who I am and what I've become.  But the pain will never go away.  The loss was significant.  Not just of my purity, but my relationships, my family's trust, etc.

Honestly, I decided I had to write to you after I found out that you contacted my sister.  I know it was some time ago, but I couldn't hold it in any longer.  She said you apologized to her for all the stupid things you had done.  But what about me?  Why don't I get an apology?  Yes, she may have loved you with that special "first love" of her young life.  But I loved you like a cousin.  I don't require you to acknowledge what you did to me for me to move on and live a happy life.  Yet it would still feel good to know that YOU know what happened.  And if you really were sorry, why not admit it to those you denied it to?  Why not tell your aunt and your cousin?  Your mom and your sister?  I don't expect them to ever reach out to me, but why should I forever be a branded a liar to them if I'm not?  I've carried that weight for 17 years now.  If only they knew the truth...whether they were to accept it or not...would help the eleven year old still inside of me feel such relief and redemption.


Whatever happens, I want you to know that I forgive you.  And I forgive myself.  I don't feel any hatred towards you and I harbor no ill feelings.  In fact, I always wondered what I would feel if I ever saw you again, and to my surprise, I saw you walking to the bus stop some time ago and only felt compassion.  It was cold and snowy.  And there you were, walking the same street to the same bus stop just as you would have done 17 years ago.  So now I can say with full confidence that, even though I will always be affected by you, I wish you all the best.  With that sentiment, I hope someday you will choose to do me the honor of exposing the truth.

Change

It's been quite a long time since I've written.  And the truth is...I don't really know what to write anymore.  It all used to come so naturally.  My fingers would hit the keys and out would come words that ran together into logical sentences and phrases.  But now my fingers hit the keys and they feel stiff and unsure.  I spend more time pausing than actually creating content.  It's funny how things can change so drastically over time.  Maybe I'm afraid that I won't have anything interesting to say.  Maybe I forget all the things that I knew I wanted to write but never took the time to actually take down.  It's hard to take time to do the things you love when life feels so overwhelming.  And right now it does.  

We just moved.  It's been a week and I'm still not sure what to do in this tiny little apartment.  We don't know our neighbors and it's been too rainy to spend time outside.  So I've been cleaning and trying to pay more attention to my daughter.  Poor dear seems desperate for a playmate.  Especially now that we're so isolated.  No more just opening the door and being a part of a neighborhood we know and love.  No more neighbors walking their dogs and stopping to say hello.  No more sitting on the front porch soaking in the sun and just being outside.  No more greeting neighbors coming and going from the door next to ours.  No, now it's never seeing but always hearing the people that surround us.  Kind of a strange concept, really.  It's interesting how much you can learn about people just by virtue of hearing their movement in their homes when you don't even know what they look like.  It's definitely been an adjustment.  I miss our house.  I miss it terribly.  But even then I miss something more than that.

The home we just left

A few years ago my sister and I were talking on the phone.  It was quite coincidental that we discovered we both crave a home that doesn't exist.  Only an illusion.  When life gets hard, when transitions come, when we feel lost....it's quite natural to have that overwhelming feeling of just wanting to go home.  The strange part is when you feel that way while you're currently at home in the house you live in.  My sister and I had both independently realized that when we have that feeling it's for our childhood home.  The place I lived for the first 13 years of my life.  Where we faced many of the difficult trials we've had.  I call it an illusion, though, because if we walked into there today I often wonder if the same feeling of nostalgia would exist as it does in the mind.  My guess is we miss the home we knew and loved then.  Just the way it was.  With the people who were present at the time.  But that exists in the past and can never be again.

The home where I grew up

Sure, I suppose it's possible to create a new home.  One where we will provide that experience for our own children.  But, at least for me, I don't think "home" can replicated again.  It will forever be emblazoned in my memory.  And I will always miss it.  Just as I will always miss the house we just left.  

I've never been very good with life transitions.  Change makes me sad more than it makes me excited.  Seriously, though, I've never even changed my style of clothing or hair.  I mean never.  I cried the entire night before my 10th birthday because I would never again be one digit in age.  There is just something profoundly heartbreaking to me about big changes.  I don't like endings, even when it means the beginning of something that could possibly be greater.  I was reading an article recently that taught the natural human resistance to endings is a testament of divinity.  It struck me as quite beautiful.  We dislike endings so much because, as eternal beings, endings are unnatural.  Our marriages and our families are forever.  Our lives, after mortality, are eternal.  Maybe my extreme aversion to change and endings just means that my spirit is strongly remembering my eternal nature.  I don't know if that's the case, but it's much more poetic than the pathetic alternative I'm inclined to define myself by.

It's kind of funny, with all of this change that's been happening, my mom, who is often emotional, has been portraying an increased level of emotion.  Namely, crying.  Over the last week my daughter has asked me several times if mommies cry.  I tell her that they do.  But this seems to be confusing to her.  It occurred to me that she has never seen me cry.  I believe that I feel and express emotions differently than most others and one of the main differences is that I hardly cry.  Not for lack of wanting or trying to.  I just am not a crier.  When I do cry it's usually a tear or two and that's it.  I know this transition is hard on my daughter and I feel badly that I am unable to demonstrate a range of healthy and natural ways of expressing emotion.  Parents, I think, are often inclined to feel responsible for the way their children turn out. I'm definitely no exception.  I'm already worrying that my lack of crying and setting that example for her will inhibit her in someway.  Oh dear.  How silly that sounds once I say it!  Yet, it's a true parental fear.

In any case, that's where life is for me right now.  I'm sad, I'm lonely, and I'm nostalgic.  But I'm grateful. So grateful to have a roof over our heads and to still be with the people I love.  I'm grateful for all the help we've had and for this small trial that has helped me to grow a little more, appreciate blessings a lot more, and perhaps even be the wiser for it.  I'm grateful for the luxuries I have a bad habit of taking for granted.  I'm grateful to have a job and an income.  I'm grateful for my friends and family who love me and accept my love for them.  I'm grateful for my personal talents and skills.  I'm grateful for my daughter who teaches me everyday what it means to be a better person.   

And, world, I'm grateful for you.  Whoever and wherever you are for all the beauty and wonder you provide in your own special way.  To you, at times, it may not seem like much, but the world would not be as bright without the light that you contribute.

The Never-Ending Plight of Working Mothers

One of the issues that seems to consistently come up for me as a working mother is that of babysitting.  It's such a frustrating thing!

Some of the points that stick out for me are:

1. It's hard to leave your child(ren) in the care of others instead of your own, and what makes it even harder is finding help from those your feel secure about.

  












2.  It's REALLY hard to watch other people's children!  It's draining and stressful and not always a very fun job.  The number of people readily willing to consistently babysit tends to reflect this fact.



3.  Childcare often costs more than the average paycheck.  Obviously, sitters need to make a living too.  But it gets to be really difficult to afford someone who charges close to (or more than) what you make an hour!
      



4.  The correlation between a great babysitter and their lack of availability go hand-in-hand.  Once you find someone you really like, they undoubtedly will be booked before you can reach out to them.




5.  Even when you find someone to consistently watch your child, illnesses can make the situation very difficult.  Either illnesses at the sitter's house or with your child.  (Or at the backup sitter's house!)  And when Plan A doesn't work, see above to the other points when trying to work out Plan B.  Or C.  Or Z.....



6.  When illness strikes in one location or the other(s), calling-in to work can jeopardize your employment, causing a panic or desperation to ensue as you try to find other options.  Even ones you wouldn't have otherwise felt comfortable with (see point 1).


7.  You can't even always be angry with your job for having rules or expectations around calling-in.  After all, they have to function as well and many institutions cannot function effectively or safely with call-offs.



8.  When the person you find to watch your child regularly is a close friend or family member, it becomes extremely easily to unconsciously abuse the situation.  Sometimes to the detriment of your relationship or arrangement.



















9.  Once this arrangement has been jeopardized, or something else occurs to end it such as a move, change in situation for the sitter, etc, the cycle starts all over again.
 


And this is where I leave my ranting.  

I'd love to learn more about how other working moms handle the issue of childcare.  Leave your comments below!



 

The Power of Language in a Culture of Swearing

Will someone please explain to me how, why, and when the use of foul language not only became socially acceptable, but became celebrated???  Even in the professional world???

This is a question that has been on my mind for quite some time now.  It still surprises and amazes me that no matter where I go, the use of profanity has become commonplace.  There is no escaping it!  Teachers use it in classrooms, public speakers use it in presentations, doctors use it in the office, it is present in almost every movie and TV show, and the common person uses it no matter how many children are around.

I remember when I was growing up it was only amongst my peers, and maybe in some movies, that I heard such words spoken.  Now, everyday, I'm surrounded by it.

And not only surrounded by it, but again, it seems to be celebrated!  A while back I heard an acquaintance talking about how much she loved working for her boss, who owned a very successful business, by the way.  One of the reasons she gave: he would give the f-bomb to clients who made him angry.  Seriously!?!?!  I was watching a video of a very famous life coach giving a motivational speech and when he used his first swear word the audience CHEERED!!!  I attend local seminars and when someone stands up in front of the group and uses a profane word, again the entire audience applauds and laughs!  At my job (at a psych hospital) the standard is to not allow patients to use foul language and for staff to refrain from using it as well.  Do you think anyone heeds that?  Nope!  Everywhere I turn I'm surrounded by profanity coming from patients as well as my coworkers, many of whom even use it in casual conversations with patients!  When a group leader uses it in group the patients become enlivened by it.

It makes no sense to me.  I never thought I would bring my daughter up in a world where parents laugh when they hear their children swearing.  Sometimes they actually teach their children to cuss.  Or even if they don't they actively teach or encourage it, they speak that way in front of their kids so of course that is what the children learn.

I ask you, how is this acceptable?  Why has profanity become the standard language of the world?

I've seen posts online of people saying they cuss because sometimes clean language just doesn't convey the meaning they intend.  If our society can't speak in a way that conveys their meaning without the use of such words, then our educational system is more lacking than I thought.  In the vast expanse of the English language there are so many other options.  But vocabulary seems to have been a forgotten study.

I think that people have also forgotten how powerful language truly is.  There are studies done about the impact our words have on the environment, whether it's on water, a growing plant, or the human self, "good" vs "bad" language has a gigantic affect on health and well being.

Some people believe the idea that words or thoughts carry "energy".  But I do.  If they did not carry energy, how could the entire atmosphere shift based on the words used in a conversation?  On another note, why is it vulgar words abusers choose to use on their victims?

I am no less guilty than the average person of using swear words.  There was a time in my life when it was a common way to speak for me as well (although I only ever used it around friends).  But it always seemed to make me feel more negative than positive.  Instead of "letting out" the feeling of frustration, etc. it only served to strengthen them.  It's been many, many years since I spoke in such a way.  These days my language is clean and positive.  And it really makes a difference in the feelings of love, acceptance, and general positivity in myself as well as the conversations I hold.

Of course, I am fully aware that foul language is defined by culture.  It is foul and "taboo", as some might say, because somewhere, sometime it was defined as such.  Maybe the increase of the casual use of such language is an indication of a shift in culture and the redefining of such words.  But even if that is the case, it remains offensive to me and to a large percentage of people (although apparently still in the minority).

I feel sad knowing my daughter will learn that swearing is the "natural" way to speak, at least in society.  I hope the example that I set and the values that I teach her will be enough to influence her to stand separate from the crowd.  I hope to show her how powerful language is and how she can use it to be creative, intelligent, loving, and kind.  I hope that she can be an example for her peers in a world of such chaos and profanity.

 

 I hope as well that this is just a fad and will fade over time.  That maybe in the processes of becoming desensitized to vulgarity it will lose its appeal.  But either way, I will stand strong and speak in the language I know to be right.  I hope you will follow along with me.