On being a mother

Story #1

I don't even bother checking the time as I stumble, still mostly asleep, from my bed towards little Eli crying in his crib. All I know is that it is past midnight, since that is when I was up last, but since it is still pitch black outside I know the night is far from over. In some ways that is a relief. Maybe this is the last time I will get woken up tonight, and maybe I will get a few hours of undisturbed, blissful, much-needed sleep. Maybe. (Although I know in my heart that is only wishful thinking.)

When I pick him up I snuggle him close, kiss his warm, fuzzy head, and get comfortable on the bed in the nursery where I sit and nurse him during these night feedings. My eyes are heavy, and once he latches I can't keep them open any longer. I don't realize I've fallen asleep until my head jerks up when my chin bumps into my collarbone.

By this time, my little man-cub is peacefully snoozing on my lap after drinking himself back to sleep, so I gingerly move him to his crib. I can never resist kissing his silky-soft cheeks before I leave. When I bend down, I can smell his sweet baby skin, and even though I'm dead tired I can't help but pause for a minute to marvel at his perfect, tiny little self. Every day I'm filled with awe that he is mine.

I stumble back to bed, trying not to disturb my sleeping husband, and sink back into sleep.

Story #2:

I can hear laughter coming from the other room, so I peek around the corner to spy on Dallin and Eli, who are playing on the floor while I try to get some things done. Gleeful baby giggles (the best sound in the world, hands down) erupt every time Dallin pretends to eat him up, which makes Dallin laugh in return, and this sequence is repeated over again until Dallin picks Eli up, squeezes and kisses him, and says, "I love you so much, little guy. We're going to be best friends!" And then I swoon and melt into a puddle all at once because I just can't handle how much I love those two boys of mine.

Story #3:

After changing his diaper, I sit Eli on the floor while I grab a fresh outfit. He happily starts playing with one of his favorite toys – an empty water bottle that never made it to the trash – and I take advantage of his contentment to spend a few peaceful (and much needed!) minutes reading. A few minutes later I pause to look up at him. The goofball is cheerfully alternating between chewing on his water bottle and blowing very wet raspberries that dribble past his pursed lips, down his chin, and onto his round baby belly. I can't help but laugh at him, all covered in slobber, and just as happy as can be. He is so perfectly innocent. 

I can't help but remember the fact that this sweet naiveté is only temporary. One day his world will include so much more than just playing, eating, sleeping, and seeing how big of a mess he can make when my back is turned. One day he will have to learn about the ugly and hard things the world holds. And while I take comfort in knowing that there will also be so much beauty to discover, and that our home can be a safe haven, I worry daily about how I will be a good enough mother. Often I wonder if I have it in me, but it makes me feel a little better when I remember that I don't have to do it alone. 

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Ever since Eli was born I've had so many people ask me how it feels to be a mother. I usually opt for the short answer: "It's great, I love it!" And while that is true, it is so much more than that.

Motherhood is... gosh, how do I describe it? For me, it is a collection of extremes and paradoxes.

It is intense fatigue and equally intense joy.

It is difficult, and yet feels like second nature most of the time.

It is appreciating luxuries like undisturbed showers and solo bathroom trips more than I ever knew I would.

It is the hardest kind of work, both physically and mentally.

It is giving all I have and then realizing I still, miraculously, have more to give.

It is experiencing a kind of love I never knew existed.

It is beginning to understand how much Heavenly Father loves his children.

It is a thousand moments every day like the stories I mentioned above, a thousand heart-stretching moments of both struggle and bliss.

It's a wild ride, man. A ride I am thankful to experience.

On making happiness

Of all the lessons I've learned in life thus far, I think one of the most important ones has been learning how to be happy. Lately I've really begun to understand that happiness is almost always the result of your own actions and choices. It isn't something you should just wait for, hoping it will be delivered to your doorstep wrapped in silver paper. It's something you have to make for yourself.

Being happy has been a bit harder for me sometimes after having Eli. I know I had post-partum depression which made for a lot of very difficult days, and even now – 7.5 months later – I still have moments when it comes back a little bit, but thankfully not very often. I'm pretty sure I don't have depression (meaning MDD), but at times it is easy to fall into a rut that is difficult for me to escape from. On the bright side, I'm figuring out how to avoid that, and I've been doing really well lately. Yippee!

For me personally, here are some things essential to my daily happiness:

• A hot shower. Ideally a long one, but even five minutes is enough to improve my mood.
• Getting out of the house, at least every other day, even if that just means a walk around the block.
• Speaking of walking, I have to get some kind of exercise. Walking, pretending I am a runner (also known as pretty much walking. It's a struggle.), and yoga are my current exercises of choice. I notice a huge difference in my mood when I don't do something active. Even walking around the store helps!
• Eating well. Junk food makes me feel gross and grumpy. The more fresh fruits, veggies, and water I consume, the better I feel.
• But I also believe in balance, and that a few chocolate chips or a spoonful of ice cream can go a loooooong way. Amen. ;)
• Getting sleep. I get what I can, which hasn't been that great lately, but I think it's getting better! I only had to get up once last night! Hopefully I don't jinx it.
• Doing something for someone else. Usually this tends to be focused on Eli and Dallin, but I'm trying to be more aware of people outside my family. Making other people happy always makes me happy.
• Personal scripture study and prayer. Can I be honest for a second? Ever since Eli was born I have been lousy at reading the scriptures on my own. Dallin and I are pretty consistent about reading a chapter together at night, but lately that's all I've been doing. Same story with prayer. When I really take the time to study and ponder and sincerely pray, my day is so much better... every single time. I'm improving in this area, but I still have a long way to go! How do you remember to read? What time usually works best for you? I could use some suggestions in this area!

Well, there you have it. There are a few of the things I do to be happy. It's been working for me... what works for you?

And just because we all know I can't resist posting pictures of my favorite little babe:

Oh that boy. He makes me happy and drive me bonkers all at the same time.

"Where were you when the world stopped turning?"

On September 11, 2001 I was only ten years old. Too young to really understand what was happening beyond my mom's simplified explanation, but old enough to remember.

We were in California at the time of the attack, which is where my family loved to spend a couple of weeks in the fall camping on the beach. Halfway through our trip, which happened to be the morning of September 11th, we went to the local laundromat to wash the sand and sea out of our clothes. I remember my mom staring at the TV, listening to President Bush speak with her eyes wide with shock as she took in the news, and then seeing it cut to a replay of one of the planes hitting a tower. I thought it was a scene in a movie, not real life, until I saw my mom's face.

I didn't watch for long, though. I had more pressing matters to attend to, like pushing my little brother around in one of the laundry carts.

Rocking the overall shorts and Tevas. I was always a stylish one.

I love this picture. My brother and I were so innocently oblivious to the horrors that were happening at this moment. We weren't a part of the terror and grief that gripped the country, or know of all the many lives lost. All we knew was that this laundry cart made for lots of fun as we made laps around the washers and dryers, occasionally glancing up at the TV that everyone was huddled around in stunned silence. That childish innocence can be a real blessing sometimes. I'm thankful we couldn't understand.

The rest of my memories of that trip are pretty scattered. Lots of half-mast flags. Worried people in the campground. Driving through the night to get home. My mom actually drinking caffeine (unheard of!) to stay awake. Feeling disappointed that we didn't get to the Disneyland part of the trip. The 4-inch bold headline in the newspaper the next morning that read, "TERROR."

I sure am proud to be an American. It is amazing to think about how this country came together as one, despite our differences, after 9-11. Even as a 10-year-old I felt the surge of patriotism and pride, and I think my love of this nation was really sparked then. It has many faults, but oh, how I love this country. Every time I see an American flag, or sing the anthem, or remember the freedoms and privileges I enjoy, I feel so very grateful to call this land my home.

So, where were you when "the world stopped turning"?

This I Know

I've had a lot on my mind the last few weeks. Whether you are LDS or not, you've probably heard something about the Ordain Women group, its founder Kate Kelly, and everything that has been going on with that situation lately.

I don't think it is much of a secret that I don't agree with the aims of the members of the Ordain Women group. I tend to be pretty vocal about my feminist opinions (and yes, I do consider myself to be a feminist), but I don't want to talk about Ordain Women today. Maybe never, actually. I think there has been plenty of talk already, plenty of pointing fingers and choosing sides, and plenty of harsh judgements coming from all directions.

I don't know a lot of things. The older I get the more aware I am of that fact. I don't know Kate Kelly or any of the members of Ordain Women. I do not know exactly why it is God's will that only men hold the priesthood, although I do have my theories. I also don't know why people like shrimp, or why roaches exist, or why not everyone (my waistline especially) shares my opinion that cookies are an acceptable breakfast food. Sigh.

However, I do know this: the church is true. God lives. He lives, he loves all of his children, and he is aware of each one of us. That means you. Yes, you. This I know.

Because God loves us, and wants us to return to live with him, he has provided the way for us to do just that. He would not withhold anything from us that is necessary for our progression and salvation. This I know.

We came to earth to be tested, which means there will be times when our faith is challenged, but truth and goodness will prevail. This I know.

I love the gospel. I love it deeply. My religion is my rock and I am so thankful for the way it brings peace and strength to my soul. The gospel is pure and perfect, despite the imperfections of people. This I know.

I don't just believe this because I was born into the church. I had to gain that knowledge for myself, a process that took time and effort, and a process that continues every day as I try to fix my plentiful shortcomings. It is in my blood, and has been for many generations, but more importantly my faith is in my heart.

And even though I don't know everything, because I know God lives and what I need to do to return to him, I know enough for now, although I hope to continue to learn more each day.

Meanwhile, instead of looking for faults in each other, maybe we (myself included) should try to be more compassionate and kind, especially to those with differing opinions. We've got better, more important things to do with our time. Maybe we should serve our neighbors more. Maybe we should be less judgmental. And maybe we should talk more about Jesus.

This makes it worth it

Eli has started sleeping much better lately, usually around 5-7 hours of solid sleep a night before waking up to eat. I'm starting to feel a little more human, and I'm very thankful for that!

He sleeps in his bouncer (it's the only comfortable position with his cast) in our room, but in the morning I often pull him into our bed so I can nurse him laying down, and then I keep him there because he is so snuggly and sweet that I don't want to put him back. 

I mean, just look at him. 

I love to snuggle up close with my nose to his head so I can soak up that sweet baby smell and kiss his soft little cheeks. And when I look over and see my other handsome boy sleeping next to me, I can't help but think about how lucky I am to have them both and it makes me so happy.

Even though I'm exhausted and stressed, and being a new mom is really hard sometimes, I find that all those things leave my mind when I make sure to enjoy peaceful moments like this when they come. 

And they always come, especially just when I feel like I'm about to go bonkers. Thank the heavens above for that.

"Sorrow that the eye can't see"

I stumbled upon this quote Sunday morning and it resonated with me. 

You know the hymn "Lord, I Would Follow Thee"? There is a line in it that says, "In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can't see." I love that. I always have. I've never really been one to broadcast my challenges or ask for help, even when I really need it. Instead, I tend to keep things inside and deal with them on my own. I know I'm not the only one that is an expert at putting on a cheerful facade when I'm struggling, and knowing that many others around me are dealing with "sorrow that the eye can't see" makes me want to treat others with the gentleness and care that I crave when I am going through a rough patch. 

Moral of the story: be a little more gentle and patient with the people around you, whether you think they deserve it or not. You don't know what they might be going through. Show a little more love and kindness. You never know how badly someone may need it.

A safe place

I've experienced so many emotions since the day we found out I was pregnant. Happiness, excitement, anxiety, impatience, gratitude... the list goes on. It's a roller coaster. I'm sure that has nothing to do with the wonderful thing that is pregnancy hormones. (False!)

As my due date grows closer, I have a new emotion to add to that list... worry. 

I worry about my little baby since I know he won't be a baby for long. He is going to grow up into a boy, then a teenager, then a man -- all in what will feel like a blink of an eye. He is going to experience both the beautiful and repulsive elements of this world. He is going to face challenges, and my heart is going to burst with happiness when I see him overcome them. He is going to make mistakes, maybe some pretty big ones, and my heart will break to see him learn lessons the hard way. 

I worry about my little baby because I can see what an ugly place the world is becoming. I hope he will seek out all the goodness and beauty that is (thankfully) still all around. Just a few short years ago, when I was a teenager, things were much different. The challenges kids are up against nowadays are changing and intensifying so incredibly quickly. That's something that I was reminded of constantly when I was teaching seminary. What will it be like in 10, 15, 20 years from now? How much more difficult will it be to make righteous choices? 

This morning I woke up with all these worries in my mind. I stewed over them while laying in bed staring at the ceiling. When Dallin left for work I sat down with a bowl of cereal and stewed some more. I stewed so much that I really started to stress out about the idea of becoming a parent. Will I be a good mom? Will my kids make good decisions? Will they be happy?

Then I had the impression to pull up the talks from October's General Conference and find one to listen to. That's one of the ways I find answers and comfort when I need it. I began listening to Pres. Boyd K. Packer's talk titled "The Key to Spiritual Protection". It was just what I needed to hear.  

"Parents today wonder if there is a safe place to raise children. There is a safe place. It is in a gospel-centered home."

I can't control what goes on in the world, but I can make my home a sanctuary. I can teach my children right from wrong. I can give them the tools they need to be successful. 

"We live in perilous times; nevertheless, we can find hope and peace for ourselves and for our families. Those living in sorrow, despairing at the possibility of children being rescued from where the world has taken them, must never give up. 'Be not afraid, only believe.' Righteousness is more powerful than wickedness."

Even though the world is crazy, and getting worse daily, righteousness is more powerful and will win in the end. 

"The gospel teaches us to be happy, to have faith rather than fear, to find hope and overcome despair, to leave darkness and turn toward the light of the everlasting gospel."

It's through the gospel that my family and I can be happy, hopeful, and fearless. That's the key to the protection I so deeply want for my children. And oh, how thankful I am to have it in my life. 

(Written yesterday... I didn't get around to posting it until now.)

Warm Fuzzies

Christmas is just a few days away... yippee! This has always been my favorite holiday. Everything about just makes me happy inside.

Unfortunately, it seems like there hasn't been enough "warm fuzzies" going around the interwebz lately. I don't know about you, but I'd much rather be thinking about happy, Christmas-y, festive goodness than all the controversial topics that have become the focus the past couple weeks. Thus, here are some of the things that have been giving me the warm fuzzies recently, just in case you need something to get you in the Christmas spirit too. 

1. Dallin sung in our former ward today so I went as well. In that ward, there is a sweet boy who has Down's syndrome that was ordained a deacon not long before we were called to the Spanish branch. One of the duties of being a deacon is passing the sacrament, and it melts my heart to see one of his fellow deacons gently guiding him around the chapel with his arm over his shoulder so he can participate. It always makes me think of Christ and how he helps me handle things that I can't do alone. I love it.

2. This video. If this doesn't make you feel warm and fuzzy inside, you just might be the Grinch himself.

Life is so much better when you are kinder to people around you, whether you think you deserve it or not, and is there any better way to get in the spirit of Christmas than that? 

3. Ingrid Michaelson's version of "I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm." It's chock full of happiness. (I'm not sure how legit this website is, but you can listen to it here)

4. Baby boy's wild movements are becoming more recognizable, like maybe there is actually a baby in there instead of an octopus (whew!). It's starting to sink in that he is coming very soon, ready or not. I'm so excited. Whenever I think about this wee babe of mine and how blessed I feel to be pregnant (something I wasn't sure I would get to experience), I get overwhelmed with happiness. Life is so very good. I can't wait for next Christmas, when there will be three of us instead of two.

5. This, which might be my very favorite Christmas song.

I especially love these lines:

Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother
And in His name all oppression shall cease

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we

Let all within us praise His holy name

I'm so thankful for my Savior. He means everything to me, and I owe all the happiness, hope, and peace in my life to him. Even though I know I could never repay him for what he does for me, I know I can at least try to help those around me and become a better person, and isn't that what this season is all about? (That, and cookies. Always cookies. The end.)

Have a merry little Christmas! 

On letting yourself mess up

The past few weeks I've been working hard to learn a new Christmas hymn to play in church this Sunday. I think I've mentioned it before, but I'm not a very good pianist, and I promise I'm not just being modest. I'm mostly self-taught, besides a handful of piano lessons years ago. Somehow I got called to be the pianist in the Spanish-speaking branch of our church that we attend... and it's a struggle. I'm trying hard to learn more songs so we can have a little variety. We pretty much sing the same songs over and over. It's a good thing everyone in the branch is so sweet and patient!

Anyway, while I was practicing said Christmas song a few days ago, I finally got to the point where I was pretty sure I will at least keep the melody going for the whole song when playing in church. I thought to myself, "Hopefully I'll get better, but even if I don't it's okay since it doesn't have to be perfect."

And then I had an epiphany: I think I'm finally learning how to make mistakes. 

I don't think I've ever made it through an entire church service playing every song perfectly. Not once. I make mistakes every week, and that used to bother me so much. I would come home from church feeling like a failure because I couldn't even play familiar hymns perfectly, thanks in part to the anxiety that flares up when I have an audience. 

I've always been a bit of a perfectionist. Now, this is rather problematic. Being a perfectionist means you are just setting yourself up for a lot of frustration since, in reality, life is messy and imperfect. You're never going to have everything go 100% your way. I've beaten myself up too much in the past because of failures, both real and imagined.

Personally, I tend to be at one extreme or another on the perfection spectrum. Either I throw myself into something wholeheartedly (going a little insane in the process) with perfection as my only acceptable result, or I let myself get discouraged and don't even try. I haven't been good at finding a happy medium. At least, not until recently. 

Maybe it's a combination of being pregnant and having a couple of derriere-kicking church callings that have forced me to have more realistic expectations of myself, yet also don't allow me to give up trying. I'm grateful for that.

Moral of the story: Don't set unrealistic expectations for yourself, and be nice to yourself when you mess up.

Here.

I haven't always kept a journal, but over the years I've collected quite a few of them. Today I was organizing a bookshelf that mostly has my books on it, including quite a few of those journals. I ended up doing a lot more sitting on my haunches reading through them than organizing.

Annnd... I'm okay with that. 

These particular journals cover bits and pieces of my life from when I was 10 years old until just before I left for Russia at age 19. Those nine years held a lot of adventures and challenges that shaped me into the person I am now. I started out as a stubborn tomboy of a 10-year-old, then stumbled through my difficult (and very character defining) teenage years, discovered what a wonderful place college can be, and then fell for the man I would later marry, all in those nine years.

Flipping through the pages of the journals took me back and reminded me of what a surprise my life has turned out to be. I would never have guessed that I would be where I am now. It's quite a bit different than the plans I made when I was a little 18-year-old. I thought I was so wise then, but little did I know what was in store for me, namely a dashing young(ish) man named Dallin and a game of ultimate frisbee that would end up taking my life in a different direction that I planned.

My life has not turned out as I expected, and every day I'm thankful for that.

I'm thankful for the prayers that were not answered the way I wanted, the life plans that fell through, and the unexpected changes that landed me where I am now. I know I owe my happiness to failed plans and letting myself take chances.

During lunch today, when I was snuggled up to that husband of mine with my head on his chest and our little son kicking in my belly, I couldn't help but feel grateful. Grateful to be here.

Here, with a husband that is my bestest friend and makes me happier every day.

At the Mesa Temple a couple months ago.

Here, with a wee man-child that we get to meet in about 13 short weeks.

26 weeks

Here, living a life that is perfect for me. 

I think this picture that I posted on Instagram a couple days ago sums life lately up pretty well.

Here's the caption:

"I wanted to take a "baby bump" picture and started moving all the clutter out of the frame, but then I realized that sometimes "clutter" tells a story. So... here I am with le bump wrapped in my favorite comfy sweater, paint samples/masking tape on the wall, the one closet door (of four) that has made it back upstairs since I refinished them, a bunk bed waiting to be moved downstairs, bags of baby clothes from my mom, and the ipad I was using to prepare tomorrow's seminary lesson. 

Life is messy and imperfect, but oh so good."

(Most of this was written yesterday but didn't have time to post it until today, just FYI)

On failure (and doing your best anyway)

You know that exhausting feeling of failure that sometimes comes when you put in so much work and still don't see results? Have you ever poured all your energy, time, and attention into something and wondered if you made a difference at all?

This semester of teaching seminary has been very, very challenging for me. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the fact that I'm pregnant, since apparently making a human being kind of affects you juuuust a little bit, both physically and emotionally. Who would have thought? ;) My class is also very different this year. I switched from the seniors to the sophomores and it's been an adjustment. Things that worked last year just don't work with this group of students; they have very different personalities, needs, and levels of understanding. 

Whatever the reason, I've been struggling. Big time. Multiple times I've driven home from class in tears, feeling like a failure when my lesson went poorly, seriously considering the possibility of playing the "I'm a pitiful pregnant lady card" to get released early instead of sticking it out to the end of the semester like I planned. I've tried different things to get myself out of this funk, but so far nothing has worked. To put it simply, I guess I'm a little weary of putting so much into this calling when I never seem to see any results of my hard work.

This weekend I spent a lot of time mulling over all of this, trying to figure out what I could do to fix things, and searching for comfort, motivation, and the excitement I used to have about teaching. While I was sitting in church I thought about it some more and felt like it would be a good idea to read through the chapters I'll be teaching in the next few weeks to get myself ready to teach it. While skimming through the upcoming chapters, I came upon the story of Abinadi, which is one of my favorites. 

If you aren't familiar with the story or need a refresher, here's the very condensed version. (If you're interested, the whole story can be found in Mosiah 11-18)

King Noah was a wicked king that didn't follow the good example of his father, King Zeniff. Instead of taking care of his people, he taxed them heavily so he and his groupies (wicked priests that he picked to replace to righteous priests his dad had chosen) could afford to live extravagant, lazy, extrememly immoral lifestyles. Things were heading downhill quickly, so God sent the prophet Abinadi to call him and all the wicked people to repentance. King Noah didn't take too kindly to this (big surprise) and ordered his people to bring Abinadi to him so he could kill him, but they didn't find him and Noah kept on a-doing his thang. 

Fast forward two years. Abinadi comes back, in disguise, calls them to repentance again, prophesies of their destruction if they don't, and is imprisoned where he continues to teach them about many things including the Ten Commandments, Christ, and the atonement. Again, Noah is not impressed. Nosiree. He tells Abinadi that unless he recalls his words he will kill him. Abinadi, being a righteous man with integrity that I admire so much, refuses to take back his words, so he was then bound, scourged, and burned alive.

I like to put myself into Abinadi's shoes here. Can you imagine how he must have felt after doing his very best to help these people mend their ways, not only to have them refuse to listen, but end up killing him too? If I were him, I would have been so discouraged the first time that I'm not sure I would have gone back... but he did. That blessed man went back, knowing that they wanted to kill him, and tried again to get them to understand that they needed to change. What love he must have had for them to still try, even when he never saw the results of his efforts.

It gets even better though! Get a load of this... One of the priests, a young man named Alma, listened and believed. Although Abinadi probably never had any idea, his words sunk deep into Alma's heart. He knew they were true. He pleaded with Noah not to be angry with Abinadi and let him go in peace. This made King Noah extremely angry, so he cast Alma out and sent servants to kill him. Alma managed to hide from them, where he wrote down the words of Abinadi and went around secretly teaching those words to anyone that would listen. Many people (around 450!) began to gather to listen to him teach and they ended up being baptized, organizing themselves into a church, and then fleeing from Noah who was none too happy when he discovered them.

The part that really amazes me is that those 450 people are only the beginning of the the influence Abinadi had. Check this out, taken from this article in the February 2005 New Era:

Abinadi
Abinadi’s testimony to wicked King Noah cost him his life (see Mosiah 17:20), but changed the life of one of the king’s priests, Alma the Elder (see Mosiah 18:1), who at the time was “a young man” (Mosiah 17:2). 

Alma the Elder
Alma helped bring into the Church about 450 of King Noah’s people (see Mosiah 18:35). They joined the Nephites at Zarahemla, where Alma became the high priest of the Church and baptized many more (see Mosiah 25:18). His son was Alma the Younger (see Mosiah 27:14). 

Alma the Younger
Alma was the Nephites’ first chief judge and high priest of the Church (see Mosiah 29:42). He helped convert more than 3,500 people and converted many more during later missions to Nephite cities. Alma’s sons served missions as well. His oldest son was Helaman. 

Helaman, Son of Alma
Helaman kept the records and was one of the high priests of the Church (see Alma 46:6). At about 73 B.C. and again about 54 B.C., he reestablished the Church after years of war (see Alma 45:22; Alma 62:46). He led the 2,000 stripling warriors. His son was also named Helaman. 

Helaman, Son of Helaman
Helaman kept the records of the people as well. He became chief judge of the Nephites. During his righteous rule, “tens of thousands” joined the Church (Hel. 3:26). He had two righteous sons, Nephi and Lehi. 

Nephi and Lehi, Sons of Helaman
Nephi was chief judge before leaving to preach the gospel with Lehi. These brothers were such powerful missionaries that most of the Lamanites were converted to the gospel (see Hel. 5:50). Nephi turned the records over to his son, Nephi. 

Nephi, Son of NephiNephi became a great prophet. He taught and baptized many in the wicked days before Christ’s coming, even raising his brother from the dead (see 3 Ne. 7:15–26). He was chosen as one of Christ’s 12 disciples when the Savior appeared (see 3 Ne. 12:1). The disciples helped convert all the Nephites and Lamanites after Christ’s coming (see 4 Ne. 1:2). 

Isn't that a little mind-blowing? Although he may never have been able to see even the smallest success, Abinadi had an incredibly far-reaching influence. Plus, each of those people converted by Abinadi, Alma, and Alma's posterity certainly affected others, who in turn affected even more people. Not to mention everyone today that is blessed by learning about it by reading the Book of Mormon. The impact of Abinadi's message was and is enormous, even if he never saw any of it while on earth.

I love that. 

Re-reading Abinadi's story today gave me the comfort I needed by reminding me that just because I may not see results doesn't mean that I'm not doing some good, whether in my calling as a seminary teacher or other aspects of my life. You don't always know when you are making a difference, and sometimes it's the simplest things that have the greatest impact. I will probably never have the kind of influence Abinadi did, but I can still do good in the world in my own little way, and that might make all the difference to someone.  

Also, even with its challenges, teaching seminary is one of the best opportunities I've ever been given. I wish I could explain how much I have learned, how much I love my students, and what an impact teaching has had on my testimony of the scriptures. The blessings far outweigh the challenges, and even the challenges are often blessings in disguise. And even though I'm looking forward to sleeping in and passing the stress onto someone else, I am going to miss it when I'm released next month! 

I'm a Mormon woman, I don't hold the priesthood, and I'm okay with that.

There's been an increase of discussion lately about Mormon women and the priesthood, partially because of this group of women who are seeking ordination and to attend the priesthood session of General Conference tomorrow. If you know me personally, and/or have read my blog (especially this post) for very long, you probably know that this is an issue I feel strongly about. Very strongly indeed.

I would really, really like to call myself a feminist. I personally do consider myself to be one, but I hesitate to officially and publicly label myself as one because I disagree with the opinions of almost all of the self-professed "Mormon feminists" out there. I don't want to be mixed up with them. 

Unlike most of these feminists, I do not feel slighted as a Mormon woman. I have never felt like I am less valued or less worthy as a member of the church because of my gender, even though being a woman means I do not hold the priesthood. I don't feel like I need to hold the priesthood to be happy or fulfilled or important. 

I also know that if it were necessary for women to hold the priesthood to be happy or fulfilled or important, then God would never withhold that from us. I know for absolutely certain that if God wanted women to hold the priesthood then, by golly, women would hold the priesthood. It is as simple and profound as that. He would reveal it to our dear prophet, President Thomas S. Monson, and that would be that. The end. 

In The Family: A Proclamation to the World (a very short but extremely worthwhile read found here), it discusses the importance of gender, the roles and responsibilities men and women have, and how they work together. Here are a couple excerpts:

"Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose." 

"By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners."

I love that. Often "gender roles" are considered to be a bad thing (and sometimes they can be), but if you read the Family Proclamation, specifically these excerpts, then you'll see that God has given us gender roles/responsibilities. I would even be so bold as to say that the Plan of Salvation is built upon the foundation of gender roles because that is central to the family and family is central to the Plan of Salvation. And according to the proclamation and this talk, it means that women's primary responsibility is to nurture their children (if they have the opportunity) and that the responsibility to hold the priesthood, the presiding authority in the home and the church, belongs to the men. And you know what? I totally support that. (Gasp!)

I'm sure that some of you are going to read this and think, "None of this sounds very feminist." You're probably right. You see, my definition of feminism is a little different than most. 

To me, true feminism is embracing the unique, God-given qualities women have been blessed with, and using those qualities to better the world in a way that only women can. It means being feminine. Strong, nurturing, loving, gentle, hard-working, intelligent, sensitive, wise, and so much more. 

As a wife, it means supporting my husband, especially his position as a priesthood bearer and the patriarch of our home. It means being an equal partner with him in our marriage and doing my part to keep our relationship strong and our home happy.

As a mother, it means nurturing, loving, and caring for the spiritual, physical, and emotional well-being of my future children... with the help of my husband as my equal partner, of course.

As a single woman, it meant preparing to become a wife and mother, whether I would end up having that opportunity or not. It meant gaining education (both secular and religious), preparing for a meaningful career, and becoming a better person in general.

Anyway... I figure President Gordon B. Hinckley put it best when he said this: 

“Women do not hold the priesthood because the Lord has put it that way. It is part of His program. Women have a very prominent place in this Church. Men hold the priesthood offices of the Church. But women have a tremendous place in this Church. They have their own organization. It was started in 1842 by the Prophet Joseph Smith, called the Relief Society, because its initial purpose was to administer help to those in need. It has grown to be, I think, the largest women’s organization in the world... They have their own offices, their own presidency, their own board. That reaches down to the smallest unit of the Church everywhere in the world...

 “The men hold the priesthood, yes. But my wife is my companion. In this Church the man neither walks ahead of his wife nor behind his wife but at her side. They are co-equals in this life in a great enterprise.” 

Well said. 

Also, because I can't help myself, please enjoy what might be my favorite Mormon pick up line of all time. You're welcome. 

I will go and do.

One of my shortcomings is my fear of doing difficult things, especially the ones that really stretch the boundaries of my happy little comfort zone. 

You know, things like attending the Spanish branch when I only have a small, patchy understanding of the language. Or being asked to play the piano in that branch, even though I only know a handful of hymns that took me a very long time to learn. Or teaching early-morning seminary five days a week to teenage kids that really aren't that much younger than myself! Each of these things really test my ability and willingness to take a deep breath, put on my metaphorical big girl panties, roll up my sleeves, and just do the best I can. 

One of the scriptures that has most influenced my life is 1 Nephi 3:7. 

"And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them."

Seriously, Nephi is pretty much the man. To give you some background, here's a quick sum-up of what's going on here. Lehi (Nephi's dad/prophet) has a vision in which he sees the destruction of Jerusalem. He warns the people, leaves his home to seek safety in the wilderness with his family, and then has another vision in which the Lord tells him they need to return to Jerusalem to get the brass plates from a dude named Laban. Nephi's rather whiny older brothers, Laman and Lemuel, do their thang and start whining ("murmuring") about how that's too hard. 

1 Nephi 3:7, in contrast, is Nephi's response to this commandment.  "I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men save he shall prepare a way from them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them."

In other words, "I'm gonna go and do what the Lord asks, because I know he will never, ever ask me to do anything that I cannot do."

Even if it is difficult, maybe even extremely difficult.

Even if at first it doesn't seem possible. 

Even if it means pole-vaulting over the confines of your comfort zone by, I don't know... attending the Spanish branch, or playing the piano in church, or trying to teach "spirited" teenagers about the gospel. :)

The Lord can and does prepare the way for us. I know I've experienced this many times, especially recently. For example, playing the piano in church is a very real, very difficult struggle for me. I rarely get through a song without messing up at least a few times and I get very anxious and tense every week. My goal  is not to play perfectly, but just to keep the song going. I've almost lost it a couple of times, but somehow my hands fall on the right keys, or at least enough right keys to keep the melody flowing well enough for people to sing along until I get back on track again. 

Each week I become more confident, especially as I learn to trust and lean on the Lord to help me do it. It's really something to feel my anxiety get swept away or to "magically" have my hands fall on the right notes, even when I've completely lost my place. I am so thankful for that help and support. I couldn't do it otherwise. 

Also, it was providential that Dallin's parents "happened' to give us their piano just a couple months before we were called to the branch. Don't you try to tell me that is a coincidence! :)

P.S. I survived the first two days of seminary! My class is great and so far everything is going very smoothly! You know, this is a demanding calling, but I'm really going to miss it when they release me. It's the best.

Happy places, fresh air, and Lao Tzu

I have a lot of happy places. Here's a few for example:

1. Anywhere that I have a Ben & Jerry's carton in hand

2. Thrift stores

3. Snuggling with my husband

4. Not doing the dishes (I'm at this particular happy place a lot lately)

5. Reading

One of my number one happy places, however, involves cool weather, tall trees, green things, and fresh air. It's even better when there happens to be a quaint little mountain stream involved. 

A few weeks ago I was feeling quite cranky and restless. A little adventure with my camera was just what I needed to cheer up. Something about cold water on my bare toes, warm sun on my cheeks, and the smell of trees, creek, and growing things always lifts my spirits. It's home to me.

Accidentally discovering one of these dead bugs with my hand was not my favorite part of the trip.
*crunch*

The older I get, the more I realize the importance of technology-free, distraction-free, quiet time. Time to think, to be still, and to ponder on the things that are important to me. I think the art of stillness, peace, and quiet is being lost in "bigger, faster, stronger" tone of the world, but I believe there are few things better for the soul than just that: stillness, peace, and quiet. 

Even just a few minutes every day in one of my happy places, whether it be one of the ones I mentioned above, or something like reading my scriptures, listening to or playing music, taking a walk, or just sitting on my doorstep makes a huge difference for me. 

What's your happy place? 

"Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished."

-Lao Tzu

The problem with feminists

Feminism. Oh, what a touchy subject this can be. 

Disclaimer: I'm fully aware that I might offend some of the people that read this, so I just want to apologize in advance. That's not my intention. I just want to discuss some of the thoughts and ideas that have been running through my mind lately.

I believe that women are powerful. Their influence on the world is strong and deep. I am thankful for the good that women do in the world, whether it be in the home or in the workforce, and I firmly believe in the importance of getting a good education whether you are male or female. Women should absolutely be able to vote, have their own bank accounts, be property/business owners, political leaders, gain higher education, and have a career. Some of these rights were fairly recently granted to American women, and I am so thankful for the people that brought about these changes. I'm thankful for the opportunities I have as an American woman, and for the decisions I am free to make that allow me to live the life I want to lead.

I truly feel blessed to be a woman in this day and age.

Bam! Woman power!

This all sounds pretty feminist-y, doesn't it? However, I feel very reluctant to refer to myself as a "feminist". I have many feminist peers and I enjoy talking to them or reading their opinions and feelings on the subject, but I find it very interesting that I disagree with most of their beliefs. In fact, there are few ideals I have in common with the majority of these feminist friends of mine. 

I was really baffled by this at first, but after a while I figured out why we felt so differently. I believe that "masculinism" (and sometimes chauvinism) has taken the place of modern feminism. In today's society, most feminists I have come in contact with are, in my opinion, basically trying to become men, and this is where I draw the line. To me, this is where feminism is no longer truly feminism. 

As I wrote in this post, my definition of true feminism is embracing the unique, God-given qualities women have been blessed with, and using those qualities to better the world in a way that only women can. 

I firmly believe that women and men are equal in importance. We need both sexes for social and biological purposes; neither is more necessary than the other. I also believe that we are different for a reason and that each sex is divinely created to fulfill a specific role.

Gender is not a coincidence, neither is it arbitrary. It is a central part of our spiritual identity and responsibility and is a central part of the Plan of Salvation. The Family: A Proclamation to the World is a great resource to learn more about why gender roles are important and what responsibilities each gender has. Here is an excerpt:

"All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose."

Here it what it says about the responsibilities of parents in the home:

"By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners. Disability, death, or other circumstances may necessitate individual adaptation. Extended families should lend support when needed."

Now this is where I am probably going to ruffle some feminist feathers: As is stated above, I believe that the primary role of women should be a wife and a mother, and that no other path of life can be more noble, important, or fulfilling. Do I believe in getting an education? Absolutely! Get a good education if you possibly can. Is there anything wrong with pursuing a career? No way! However, neither of these things should ever take precedence over family. That is what is most important. At the beginning of this post I said that "women should absolutely be able to . . . be property/business owners, political leaders, gain higher education, and have a career". This is true, but none of these things should take priority over a family or keep women from fulfilling their responsibility to be a wife and mother if they have the opportunity. Unfortunately, a misconception I often see in modern feminism is the idea that to be a successful woman you must have a career, and that being a mother is a restrictive burden. Nothing could be further from the truth. Motherhood is more important, more precious, and more rewarding than any career. (Side note: I recognize that not everyone has the opportunity to get married or have children in this life, and no one should be looked down on for that or feel that it affects their worth as a person at all. Unfortunately I've heard of a few people that have felt that way.)

"There are two principles that we should always keep in mind. First, no woman should ever feel the need to apologize or feel that her contribution is less significant because she is devoting her primary efforts to raising and nurturing children. Nothing could be more significant in our Father in Heaven’s plan. Second, we should all be careful not to be judgmental or assume that sisters are less valiant if the decision is made to work outside the home. We rarely understand or fully appreciate people’s circumstances. Husbands and wives should prayerfully counsel together, understanding they are accountable to God for their decisions." -Elder Quentin L. Cook (source)

I also support the priesthood-based (or patriarchal) structure of my church. The majority of church leaders are men, and the leaders that are female work under the direction of priesthood leaders (who are all male since women do not hold the priesthood). And you know what? I'm okay with this. I know that my church is led by a prophet that receives direction from God, and because of this knowledge I know that the leadership structure of my church is based on revelation and guidance from Him. I certainly don't feel oppressed as a Mormon woman because of this structure or the fact that I don't hold the priesthood (besides when I hug my husband... heh heh :P). In fact, I am grateful for the ways that my religion helps me, as a woman, be my best and realize my full potential. 

My point is that the problem with (most, not all) feminists is that too often they forget what it means to be feminine. 

(source)

Being feminine means using the divine qualities and responsibilities we've been given to make the world better by working with men, not against them, and supporting their divine qualities and responsibilities.  

It means being gentle, loving, compassionate, classy, righteous, nurturing, strong, innovative, creative, powerful, intelligent, and wise -- qualities I hope to instill in my daughters (and my sons, for that matter!). 

It is magnifying womanhood, motherhood, and sisterhood. 

It is becoming more like our heavenly parents every day. 

Read more of my thoughts on the subject here and here.

Also, this makes me laugh. ;)

 

Happy Monday!