Meditation

I am doing better at getting daily exercise.  I'm far from perfect, but I'm doing better!  I'm alternating aerobic and weight training, particularly focusing on the Physical Therapy exercises I was given.

I've also started a meditation at the end of the exercise.  I should do it whether I take the time for exercise or not. . .

I start in a neutral position (see below in blue), and then circle my arms down and around, wide, imagining gathering in all the world and the life experiences of the people in it.  Hands meet above my head and come down to the beginning position. I ponder on the atonement, on Christ's knowledge of our sorrows, sins, grief, hurt, etc.  I consider the sorrows I know--Isaac's initial desperate attempts to breath, Gram's heart break to discover Mary taken away, Mom's grief over Dad, Margaret and Dave's anxiety for Olin, my sisters' in law's burden of pregnancy out of wedlock, our great,great, great grandmother, Elizabeth Sheely, left with 12 children and a newborn when her husband died on Christmas day.  I consider the sorrows I am aware of: the grief of mothers and wives whose husbands and sons are killed in war, the pain of the wounded soldier, dying slowly on the battlefield, neglected orphans, hoping always for someone to love them, parents of kidnapped children, women and children abused, raped, abandoned,  men and women engulfed in the darkness of sin--adultery, abuse, pornography, dishonesty, greed, pride, hatred, vengeance. There is so much pain in this world that meditating on it, and on Christ's taking it all on himself, bearing and experiencing it all is overwhelming.  My heart hurts with the exquisite sorrow of it.  But that is only half the meditation.

Before I feel utterly weighed down by the darkness of this world, I reverse my direction. I lift my hands and arms and imagine shooting upwards, piercing the atmosphere and emerging as I bring my arms down in a wide circle.  I imagine the clouds trailing behind me, glorious as I rise above the pain of the world and into the perfect beauty of space.  All around me, and into the distance, too, others are rising, free of the world and the sorrows they bore, shooting like arrows of light, trailing clouds of glory.  The weight and sorrow are gone, and through the atonement, we have become beings of light: perfect, pure, whole.  My heart fills with exquisite joy. (Alma 36:21)  We are  healed!  Everyone who has suffered so acutely in this life is burdened no more.  The bonds are broken.  The captive are free.  We are together again, surrounded with love, beauty, light and peace. The suffering was but a moment after all, and here is eternity before us.  God awaits, magnificent and perfect beyond description, His works surround him and we are the crowning jewels, His children.  Gratitude and praise are insufficient, again I am overwhelmed.

I'm afraid it all sounds hokey, in words.  The feeling of the meditation is powerful, and reflecting on these things gives me perspective and peace.  

Obedience and Sacrifice

"Obedience is better than sacrifice."

Obedience is the first law of heaven--before sacrifice.  I pondered/wrote about sacrifice, and I was left with questions, still.  When should we sacrifice, when not, when do we know if our sacrifice is really going to get us what we want most, and when are we actually sacrificing things that would lead us towards what we want most?

Maybe my inquiry would have been answered if I'd started with a better foundation--obedience.  In the context of obedience, sacrifice seems to make more sense.  If we are determined to be obedient, sacrifices will inevitably come up as we go through life.  We can't keep the commandments and have every temporary (illusory) pleasure.  In fact, we will have to give up many of them.

Trouble seems to come when we try to "sacrifice" obedience.  For example, when I "sacrificed" taking care of my body, mind, spirit and relationships in order to take care of Isaac and try to avoid any further illnesses, I was "sacrificing" obedience.  We are commanded to take care of ourselves, to see to our temporal, spiritual and eternal needs, and I wasn't.

A story was told in Sacrament meeting yesterday about a time on the gentleman's mission when he "sacrificed" obedience.   He broke several important mission rules in order to teach a family who was interested in the gospel but was outside of his area.  The results were not positive, and he was taught "obedience is better than sacrifice" by his mission president.

"Sacrificing" obedience is very tempting.  We see what we suppose to be the most important thing, and the commandments that keep us from it seem unimportant.  We feel justified in breaking them because we are making a "sacrifice."  Often, it is for someone else's good, or a "greater" good than our own.  But I my experience has shown that this is an illusion.  God knows what is most important, and what will bring us the greatest joy (even better than we do, often) and he gave us commandments to keep us on the path towards those goals.  Supposing that leaving the path will get us to the goals faster or better is misguided and prideful.  "Sacrificing" obedience is like leaving the strait and narrow path to take a "short cut" to our goal through unknown territory. It means that we think that really, we know better than God, or whoever made the path/rule, and that our leaving the path won't really impact us negatively.

It would have helped me to put it in those terms as I was struggling with taking care of myself vs. taking care of Isaac.  As I was "sacrificing" obedience, I wasn't consciously thumbing my nose at God's ways and wisdom.  I wanted God's help and was asking for it, I knew he was my source of strength, and yet I wasn't feeling it.  Blessings are predicated on obeying laws, and taking care of yourself seems to be a requirement for feeling good in the long run, and being a capable care giver.  I had set up a false situation in my mind, in thinking that I needed to "sacrifice" the commandment and wisdom given to me to take care of myself in order to care for Isaac.  I was trying to take a "short cut."  It turned out it greatly limited my ability to care for him.  My "sacrifice" did not bring me what I wanted most.

Baptism and Resurrection

Last night I was pondering on what I would like to teach my children about life, themselves, and happiness.  As a perfectionist, it has been important for me to learn that being imperfect doesn't mean I am failing in this life.  In fact, my imperfections are a necessary part of this life.  I thought again about Sue's words: I  fight weakness, anger, discouragement, depression . . . I feel that those things don’t mean I am failing. I am allowed the time and lastingness to be instructed a little deeper in ways of holiness.  I often felt, when depressed, angry, impatient, and seeing the world darkly, that it was as though a skin of darkness had overshrouded me.  Who I was inside hated feeling, seeing, acting in those ways, but felt powerless to overcome it.  I tried, and there were moments of break-through, but it became very clear that I couldn't escape it with my own power alone.  I thought of the scene in Voyage of the Dawn Treader (I'm looking forward to that movie!) where Eustace becomes a dragon.  Aslan comes to him, and tells him to take off the dragon skin, and he thinks he can--he tries repeatedly, but what he can get off are only token layers.  Aslan alone has the power to extract him from the skin, and with a horrible rip from a huge claw, he does, and washes Eustace in a clear pool and clothes him in white.

I've always thought of that as baptism imagery, and of the dragon skin as being the physical symbol of Eustace's sins.  Only Christ can take away our sins.  However, baptism is a symbol of more than being washed and made clean from sins.  It is a symbol of our death and resurrection.  It is the burial of the natural man and the birth of our "saintly" selves.  As I pondered, I felt that it can also symbolize (as can CS Lewis's imagery) the death of our mortal, fallen physical bodies and the taking up of our perfect, celestial physical bodies.  I think there really is sin in this flesh, somehow.  We were given a body we couldn't make perfect, no matter how hard we try.

Nephi said: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities. I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me. And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.


The fallen body is part of the plan, though.  There is a need for opposition in all things, and we need to learn to trust in God.  And there is great power in the flesh.  We know that beings with bodies have power over beings without bodies--flesh is powerful!  It makes our spirits very, very strong to have to wrestle with our natural man, to bring our body into submission.  Maybe that is why I like fasting so much--it gives my spirit a rest, a chance to be still and commune with God.

Alzheimers is interesting in this context, too.  Truly, it puts on display the power of the body, when that power is gone.  The workings of our spirit can't make up for the failings of our bodies.  It makes me think of cell phones and sim cards.  If the cell phone doesn't work, having all your contacts saved on the sim card (as well as the phone) still doesn't help.   You'd have to put the sim card in another cell phone, or computer, to access its memory.  Dad's spirit will have to wait for another body to be able to express itself fully again, and regain its full functionality and purpose.  Just as with technology, we come to rely on what is imperfect and bound to fail at some point or another, for some reason or another.  We can be grateful for the times when it works the way we want it to, but can't really be surprised when it doesn't.  Alzheimers is only one example of how our bodies "fail" us, but there are innumerable ways, really, and they are utterly unavoidable.  Everything from lack of sleep and hunger to depression, mental illnesses, autism and brain damage, physical illnesses like cancer,  epilepsy, arthritis, heart conditions, bowl conditions, multiple sclerosis, Neurofibromatosis (there is a new one for our family), etc, etc, etc.  Having a body that is imperfect is a part of human existence.  


Happily, thanks to the gospel, we know that it is temporary, and that the work we need to do on earth can be done even when our bodies fail us.  And having a body that fails us doesn't mean that we are failing, only that we are human.  I don't even think it means that we are failing the people around us, when we can't do what we want to do because of Alzheimers or cancer or lack of sleep or whatever.  We all carry each other's burdens (particularly the burden of humanity, and imperfection) and get stronger individually and collectively that way.  I think our imperfections are part of the plan for others as well as for ourselves.  Not fun, not "ideal," but not cause for despair, either.  Of course, the reason that we can be irreconcilably imperfect and not be failing ourselves and others every moment is because of the atonement of Jesus Christ.  He reconciles us where we are totally unable to.  He can deliver us from the dragon skin, and draw us, whole, perfect and pure, unto him.  He can heal the wounds and bind up the broken hearts that we leave in the wake of our imperfect, failing bodies.  All can be made right, and this time is given to us not to fail, but to try, to work, to prepare, to become, to draw strength from Him and come unto Him.  Ah!  What a relief!


That said, I do, of course, think it is possible to sin, and to "fail" ourselves if we refuse to try, work, become, etc, and instead embrace what is fallen and evil, or allow ourselves to wallow in the misery of an imperfect body.  That isn't usually my issue, though.

Isaac

Isaac is a trooper.  He has taken some very tough situations in his buoyant stride, and still the comment I get from most of the people who take care of him is "he is a happy baby!"  It is true.  He is.  Thank goodness for that!  His having a happy disposition has oiled the machinery of his life.

Last night we had a little bumpiness in the road as my sweet (uncircumcised) boy has suffered from the hygienic issues caused by not being able to truly bathe in months.  He has gotten an infection in a very tender location, and as I tried to clean it last night and put on medicine, he was in agony.  Probably because of that discomfort, he was up repeatedly last night--every 1/2 hour, it felt like, from 12-3, and then after a solid 3 hours of sleep, he was up for the morning at 6am.  Since I'd gotten to sleep only a short while before he started waking, he had to deal with the double discomfort of the infection and an irritable mom.

He was happy to be awake, though, and his first, bubbly request was for a "ba[ll]!" Isaac LOVES balls, and apparently woke up in happy anticipation of playing with that masterpiece of human invention.  I rounded up the balls for him and let him have at it while I tried to get some more shut-eye (yeah, right.) Isaac loves to play toss, and will play it with or without a partner, (chasing balls is almost as fun as throwing them.) He has developed an impressive arm, too, (for a 14 month old), and when playing with a partner he is amazingly accurate in  his throwing.

So, with the happy image of Isaac throwing balls around the bedroom at 6 am, while tired, grumpy mommy grumbles sleepily, here are some pictures of the little one:

A whole tub full of BALLS!  (At the Magic House in St. Louis.)

Looking forward to a ride in the bike trailer with Dora and Dad.

Another one of Isaac's favorite pass times is playing the piano.  He is fascinated by it and plucks away, sometimes with one finger, sometimes with a fist and sometimes with his whole upper body.

Trying to get Isaac to eat sometimes feels like the bane of my existence.  He will happily throw food, paint with food, spit food, wash his face and hair with food and even share his food with others.  He doesn't eat it, though.

Much to all of our delight, Isaac is also a snuggler.  He loves to snuggle.  When I pick him up, he first gives me a big (real!) hug, which often includes some pats on the back, too.  Then he pulls in his arms and snuggles down into my chest.  It is so, so dear.

On Prosperity

The theme "if you obey my commandments, you will prosper in the land," jumps out at me quite a bit in the Book of Mormon.  I think it is in there about a hundred times or more.  Today as I was reading the last chapters of Alma and the first of Helaman, I thought about what the Lord means when he promises we will "prosper" for our obedience.

He promised Nephi he would prosper before even getting to the promised land. (2 Ne 2:20) Yet Nephi was continuously threatened, beaten up and condemned by his brothers, he almost starved, along with is wife, children and family, and he certainly wasn't getting ahead in terms of wealth or possessions.

I've personally known lots of righteous people in this land who are continually getting the short end of the stick in terms of health, wealth and social standing.  If "prosper" means to be "successful or fortunate; to thrive; flourish" what in their lives meets that criteria? 

Of course, the Lord must be talking about eternal things.  When we are obedient, the blessings we get help us thrive in ways that are often unseen, except to us.  Nephi praised God for his goodness to them through the trials of the wilderness and saw His hand prospering them because of their obedience to him.  (1 Nephi 17:1-3) Interestingly, his brothers, who walked the same trail with Nephi, were so miserable they claimed they would have been better off dead.  Perhaps part of the promised prosperity is the ability to see the eternal in the temporal--to understand the workings of God and therefore be able to walk in gratitude and peace even when times are hard.

Sue Cragun, mother of a close friend of mine, passed away a couple of months ago after an 8 year long struggle with breast cancer.  She has long been an example to me of faith, perseverance and raising a righteous posterity.  Her son, David, who is my good friend, has always seemed to me like one of the Sons of Helaman--strong in faith and purity and goodness.

Sue was a writer, and some of her thoughts were included in her funeral, including the following:

Sept. 3, 2009


 I’ve just realized that I could never have been exalted without my suffering. I needed these illnesses and some other adversities in order to learn of my total dependence on God and my inability to save myself. I have always believed that I can do it, whatever it is, if I just think, plan, and try hard enough. I have always been prideful about being strong and in control of my circumstances. But I see that
I cannot save myself. I cannot make myself perfect simply by willing it and doing it. Because I will make another mistake. And another.


Without my physical illnesses I am strong and capable. With them I am pretty worthless. Many
days (and nights), I cannot get through by myself. I simply have to pray continuously to be
carried by my Savior. And I am. HE has the power. I do not. When I pray I simply turn it all
over to Him, letting Him know of my dependence and total weakness. Letting Him know I can’t
do it and it’s up to Him. Letting go and trusting that He will do with me whatever is best. And
accepting the resulting response without kicking.


Without these experiences my heart would not have gotten broken and contrite. Because pride
hardens my heart so I will be “tough” and capable on my own. I guess before these last few
years I never really found anything I felt I couldn’t do on my own. Raising seven little kids on a
budget and with their Dad not home much was a snap, comparatively. It would probably be the
other way around for some people. But for me, the last dozen years of emotional struggle and
physical suffering have rubbed through my hard heart and worn out my pride. Gradually I’m
learning of the essential partaking of My Father’s power. Gratitude for being carried so much
has increased my appreciation for the invitation to “Come into Me…”


 I see that it has been a gift of God’s grace, a tender mercy of a loving Father, to
allow me these sufferings and then to journey close beside me, supporting me through them so I
have the time to learn. To be cracked open and allow the softening, cleansing agent of the Holy
Ghost to flood my heart and fill it with humility. So I can be a partner with Jesus Christ and
receive His merciful gift of newness.


 I fight weakness, anger, discouragement, depression. And then as I study and pray and ponder and cling to my husband’s strength, I feel that those things don’t mean I am failing. I am allowed the time and lastingness to be instructed a little deeper in ways of holiness. I find my will painfully being eroded away and all my hope attaching to my Savior.


I am completely grateful for Father in Heaven’s generous mercy in allowing me these tailored trials for my profit. Without them I might never have come into His presence. It must be very hard for Him to watch me suffer, as He loves me so much. In fact, He loves me sufficiently that He sees my potential and so is willing to walk with me through the necessary experiences that I require to learn to give my whole heart and trust to Him. And He has allowed his Other Dear Son to provide my way home to Him after I’ve learned and done what I can do.


I cannot express my gratitude. How blessed I am!


With appreciation, Sue Cragun


I believe Sue prospered.  She lived on a tight budget, and was not among the social or academic elite.  Her health was not "fortunate," yet she prospered in the Lord.  She felt herself flourishing even when her physical body was failing her.  Is there any greater success than to overcome the world?  To be able to stand, buffeted by the telestiality of this life, and not be moved?  I cannot think of a success I would rather have.

What matters now vs. what matters most

I've been listening to Becoming Enlightened, by the Dalai Lama as we drive in the car (Ethan wondered why, and we had an interesting discussion about finding truth in many places).  I recently reflected on a passage in which he describes how what is now and what seems pleasurable in the moment are illusions.  He defines "illusion" as something that we believe to be real and lasting, but is, in fact, only transitory and part of a much bigger picture.  The "pleasures" that we frequently take pleasure in--sitting down after a long day on our feet, eating after being hungry, etc.--are illusions, because their pleasant nature cannot last.  If you sit down for long enough, or eat for long enough, it is no longer pleasant.  (I'm not sure I completely agree with their being "illusions," though.  Of course something is lost in the translation, but I think it is good to recognize and be grateful for the chance to sit down, and to eat, and that it is a real pleasure, even if it only lasts for a short while, but anyway, I actually do agree with what he goes on to explain.)

The Dalai Lama then explains that until we progress beyond desiring what is illusory, we cannot achieve enlightenment.  If we recognize, however, what is an illusion, versus what is real (inner peace, harmony with the universe, respect and charity for all sentient beings), then we will desire and work toward what brings lasting pleasure and peace.  Jesus taught the same when he said: "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." and "I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst."  (I love the symbolism in that--Christ takes what we know we need and what we spend our time thinking about/desiring (bread and water) and "eternalizes" it--uses it to represent what is real and lasting rather than only what is "illusory/temporal." We cannot be truly satisfied with what is a temporary pleasure, but we can be wholly satisfied when we desire and partake of what is eternal.)


Sarah used to have a quote on her mirror that said "Don't give up what you want most for what you want now" or something to that effect.  I think that is a great way of summing up the idea both Buddha and Christ tried to teach.  Our momentary desires (for another piece of chocolate, or staying up to watch a banal movie, or whatever our temptations are) keep us from having what we want most, and which will bring lasting joy (a fit body, a mild temper, inner peace /harmony with the universe/success in our relationships.)

As Sam and I were discussing our individual goals a couple of days ago, we talked about how hard it is to get the "supremely fit" bodies we want, because the momentary pleasure of whatever (relaxing instead of exercising, eating cookies for breakfast, etc.) looks so good.  I recalled the learning I related above to him and we decided that it is acceptable (even if it is not very fun) to sacrifice what we want now for what we want most.  Maybe we'll put that up on our mirror, too.

Afterwards, there were still two issues I was left to ponder: 1) How do we know when a sacrifice is getting us to what we want most?  When I was sacrificing sleep and personal time and social activities and everything to keep Isaac safe, was that wise?  I think not, now.  I think surely there must have been a way to protect him without ignoring all my needs. How could I re-frame my thinking to make the decision about what to sacrifice and what not to sacrifice more obvious? 2) How do we know when it is okay to enjoy what we want now?  (Maybe this is the same question.)  For example, if what I want now is a chocolate bar, maybe that is more obviously not going to get what I want most (a trim body) than if what I want now is, say, a shower.  Both are temporary pleasures, but I think the latter actually may get me closer to my desires for lasting happiness, in some way.  It is good to engage in self care.  It is good to enjoy life.  But it is sometimes hard to differentiate between the temporary pleasures that are part of the eternal whole and the temporary pleasures that are mirages, and will really bring unhappiness.  And it is often easy to justify.  Is it really wrong to enjoy a dessert? I do have to eat, and it is nice to enjoy what I eat, but when does that interfere with my long-term goal?  Is it a matter of correctly identifying needs vs. wants?  You can never get enough of what you don't need, but you can get enough of what you do. . .

Apparently I am not fully enlightened yet.

Reading With Carol

Carol is re-dedicating herself to read the Book of Mormon before she gets baptized.  It will be a stretch, but we'll see how we can do on it.  Today, she was supposed to read 1 Nephi 21.  It is an Isaiah chapter, and though she sweetly answered that it was about "how Jesus will never forget us" when asked, I could tell she hadn't really understood (does anyone?).  We have a Book of Mormon for Families, and that was one of the section headings, I guess.  Anyway, we sat down together, and verse by verse, I helped her understand what it was about.  She loved it, and told me her visions of what I was describing.  (The gathered Children of Israel were ornaments on a Christmas tree, with a string under their arms, waiting to be picked.)

I love Isaiah and have loved explaining it to my children.  I don't know how much they understand, but they seem to feel the Spirit of it, and that is the best part!

My Friend Dixie

Last Friday I woke up very uncomfortable.  I had a bladder infection, or something like, and just walking around was agonizing.  Dixie was due to come at 9 am, but I wasn't up to cleaning with her, so I called to cancel.  She was hesitant, wondered if there wasn't something she could do to help because I wasn't feeling well, or something she could do while I rested.  I said no, because the thought of someone cleaning my house while I lie around is totally uncomfortable for me.  Then I prayed about what to do--I wanted relief immediately!--and felt like I should have a sitz bath.

Sam was able to work from home and handle the kids that morning while I sat in the tub, for which I was very grateful.  As I was sitting there, beginning to feel better, the doorbell rang.  I knew immediately it was Dixie, and felt a little annoyed.  The kitchen was a mess, as was the front room, and both were totally visible from the door.  I didn't want to get out of the tub, and I didn't know what to say.  Sam came to the bathroom door to confirm that it was Dixie, and that she wondered if she couldn't help.  I told him to thank her for stopping by.  He thanked her, and she left, again with hesitations.

When I got out of the bath, Sam told me that Dixie seemed like she really wanted to help--like she needed to help, and would really appreciate the chance.  That was why I had asked for her help in the first place--because she seemed lonely, and like she had the time and inclination to be of service.  Yet, when I really needed help, I was still too embarrassed to receive it.  I got dressed and knelt to pray in gratitude for the swift relief of my symptoms, and just to start my day.  I felt like I should call Dixie back, now that I was feeling better, and accept her offer of help.  I didn't have to call.  Half-way through my prayer, Dixie called again, offering help one more time.  I accepted.

As we worked together, Dixie explained that she just kept feeling that even though I was saying I didn't need anything, I did, and that she ought to come.  She said once she did come, she knew I could use her help, and should've just insisted on helping, but didn't want to be pushy.  We cleaned the kitchen and front room, and did other odds and end, and it felt so much better!  Having someone to work with, having a partner, and a friend makes such a difference.  She didn't want me to pay her for the work that morning--said that I'd told her not to come, after all.  She just wanted to help.

I felt grateful for my friend, Dixie that morning, and I continue to.  I forget that allowing someone to serve me can be a way of blessing her life.  Dixie reminded me, by her determination and desire, and it made my day.

Valuing Dad

Mom and Dad came to visit, and it was wonderful to have them here.  It was interesting to see how Alzheimers has affected Dad, and affects him moment to moment.  I have sometimes (randomly!) pondered on what I would do if I were to suddenly find myself deposited in another time, place, and culture, in the body of someone who belonged there, and was expected to act "normally."  Would I be able to pull it off?  How? I think I would try to do as little as possible and pick up on as many clues as possible, but still I'm sure I'd make some terribly weird mistakes.  In watching Dad, it seems to be that essentially, that is the experience he is having.  He doesn't recognize his surroundings (at least, not at my house), or the people he is with.  He doesn't know how to complete basic processes (like using a broom to sweep the floor), or even recognize simple objects (sink, trash can, dishwasher, table, counter, broom, cell phone, cup, etc.) He also has the incredible disadvantage of not being able to use the social clues that are given, because he forgets them so quickly.  

Yet, Dad is still Dad.  Inside the confusion is the thoughtful, positive man who loves people, loves helping, and  has strong, tender feelings.  The first day they came, Dad said to me with a grin "It sure is nice to get to spend time with neighbors like you."  Dad had no idea who I was, but he was determined to make me feel appreciated.  As he tried diligently to help around the house, he frequently commented "I'm available to help with anything you need!"  He was totally ready and willing, so it was painful to see how unable he was.  When asked to help clear the table, he couldn't find the table.  When handed a cup to put in the dishwasher, he couldn't find the dishwasher.  He wandered around the kitchen, finally stopping at the trash can and saying "This dishwasher?"  

The morning they left, Mom and Dad helped me move a really big dresser to another room.  It was very heavy and we needed everyone's strength.  It was an exercise in frustration for Dad, though, because he wasn't understanding our directions ("lift UP!", "push forward", "grab the cardboard" were all incomprehensible) and he felt our frustration.  He wanted to walk away, and we needed his help.  We got it done eventually.  It was interesting to me, in the midst of the process, that Dad made the important suggestion: "We need to take all the drawers out!"  We couldn't, unfortunately, because of the way the darn thing was constructed, but it surprised me for Dad to come up with such a lucid idea.

Through the week, I also monitored my own interactions with and attitude towards Dad.  I'm afraid there was a lot of condescension.  It was hard for me to think of how to say things in a way that didn't obviously point out a failing.  Usually I just kept my mouth shut.  I didn't want to hurt his feelings, or treat him like a child, though I know I did, again and again.  His example is the one I should follow--lots of appreciation, encouragement and enjoyment of his company.  

For FHE, Sam asked Mom and Dad to share their testimonies.  Dad shared his sense that there would be a time of "opening" ahead.  He shared his feelings of love for people, for family and friends, and that he looked forward to being together.  He also talked about his love for scriptures that invite  us do good.  His words were so thought provoking.  My vision of him is as a geode, with layers of confusion, grey and heavy encasing a stunningly beautiful treasure.  He will have a time of opening, when the glory of his being is laid bare again, and illuminated by the light of God.  His presence also invites us--to measure ourselves in our interactions with him, to strive to be better in our treatment of him and everyone around us, and to see the greatness in even the least of our brothers and sisters. That he is able to do as much--to encourage, love, appreciate, express gratitude, enjoy beauty, serve diligently and humbly--with the debilitation of Alzheimers is an invitation to me to become the sort of person that he is--to truly make my heart a beautiful treasure.

Ethan

The kids school starts at 7:40 am.  At 7:30 am, Sam and the kids were heading out the door, I was not dressed for the day, and Isaac was still in bed.  We got a call from school saying that the counselor and assistant Principal needed to conference with us immediately.  In five minutes.  I needed to come to school.  I rolled my eyes about it.  Good grief, what could be so disastrous that our morning needed to be thus interrupted?  I threw on some clothes, Sam grabbed Isaac, and we headed out.  Here was the problem:

Apparently in his spare time yesterday, Ethan, who likes to doodle and is fascinated by weapons and explosions (isn't that pretty common among boys?) recalled a picture of a schematic for a uranium bomb that he'd seen in a book about WWII last year.  He drew it with some modifications.

When it fell into the hands of his teacher and then Vice Principal, the drawing became a security threat to the school.  I admit, I laughed in the face of the Vice Principal when he said this.  (Do you really think my 10 year old has the wherewithal to construct a uranium bomb?) He was very serious.  He had called the District office about it already.  I controlled myself and asked him to explain more.  Apparently with the rash of violence in schools--students gunning each other down and all that--they had to view this as a threat.  Ethan's teacher had spoken up for him--said he was a sweet boy, and didn't seem to have any desires to destroy the school (much less, may I add, the whole city, which is what would happen if he were to follow through with his "threats" to make a uranium bomb.)  Nevertheless, this was a serious issue and needed to be addressed.  Sam had already explained the problem to Ethan on the way to the school (I guess he'd heard it over the phone) and secured a promise from Ethan that he would draw no more such pictures.  Of course, if Ethan were really harboring destructive intentions, not making drawings of them would hardly stop that. . .

The Vice Principal then explained that if it were some other kid in Ethan's class drawing pictures of bombs, I would be worried, too.  (I wouldn't at all, actually.  I think it is amazing that Ethan recalled the diagram with any degree of detail, and would be impressed with another kid, too.  Ten year olds making uranium bombs to blow up their school is not on my list of worries.)  But I suppose he could consider it a threat simply because it was an object of destruction?  However, since Ethan has been drawing pictures of warring armies with guns, cannons, bows and arrows, tomahawks, etc, since he was in kindergarten, and we haven't been brought into conference for any of those things, it seems like there was particular significance in the U-bomb for him.  Whatever.  If Ethan had drawn a picture of a closed soda bottle with vinegar and alka-seltzer in it exploding under the desk of his teacher, I would be concerned.   Ethan knows how to make things explode, and he frequently asks to carry out that particular experiment.  He also knows how to make a fire with a magnifying glass, and sharpen a pencil sharp enough to hurt someone with.  If he expressed "plans" in terms of any of those things, I would take it very, very seriously.  But it seems blatantly obvious to me that to a 10 year old, a uranium bomb is just "cool."  When I talked about it with Ethan afterwards, he confirmed as much.

So, with that introduction, here are some pictures of my sweet, inventive 10 year old who scared the spit out of his school today! ;-)

Ethan likes making funny faces.

Ethan using a magnifying glass to melt tar on the road with friends.

Ethan picking weeds (and roots!) to earn money for a video game he wanted to buy.

Ethan in the reading corner at Gram's house.

Ethan, on being told that for his birthday he got the WHOLE box of Cheetos!

Sharing a bag of Bugles with Isaac and reading.

Ethan with his daddy.

Nourishing Faith revisted

From 9/23.  I'm having trouble remembering to push the "publish post" button apparently.

After pondering on the problem of nourishing, preserving, and sharing faith in atmospheres and communities where such is not the norm, I decided it is well within the realm of possibility.  Of course, doing what we know is the challenge.

Basically, I can continue to do what I am doing--giving more heed to the voices which advocate faith than those that don't.  I can chose to listen to conference talks on the computer as I clean the kitchen.  I can read the scriptures daily, and read through the Ensign over the month.  I can be choosey about the movies I watch and the media I bring into our home.  Not having a television has made that job much easier.  I can read the scriptures daily with the kids as a family, and encourage them to read personally, too.  I can go to church on Sunday and prepared for and participate in the meetings.  See?  Not so hard!

I was reminded, as I pondered that question, that Satan has no power that we do not give him, and the Lord has prepared a way for us to live the gospel, no matter what our circumstances.  I choose how I frame a situation--my paradigm is created from my thoughts patterns, and though those thoughts are often influenced by chemicals/hormones and physical considerations as well as the influences I am subjected to (often my own choice), they are nevertheless mine to choose.  I love this article as I struggle with depression, and negative thoughts.  Likewise, struggling with doubt, I can choose faith.  Alma said we only need to have a desire to believe.  If we really desire faith, we choose to fill our thoughts with it.

Validation

Whoop again!  This was almost posted on 8/22.  My memory and my intentions seemed to intersect quite a bit over the last few months. . .

Going to church today was wonderful.  Participating with this community of saints validates my faith, my hope, and my desires to be happy.  It may seem odd for someone who is "depressed" to say, but I am deeply grateful for the joy the gospel brings.  I think that is a lot of the point of the gospel, and the commandments and the truths we have been given about the atonement and the eternal perspective.  With those things, our lives can be rich and happy and purposeful, even through depression or sickness or sorrow or anything else the world throws at us.

We talked about the story of Job, and his struggles and faith.  A wonderful quote was shared that struck a chord with me: Elder Orson F. Whitney said "No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted.  It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility.  All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God. . . and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire and which will make us more like our Father and Mother in heaven." (quoted in Spencer W. Kimball, Faith Precedes the Miracle, 98.)  

Yes! That is how I feel.  That is what I know.  Pain and sorrow can come from many, many sources and combinations of sources in this life.  Nevertheless, they can all lead to the same Source of comfort, of strength, of humility and courage and Truth.  I have said that I was grateful for my trials, and thought masochistic.  I didn't mean that I was happy to be sorrowing, or taking pleasure in pain.  That, I think, would be Satanic.  Job, also, did not enjoy his suffering, and begged for it to stop.  However, I can be grateful for the refining influence of the trial.  I have felt very clearly that the Lord's purpose is to purify and refine me.  I have felt the heat of the fire, and known deeply its pain, and I have come out of the fire and seen the change in my heart, and rejoiced.  I found there more tenderness, more hope, more trust and faith in the Lord, and an unshakable Foundation.  Just as Alma's people, who petitioned the Lord and were strengthened, rather than having their trials removed, I experienced the Lord's strengthening power while in the face of sometimes overwhelming adversity.  It was powerful to feel His presence, and to know that He knew me and walked with me, that He shared intimately in my trials.

When I emerged from the experience of having Sam's family with us, my understanding of the Lord and His ways and perspective was such that I knew that no trial could come that would confound me. I understood what was going on with this life--the dealings of the Lord.  Further trials would hurt and be unpleasant and hard, yes, but they would not cause me to doubt God's character or love.  Job "sinned not, nor charged God foolishly."  He didn't "curse God and die."  He didn't suppose that these horrible calamities meant that God was actually aloof and capricious and something like those manipulative, selfish Roman or Greek gods.  He said "Though he slay me, yet will I trust Him. . . He also will be my salvation." 

I am human, and forgetful.  Coming out of the time with Sam's family, I was very close to the Lord.  When Isaac was born two weeks later, his troubles didn't trouble me (I felt sad, but not troubled in Spirit).  The Spirit was strong, and I knew that eternally, everything would be alright.  As the weeks pressed on in the NICU, and I grew tired with lack of sleep and raging hormones, I dwindled spiritually.  I wasn't praying as much as I needed to, nor turning to the scriptures for sustenance.  I began to forget the power of the testimony.  I didn't doubt, I just didn't think about it very much.  Some months later, at church, someone brought up a situation that reminded me of the testimony I had gained and forgotten.  I was shocked that I had let the truth slip out of my daily interaction with the Lord, and out of my heart as a sustaining foundation.

It is there, though.  Some months later, in the midst of depression, I read from the book "George MacDonald" which Margaret gave me and in which I have enjoyed pondering many truths: "Man is perfect in faith who can come to God in the utter dearth of his feelings and desires, without a glow or an aspiration, with the weight of low thoughts, failures, neglects, and wandering forgetfulness, and say to Him 'Thou are my refuge.'" Though I don't know about the "perfect in faith" part, I recognized perfectly what MacDonald was talking about.  In depression, there is no "spiritual feeling," or any feeling that I would associate with having the Spirit.  Yet even in that numbness, darkness, and almost oblivion, with the weight of my grumpiness with the kids and slowness of thought, there was no doubt about where to turn for companionship and strength, council and love.  In the midst of my pathetic humanity, His foundation was firm.  I neither lost hope nor felt ripped apart existential anxiety.  I simply felt grateful for a refuge in that time of darkness.

How, how, how can I be grateful, and find peace in the midst of unhappiness and pain?  C.S. Lewis wrote a whole book describing how it can be (The Problem of Pain.)  It does not seem difficult to understand it for me, but perhaps only because I have found the way for myself.  I have not found that my faith has made me perfect.  I still lose my temper and forget to care for myself spiritually and am not living in bliss.  Unhappiness and pain are a given in this telestial world.  Having the perspective that allows me to put those in their place--temporary trials which can strengthen me and from which I can be healed and overcome--is essential for me to get through them.  Gratitude is the oil in the machine.  There is always something to be grateful for, and in being grateful, everything can go much more smoothly, though the heat is intense.

Well, this post is getting long.  I don't suppose I will be able to answer all the questions of the universe or capture all the feelings of my heart just now.  And so I will make an end.

  

On my mind

Whoops.  Thought I'd posted this on 8/20/2010

I've had a lot on my mind since James and Margaret came, and went.  I feel so grateful for their desire to help and their love for me.  I'm still working on doing what I need to do.  The last couple of days I've been more out of temper than usual, and very impatient with the kids.  Also, my "get up and go has got up and went."  This morning I needed answers, information, understanding.  I sat down and did some research on depression.  I read a great article, that I really appreciated. Wow, do I have it.  It was actually rather relieving to see how much of what I am experiencing is part of depression.  For a someone experiencing depression, I'm really normal!! ; )  The "sadness" or melancholy or dark way of seeing the world is very much a part of depression, and something that I know my siblings have picked up on and worried about for me.  I don't want you all to worry.  Worry isn't helpful.  It is a misuse of imagination, someone said.  There are many facets to Julia.  While there may be a shadow cast into my soul, and some important parts of my self are seemingly frozen, there are other parts of me that are yet free!  My faith is still soaring.  My relationship with Sam is quite strong, and healthy, and my mind is still able to discern much of the workings of my soul.

It seems like my communication has suffered--I guess I am communicating more of the negative about how I feel than positive, to illicit so much worry and the perception that I am deeply sad.  Well, some times I am deeply sad and overwhelmed and a lot of other normal depression things but other times I feel pretty normal, and that is a blessing!  Also, apparently it is a normal part of depression to feel like you've "lost your ability to feel joy and pleasure," which is something James and Margaret picked up on and tried to get me to do better at.  Speaking of which, I think I will go take a shower before picking up the kids from school.  I also went to the gym and did an exercise class today, which was a step in the right direction.  Here are some other things to know about:

Signs and symptoms of depression

Depression varies from person to person, but there are some common signs and symptoms. It’s important to remember that these symptoms can be part of life’s normal lows. But the more symptoms you have, the stronger they are, and the longer they’ve lasted—the more likely it is that you’re dealing with depression. When these symptoms are overwhelming and disabling, that's when it's time to seek help.

Common signs and symptoms of depression (I italicized the one's I'm experiencing a lot)

• Feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. A bleak outlook—nothing will ever get better and there’s nothing you can do to improve your situation.
• Loss of interest in daily activities.  No interest in former hobbies, pastimes, social activities, or sex. You’ve lost your ability to feel joy and pleasure.
• Appetite or weight changes. Significant weight loss or weight gain—a change of more than 5% of body weight in a month.
• Sleep changes. Either insomnia, especially waking in the early hours of the morning, or oversleeping (also known as hypersomnia). (I think this may be causal rather than symptomatic for me.)
• Irritability or restlessness. Feeling agitated, restless, or on edge. Your tolerance level is low; everything and everyone gets on your nerves.
• Loss of energy. Feeling fatigued, sluggish, and physically drained. Your whole body may feel heavy, and even small tasks are exhausting or take longer to complete.
• Self-loathing. Strong feelings of worthlessness or guilt. You harshly criticize yourself for perceived faults and mistakes.
• Concentration problems. Trouble focusing, making decisions, or remembering things.
• Unexplained aches and pains. An increase in physical complaints such as headaches, back pain, aching muscles, and stomach pain.

Carol in the Water

So, even though the title of this blog is "Just Julia," the thought of me being me without reference to the people who surround me, love me, and develop me is silly.  No man is an island, and all that.  So I'll be posting some pictures of the people nearest and dearest to me.  These are of Carol, playing in the water on a hot July day.

Enjoy!