Who Am I? searching for a solid sense of self

Sam and I have been reading a book together whose premise is "Marriage is a people-growing process."  In other words, don't expect it to be comfortable and easy all the time.  That is not its purpose.  Its purpose is to challenge you to grow up, to progress, to become your best self.  The author goes on to explain that in order to be flexible enough in marriage to respond to its demands and founded enough to move forward, we need (among other things) a solid (but flexible) sense of self.

As I have been reading and pondering how this applies to me, and as I have been evaluating my feelings and actions, particularly those that are not what I would like them to be, it has occurred to me that I do not have a solid sense of myself.  I've needed to redefine myself several times throughout my life, because of both internal and external changes which deconstructed crucial elements of what I defined as "me." 

I fasted yesterday for help in this process, and had some good direction: 1) my patriarchal blessing is full of the Lord's perspective about who I am; 2) the scriptures and hymns that a was presented with yesterday reminded me that I need to become more and more like the Savior; 3) I need to get a sense of myself that is not dependent on external circumstances, like being a student, a mother, a wife, or an employee, but is eternal and clarifies what I bring to each of those rolls. 

Well, two weeks have passed sinse I wrote the above.  I have continued to think about who I am, and what I have to contribute.  In church today, the Sunday School lesson was about the temple and one of the scriptures that was shared was D&C 97:14, about how the temple is a place where we can go to understand our ministry.  The questions was asked "What is your ministry?" In part, the answer to that is the external rolls I mentioned before, of mother, wife, student, also in my callings, etc.  I also felt, however, that gaining a vision of my ministry would help me, because I am not simply "a mother," I am mother Julia.  So having a sense of myself will synthesize with my understanding of my ministries to guide me on my way and give me a grounded place from which to work. 

Who am I and what am I to do?

Here are some of the answers I've gotten:
-I am tender and gentle, and in that gentleness, I can have great power to influence, bless and lift others.
-I am visionary--I see patterns in everything around me that leads me to truth
-I have great desires for good, and love what is holy and eternal
-I have felt the Spirit of Elijah and I take great joy in family history work
-I am chaste
-I am willing to endure hardships
-I have faith in God and His son, Jesus Christ, as my Savior
-I love to teach and share the truths that I have

I hope for more to come soon!

Bemusedly amused

The week before Thanksgiving, our new Bentonville out-door ice skating rink opened, and all the school children (at Baker, at least) were invited to go for a free skate.  The weather here has been between the 50s and 60s often, and Ethan has continued to wear shorts to school, despite my pointing out that he might be cold.  He wore shorts on the day for ice skating, not thinking about the logistics of ice skating, of course, and his teacher pulled him aside and asked where his long pants were.  Somewhere in the conversation she got the idea that he didn't have any long pants, though he denies vehemently that that is what he communicated.  I got a call that afternoon from the school letting me know that there had been a clothes drive, and clothes were available for Ethan if he needed some.  I laughed about it, and thanked the caller very much, but assured her Ethan was fine, and it was his personal preference to wear shorts, not because he had no pants.

Yesterday, Ethan brought home two bags of beautiful winter clothes.  Long pants and long sleeved shirts and such.  They were in excellent condition and name-brand.  Ethan told me his teacher made him take them home, even though he said he didn't need them.  And so I am bemusedly amused.  It was very kind of the school to think of us.  They know of Isaac's significant medical needs/expenses and have watched my kids come to school looking less-well-cared-for than they ought to, I suppose.  I am grateful for the thoughtfulness, and the community that looks out for those in need.  The trouble is that I don't feel like I am in need.  In fact, I have lately been finding ways to sponsor others who are in need of time or money. Should I accept the help of the school when I am perfectly able to clothe my children, (I have provided the clothes, though it is up to them to wear them), but have chosen to spend my time and money otherwise (than on getting name brand things and making sure they are worn)?

I guess, as I think about it, that we all have something to give, and it is good to give what we have to give and accept graciously what others have to share.  I am not great at getting beautiful name brand things for my kids.  I figure second hand is just fine, and brands really don't matter.  I can accept the kindness of others in sharing nice clothes with my kids, and be grateful that they will have them.  We have been blessed with a good financial situation now, but not much extra time, so I can happily give money to others who are willing to share their time to help us (like Dixie and the tree-trimmers and lawn care people who recently transformed my yard.)  As part of a community there is give and take, and it is good to be part of the cycle, and not only on one end.  Receiving keeps me humble and grateful.  So, I guess I will keep the clothes.  Someday we will probably pass them on to others, too, and I will be grateful to have nice things to share.

;-)

My Dark Muse

Things have been looking up recently.  I feel like I am functioning at a higher level, and doing more of the daily tasks that are part of this domestic goddess gig.  Last week I had dinner made each night before the kids got home from school, so I would be able to focus on them while they were here.  And, the dinners were mostly new recipes--Thai, Indian, Moroccan.  Yummy stuff that I couldn't wait to make and eat and which required ingredients that were not a normal part of my list (fresh ginger root! eggplant! lentils and chickpeas, and garam masala).  Also, Sam and I got in more focused time to talk and learn and relate to each other.  It was good to reestablish connections and spend time on what is most important.

There are still bumps in the road.  Dorothea was 15 minutes late to ballet because my mind was elsewhere, and I didn't get in as much exercise as I'd have liked.  And this week, instead of making more fabulous recipes that I have gotten ingredients for, we've been eating the left overs of last week's meals.  Still, I feel slow, steady progress.

I noticed also that with my brighter outlook, increased energy and general increase in functioning, I haven't been feeling the need/desire to write as much.  This is not surprising.  Darkness of spirit has always seemed to inspire me to greater introspection and insight.  I think that is the way with many artists, too.  What is it about darkness that inspires?  Or is it a need to find something in the darkness, despite the darkness?  To discover or create light or meaning in the darkness?  There is certainly a poignancy of feeling that accompanies a subdued spirit which seems to bring sharpness and gravity to the living of life.  Little things become more meaningful, symbolic of the vastness that is within and without.  I have wondered if it is, in part, to give me time to be poetic and to see more, that the Lord has given me depression.  Only in the darkness do we see the stars and sense the enormity of space.  In the light, we tend to focus our own little world, living shallowly, one day at a time.

So, I am grateful for increased function.  I hope that continues and progresses.  There is so much I would like to accomplish in my one little day of life, with my children, for myself, for our family.  I am also aware, though, how this increased energy and function has had me bustling about dawn to dusk and longer, with little time for contemplation or appreciation.  I am striving for balance.

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.