To My Bear Lake Lionesses

You know who you are. But do you know what impact you had this past weekend? 

Vulnerability begets vulnerability. I did not know that. The belief system I developed within told me that vulnerability was weakness, less-than, and undesirable. Big Girls Don’t Cry. It’s the Law of the Jungle out there (and in the home), so unless you want to be preyed upon, you better be strong enough. brave enough, and smart enough. So the mask went on, pushing the inner child deep within to hide, because I wasn’t strong, I wasn’t brave and I wasn’t smart enough to outwit life’s hard things. I was broken and beaten down, pulling myself together with scotch tape and twine, and The Great Pretender emerged.

Thank you for taking your masks off. Thank you for being brave and trustful with total strangers. Thank you for sharing without apology. Thank you for the compassionate energy you brought that made this haven a safe place during our retreat. We shared so many amazing experiences together, that how could it not bind us? I drove up to the lake with a little bit of anxiety and a lot of faith, walking in the door after taking a big, calming breath. I drove home with my Christian rock playlist blasting away, on a completely different plane than when I arrived. I will remember, because I will write as much as I can, but I will not attempt to explain. Magical, life-altering, paradigm-shifting, empowering, the letting-go, the breaking open – I just don’t think we have the English words yet for what happened. I arrived with one friend, and left with seven more, who connected with me in ways that I had always wished for in a sibling – a true and authentic connection, of which I’ve experienced very little in this life, yet yearned for. 

Thank you for dancing with me. If someone had told me beforehand that we would dance like we did for an entire song, that alone would have scared me away from coming. I shared with a few that I hadn’t danced like that for 20 years, if not more, if ever. Dancing with abandon was so opposite my very composed, calm and collected, every-piece-in-place self that I had mustered. It was foreign, it was scary. But it was more uncomfortable NOT TO!  You guys just started moving, and I was like, “Okay, here we go!” setting aside self-consciousness and shyness, which I didn’t even know I had the power to do.  And as I let go, something shifted inside, something started to melt. And then the thought of my four kids seeing me, their mouths wide open in shock, overwhelmed my emotions and the tears started streaming while I shimmied on, arms waving and pumping, hips twisting to the beat. Have they ever seen my authentic self? It was way past time. Decades of feeling I had to be emotionally strong for them created another type of mask. They needed a parent who was grounded, steady and worthy of trust. I carried the lop-sided weight of not being in a unified partnership, and felt I needed to overcompensate. I couldn’t show weakness and tell them I didn’t know what I was doing, that I relied on other parenting examples, followed my gut, and tried everything in my power NOT to parent like my mother and step-dad. This iron cage I had started to create as a child didn’t allow for wild abandon, and my marriage stifled my freedom of expression. And while it was protective in some ways, I realize now that it was also a disservice. I decided that my family will now start having more dance parties, which will probably shock them. All four of my kids swing- and ballroom-dance, to learned, choreographed steps, but we are going to take it a little further and let music take us to wherever we want to go. My grandkids will love it! Our dancing brought an extraordinary energy and spirit into our gathering place, and I want my family to experience that too. I’m just barely starting to understand energy and vibration, and I want more of it to elevate our lives.

This entry needs to conclude, so just let me say Thank You one more time. I could not have experienced what I did without you there. It was the willingness, trust, vitality and spirit of the group that allowed me this adventure. And I can’t express gratitude deep enough to those creators who brought this into being – I appreciate them following their gut and walking in faith that everything would come together. It was so beautifully done, and so very perfect from start to finish. You know they did well when it was very difficult to part from each other. I also appreciate the healers who brought their innate wisdom to help us see with new eyes. Thank you for sharing tools so we could take the next step. You saw through and inside us, to help uncover the lies that bound us and to bring to our remembrance the Truths that will free us. Our new hearts are forever grateful. 

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Timing and Seeing the Good

In my Relief Society lesson the other week we discussed the timing of miracles, why some of our yearned for miracles come right away, why some are delayed, and why some never seem to come at all. Today we walked about Seeing the Good in the trials in our lives.

What I wanted to share in class back then and today seemed too long to explain, so I decided to post about it.

I have a testimony of God’s wisdom in His timing – this goes for miracles and answers to prayer. Some of my yearnings have been answered very quickly, and some have taken decades. I will post at another time a miracle that happened very quickly. It will be labeled LOST. Today’s story covers decades of wondering when things would be made right. 

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How Do You Forget About Your Own Blog?

Today I had intended on creating a post for my church friends. I wanted to share something that was too lengthy to share in a classroom setting, so I thought I would post it and they could read at their discretion. For one of my religion classes, my capstone project was creating a blog about The Book of Mormon. My intent was to keep that going, but that intention failed miserably. So in my head I thought I would revamp that blog a little, and put my post in there. Now . . . the question became – where to find it?  I had created that in the winter of 2018/2019. “Blogger” entered my mind and I found it! And I found something else . . . . my personal blog LIVE. PERIOD. staring me in the face.

Oh. I already had a blog. I mean . . . . I already had a personal blog, not a school assignment blog. I spent 2 hours re-reading every post that I had entered. How could I have forgotten about this? February 2020 – my last post. I really am astonished that 4 years and 6 months had gone by without a single entry. And then again, maybe I should not be surprised. No entries in 2012, and subsequent years after that only had 1 entry – with the exception of 2017, a very busy year of learning things through my divorce. I could write off the explanation and say those were very dark years for me, and they were in so many ways, but I was still living, right? Kyra graduated in 2012, Erica in 2014 and Jake in 2016 – lots of stuff going on.

I can’t even use COVID, which kicked up a notch in March 2020, as an excuse, because my life wasn’t altered drastically like others. In fact, because public meetings (church) were canceled, I had more time than ever to write. And I had plenty to write about!

Anyway, glad I found it. The content is valuable to me, and I hope to begin anew at creating more meaningful content about my journey. 

My letters and photos will help me remember what filled my life during that time period, but I felt a loss of not documenting more carefully. It would be nice to ‘backfill’ but I don’t feel confident that I will. It’s September 22, 2024 and I need to write what’s in my head right now.

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We Can and We Will

I woke up with some thoughts running through my mind and wanted to share. Late last night I received a text from Garret letting me know that Kyra had taken Kal to the ER because he was having a difficult time breathing. I had been in the middle of that semi-comatose state we all experience in between the time of being awake and being fully asleep, and it’s always miraculous to me how a simple text can fully wake you up in less than a second.  I literally hit the ground running and I slipped on sweats, threw my hair in a ponytail, grabbed my car keys and raced down the hill. There were no second thoughts of if I was even needed. A mother’s mind can easily go from 0 to Axe Murderer in 10 seconds and this is what I knew: Garret had to be home with Rand and Kyra was alone with Kal in the ER -- if things went downhill I did not want her to be alone. So in my head I was needed.....somewhere. Tests were run, everything was normal, and they went home.

When I woke up this morning, I had some time to ponder on the night’s events and my mind went to how fast I flew to run to my daughter. And I thought of other times I had  dropped everything for any of my kids and ran to them in times of need. My heart is filled with the love for my children and I would do almost anything for them if they asked.

And then another random thought popped into my head, “How come you don’t do the same for Jesus?”  That stopped me in my tracks.

The Savior of the World, my personal Redeemer, Lord of Lords, King of Kings, Eternal Friend. The Christ who runs to me and succors me in times of need, never failing. Why do I find it so difficult to do what he asks? Why isn’t my relationship with Him such that I would drop everything to do what He asks?  He asks me to keep his commandments, and so my mind went to the commandment I have the most difficult time keeping, the one that is foremost on my mind and plagues me week in and week out.  Did I not love Him as much as my children?  What is blocking me and stopping me from willingly obey this one thing?

A few hours later I received an insight.  I am a lover of words, and on my vanity is a collection of note cards with quotes that are motivating and inspirational to me. My quote this past week was “I can . . . and I will.”   When I glanced at this card this morning, a thought entered into my head, “How about WE CAN and WE WILL?”   And my whole paradigm changed in an instant.  In many areas of my life, I try to forge ahead alone, be proactive on my own, do all I can on my own, obey on my own. I know where that thought came from – and it was Christ’s simple invitation that I yoke myself with Him, include Him, walk with Him, learn from Him and listen to Him as I strive to be obedient with this one thing. Jesus has been a part of my journey in many other areas, and it just never occurred to me to include him in all areas. In my head I was keeping this temporal issue separated, sort of like church and state.

Because I’ve struggled for so long with this issue, it’s no surprise that discouragement has plagued me for some time. For the first time in a long time, I felt hope that I (we) really could grapple with this issue and put it to rest. There are so many other areas of life where I would like to put my time and attention to, but this one issue has been a time-consuming, ugly apparition hanging over my head, sucking out hope. It felt like binding chains and I truly feel “delivered” in a way . . . . just by this paradigm shift. Nothing has happened yet, but I am filled with hope knowing who my partner is.

As if I didn’t get the message deep enough, another tender mercy manifested itself in the opening song in my church meeting this morning. We sang “I Stand All Amazed” and certain phrases rung out with clarity and seemed pronounced:

I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me,

Confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me.

I marvel that he would descend from his throne divine

To rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine,

That he should extend his great love unto such as I,

[I am] Sufficient to own (to be his), to redeem, and to justify.

Such mercy, such love and devotion can I forget?

I could barely get through the song for the tears that clouded my eyes. Words that I’ve now sung for decades, rang true as He drove home the message: He proffers His enabling power (grace) to help me because I am enough.

And another manifestation of God’s love happened after the meeting. The chorister came up to me and told me that they weren’t supposed to sing that song this week. It was on last week’s agenda, but whoever put together last week's program mistakenly put another hymn number on the printed program, so it was bumped to this week.  Coincidence? No. Not in my mind and heart. A mistake happened, timed just for my benefit.  For me.

In our day and age, we think of the word “confused” as meaning that we don’t understand something. However, in the author’s day and time of the hymn, the word "confused" was also used to express awe and wonder.

I am awed and in wonder at the grace that He so fully proffers me.

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What Easter Means to Me

I’ve always loved the symbolism of Easter eggs – the promise of new life, a new beginning, an innocent chick.

In Sunday School on Easter, the question was raised, “What does the Atonement of Jesus Christ and His  Resurrection mean personally to you?”

I pondered this for awhile, and since I’d been listening to Nichole Nordeman’s song “Every Season” on repeat that morning, one line kept coming back to me: make all things new. 

That’s one part for me – making dead things become new.  I don’t believe we have to wait for the Resurrection to have dead things made new.  I believe Christ has the power to fix families, fix faith, fix testimonies, fix trust, fix relationships, fix confidence, fix jobs, fix abilities, fix hearts, fix disability, fix disease. 

And if things can’t be fixed, or if we need to have the path that contains broken things, then I believe He can heal those heartaches.  Those things may not be forgotten, we may never live without triggers of how broken things once felt – but I fully believe in the healing that comes from the Atonement of Jesus Christ, the kind that brings peace and assurance that all things will be made right or compensated for.  There’s no greater gift than to have this kind of peace and assurance.

And if our dead things aren’t made new, if our brokenness isn’t healed for reasons we don’t understand yet. . . then I firmly believe in the power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ to give us the strength to carry the burdens that are placed on our shoulders.  We never have to walk or carry our burdens alone.  Let Him take his share of the yoke.  There have been times for me when I felt He was taking the whole yoke on himself.  The message of Easter for me is a daily message, a daily gift  – not a once-a-year commemoration.  I live with the effects of Easter on a daily basis.  I’m grateful for this knowledge.  No one can take this from me.  I am also grateful for the peace I have within that comes from this testimony. 

This is a gift that I cannot give to others, and so many times I have wished to give it away, even if it meant less for me.  But this isn’t possible.  What is possible though, what I can do is be open to show the way.   For there IS a way open to everyone.  

One of my favorite talks contains the following:

“One of the most popular and attractive philosophies of men is to live life your own way, do your own thing, be yourself, don’t let others tell you what to do. But the Lord said, “I am the way.” He said, “Follow me.” He said, “What manner of men ought ye to be? Verily I say unto you, even as I am.”

Don’t think you can’t. We might think we can’t really follow Him because the standard of His life is so astonishingly high as to seem unreachable. We might think it is too hard, too high, too much, beyond our capacity, at least for now. Don’t ever believe that. While the standard of the Lord is the highest, don’t ever think it is only reachable by a select few who are most able.

In this singular instance life’s experience misleads us. In life we learn that the highest achievements in any human endeavor are always the most difficult and, therefore, achievable only by a select few who are most able. The higher the standard, the fewer can reach it.

But that is not the case here because, unlike every other experience in this life, this is not a human endeavor. It is, rather, the work of God. It is God’s work and it is His “glory … to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.” There is nothing else like it. Not anywhere. Not ever.

No institution, plan, program, or system ever conceived by men has access to the redeeming and transforming power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the gift of the Holy Ghost. 

Therefore, while the Lord’s invitation to follow Him is the highest of all, it is also achievable by everyone, not because we are able, but because He is, and because He can make us able too. “We believe that through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind [everyone, living and dead] may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the Gospel.”

The Lord’s way is not hard. Life is hard, not the gospel. “There is an opposition in all things,” everywhere, for everyone. Life is hard for all of us, but life is also simple. We have only two choices. We can either follow the Lord and be endowed with His power and have peace, light, strength, knowledge, confidence, love, and joy, or we can go some other way, any other way, whatever other way, and go it alone—without His support, without His power, without guidance, in darkness, turmoil, doubt, grief, and despair. And I ask, which way is easier?

He said, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest…Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; … and ye shall find rest unto your souls….For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”  Life is hard, but life is simple. Get on the path and never, ever give up. You never give up. You just keep on going. You don’t quit, and you will make it.

There is only one way to happiness and fulfillment. Jesus Christ is the Way. Every other way, any other way, whatever other way is foolishness.”     -- given by Lawrence E. Corbridge, October 2008

SO much truth packed in SO few paragraphs.  I know this path of which Elder Corbridge speaks and I know how to show the way.  I won’t force this down anyone’s throat, but I will always be available to share. 

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TURNING 50

Getting older never bothered me.  I didn't get giddy when I left the teens, I didn't cry and sob the day I turned 30 mourning over my lost youth, and 40 didn't push me into a mid-life crisis.  My first gray hair didn't find me running to Revlon or L'Oreal.  Maybe it was my general outlook that helped me through these decades.  The past was to be celebrated and learned from, and the future was also something to celebrate, a clean slate ready to be written and scribbled upon -- not by others, though that sometimes happens, but by decisive, purposeful actions on my part.  And to be honest, birthdays always justified buttercream frosting and ice cream.

Monday I turned 50.  Although my personal growth has been exponential over the past 5 years or so, I'm still the same girl yesterday and will be the same girl tomorrow.   But if you look at my life in decades, it's in the span of time where I see the differences.  My patience and compassion have deepened.  My awareness of divine blessings has sharpened.  It has become easier to let go of the unimportant.  My external hide has become more durable, yet I can still be sensitive.  My voice has become stronger.  My courage has reached new levels of stamina and my self worth has blossomed inside to a full bloom.  It was my own personal school of hard knocks that spurred the beginning of these changes.  If I could only pick one thing that I've learned this past year, it's that some specific trials are given to us because nothing else could challenge me outside that realm.  Having this nugget of knowledge has made all the difference.    It's helped me to act instead of react.  It's helped me to repel toxicity instead of absorb.

I want to declare in writing that I have LOVED my life so far.  You may think that's any easy statement for me to say on this side of divorce, but I truly feel that every decade has been full of choice opportunities and blessings.  Even amid ugliness and hurt, I was still able to earn my Associate's degree.  I was still able to mother in meaningful ways.  I was still able to help others.  I served my community and church in different capacities.  I was still given opportunities to travel near and far.   

Monday as I soared 30,000 feet above the earth on my way to South Africa with my sister Rikki, I had a profound sense of calm and contentment.  If I never set foot on another airplane, it would be perfectly okay.  I have traveled many, many places across the globe in my 5 decades, far more than I ever thought possible when the desire to travel reared its head when I was 17.   My picture history is full of wonderful places, memories of sights and sounds, pleasant and unpleasant smells, and feelings of delight, colorful experiences, beautiful strangers and instant foreign friends.  I hope that my opportunities to travel aren't over, but if the change in my circumstances dictate that sacrifice . . .  I'm totally okay.  I cherish where I've been and know that in these adventures I've lived a fuller life than many.  I LOVE my life.

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If I Could Choose a SuperPower, I Would Cheat Time. . . Maybe

It was an illusory feeling standing at the foot of my son’s hospital bed, watching him struggle for breath through his mouth, painfully trying to swallow discharge down a swollen throat, nose stuffed full of splints, tubes and cords snaked all over his chest and arms and legs.  I’ve never had to see any of my children in this scenario, and a sense of helplessness washed over me.  For so many years of his life I’ve been around to cradle and cajole, to influence and irritate, to discipline and direct, to help and to harass, a constant source (and force) in his life to reckon with.  Isn’t that a mom’s job?  To shepherd a lamb along until they become self-sufficient and independent?  Even though this surgery was elective to help his sleep disorder, I was a little anxious as he signed his name to the anesthesiology form, outlining a myriad of side effects, including death that could happen in the next 2 hours.  This is the part of mothering that I don’t like.  I can’t ease the pain, I can’t accelerate the healing and I can’t make time move faster. I can’t do anything proactively to influence the situation.  The only thing I can do is be here, letting him see my face as he drifts in and out of consciousness, as the minutes slowly tick by, as the hospital noise and traffic beat their routine drum. I hope I still have that steadying influence in his life to at least let him know he’s not alone here.

 

We consciously chose this bridge, and there’s no skipping steps to get to the other side.  Things will work out okay and eventually he will heal up and be back on his proverbial feet.  But the urge to cheat time and skip ahead is real.  One of life’s lessons, I think.  Sometimes there is no way around, under, or over a problem – the only way is through.  Sometimes the path is so painful that we forget that there are learning opportunities open to us along the way.  Unpleasant realities happens to us – whether by our own choices or someone else’s – and our test (and opportunity) is to overcome our natural tendency to have a knee-jerk reaction, choosing instead to be proactive and consciously choosing a better way.   One of the purposes of this life is to be different when we get to the end.  If I don’t allow these hard things to soften my rough spots and chisel away my sharp edges, then what’s the purpose of life?   To float along at a leisurely pace and skate through life is against our very natures.  We were meant to thrive, to climb, to explore, to examine, to stretch.  To thrive means there has to be something to overcome, to climb means there's got to be a mountain, to explore means that there must be uncharted territory, to examine means there must be some unknowns to try to understand.  Get the picture?  If not, then well, we’d still be content to live in caves.

My divorce is moving slowly.  In this situation I also want to cheat time and skip ahead.  I feel like I’m in a time warp and each day is a trek through glutinous gel.  I wade through uncertainty, impatience, small stages of anger, exasperation, and just general weariness as I slog through the mud.  And oh, the mud.  My STBX walked away from mediation and the settlement that was put on the table, and if I felt sorry for him before, that was nothing to what I feel now.  It is beyond my understanding how an intelligent man could make the choices he does.  I felt like my settlement was more than generous – only 5-1/2 years of alimony, when legally I could have asked for 29.  I wasn’t out for blood, I wasn’t out to strip him of assets in retaliation for his actions that betrayed me and my family.  I tried to keep a level head, just wanting out yet needing to feel secure enough for a few years to establish a self-supporting career and to finish college.

I keep finding assets that were not disclosed and the holes he’s digging for himself just keep getting deeper.  It seems his only way to respond is to plan escape routes to avoid consequences.  Every new thing I discover ramps up my protective wall, urging me to fortify my weak places.  I’m working hard to keep spite and anger and fear out of my decisions.  It would be easy to fall into these emotions and act from this premise.  What’s keeping me grounded is the desire to be able to look in the mirror at the end of this and not be ashamed of my decisions.  I’m being sorely stretched and squeezed.  The last thing I learned was that he’s intending to get me kicked out of my home very soon, and of course I had a spark of fear.  Not that I wouldn’t have a place to go – but it’s just one more “power play” to manipulate me and the system.  I know he’s hurting and I know he’s angry, but I just wish he’d kick someone else once in awhile.  I wish he’d blame someone else once in awhile.  I wish he’d own up once in awhile.  This is why when I'm tired I sometimes wish I could cheat time and just skip ahead. 

Thank goodness I know how to regenerate and rejuvenate myself.  When I'm thinking clearly I can envision a stronger woman on the other end, determined more than ever to actively heal the damage.  On the other end I will actively build up weak skills that would hinder a future relationship.  I can develop added strength (mentally, emotionally, spiritually) from jumping these hoops and hurdles that are set before me now.  These words are easy to say, and don't minimize the difficulty of what lies ahead, but I have faith for a better future and life.  And I know I don't stand alone and that "the way is prepared" for me to overcome whatever is ahead.  There's purpose and healing there, so instead of wishing "this" away or wishing for a "free pass", I will remember what I'm here for and soldier on, trying to tackle each step with integrity.  I can rely on God's help and the power of the Atonement.  I am his daughter and He will keep his promises.

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IMPERCEPTIBLE

I’ve been having a rough time with my physical goals lately. I’ll get in a good rhythm, then fail. Good rhythm, fail. Good rhythm, fail. When you have behavior like that, what follows for me is a lot of bad self-talk, disgust, lack of motivation, feeling-like-a-failure binge eating, and other destructive-types of behaviors – thankfully not all at the same time.

On a particular morning, after I’d missed yet another workout before work, grumbling at my lack of discipline, I noticed my back in the mirror. And it’ll probably be mostly women here who will relate, but there’s always been a nice – did I just write nice? -- little bulge by the bra-line. Some call it bra bulge, back fat, bra fat, underarm flab or back bulge…you get the picture. What caught my eye this morning, was the lack of bulge. Lack, ladies. Not perfectly toned and honed, not the disappearance of, but the lack. Yes, it seems that over time I really have been making progress. I was so astonished I caught myself just staring…. Was this a trick of the light? How come I hadn’t noticed this before? Well, I know why. It’s not often I look over my shoulder in the mirror for a peek.

What followed was an Ah-Ha for me, as I realized that just because I get out of rhythm, doesn’t mean that it takes away every minute of work I’ve put into something. Sometimes it feels that way and the negative self-talk tries to convince me otherwise, but it’s not true. My hard work evidence is still there, and if I keep standing back up, getting back on the wagon, rolling out of bed in the morning, making best choices 80% of the time – those changes are going to come – even if imperceptibly.

That goes for other areas of our lives as well. We are not super-humans and do everything right all of the time. We are mortals who have weaknesses and shortcomings, up days and down days. But while working on those weaknesses, if we slip and digress, we don’t go back to Square One. As reminded in a blog post I read the other day called “Drops of Awesome,” when we are actively on a good path, we are building, not taking away. It’s such a better frame of mind to applaud your good choices, rather than guilt yourself for the failures. In our want-it-now world, exercise faith that imperceptible changes are happening over time.

One more piece of evidence – I’ve been ‘out of rhythm’ getting to the gym since April. This morning? Made it to cycling. And guess what? I blasted out 16.5 miles! That is not only a new threshold for me, but I beat my best more than a mile :0) Imperceptible changes are happening in my strength that I didn’t even recognize. I worked hard in the class, but I wasn’t expecting mileage like that. I just kept going. The instructor in her usual upbeat banter told us that there was strength in our legs that we didn’t know about. Guess what? She was right. Imperceptible…. but still there. Read more!

BECAUSE I SAID I WOULD

Integrity, an elusive character trait that seems ephemeral in our day and age. The media is doing its job well of bringing some dirty truth to light: scams, deceitful business practices, lies to the public, corruption in government, preying on the poor or aged. One of the Conference talks I listened to today touched on integrity, and one sentence really touched a chord in my soul. In a story within that talk was a boy’s simple answer to his father: “I kept my promise because I said I would.”

“... because I said I would.”

Almost three decades ago, I made a promise to be honest with my fellowmen to the best of my ability. Making a promise such as this doesn’t guarantee a perfect record from the start, and most likely I will never have a perfect record. It took step-by-step conscious choices to get better and better at being honest with myself, my fellowmen and God. It’s been a slow process to say the least -- but I do recognize significant growth from where I started. My sense of self-respect has grown, I feel I can be a trustworthy friend and confidant, as well as feeling a greater sense that God is pleased with my path and pleased with the kind of person His daughter is becoming. Lying, stealing, cheating, deceiving -- I don’t think I had ever developed blatant habits of these dishonest practices; my struggle was with the seemingly small (but just as harmful) white lies to avoid confrontation and to manipulate outcomes. I had to become more sensitive to these, and develop the kind of integrity where I started thinking and doing what is right at all times, no matter what the consequences.

A few years back I was personally challenged to become even more exacting in my obedience -- and I honed my efforts in the area of honesty and integrity. I wanted to be the person who gave back the incorrect change. I wanted to be the person who could be counted on and completely trusted. I wanted to be able to speak without hypocrisy, to avoid misleading people by maybe not giving out all the facts. As I practiced these things, it became easier to choose the better way. So if you would have asked me to contemplate withholding important information five or so years ago, it would have been a no-brainer answer of No. Absolutely not.

Fast forward to today, where I am embroiled in a legal mess where one side is so flagrantly deceitful that the temptation to hit back tit-for-tat has been a constant battle in my head for months. It’s been especially pressing as I yearn for justice after many, many years of deceit, some known and some just coming to light. This appeal to be dishonest has really taken me by surprise. I thought I had conquered (for the most part) that corner of my character. As I have contemplated the struggle, I've come to realize that I haven't practiced honesty in this area before. I'm toe to toe with a mortal who shamelessly misleads and lies to put himself in the best possible light of victim, and portrays me as someone stupidly making accusations that seem exaggerated and irrational. It’s been a blow to my ego, and I have wanted in the worse way to defend myself. And I’ve also wanted to hit him back in an area that hurts him the most, albeit dishonestly.

It took some soul-searching to finally decide not to stoop to his level -- to hold my ground and continue on the path I started long ago and not throw away years of growth….all for what….money? “You can buy anything in this world with money” -- one of the many deviant whispers that pierces men’s hearts -- but you can’t buy honesty and you can’t buy integrity. I know that my initial impression to “protect myself” in these legal proceedings did not give me license to be deceitful. I will keep my promise... because I said I would.

The day after I made this decision, I heard this from Richard G. Scott: “The bedrock of character is integrity. …. it enables you in times of trial and testing to make difficult, extremely important decisions correctly even when they seem overpowering.” What a promise! Making “difficult, extremely important decisions correctly” is what I want more than anything right now, as it will affect the stability of my future.

I fully believe in what-comes-around-goes-around, the Law of the Harvest, what you sow you reap, and all the different variations of it. I have complete faith and trust in God that I will be blessed for my decision to take the high road. I know I will not be guaranteed a good outcome at the end of this divorce by staying the course, but I can look further ahead and know with all my heart that things will work out in the end and that there will come a day when all things will be made right. Read more!

BELONGING

What an incredible feeling to walk into our staff meeting last Monday and feel the warm smiles all around just for me. After being gone for a week, I felt truly missed  -- and not just because I was lightening other people’s loads by returning! I am fortunate to belong to a company that is not only a well-oiled machine, but where the small office staff truly cares and looks out for one another. We were not equipped to have me suddenly “out” for a week, with the possibility of four, but my bosses were only concerned about me taking whatever time I needed. They sent me a beautiful rose and lily bouquet the day after surgery -- a daily reminder while stuck in my bed that my second “family” wished me well. This second family has been a safe haven as my current home situation is in a state of flux, and sometimes not so safe. I’ve never considered myself a workaholic, but there have been days when it’s been nicer to stay at the office then return home.

I’ve always loved my “home” and what I’ve created here, but it ceased being that 3 years ago when Bill moved his business back to our house. It was almost like I lost my sacred, safe sanctuary, my own personal “space” in which I had peace during the day to re-group, regenerate and revitalize my aching heart and soul. Now that Bill was home 24 hours a day, that changed things significantly. Our marriage had already been in trouble for many, many years at this point, and this new dimension was not a healthy one for us. I’ve always equated Divorce with having a “broken home” -- and yet our home had been broken for many years without that official legal designation. Making the decision to divorce, and subsequently to move, was made easier when I began to look beyond the feelings of failure and see that I had an opportunity to create that “home” again, a secure place of belonging for me and my children.  

I may not belong to my marriage or my broken home anymore, but I believe in my innate gift to create again and start anew.   Read more!

Getting around the LDS thing

Someone once asked me how I got around the “LDS thing” when it came to making the decision to divorce. And another friend, who doesn’t have a clear understanding of my faith, asked if I was going to be excommunicated because of my decision  Yes, it was a struggle to make this decision. We are taught that we make binding covenants that span time and eternity in the LDS temples. We are taught that it is of the most serious of covenants and that we shouldn’t take them lightly. We are taught that the marriage relationship is a triangle between you and God and your spouse. True. What we sometimes forget in this is the conditional part IF. The promises we are given, the eternal binding promised is conditional on IF we do our part. We have a responsibility on our part to keep the covenants we make. Making the decision to divorce is not breaking those covenants. The covenants I made with my God are still intact and strong as ever. And no, by exercising my moral agency to remove myself from a destructive marriage will not get me excommunicated. I’ve come to believe that those covenants and promises were broken a long time ago – not by God but by and between the two parties trying to make a go. Just because you are married in the temple doesn’t make your marriage a sure thing. It still takes a lot of work, commitment, responsibility, charity, service and a process of becoming one with your spouse.  

Elder Bruce R. McConkie has commented, “Divorce is not part of the gospel plan no matter what kind of marriage is involved. But because men [and women] in practice do not always live in harmony with gospel standards, the Lord permits divorce [as in Moses’ time] for one reason or another, depending upon the spiritual stability of the people involved. ….” (Doctrinal New Testament Commentary,3 vols., Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1973, 1:547.)  

He went on to say, “If our societies were on a higher plane, then, marriage covenants would be held in great, sacred trust; essentially, divorce would not exist or be considered except for truly serious reasons such as adultery. I would also suggest that in a higher system, with individuals living in harmony with all the Lord’s teachings, there would be no such serious problems and thus no divorce.

Unfortunately, our societies are less than ideal. Some persons do live in unbearably difficult marital circumstances, suffering as victims of spouse abuse, substance abuse, promiscuity, and other evils that are sometimes addressed through divorce as a last resort. In such cases, the Lord in his mercy “permits his agents to exercise the power to loose [to authorize divorce] as well as the power to bind.” (Bruce R. McConkie, Mormon Doctrine, 2d ed., Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1966, p. 204.)

Part of my decision-making process included many, many months of prayer and fasting. I also had to examine my motive closely and honestly. In my circumstances, I felt I had tried every avenue possible to save the marriage and finally came to divorce as the last result.  Complacency and staying put were not an option I could live with.

President David O. McKay stated, “...… There may be circumstances which make the continuance of the marriage state a greater evil than divorce. But these are extreme cases—they are the mistakes, the calamities in the realm of marriage.”   (Treasures of Life, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1965, p. 66.)

Could I have stayed in this destructive, unhealthy marriage? Yes. I wasn’t being physically abused, I had a roof over my head, I wasn’t starving. I had a job. We had lived singly emotionally for many, many decades -- what’s a few more? But there were other prices being paid that not only affected me, but had taken a toll on our children.  It took me awhile to realize that, in spite of my soldiering on and putting up a facial facade,  my children were not blind to the situation, and that I had a decision to make on what and what was not acceptable in a marriage. Their eyes were on me and I felt like I was at a crossroads. What kind of mother would they remember? The one who kowtowed to unacceptable behavior behind closed doors, or a strong woman who finally found the strength within to stand and take a stand? The decision process took a full 3-½ years for me to make. But once I had made the decision, I knew that I knew that it was the right one.   

I have been chided that it took me “long enough” to come to my decision, a decision that seemed a lot of people had the opinion should have been made a long time ago. But I will always stand on the timing -- I needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was making the right decision.  

Getting around the LDS thing? There was nothing to get around. My relationship with God is such that I know He backs me fully in my choice. He continues to bless and open doors for my welfare. I feel His love often and most importantly, I feel at peace, even with a very unclear future. I’ve tried mightily to keep our communication open so I can recognize when I’m being instructed and guided. I may not always recognize what the whisperings mean….but I hear them and have faith that I will fully understand them at some point. Read more!

OPEN

After getting news from my doctor that there will be another disruption in my life here shortly, after the heartache and tears that my wild imaginative thoughts conjured up, and after finally settling down enough to contemplate “what am I lacking yet?” to find purpose in this trial, I finally realized how fiercely protective I’ve been of my heart, how I’ve built a persona and show of strength so as to not show my weaknesses, how I’ve learned to stand alone in my home because for various reasons a partnership with my spouse never materialized.  I was the ultimate “over-compensator,” trying to excel and prove myself in some areas because I felt so lacking and vulnerable and a complete failure in others.  This piece of news made my world temporarily topsy-turvy, and I realized that I didn’t want to bear this one alone, albeit that was my preferenced go-to, and that I needed to open up a bit and ask for help.  

I feel that events in my life had made it necessary to be protective -- wearing my heart on my sleeve was not safe, to feel and speak certain emotions were not welcome, to reach for what you thought would be a stable support and coming to the realization that you were only being tolerated was too damaging.   Slowly over time my armor was built and toughened.  Vulnerability was soon viewed as weakness, and I learned to create a perfect poker face to hide anything that could possibly expose me or give me away.  I kept a smile on my face, tipped my chin to the sun and ploughed on.

And then someone found that one chink.  And my very nature of trusting bullied through the persona of control and I willingly practiced transparency, willingly “unmasked” because my yearning for connection was so incredibly strong and overpowering.  What is it about a woman’s heart that let’s her take this risk?   Is it stupidity?  Is it naivety?  Is it courage?  Is it hope?   Maybe in this case it was a little bit of everything, as my reward was silence… a pretty deadly dagger that nicked what I had been protective of for so long.   

When I first interviewed for my current job, I was shown into our conference room where the decor clued me in that I was interviewing with “horse people.”   My eyes were drawn to a plaque with the words, “If you climb in the saddle, be ready for the ride.”   Perhaps I was not ready for the ride.  I’m grateful I had the courage to risk -- and I’m grateful I felt a flicker of hope -- and maybe that’s what this whole exercise was about, learning to become vulnerable again and remain standing when the situation turns in a different direction.  I’m tired of the armor.  I’m tired of the poker face.  I just want to be real and I want to feel, no matter what range and myriads of emotions come with the ride.   Perhaps I will never be ready for “the ride” -- but to stay off the horse doesn’t seem like an option anymore. Read more!

MAMA-BEAR

The role of mama-bear is quite intriguing.  The inner fire when I’m in protective-mode is intense and it’s so easy to leave my comfort zone and fight for my children on things in which, if the tables were turned, I would not have fought for myself.  I didn’t want them trampled upon, I didn’t want them hurt.  I’ve tried so hard to shield them from the unpleasantness that life afforded me.  But I’ve learned recently  that I need to trust that they have become sufficiently strong to handle things on their own.  They have watched and learned from the example of their mother long enough.   It’s time for them to fully practice thriving, amidst good times and bad times.  Life sometimes throws us curve balls at the most inconvenient of times, but they do not devastate us or cripple us.  We may buckle for a moment, let our imaginations of worst-case scenarios take flight for a moment, but then we reign it in, sharpen our perspective, stand up and move forward.  

I didn’t want to tell them of my news until the biopsy was complete -- I didn’t want them to experience the anxiety that’s been racing in my heart.  But if I  made this choice, I realized that I was depriving them of experiences that would only strengthen them.  Experiences that would strengthen their faith, and give them an opportunity to exercise that faith.    I wonder how many times I’ve protected them from events/situations that were vital for their growth.   I think a mama-bear is necessary and can be a pillar of strength and stability -- but I’m also learning that if it’s not balanced it could be a detriment to their progress. Read more!

A CHEROKEE LEGEND

I am an avid note-taker.  I don’t score very high on reviewing those notes for further enlightenment, but I still have an ingrained habit of hearing something and wanting to reinforce it by writing it down at the moment.  While searching today for a particular small notebook, I opened another one and something caught my eye.  It was a Cherokee legend of a conversation between  grandfather and grandson.

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.

“It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” He continued, “The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

This hit me like a slap across the head today.  In a moment of clarity, I realized I’d been feeding the wrong wolf lately.  In a time when I need to be focused more than ever on making wise and correct decisions, planning meticulously for a safe future, and doing all I can to pull from the strength within to emotionally/psychologically engage in the (what is sure to be) warfare in the days ahead, I’ve been sidetracked on lesser things.  Not unimportant things by all means, just thoughts and ideas that are not helpful to me right now at this time in my life.  I’ve always been weak in the area of moderation – time after time I’ve thrown myself 150% into something, which of course makes me negative-impactful on other parts of my life that need my attention.   My other wolf was feeding my ego, meeting an unmet need that had been in short supply for decades.   It wasn’t evil, it wasn’t bad.   There are many times when we have to choose between two good things.  Of course I craved it.  Of course I hungered for it.  But now is not the time.  This other wolf wakened many things inside me that needed to be shaken up and stirred and remembered.  And I am very, very grateful for that memory, but it isn’t helping me right now and it’s not serving me well to dwell on what could be.   I don’t need my ego stroked – I know who I am and Whose I am.   I have full faith that my missing needs will be met in a future day – I have lived long without that, I can still keep living without it – it won’t crush me.  But there is an order to everything, and I need to get my head straight.  I’m choosing to feed the wolf that will get me through the next 5 months.

Read more!

THE BAD GUY

My H asked me last night if I was excited to be pursuing a divorce.  My first thought was that was a warped question.  Is it exciting to admit defeat after you put 29 years into a venture?  Is it exciting to feel like you are viewed as a failure or that you gave up too easily?  Is it exciting to realize your returns on the investment weren’t very high?

Shortly after I made the decision I did feel feelings of elation, though, of freedom.    I felt like I was breaking out of some type of bondage, and definitely looking forward to an emotionally healthier future, single or otherwise.   I felt empowered in my decision and my endorphins were in overload  ☺    I have felt many feelings over this – and it’s only been a short 2 weeks.  Some of those feelings are: anxiety about my financial future, fear of H messing with the kids’ heads, fear of H integrating his blatant dishonesty into the divorce process, anger, bitterness, satisfaction, a hunger to live more fully and even sadness.  Not sad about my decision, but sad about how H is handling this and his go-to destructive reactions.   In this short time, I’ve been able to see more clearly the gulf between us and part of my sadness is H’s inability to see himself as part of the problem.  From his point of view, I need some psychological evaluation and probably some meds because “you can’t get close to anyone.”   Total projection.

In my last talk with our bishop, he left with the parting words, “Get ready to be the Bad Guy.”  Yup, another feeling I was anticipating.  This was my sole decision.  My H did not agree – he was totally satisfied with the status quo and comfortable in his complacency.  He shares with whoever he talks to how he will always love me and will help all he can to get me settled into another home.  He sets himself up as an adoring, doting husband to the very end – and it makes me sick.  He wants to have an amicable divorce, and I have little to no faith that this will be the case.  He didn’t care much about me during the marriage, so why would he care so much about me now?

If I had an adoring, doting husband I would have never been in this place.   Not to excuse myself of any blame, but it would have been nice to have been met part of the way.  This Bad Guy label is something that I will need to set aside and just ignore.  My decision to divorce will not define me.  No one has walked in my shoes.  No one has felt my pain and the inner struggle that has eaten away at me for decades.  No one has felt the weight I’ve carried.  I alone know the most about my H’s unwellness and the effects it’s had on me and my children.  H’s unwellness has spanned generations and I’ve made the decision to break the chain here.  My friend, who I may or may not pay to talk to, assured me that the people who really, really knew me would never question my sanity.  They would applaud my decision, continue to trust me, wouldn’t question my integrity or how hard I’ve tried over the years.  If people label me the Bad Guy, more power to them.  It’s their loss. 

Read more!