A Common Word Between Us

Thirteen years ago today I was watching Sesame Street with 10-month-old Vicki.  When the show ended, I changed the channel, hoping to find something more grown-up to watch, and instead was bombarded with broadcast after broadcast of terrible news that forever changed our nation.  The juxtaposition of pure innocence with abject terror is something I will never be able to get out of my mind, and I remember looking at Vicki and wondering what kind of world she would know.  I will never forget the way Americans joined together during the last few months of 2001, and I will always remember and honor the victims and the heroes who lost their lives that day.

Several years ago I read a book that moved me tremendously, and I posted about it here on the blog.  It feels appropriate to share those thoughts again today.  It is my hope and prayer that, in honor of those who have lost their lives to senseless violence, we remember that we are all God's children, brothers and sisters, a part of the human race, and it is our responsibility to find the things we have in common with each other and embrace them, rather than seeking out our differences and allowing those to rule us.

It's true that Vicki knows a different world than I did when I was her age, but the events of 9/11 are not the only reason for that.  There have been many good changes to go along with the bad.  And I firmly believe that the best thing I can do for her, and for Lexi and Ellie, is to teach them that, no matter who we are, what we believe, where we come from, or how we live our lives, we all have one thing in common: love.

And all you need is love, my children.

Love is all you need.

**********

The following is the text of the post linked to above.

A few months ago I read a book called The Faith Club. It was written by three women – a Muslim, a Christian, and a Jew – who met together in the wake of 9/11 to discuss their beliefs and to try to come to an understanding of each other. It was fascinating to follow the journey each of them made as they learned and reached out to each other. What on the surface seemed like a simple thing – a social gathering, a time to build friendships and learn a little from each other – became a turning point for all three as they struggled not only to understand the beliefs of the other two women but also to gain a deeper understanding and testimony of their own as they were challenged in ways they had never been before. It was inspiring. I have a friend who is an Orthodox Jew, and we’ve discussed our religions, and their similarities and differences. Reading this book made me wish I knew a Muslim woman, too, so I could start my own faith club. Of course, I’d probably include another Christian, of the more mainstream variety (I already have one in mind!), since Mormonism is different enough to warrant some discussion there as well.

Anyway, since reading this book, I have had such a desire to come to an understanding with people of different faiths. I’m not looking to agree with them, or have them agree with me. I just want to understand and find common ground. All three of these major world religions come from the same beginning. We are all Abraham’s seed. There are major doctrinal differences, things that will probably never be agreed upon, but we all pray to the same God, whether we call Him by the same name or not.

This brings me to the purpose of this post. Lately I have noticed that a lot of Christians (Mormons included) still seem to harbor ill will towards followers of Islam. The more I see or hear of this, the more it upsets me. I’ve been having a hard time sitting by quietly and allowing these things to go unchallenged. I suppose I can understand the sentiment behind the mindset; after all, terrible things have been done in this world in the name of Islam. However, I firmly believe that these things are being done by people who either do not fully understand the true message of their religion, or who chose to follow only select words, without giving heed to the full meaning in conjunction with the rest of their religious beliefs. I am no expert on Islam, and cannot even claim to be an expert on Christianity or Mormonism, but I do believe that none of these faiths condone the things that are being done in the world today in the name of God. It makes me sad to see the way all of Islam is being lumped together as a religion that tolerates, supports, and even encourages violent acts.

The truth is that, just like there are different sects of Christianity who hold to different sets of doctrine, there is a small portion of Muslims who believe it is the will of God that they engage in jihad, or holy war, against other nations. But this is not true of the majority of Muslims. It amazes me how we Christians are so willing to believe this misleading information when there is so much out there that gives incorrect “facts” about our own beliefs. There are websites dedicated to informing the world that all Mormons are polygamists and all of Mormonism is of the devil, in the same way that there are sites that would have the world believe that all Muslims are jihadists and that all Islam is evil. They’re out there; we’ve all seen them at some point, and when they’re about our own beliefs we’ve all been disgusted and outraged that anyone could be so misinformed and disrespectful about something we hold sacred. Why, then, can we be so willing to believe things about other religions without doing unbiased research. Ah, the appeal of a Faith Club…

I have been bothered by this for awhile now, feeling like I should say something to stand up for a people, who, in my experience and study, I have come to believe are generally kind and peace-loving, but I haven’t known how to go about it. Until yesterday, that is, when I read this article in The Oregonian. It talked about an open letter to Christians written and endorsed by many Muslim leaders. This letter, titled “A Common Word Between Us”, calls for an understanding between Muslims and Christians, using passages from both the Qur’an and the Bible to make its point. It establishes the fact that the two greatest commandments in both Islam and Christianity are to love God above all else and then to love your neighbors – all your neighbors. Who can argue with that? And, given that, who can really believe that Islam teaches unprovoked war with others?

I’m not writing this to start anything. I’m not necessarily even looking for comments this time (although they’re always welcome!) This is just something that has been on my mind for a long time, and I finally found a way to bring it together and put my thoughts and feelings down in print. I have a great love for my Father in Heaven, and for the faith that has led me to that love. But I also have a great respect for those who are strong in their own faith, even though it may not agree with mine. I want to learn as much as I can about those faiths so that I can understand my fellow men, and grow to love them as my neighbors. Regardless of whether you agree with me or not, I strongly encourage everyone who reads this to take a look at the Common Word website, and to take some time to think a little bit about loving our God and loving our neighbors, and allowing all men the privilege to worship how, where, or what they may.

I will leave you with the concluding paragraph of “A Common Word”:

So let our differences not cause hatred and strife between us. Let us vie with each other only in righteousness and good works. Let us respect each other, be fair, just and kind to another and live in sincere peace, harmony and mutual goodwill.

A Month of Gratitude, Day 10

It's no surprise to anyone who's read my blog for the past year that there are some things about my church that make me uncomfortable.  I have been going through a faith transition of sorts lately, perhaps something that is long overdue, really, considering that I was born and raised Mormon and have never strayed from the church.  Mormons are prone to saying "I know" when talking about their beliefs regarding the church, and for many years that has made me uncomfortable.  There are not a lot of things that I can say I know for sure - I may believe them, but I don't know them - but the one things I feel I can say that I do know is that God loves me.  And today I'm thankful for the faith I have that allows me to know that.

What are you thankful for today?

An Open Letter to Those Who Do Not Understand Mormon Femnists

For many people, the phrase “Mormon feminist” is an oxymoron.  For others, it’s akin to heresy.  For me, it’s an identity.  It’s part of who I am.  Because so many people do not understand how it is possible to be both, and because I have read so many blog posts and Facebook comments recently expressing disdain and distaste for women who identify as Mormon feminists, I would like to explain what it means to me to be one.

First of all, let me say that my testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is not based on whether or not a woman prays in General Conference, or on what I wear to church, or on whether I will ever see my daughters pass the Sacrament.  Rather, my testimony is based on my understanding of the teachings of Christ and on the love I feel from Him in my life.  There are many things about which I feel comfortable saying “I believe”, but there are not many things about which I feel comfortable saying “I know”.  However, one thing I do know is that my Savior loves me.  I know He knows me personally, and I know He sees not only who I am now, but who I want to be.  When I am at my lowest He is there to lift me up and He gives me strength when I am weak.  Because I know He loves me, I also know that God loves me.

Many people who are opposed to feminism in the Church assume that what feminists are seeking is equal power – that all we want is the Priesthood.  It is true that there are women agitating for the opportunity to hold the Priesthood.  But this is only a small part of what feminists want, and it is not something that is wanted by all who identify as feminists.

Instead, what feminists want are equal rights.  We want to be acknowledged as important, and not just for our ability to give birth and to nurture children.  Yes, these are important qualities that women possess, but not all women will become mothers.  What, then, is their role in the Church?  What of the women who do not wish to be placed on pedestals and told that they are better than men, or more spiritual, or more righteous?  These are tokens, and they feel like a condescending pat on the head.  I do not wish to be better than any man, or any woman.  I only wish to be equal.

On April 6, a woman made history in the Church, and all she did was offer a prayer.  Of course, women pray all the time, even in public.  But this particular prayer closed the first session of the 183^rd annual General Conference of the Church.  And until that moment, no woman had ever been invited to offer a prayer in a general session of General Conference.  Why not?  No one really knows.  There is no clear reason, except that women had never prayed in Conference before.  Tradition.  A group joined together and wrote letters, requesting that a break in tradition be considered.  Amid outcry from members who did not understand why anyone cared, the letters were sent to Church headquarters in Salt Lake City.  According to the official Church spokesman, the decision regarding who would pray was made months before General Conference, so it seems likely that women (a woman prayed to open the concluding session of Conference on April 7) were already slated to pray before the letter-writing campaign even began.  However, I firmly believe that, regardless of when the decision was made, God heard the prayers of the people advocating for change and He answered them, in His own way and in His own time.

When Joseph Smith was a boy, God did not just appear to him and tell him to start a new church.  Even though I’d like to think that this was in His plans all along, it wasn’t until Joseph went to God in prayer and ASKED Him which church to join that God gave him the answer that he should not join any, but that God had a work for him to do.  In the scriptures we are told, over and over, to ask for help.  “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.” -James 1:5.  “And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.”  -Matthew 21:22.  “Ask, and it shall be given unto you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” -3 Nephi 14:7.  And over and over and over.  God is pretty clear that He keeps the lines of communication open.  He welcomes our questions, and we are told that He will answer us.

Why, then, if we believe these words so strongly, and if we believe that God listened to the prayers of a 14-year-old farmboy, do we find it so hard to believe that God will listen to and answer the prayers of hundreds of women?  President Gordon B. Hinckley, Prophet and President of the Church from 1995-2008, was asked in an interview if he thought women could ever be given the Priesthood in the Church, if the current policies could ever change, and he answered, “Yes.  But there’s no agitation for that.”  That was in 1997, and perhaps there was no agitation then, but now, in 2013, there is.  I don’t think it’s such a leap to believe that it’s possible that things could change.  Who are we to claim to know and understand God’s plans?

I participated in the now infamous “Wear Pants to Church Day”.  I did this for a variety of reasons, but mostly because I felt it was important to stand up for those women who feel marginalized in the Church.  And whether or not anyone else THINKS women should feel that way does not change the fact that there are women who DO feel that way.  After Sacrament Meeting was over that day, I had a woman give me a hug and thank me for wearing pants.  I didn’t know before then that she felt that, but she needed someone to wear pants for her, and I’m glad I followed my heart and chose to do so.

It is wrong to tell others how to feel.  We are human; we cannot always control our emotions and our experiences.  We all come from different places in life, and things touch us in different ways.  What feels right to me will not feel right to everyone else.  There are many Mormon women who are perfectly comfortable with the way things are in the Church, and I applaud and genuinely congratulate them.  But there are also many Mormon women who do not.  For one reason or another, or for many reasons put together, we do not feel represented, understood, heard, or respected in the Church.  This is certainly not to say that we do not feel these things from God, but rather from the men who run the Church here on earth.  And this is why we have chosen to speak up and speak out.

I do not know whether women will ever hold the Priesthood in the LDS church.  I don’t even know if this matters to me or not – I haven’t figured that out yet.  But what does matter to me is that women have a place in the Church where they feel safe, loved, and understood.  Where they feel represented and respected.  Where they can share in worship and love without worrying that they will be turned away by other Church members for questioning tradition.  Because if the Gospel of Jesus Christ is about love, then why are those of us who do not fit into the traditional Mormon mold being shown so little love from our fellow Church members?

Please show us, your sisters, some love and respect.  Please make an effort to understand where we are coming from.  Please stop belittling us for feeling the way we do, even if you do not understand how or why we could feel that way.  Please do not make it harder for us to stay in the Church.  The Gospel of Jesus Christ is perfect, even if His followers are not.  He welcomes our questions.  All we can ask is that, as His people, you do the same.  We need your love; please don’t turn us away.

He is Risen!

He is risen! He is risen!

Tell it out with joyful voice.
He has burst his three days’ prison;
Let the whole wide earth rejoice.
Death is conquered; man is free.
Christ has won the victory.

Come with high and holy hymning;
Chant our Lord’s triumphant lay.
Not one darksome cloud is dimming
Yonder glorious morning ray,
Breaking o’er the purple east,
Symbol of our Easter feast.

He is risen! He is risen!
He hath opened heaven’s gate.
We are free from sin’s dark prison,
Risen to a holier state.
And a brighter Easter beam
On our longing eyes shall stream.

                                                    -Cecil Francis Alexander

Pants, part 2

I did it.  I wore pants to church.

Between Wednesday morning, when I made the decision to participate in Wear Pants to Church Day, and today, I've had a lot of time to think about this event, and what it truly means to me.

I did not expect the backlash that swelled around this event.  It seemed fairly innocuous to me, a great way to make a statement without really making a statement.  As people have said over and over, on both sides of the argument, it's not about what we wear to church, it's about what's in our hearts.  But for most Mormons, dressing up for church is a very important sign of respect for our Father in Heaven, and a way to separate Sunday, our Sabbath Day, from the rest of the week.  And I completely agree with this.

But I also agree with the many Mormon women who feel that the scales are out of balance when it comes to men and women in the Church.  I listed a few reasons for this in my original post on pants, but since I wrote that I found this excellent post, which lists more, many of which resonate with me.  Knowing there are women who feel like they do not have a voice or a place in this church that they so fully believe strengthened my resolve to participate in the event, to wear pants to church today, not to protest the "dress code", but to show solidarity and support for women everywhere in the Church.

I've had one prayer in my heart constantly over the past several days: that the Lord would help me to have my heart in the right place today as I went to church in my gray slacks, and that he would help me to be able to touch at least one person in the way that they needed.  I told Him that I didn't even need to know about it, but I asked Him to just let me be a light to someone today.

As far as I could tell, I was the only woman in pants in my ward today.  Chris wore his new purple tie (purple being the color historically associated with the suffragette movement and the suggested way for men to participate), and Vicki wore her black gaucho-style pants, which she unashamedly wears to church on a regular basis (despite admitting to me that she has gotten some strange looks and a few questions).  I know people noticed my pants as I walked in, but no one said anything, and I didn't feel any animosity.  I often sing with the choir on short notice, and I was asked to join them today, but I respectfully declined because I didn't want to draw attention to myself when I'd already made it clear that I wouldn't be "parading my pants down the aisle" (although the reason I gave the choir director was that I didn't know the song, which is also true).  It was a very pleasant meeting with two wonderful talks on keeping Christ in Christmas, and I felt comfortable (both spiritually and emotionally as well as physically) and content.

And after the meeting was over, as I was standing up ready to leave, a lady that I've always admired came up to me, gave me a hug, and said she agreed with everything I'd written on my blog and wanted to let me know that she'd have worn pants if she'd had any that were appropriate.

So today I'm thankful that I chose to wear my pants.  I'm thankful for an answer to a prayer, for the opportunity to be a light, and for the strength to stand up for what I believe is good and right.

Pants

The idea of dressing up for worship is an old one, and a common one in most Christian churches, though more and more churches these days have adopted a come-as-you-are attitude that encourages people to come to church with a focus on worship and not on the dress of those around them.  I have no problem with this, because I’m most comfortable in jeans and t-shirts every day of the week.

However, I also really love the idea of dressing our best for the Lord.  As someone who wears jeans and t-shirts every day of the week, I enjoy making a distinction on the day that is set aside for worship.  Sunday is a special day, separate from the rest of the week, and when I put on my “Sunday best”, it’s helping me to make that distinction.

I own a very nice pair of gray slacks.  I bought them years ago to wear to work, and I pull them out every once in a great while now that I no longer have a job that requires business casual attire.  I also own a denim skirt, which is very clearly denim (in other words, not so dark it could be mistaken for navy cotton).  It is socially acceptable (within the Church) for me to wear my denim skirt to church, but not my gray slacks.  Why is this?  If we are supposed to wear our very best for the Lord, why is it acceptable for me to wear something that would be rejected at most jobs that require people to dress up (for example, can you imagine a female senator or governor showing up for work in a denim skirt?), but it is not acceptable for me to wear pants that are much more dressy?

A group of women have organized this Sunday, December 16, as “Wear Pants to Church Day”.  They are encouraging women to take this tiny baby step toward a little more equality in the Church and wear “...not jeans, or sweats, or yoga pants, but dress pants. Tailored suits and flowing shalwars and holiday-appropriate black velvet. Pants that are modest, elegant, and feminine, and not at all out of place in a church house (not that we think you need to be any of those things to worship God!).”

Their purpose for this event?  “…to give voice to and express support for women who don’t conform to traditional gender roles and those who seek gender equality in the LDS church.”  There are those of us out there who, for whatever reason, don’t fit in to the traditional gender roles defined by the Church.  Women who feel uncomfortable at church.  Some may still continue to attend, some may not.  Everyone has their struggles, and until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes, it’s wrong to judge them.

I guess now is a good time for me to come out and say it: I am a feminist.

I’m also a Mormon.  It’s kind of an awkward place to be.

Now, before folks go getting all riled up, I’d like to address the term “feminist”.  See, there are certain individuals out there with a public presence who try to silence women, especially strong women, by distorting the message of feminism, and calling us belittling names like “femi-nazi”.  We are not demanding to be the same as men.  We are not trying to take rights away from men, or to make the world entirely gender-neutral.  I’m proud to be a woman and happy to be different from men.  What I’m hoping for, and praying for, is the equality that should be extended to all of God’s children, regardless of race, religion, or gender - the equality that is lacking in so many places and points of view.  As Sandra Ford said in her recent post on Feminist Mormon Housewives:

"We envision a world where we can participate fully in our religion, where we are afforded the same opportunities as our fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons: a place where programs for girls receive funding on par programs for boys; a place where young women are encouraged to serve missions on the same terms as young men; a place where women can finish their schooling without being criticized for putting off marriage and pursue careers without being condemned for abandoning the home; a place where mothers can bless their sick children and preside alongside their husbands in the home; a place where our spiritual progress is based on our worth as individuals, rather than on our relationships to the men around us."

I like being a woman; I don’t want to be a man.  I don’t want to be better than the men around me.  I don’t want to have more than them, or be above them in any way.  I simply want to be equal.

I consider us a feminist family.  Ask Chris; he’ll say the same.  (In fact, sometimes I think he’s more of a feminist than I am.)  With three daughters, it’s important to both of us that they grow up to be strong, independent women, that they are sure of themselves and comfortable with who they are. 

This is not about the Priesthood.  Over and over in the Church, women are placed second to men.  The budget for youth programs for girls is much smaller than it is for boys (the Young Men and Young Women programs generally have the same budget, but the Scouts often have an additional, separate budget even though they fund the same boys; Cub Scouts get a rather large portion of the Primary budget, but the Activity Days girls don’t generally get a budget at all).  I was fortunate enough to grow up in a part of the world where the Boy Scout program was not part of the youth program at church, so our activities were pretty similar, but I dread the day when Vicki, who would spend all summer at camp if we let her, realizes how many camping trips the boys take and how much more money is spent on them compared to the girls.  This is one reason why we will continue with the Girl Scout program in addition to the Church programs, at least as long as our girls want to.  Women do not give the prayers in General Conference, though two or three may speak over the course of the four general sessions.  The Priesthood session takes place the same weekend as the general sessions, twice a year, but the sessions that are specific to women take place the weekend before, are referred to as “broadcasts” rather than “sessions”, and alternate between the Relief Society in the fall and the Young Women in the spring.  Women are not called to positions such as Ward Clerk or Sunday School President, even though neither of those callings is a Priesthood position.

The fact that women do not hold the Priesthood in our church is not why I will be wearing pants to church on Sunday.   Maybe women will hold the Priesthood one day, maybe they won’t.  But I hope one day my daughters will be able to walk into church in a nice pair of slacks, maybe chat with the people in the next pew about the beautiful prayer Sister So-and-so gave last week in General Conference, and then send their daughters off to Young Women, where they’ll make plans for their next camping trip.

I believe in a loving Savior who knows me as an individual and loves me for who I am and who I want to become.   He knows my strengths and my weaknesses, and, most importantly, He knows my heart.  His Gospel is a gospel of love, of understanding, of forgiveness and mercy.  When I show up in Church on Sunday in my gray slacks, I believe He will understand why I am wearing them, and He will be proud of me.

A Common Word - Thoughts on September 11

Eleven years ago, I was watching Sesame Street with my then 10-month-old baby girl.  When the show ended, I flipped the channel over, hoping to find something a little more grown up to watch.  What I found instead changed the world forever.

I thank God that I was not personally affected by the events that took place on September 11, 2001.  I was living in Salt Lake City, surrounded by all my family.  I didn't know a single person in New York City or Pennsylvania, and the closest friend I had to Washington D.C. was a teacher in Northern Virginia.  Everyone I knew and loved was safe.

Even then, though, I still felt pain.  Pain, shock, horror, and disbelief at what was done to my country, to my fellow men.  I also felt overwhelmed at the response of so many, both by Americans and by people from so many other nations.  I remember seeing American flags proudly wave from homes, cars, and buildings all over the world.  I remember hearing "I'm Proud to be an American" (a song that, as a former expatriate, already had a dear place in my heart) play over and over on the radio.  Most of all, I remember the amazing sense of kinship I felt with all my fellow Americans.  Everyone came together to stand united in the face of such tragedy.  That feeling of unity is something I will always treasure, a beautiful rose risen among the ugly thorns of terror.

I wrote the following post in March of 2009, and I've reposted it on 9/11 once before, but I feel it is appropriate to post it again today.  Enjoy.

A few months ago I read a book called The Faith Club. It was written by three women – a Muslim, a Christian, and a Jew – who met together in the wake of 9/11 to discuss their beliefs and to try to come to an understanding of each other. It was fascinating to follow the journey each of them made as they learned and reached out to each other. What on the surface seemed like a simple thing – a social gathering, a time to build friendships and learn a little from each other – became a turning point for all three as they struggled not only to understand the beliefs of the other two women but also to gain a deeper understanding and testimony of their own as they were challenged in ways they had never been before. It was inspiring. I have a friend who is an Orthodox Jew, and we’ve discussed our religions, and their similarities and differences. Reading this book made me wish I knew a Muslim woman, too, so I could start my own faith club. Of course, I’d probably include another Christian, of the more mainstream variety (I already have one in mind!), since Mormonism is different enough to warrant some discussion there as well.

Anyway, since reading this book, I have had such a desire to come to an understanding with people of different faiths. I’m not looking to agree with them, or have them agree with me. I just want to understand and find common ground. All three of these major world religions come from the same beginning. We are all Abraham’s seed. There are major doctrinal differences, things that will probably never be agreed upon, but we all pray to the same God, whether we call Him by the same name or not.

This brings me to the purpose of this post. Lately I have noticed that a lot of Christians (Mormons included) still seem to harbor ill will towards followers of Islam. The more I see or hear of this, the more it upsets me. I’ve been having a hard time sitting by quietly and allowing these things to go unchallenged. I suppose I can understand the sentiment behind the mindset; after all, terrible things have been done in this world in the name of Islam. However, I firmly believe that these things are being done by people who either do not fully understand the true message of their religion, or who chose to follow only select words, without giving heed to the full meaning in conjunction with the rest of their religious beliefs. I am no expert on Islam, and cannot even claim to be an expert on Christianity or Mormonism, but I do believe that none of these faiths condone the things that are being done in the world today in the name of God. It makes me sad to see the way all of Islam is being lumped together as a religion that tolerates, supports, and even encourages violent acts.

The truth is that, just like there are different sects of Christianity who hold to different sets of doctrine, there is a small portion of Muslims who believe it is the will of God that they engage in jihad, or holy war, against other nations. But this is not true of the majority of Muslims. It amazes me how we Christians are so willing to believe this misleading information when there is so much out there that gives incorrect “facts” about our own beliefs. There are websites dedicated to informing the world that all Mormons are polygamists and all of Mormonism is of the devil, in the same way that there are sites that would have the world believe that all Muslims are jihadists and that all Islam is evil. They’re out there; we’ve all seen them at some point, and when they’re about our own beliefs we’ve all been disgusted and outraged that anyone could be so misinformed and disrespectful about something we hold sacred. Why, then, can we be so willing to believe things about other religions without doing unbiased research. Ah, the appeal of a Faith Club…

I have been bothered by this for awhile now, feeling like I should say something to stand up for a people, who, in my experience and study, I have come to believe are generally kind and peace-loving, but I haven’t known how to go about it. Until yesterday, that is, when I read this article in The Oregonian. It talked about an open letter to Christians written and endorsed by many Muslim leaders. This letter, titled “A Common Word Between Us”, calls for an understanding between Muslims and Christians, using passages from both the Qur’an and the Bible to make its point. It establishes the fact that the two greatest commandments in both Islam and Christianity are to love God above all else and then to love your neighbors – all your neighbors. Who can argue with that? And, given that, who can really believe that Islam teaches unprovoked war with others?

I’m not writing this to start anything. I’m not necessarily even looking for comments this time (although they’re always welcome!) This is just something that has been on my mind for a long time, and I finally found a way to bring it together and put my thoughts and feelings down in print. I have a great love for my Father in Heaven, and for the faith that has led me to that love. But I also have a great respect for those who are strong in their own faith, even though it may not agree with mine. I want to learn as much as I can about those faiths so that I can understand my fellow men, and grow to love them as my neighbors. Regardless of whether you agree with me or not, I strongly encourage everyone who reads this to take a look at the Common Word website, and to take some time to think a little bit about loving our God and loving our neighbors, and allowing all men the privilege to worship how, where, or what they may.

I will leave you with the concluding paragraph of “A Common Word”:

So let our differences not cause hatred and strife between us. Let us vie with each other only in righteousness and good works. Let us respect each other, be fair, just and kind to another and live in sincere peace, harmony and mutual goodwill.

From a Sparrow to a Star

Vicki's school participates in Sparrow Clubs.  Each year they sponsor a youth with a medical need, and for each hour of community service a student performs, $10 is donated to the youth's family.  It's a great way to help middle schoolers learn to see beyond themselves, and to understand the benefits of service.  Vicki and her friends have been very excited about sponsoring their Sparrow, a local high school senior named Felicia.

Most of the kids have never even met Felicia, but, after having been invested in her cause for the better part of a school year, they have grown to love her.  Which is why it was devastating for them to learn that this past weekend she was brought home from the hospital and placed under Hospice care.  And even more devastating to learn that early Thursday morning her battle with cancer finally came to an end.

It was a sad day for our entire community.  Her family is well known and loved, and so many people have come to know and love Felicia herself.  When Vicki arrived home from school with a heavy heart, I shared with her the tributes that people were posting on Facebook, including this one:

"When you look up at the night sky and see the newest, brightest, most sparkling star, you'll know it's Felicia."

At about 9:30 last night Vicki knocked on my bedroom door, asking me if I could come outside with her for a minute.  I couldn't imagine why a kid who should already be asleep in bed already would want to go outside on a chilly, rainy night until she quietly said, "Mom, I want to look at the stars."

So my daughter and I went outside and looked up at the sky for a few minutes to honor this beautiful brave girl who neither of us had even met, but who had deeply touched both our lives.

Through the clouds, only one star was visible, and it was sparkling brightly.

He is Risen!

He is risen! He is risen!
Tell it out with joyful voice.
He has burst his three days’ prison;
Let the whole wide earth rejoice.
Death is conquered; man is free.
Christ has won the victory.

Come with high and holy hymning;
Chant our Lord’s triumphant lay.
Not one darksome cloud is dimming
Yonder glorious morning ray,
Breaking o’er the purple east,
Symbol of our Easter feast.

He is risen! He is risen!
He hath opened heaven’s gate.
We are free from sin’s dark prison,
Risen to a holier state.
And a brighter Easter beam
On our longing eyes shall stream.

                                                    -Cecil Francis Alexander

9/11 Healing

Ten years later, I still remember how utterly surreal it was to go from watching Sesame Street to watching the world I knew change forever.

But while the world around me changed, I was not personally affected by the September 11 attacks.  No one I knew was flying that day.  I didn't know anyone working at the Pentagon, or a single person in New York City, let alone anyone in the World Trade towers.  While life for Americans in general changed, my own personal life was not altered in the horrific way it was for others.  I can't imagine the pain and horror those who were affected had to deal with.

Phyllis Rodriguez's son was in one of the Twin Towers that day.  It took 36 hours of anxiety before his family found out that he had been killed.  Aicha el-Wafi's son is Zacarias Moussaoui, who was sentenced as a conspirator in the attacks.  The two women have formed a beautiful, inspiring friendship that speaks volumes about the power of forgiveness, healing, and mutual understanding and respect.



It is my prayer today, and every day, that we as a human race can strive to, as Aicha el-Wafi says, "...all live together in peace, and respecting each other."

He Lives!

I know that my Redeemer lives.
What comfort this sweet sentence gives!
He lives, He lives who once was dead.
He lives, my ever living Head.

He lives to silence all my fears.
He lives to wipe away my tears.
He lives to calm my troubled heart.
He lives, all blessings to impart.

He lives!  All glory to His name!
He lives, my Savior, still the same.
Oh, sweet the joy this sentence gives:
I know that my Redeemer lives!

Sunday Bribery Encouragement

Last Sunday was not a good day in church.

If you're my friend on Facebook, you're aware of that.  Seeing as how my status that afternoon was me wondering whether I'd qualified for extra points in the next life by not killing my children in church.

See, a couple of months ago, Chris was called to be a counselor in our Bishopric, which, for all you non-Mormon readers, means he's an assistant to the leader of our congregation, who is called the Bishop.  Our church has a lay ministry, and all leadership positions are filled by members of the congregation.

What this means for Chris is more responsibilities and more meetings.  What this means for the rest of us is Sunday services without Daddy, since the Bishopric sit together on the stand where they can keep an eye on the congregation be visible to the congregation.

The girls are old enough that they're not too much trouble in church.  They can control their wiggles (for the most part) and don't need snacks or emergency walks to keep them sane.  I usually bring a bag with notebooks, crayons and pencils to keep them busy, but they should be fully capable of sitting through an hour-long service without too much trouble, especially when they've been attending that hour-long service every single week for their entire lives.

Which is why I thought I was going to completely lose it on Sunday.

No, strike that.  I did lose it.  Completely.

I won't name names, but the experience culminated in all the coloring materials being confiscated (apparently the "dirty crayons" are unpopular.  Who knew?) and one daughter being marched out of the chapel and into an empty classroom, where she was placed on a chair in a corner and instructed to remain there alone until she was ready to be in church.

She contemplated the ramifications of this punishment and asked what would happen if she wasn't ready by the time church was over.

Suffice it to say, there wasn't a lot of meaningful worship going on in our pew that day.  And my daughters all spent the majority of Sunday afternoon in their bedroom, contemplating, in theory, where they had gone astray and what they could do to put themselves back in Mother's good graces.

I've been thinking about this ever since then, wondering where I've gone wrong and why it is that my children look on Sunday services as something they're being dragged to, rather than something they're attending willingly.  They love their Sunday school classes, but the worship service itself is clearly, in their eyes, something to be tolerated, but not enjoyed.

The one thing I'd decided by Sunday afternoon is that we are no longer bringing crayons to church.  Vicki is 10 and only colors because the materials are there anyway.  I'm pretty sure she can handle the meeting without a problem.  Lexi is 8 and should be capable of sitting quietly for an hour.  Even if she has no interest in the speakers, she has a vivid imagination and could easily lose herself in daydreams and simply appear to be listening.  I don't care, as long as she's not disruptive.  And Ellie...well, at 5 she may need a little distraction still, but I'm sure she could make it through one talk.  Maybe I'll still bring crayons for her.  I haven't decided yet.

But this morning I read this post by one of my favorite bloggers, Daring Young Mom.  It's comforting to know I'm not the only one out there dealing with this.    My favorite part? 

"Technically I know they’re not old enough to sit and worship for an hour and have a meaningful experience but I do think they should be capable of faking it so people around us can enjoy being there."

Exactly.

She has a great plan for encouraging this kind of faking it in her children.  I'm not thrilled with the idea of bribing my children to make it through church, but at the same time, not bribing them is clearly not working.  And I'm definitely not above bribery.  What parent is, truly?  And bribing with dedicated one-on-one Mom or Dad time?  Priceless.  At least in this house.

We'll be on vacation for the next few Sundays, and therefore going to church with grandmas, who seem to encourage good Sunday behavior without even trying, but you can expect a full report sometime after the New Year, when we've had a chance to test it out a few times.  If it works, I'll be able to enjoy meaningful worship and people at church will think my children are little angels.

If it doesn't, well, there are a lot of empty classrooms.

A Time and a Place

Sorry in advance for two kind of heavy posts in a row.  I'm sure my kids will do or say something hilarious any day now, and we'll be back to the light, fluffy fun that is normally this blog!

Being Obama supporters, we stand out a little bit in our church. Not too many Mormons are up there with us, but we don’t mind too much. At church, it’s the Gospel we have in common that matters, after all, not the politics. Some Sundays we joke about parking our Obama bumper-stickered car next to the car with the Mitt Romney bumper stickers, but chances are no one would even notice. We wouldn’t be making any sweeping statements, anyway; it just makes us giggle. By now we’re used to being different and we like being that way.

This morning Chris and I spent a wonderful three hours in the temple, a place of quiet reflection, learning, and worship for worthy members of the Church. We were joining some friends who were attending for their first time and being joined eternally as a family. A husband, wife, and their two sons together forever – what a beautiful thing. We were honored to be invited to share such an intimate and joyful occasion with them, and we’re so happy for them. It was a great morning, full of love and friendship and the Spirit.

We left the temple feeling refreshed and renewed and walked across the beautiful grounds to our car, where we were immediately brought crashing back to earth.

Someone had left a small card stuck in the driver’s side window with a hand-written statement saying something to the effect that if we were just doing our homework we’d learn how much Obama was working against the Church.

Wow.

I’m guessing whoever left us that note saw our bumper sticker and was horrified. They probably decided that the best thing they could do, as a patriotic American, was to share their “knowledge” with people they clearly felt were less-enlightened than they. The note was obviously scrawled in a hurry; they probably thought they were doing us a favor. In all honesty, what came across was just plain old self-righteousness. We’re secure enough in our faith and our convictions that, while the rudeness bothered us, we’re not deeply affected by this petty attempt at persuasion. However, I can’t help thinking about what might have happened if our situation had been different.

Suppose we’d come to the temple this morning seeking guidance or reassurance for troubled hearts?

Suppose we were just returning to the temple after years of inactivity?

Suppose we were, like our friends, attending the temple for the very first time?

Suppose we weren’t even Mormon, but just visiting the grounds out of curiosity?

The temple is supposed to be a place of peace, love, and Godliness. Only members of the Church who have shown a willingness to make very specific and sacred covenants with God are allowed inside. Those who attend often leave filled with the Spirit and renewed in their convictions to lead a Christlike life. Church members spend a good amount of conversation with non-members explaining why not just anyone is permitted inside.

What does such a passive-aggressive attempt at political persuasion outside the building say to an outside observer about the hearts of the people inside?

It took one crazy preacher with a match and an agenda to inflame the whole of the Muslim world; it could take just one person with a pen and an opinion to change someone’s views about Mormons and the temple.

Fortunately, I do know that our note-writer is a rare soul; most people who attend the temple would never even think about doing something so crass. We know many people at church who strongly disagree with us politically, but we still see them as wonderful, Christlike people. I’d like to believe that our anonymous note-writer is also a good person who just thought they were righting a wrong.

So here’s the lesson I’ve chosen to take from this experience: think before you speak out.

Not everything needs to be said. You may not like President Obama; well, I don’t like Glenn Beck. But we don’t have to agree politically in order to agree about anything else. We really don’t. Religion and politics do not mix well, but they don’t need to. Jesus spent time with Pharisees and sinners alike, and the wonderful thing about His plan is that we are allowed the agency to make our own choices. If you don’t agree with my choices, and you feel it necessary to speak up, speak up directly to me. Leaving anonymous notes definitely won’t do anything positive for your cause. Trust me.

So if you get nothing else out of this post, please, please remember this: there’s a time and a place for everything. It’s a wonderful thing to have so much diversity in the world. Differences of opinion are what make life interesting. But there’s a time and a place for bringing up those differences.

And the House of the Lord is not it.

A Common Word (reposted)

There's a good chance everyone reading this right now can remember exactly what they were doing 9 years ago today when the world changed forever; I know I can.  I will never, ever forget the shock of turning the channel from the childlike innocence of Sesame Street to the unthinkable horror that was New York City that day.  It was a tragic day for all Americans, yes, and we should never forget it, but it was also a tragic day for Muslims the world over, and that's also something we should never forget.

What follows is something I originally wrote and posted on March 11, 2009, but it feels appropriate to me, particularly in light of recent events, to repost it today.  May we always remember the spirit of brotherhood and love that we all embraced in the fall of 2001 and strive to return to that attitude in our dealings with our fellow men, regardless of their race, religion, or values.

A few months ago I read a book called The Faith Club. It was written by three women – a Muslim, a Christian, and a Jew – who met together in the wake of 9/11 to discuss their beliefs and to try to come to an understanding of each other. It was fascinating to follow the journey each of them made as they learned and reached out to each other. What on the surface seemed like a simple thing – a social gathering, a time to build friendships and learn a little from each other – became a turning point for all three as they struggled not only to understand the beliefs of the other two women but also to gain a deeper understanding and testimony of their own as they were challenged in ways they had never been before. It was inspiring. I have a friend who is an Orthodox Jew, and we’ve discussed our religions, and their similarities and differences. Reading this book made me wish I knew a Muslim woman, too, so I could start my own faith club. Of course, I’d probably include another Christian, of the more mainstream variety (I already have one in mind!), since Mormonism is different enough to warrant some discussion there as well.

Anyway, since reading this book, I have had such a desire to come to an understanding with people of different faiths. I’m not looking to agree with them, or have them agree with me. I just want to understand and find common ground. All three of these major world religions come from the same beginning. We are all Abraham’s seed. There are major doctrinal differences, things that will probably never be agreed upon, but we all pray to the same God, whether we call Him by the same name or not.

This brings me to the purpose of this post. Lately I have noticed that a lot of Christians (Mormons included) still seem to harbor ill will towards followers of Islam. The more I see or hear of this, the more it upsets me. I’ve been having a hard time sitting by quietly and allowing these things to go unchallenged. I suppose I can understand the sentiment behind the mindset; after all, terrible things have been done in this world in the name of Islam. However, I firmly believe that these things are being done by people who either do not fully understand the true message of their religion, or who chose to follow only select words, without giving heed to the full meaning in conjunction with the rest of their religious beliefs. I am no expert on Islam, and cannot even claim to be an expert on Christianity or Mormonism, but I do believe that none of these faiths condone the things that are being done in the world today in the name of God. It makes me sad to see the way all of Islam is being lumped together as a religion that tolerates, supports, and even encourages violent acts.

The truth is that, just like there are different sects of Christianity who hold to different sets of doctrine, there is a small portion of Muslims who believe it is the will of God that they engage in jihad, or holy war, against other nations. But this is not true of the majority of Muslims. It amazes me how we Christians are so willing to believe this misleading information when there is so much out there that gives incorrect “facts” about our own beliefs. There are websites dedicated to informing the world that all Mormons are polygamists and all of Mormonism is of the devil, in the same way that there are sites that would have the world believe that all Muslims are jihadists and that all Islam is evil. They’re out there; we’ve all seen them at some point, and when they’re about our own beliefs we’ve all been disgusted and outraged that anyone could be so misinformed and disrespectful about something we hold sacred. Why, then, can we be so willing to believe things about other religions without doing unbiased research. Ah, the appeal of a Faith Club…

I have been bothered by this for awhile now, feeling like I should say something to stand up for a people, who, in my experience and study, I have come to believe are generally kind and peace-loving, but I haven’t known how to go about it. Until yesterday, that is, when I read this article in The Oregonian. It talked about an open letter to Christians written and endorsed by many Muslim leaders. This letter, titled “A Common Word Between Us”, calls for an understanding between Muslims and Christians, using passages from both the Qur’an and the Bible to make its point. It establishes the fact that the two greatest commandments in both Islam and Christianity are to love God above all else and then to love your neighbors – all your neighbors. Who can argue with that? And, given that, who can really believe that Islam teaches unprovoked war with others?

I’m not writing this to start anything. I’m not necessarily even looking for comments this time (although they’re always welcome!) This is just something that has been on my mind for a long time, and I finally found a way to bring it together and put my thoughts and feelings down in print. I have a great love for my Father in Heaven, and for the faith that has led me to that love. But I also have a great respect for those who are strong in their own faith, even though it may not agree with mine. I want to learn as much as I can about those faiths so that I can understand my fellow men, and grow to love them as my neighbors. Regardless of whether you agree with me or not, I strongly encourage everyone who reads this to take a look at the Common Word website, and to take some time to think a little bit about loving our God and loving our neighbors, and allowing all men the privilege to worship how, where, or what they may.

I will leave you with the concluding paragraph of “A Common Word”:

So let our differences not cause hatred and strife between us. Let us vie with each other only in righteousness and good works. Let us respect each other, be fair, just and kind to another and live in sincere peace, harmony and mutual goodwill.

Preach the Word, Sister

Turns out Ellie gets a lot more out of church than we realized.

In the car after church on Sunday, she announced that as soon as we got home she was going over to Mavis’s house. Mavis, which is not her real name but sounds good on my blog, is our next-door neighbor. She and her sister LaVern moved in right after we did, so Ellie’s known them all her life. We fondly refer to them as our cat-lady neighbors, not because they’re crazy like cat ladies (because they’re not) but simply because they do have a lot of cats.

However, we don’t normally just go visit them at random, so we knew something was up.

Apparently in Ellie’s class at church they talked about being missionaries. I can only guess that her wonderful teachers probably suggested that friends and neighbors would be the perfect starting place for these little budding missionaries, not even expecting anything beyond the word missionary to make it out the door (and thinking they’d be lucky to even get that.) But Ellie is a funny little duck. The things you’d really like her to remember are gone in a second, and anything you assume she’ll forget will probably be remembered for eternity.

And she was one determined little duck. Not wanting to crush her missionary hopes, but slightly fearful of causing awkwardness in our otherwise comfortable neighborly relationship, we tried to discourage her from running over straightaway. We said we’d discuss at dinner how our family could best be missionaries. We made other, less awkward suggestions.

We thought we'd redirected her fervor, but we were fools.

After dinner the girls went outside to enjoy the rare sunshine. Chris and I holed up with books in an unusually quiet house. We learned later that Ellie marched herself right up to Mavis and LaVern’s door, knocked, and when LaVern opened up, said, “Hi! Do you need any help learning more about the Gospel?”

LaVern said, thank you, no, she was just fine, but would Ellie like to pet the cat?

At some point I will have to go next door myself and explain, but I think no harm was done. Even so-called cat ladies have a sense of humor.

The Gospel According to Ellie, Part 2

Part 1 can be found here.

For someone so young, Ellie has a fascinating take on gospel principles.

(I should state right here, for the sake of eliminating confusion, that some of these principles are unique to Mormonism. More information – and the non-four-year-old take on said principles – can be found here.)

For example, she seems to be pretty secure in the idea that she didn’t just live with God and Jesus before she came to earth, but that she was some sort of special sidekick to them. She claims that she did a lot of kicking of Satan in the head back then. You go, girl.

She also talks a lot about how she chose to follow Jesus, rather than joining Satan and his miserable 1/3 of the hosts of heaven. She talks so much about this that she’s kind of freaked out a few of her friends, who first of all do not belong to our church and therefore don’t seem to have any background in any sort of pre-existence teachings, and second of all, don’t seem to have quite the imaginary personal history of being a literal warrior for Christ. To them, Satan is The Devil, and The Devil is kinda scary. End of story.

But not Ellie. To her, Satan is someone we kick in the head and shout at to Go Away! And if people listen to him they do bad things, but she’s okay because she never listens to him, only to Jesus. So she might make little mistakes, but she’s not going to do really bad things. Oh, how I pray that attitude continues all her life.

But I digress...

Apart from her Satan obsession (which does seem to be lessening these days, thank Heaven (unintentional pun)), she’s also figuring out about the power of prayer. I wrote a rather lengthy post on this, which I’ve yet to actually post, but one day I will. Basically, one day not too long ago, she had a problem, decided to pray about it, and was then able to solve her problem. To a four-year-old, this means that God will solve all her problems if she just asks. If only that was how it worked.

On Sunday I roasted a chicken, and the drumsticks were in high demand. There are three girls, but our chicken, being of the normal variety of chickens, had only two drumsticks. Ellie, unfortunately (and due to the fact that she didn’t actually eat the last drumstick she was given) was the loser this time. Despite her despair, she volunteered to bless the food, and, through her sobs, asked Heavenly Father to please bless that Mommy and Daddy would give her a drumstick.

She finished the prayer (and her sobbing) and looked expectantly back and forth between the two of us, grinning. You could just see her thinking, Ha! I DARE you to say no now! But Heavenly Father, who I know without a doubt has a sense of humor, because He gave us the daughters He did, did not pull through for her on this one. Lesson learned, admidst a new flood of devastated tears. She got over it. I don’t think she really wanted to eat any chicken anyway, hand-held or fork-fed.

One last thing.  The other day I heard her telling our little babysitting friend, as she was leaving her alone in a room, “Don’t worry, if you get scared you can just pray and Jesus will help you not be scared anymore.” There’s nothing wrong with this except that I really have no idea what this family’s religious inclinations, if any, are and I really don’t want them to think that I’m preaching to their daughter behind their backs. There’s nothing wrong with a four-year-old talking about Jesus, but I sure don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.

But at least Ellie knows what she’s talking about and isn’t afraid to share her beliefs.

Another kick to the head for Satan right there, I think.

The Most Real Things in the World

This is the year it finally happened. I’ve been dreading it for a while now. I even thought it was over a year and a half ago, but that particular incident seems to have been forgotten.

This year, though, Vicki and her friends held a conference. They sat around their table at school and discussed Santa Claus. Was he real? Was he just their parents? Should they still believe in something that seemed so impossible?

When she came to me and demanded, “Tell me the truth”, I knew the game was over.

She’s 9 years old and in the 4th grade. She’s been asking about the Tooth Fairy for a while. I should have seen it coming. We’ve even had THE TALK with her, so it's not like I'm not aware that she's growing up.

But I wasn’t ready for this one!

After a day and a half of neither admitting nor denying anything, I finally worked up the nerve to fill her in. I told her the story of the little girl named Virginia O'Hanlon who wrote to a newspaper with the very same question.  Over the course of the conversation (the first response to which was an exultant, "I KNEW it!!!"  Sigh.) a lot of her questions were answered (for example, “Why does Target advertise stuff as a ‘great stocking stuffer’? Does Santa really shop at Target?”) and we had a really good mother-oldest daughter conversation.

She’s concluded that while she doesn’t believe in Santa as an actual person anymore, she still wants to believe in him as an idea, which I encourage. I pointed out that we don’t believe in the wizarding world of Harry Potter as a real world that co-exists with ours, but we still believe in the magic of the idea. Santa’s the same.

The most important part of our conversation centered around a comment she made when I told her Santa was the spirit of Christmas. She said, “But I thought Jesus was the spirit of Christmas.” I explained that Jesus is the Reason for Christmas – it’s a celebration of His birth and without Him there would be no need for Christmas. The spirit of Christmas is giving, and Santa is a representation and personification of that. The Savior gave us the Ultimate Gift, and when we give to others, it’s a way of remembering Him.

In the words of newspaper reporter Francis Pharcellus Church, who wrote the reply to Virginia in 1897, “The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see....Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.”

I'm relieved that Vicki will always believe in Santa Claus, even if she knows now who really leaves the presents.  At the end of the tooth fairy post I linked to above, I wrote, "I think Vicki will love being in on all the secrets, whenever that time comes, just as much as she loves believing right now."  This appears to be true.

Additionally, I do have to say: I still believe in Santa Claus!

Everyone enjoys a clean house

Our church does not employ a janitor. Well, okay, I’m sure there are janitors somewhere on the payroll of something or other owned by the Church. But for the individual meetinghouses, not so much. There are an awful lot of LDS meetinghouses in the world these days. Instead, the members get a chance to take stewardship of the building and give a little back. On Saturday it was our turn. The gentleman who coordinates this was enthusiastic about children coming along, which I think is great because A) I don’t want to pay someone to watch them for an hour and a half on a Saturday morning and B) I want them to understand that it’s important for us to take care of our church building. Hopefully the experience of cleaning it will encourage them to be aware of how their actions might affect the next person who cleans there.

We arrived promptly at 9:00 and Brother N. set us right to work, Chris cleaning windows and me vacuuming, and the girls helping wherever they could.

As I worked my way down the hall and through the classrooms, Vicki and Lexi moved chairs around and picked up the few pieces of garbage on the floor that were too big to vacuum. Ellie just sort of wandered between Chris and myself, thrilled that we were at the church, on a Saturday, with only a four other people.

We had talked with the girls beforehand about why the members clean the building, and how important it was for us to do a good job. And we’ve talked with them in the past about how the church building is Heavenly Father’s house, and how we therefore treat it with respect so that we can feel the Spirit while we’re there.

So I was vacuuming a classroom, and Ellie planted herself on a chair and announced, “Mommy, when Jesus gets home He will be so, so, sooooo surprised! And He will be happy with us for helping Him get His house clean. And then He will have a party, and we will get to come because we helped Him and He loves us!” She went on about this party for a while. It apparently will involve balloons.

Even though they do embellish a bit, it’s nice to know that at least some of what we tell them is getting through.

That will be some party.

Is there a recovery program for the day of rest?

There really should be.

In our family, we’ve tried hard to follow the commandment to remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.

For us, that means first and foremost going to church, to worship God and to learn His gospel. But beyond that, we try to spend the day doing only things that we feel will bring us closer to Him and closer together as a family. We read scriptures, play games, go for walks or bike rides, we read books and listen to uplifting music, and we (meaning the girls) watch pre-approved (by Mom & Dad) “Sunday shows”. Veggie Tales, Signing Time, and those free-if-you-listen-to-the-5-minute-shpiel Living Scripture videos are the norm, but we’ve enjoyed some good family time watching Planet Earth and The Muppet Show as well.

We’re somewhat flexible about what we do and don’t do on Sundays. We try to avoid working, but how you define “work” is pretty broad. We don’t shop, eat out, or buy gas, we don't build furniture or paint the house, and we try not to do anything that would cause other people to work, either. But we sometimes go to the garden and harvest the fruits of our labors, and if we pull a few weeds while we're there, well, we're just beautifying the land, right? And we did spend the last two Sunday afternoons making salsa, so make of that what you will. As a general rule, we don’t do playdates or go to birthday parties on Sundays, although we have made a couple of exceptions when circumstances call for it (the Orthodox Jewish friend, for example, who wasn’t going to have a party on a Saturday, ever.)

However, one type of work that seems to be a given to avoid on Sunday is cleaning the house.

Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s part of the general idea of that 4th Commandment. I know my thoughts are certainly not centered on Christ while I’m cleaning the bathroom or shouting at the kids to pick up their stuff. But I’m starting to think there’s a fine line between keeping the Sabbath day holy and keeping the mother’s sanity whole.

See, when we don’t clean up on Sunday, I end up hating life on Monday. The house is an overwhelming disaster and I have no motivation to do anything about it. None whatsoever. And when the house is messy, it makes me grumpy. And we all know, if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

So now I’ve started dreading Sundays. Because they’re no longer really a day of rest. Because I know we’ll make a big breakfast in the morning (church doesn't start until 1:00; we can do this), which we will then not clean up because we’ll be too busy hurrying to get everyone and the lessons they're supposed to be teaching ready for church. I know I’ll sit though church with three restless children who really do love the Lord but would rather worship Him in their own way, a way as yet undefined, but which clearly doesn’t involve sitting on a bench listening to grown-ups talk (I’m willing to bet it sounds to them like all the adults in the Peanuts shows.) I know we’ll come home to a house that was torn half apart while they waited for church time, only to tear the rest of it apart while they wait for bedtime. I know Chris and I will inevitably sit around reading or working on the computer, on the surface simply enjoying our day of rest, but really surreptitiously avoiding the kitchen clean-up, each hoping the other will decide to tackle it. And then we’ll wrestle the kids into bed, and while Chris is reading stories I’ll do a half-hearted pick-up, loading up and starting the dishwasher at least, knowing full well that Monday will be painful, but feeling powerless to stop it. It’s a vicious cycle.

It seems to me this whole “day of rest” business is just being taken too far around here. I’m all for following the Lord’s example and laboring for six days while resting on the seventh. But I’m pretty sure He didn’t do two days’ worth on the first day. I know in a few hours, when I make my daily “Jobs time!” shout-out, there will be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, and not just from me. How do other people with kids make it though Sundays, into Monday, with their sanity still intact? I’d really like to know.

And now, as I have written all I have to say on the matter, I have no more excuses. Time to tackle me some mess.

Happy Birthday to Meeeeeeee!

Yep, today is my birthday. I'm 32.

That doesn't make me feel old, but I think it does make my mom feel old. She's not, though. Look at her:
People think we're sisters. The picture's almost two years old, but she hasn't changed a bit. Nope, definitely not old.

Since my Mother's Day post was all about me, I decided it was only fitting that my birthday post be more about my mom, since she brought me into this world (and never once threatened to take me out of it!)*

On Sunday one of the talks at church was about how mothers show charity (charity being, of course, the pure love of Christ.) Well, my mom is the embodiment of charity. She "suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, and endureth all things." (Moroni 7:45) I don't think my mom has an unkind bone in her body. She is always willing to help those in need with no thought for herself. She puts up with all the teasing my dad and us four kids give her without ever complaining (so I sure hope she knows we do it out of love!) She raised us to choose the right and has always taught us by her good example. She has had a lot to deal with lately, and she has hung on and endured the ride, letting her faith in God hold her up. I have no doubt that my mother is one of His choice daughters, and I'm so grateful she's my mom. Love you, Mom!


Now, because it's my birthday and I'm far less charitable than my mother, I am going to demand a present from anyone who has read this far. Wait, don't leave now! It won't cost you a thing. What I want is for everyone who read this to leave me a comment and say hello. I like validation and I like to know who's reading my blog. I promise after this you can go back to lurking in silence and we'll all pretend that I never saw you here (although if you were looking for a good excuse to come out of lurk-dom and be a "reader" instead of a "stalker" - that's how I classify you all - then here's your chance!) Humor me, please, it's my birthday!

*The rest of my family should watch out, because I plan to blog about each of you at random, and possibly at seemingly inappropriate times. Consider yourselves warned.