Shifting Focus

I'm at the laundromat (again) engaged in a study of human behavior, and why wars break out when resources are scarce.  Not really. Well, sort of.  Our washer has been on the fritz for about 6 weeks, and I am not terribly mechanically inclined (which wouldn't be a big deal except that I can't find an owner's manual, either in our house or online, and since I am not terribly mechanically inclined, I need diagrams and drawings for such thing), and Doug hasn't fixed it yet, so I'm trying to get the laundry done before another busy weekend.  But to do all the laundry for six people (and it hasn't even been a full week yet) I need five washing machines, minimum.  Another woman got here at the same time as me and promptly filled up four of them.  Two are broken.  That leaves me with three.  Which means that in order to get all my laundry done tonight, I'm going to have to stay here twice as long as I planned.  And even though logically I know better, some part of me was convinced that she must be a horrible, horrible human being and I wanted to throw all her wet laundry on the floor and take her washers for myself.  Not really.  Well, sort of.  Just a teeny, tiny part of me.  It might've gotten bigger when I realized two of her loads were on a pre-soak.

I'm tired.  A couple of the kids had check ups and shots this morning at 8, and then story/craft time at the library at 10:30, then home for lunch and chores, and then a couple of hours at the pool, where of course I got sunburned.  It was only 65* and partly cloudy, so I forgot to put sunscreen on everyone.  Rookie mistake, Becky.  You know better.  Then home to make dinner and do a few more chores, then off the the laundromat, which I find terribly annoying.  And, well, to be frank, its just been a long damn year.  The longness and the damnedness of it has sort of all settled on me this week:  I've found myself lethargic and demotivated.  And when I'm lethargic and demotivated, it tends to make me angry.  I don't do well with low-productivity, at least as I define it.  Today brought more fun news.  I'm tired.

So I realized, just about the time the washing-maching-stealing-lady left--LEFT--while her clothes were washing and I had a golden opportunity to throw her wet clothes on the folding table and claim the washers for Clarkdom, that maybe my focus is a little off.

Today, there has been much to be grateful for.  After a week of cold rain, the big blue skies full of impossibly white cumulus clouds--the sky I missed so much during our years in California--was back to its full glory, and the house was warm again. We met the pediatrician at the office we go to for the first time this morning (we usually see the NP), and he was a great fit for Dylan.  My kids are ridiculously healthy, and have delightfully boring personal and family health histories.  They all handle shots like CIA agents who've been trained to withstand Chinese interrogations.  The library in our little town puts together a wonderful summer reading program for the kids.  Despite the fact that some of them are paid very little and the rest of them aren't paid at all, they seem to genuinely love reading to and interacting with the kids and planning the activities.  We got to spend a couple of hours playing in a heated pool, with the older kids going down slides and off the diving board, and the little girls hanging out with me, jumping and trying to swim.  Everybody laughed a lot.

And then when I got here, as I was making my way toward the steps and the door with three loads of laundry in my arms, an older man standing outside the bar next door put down his cigarette and jogged over to open the door for me. With a great big smile.  He didn't have to do that.  A lot of people wouldn't have even noticed.  Or maybe a lot of them would.  I think that sometimes we don't give our fellow human beings enough credit.  I really think most people try to be good and decent.  I think people would probably smile more if I looked them in the eye more.

Its been really quite a wonderful day.  I wish I had noticed sooner. I've had a lot of really wonderful days, and parts of days, and moments this year.  I need to be better at writing them down.

Because gratitude gives me peace and makes me happy.  Gratitude and service are the only successful antidotes I've ever found to frustration, impatience, or--God forbid--self pity.

I'm sitting next to a wall of picture windows.  The sun is shining, the sky is a perfect baby blue, and I'm alone, all quiet save for the hum of washing machines.  That's not such a bad way to spend an evening, after all.

Dad

My sister took this photo of our dad last year, but if I dug around long enough, I'm sure I could find dozens of other versions of it from over the years, including several I've taken.  This is the image that always comes to mind when I think of my dad:  lying on his side in the grass, notebook and/or camera near by, and children playing somewhere close, just out of frame.  Though I didn't consciously realize it while growing up, he did a wonderful job teaching me to see, and, by noticing what was around me, to think about those things which were important but not immediately visible.  He taught me to love quiet and observation, and to love making conscious sense of those things around me which were good and beautiful, why they mattered, and to record them.  Those are some of the skills I now cherish most in my life.

I always think of my dad as a quiet man.  Once, when we were teenagers, an adult acquaintance asked my twin brother and I if our dad ever talked, and we both immediately laughed in response.  We had often heard Dad talk at tremendous length about all kinds of interesting things.  But he only speaks if he has something to say.  He seems to approach words the same way that my grandmother saw food:  it was good to eat well each day, and to feast occasionally; but it was sinful to waste and throw away that which could be used to nourish and sustain.

Dad has always had a somewhat subversive sense of humor.  He believes in a higher order, in rules governed by Goodness, but has never hesitated to oppose the pettiness of bureaucrats and political administrators.  He taught me that it was OK to laugh at authority when that authority was, in fact, ridiculous.  As a little girl who was naturally inclined to please and tended to fear upsetting the adults in my life, that is perhaps one of the most important lessons he imparted to me in my childhood.  A few months ago, I thought of him when my little Kylie had a nightmare.  She came to me with tears and explained that we were with Strawberry Shortcake and everyone had to follow the evil Pie Man's mean orders.  I asked, "We did?" and her little face got firm and brave through her tears and she said, "Well, everyone else did, but we didn't.  We didn't follow his mean orders."  And I thought to myself, "Ok, we're passing on the right lessons.  Papa would be proud."

I always knew I could count on Dad with the big stuff.  When I ran a car off an icy road in December, I called him and not only was he not upset, he showed up in his truck, with a smile on his face, and pulled me out of the ditch and then followed me home to make sure I made it back alright.  When I applied to several very expensive universities my senior year of high school, he enthusiastically encouraged me to attend any one of them that I wanted, assuring me that we'd figure out how to make the financial end work if that's what I wanted to do.  But he's been good at a lot of the little stuff, too.  Often, I've mentioned a book I was interested in, or some tool I needed for the house, and a few days later an amazon package would arrive.  When we lived with my parents, sometimes one of my kids would wander into his office late at night, and he'd share his snacks and let them talk with him.  I think every one of my kids has planted flowers with him at some point, and learned some of the names of his thousands of beautiful flowers, and some of the birds that hang around all those flowers and trees.

My kids are too little yet to understand how much work goes in to making Papa's yard so beautiful, but I'm not.  As I watch my kids and my nieces and nephews run around the gardens and climb the trees, pick flowers in the spring and apples in the fall, and create day after day of happy memories in the little Eden he has created around and for them, I'm grateful to have a father who loves his family, who has shown us all that, no matter how beautiful the place you've found in this world is, you can do much to improve on its beauty.  I'm grateful for all the he has done to make the lone and dreary world much less lone and far less dreary for his tribe.  Its much easier to create beauty as an adult if you are taught to recognize it as a child.  

10

That's right, we've hit double digits, people!  

This wonderful little girl is 10 today:

Keilana is giggles and jumping,

novel-reading and card-making.

She's a bit of a scrub at heart,

preferring sweats to real pants,

unbrushed hair to fixed hair,

and doesn't mind a bit of dirt so much.

But that's mostly because she loves adventure,

and outside play,

and one must be comfortable for such pursuits,

after all.

She's full of spontaneity and wanderlust,

and when Daddy asks,

"Who wants to go for a drive?"

Keilana is always IN.

She loves the water and is a bit of a fish,

usually having to be dragged out when its time to go.

She loves to be outside,

whether in sunshine or snow.

She came into the world anxious

to see and experience all of it,

seemingly concerned she might miss out on something.

She's a treasure collector,

with little stashes of stuff-and-things

in the drawers of her desk,

the corners of her bed,

the shelves of her clothing,

the cubbies in her locker.

She's tender-hearted, sensitive,

but resilient.

She has a great desire to do good

and isn't afraid to speak up about what's important to her.

She is the oldest child in the family,

and she takes the responsibility seriously,

looking out for her baby sisters,

and helping them with tasks their littler hands struggle with.

She's outgoing and friendly,

with a tremendous love for people

and a desire to please.

She's always scribbling in notebooks

and laughing way too loud.

We wouldn't have her any other way.

Rights and Responsibilities

The anniversary of the restoration of the Priesthood to the earth just passed, and I've been thinking a lot about Priesthood authority. Thanks to the Ordain Women organization, female Priesthood ordination is a big issue (or at least seems like one due to the volume of the discussion).

I understand the frustration. I do not agree with or approve of what Ordain Women is doing.  The brethren have repeatedly made it clear that there are certain channels we use to raise and address issues we have within the Gospel and the Church, and I understand why those channels exist and I fully support them.  Having questions is one thing--openly defying the publicly stated requests the First Presidency and the Twelve Apostles is quite another.  The moment you start calling yourself an "agitator" and acting like one, you have lost me.  Once you start staging public protests (media in tow) you aren't trying to understand, you're trying to win.  I cannot support that.  Furthermore, I believe quite strongly that the First Presidency and the Twelve are extraordinarily "tuned in" to what is happening in the world and within the Church, and that they are soft-hearted and responsive, and take inquiries, challenges and sincere desires for further light and knowledge quite seriously.  If I see someone writing (or implying) that they are a bunch of clueless old men who just don't "get it" or "aren't listening", my ability to take the individual seriously immediately starts to dwindle, because quite frankly I just think she's flat wrong.

That being said, I don't think its fair to dismiss any woman (or for that matter, man) who has questions about  women and Priesthood administration, or women and the temple, or any other such doctrine, as lacking faith, being disobedient or an apostate.  While I don't personally know any one who would identify herself as a "feminist Mormon", I have spent a quite a lot of time reading blog posts and discussions by those who identify themselves as such, and many of them are thoughtful, intelligent and seem like decent and mostly faithful sisters.  (Sure, there are some that definitely come off as angry or hurt and looking for someone to blame, or intellectually arrogant and consequently short on faith, but by no means are all the sisters who participate in such forums like that).  Some of the questions they ask are things I have myself noticed and/or wondered about.  Personally, I don't believe that many of the questions are in and of themselves necessarily destructive or out in left field.  But I think, especially in the world of the internet, where you have no idea who is reading what you say, or what the state of their testimonies or understanding might be, one must be very careful not to project personal frustrations or offer pure conjecture as answers to such questions.

Even though I have had some similar questions, or made some similar observations, it has never occurred to me that such things should challenge my faith in my Savior, in the validity and authority of his Church, the revelation and wisdom of the current leaders of that Church or the order the Lord has appointed for his Kingdom on Earth.  Whatever questions I may have or things I may not know, here is what I do know:  I have Heavenly Parents who love me, a tremendously merciful and kind Savior who gave all for my redemption, and the Church is led by inspired, righteous Priesthood leaders who are instructed in and  obedient to the will of the Lord.  There are things we do not yet know, or fully understand.  I'm OK with that.  One of my favorite things about our faith is that there are no Mysteries of God that are ultimately Unknowable.  I believe that Heavenly Father "will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God", and I trust his wisdom, and the obedience and prudence of those he has chosen to lead his children, in the timing of those marvelous revelations.  Usually, the Lord offers revelation as an answer to diligent searching and sincere asking, but we have records of various instances when prophets have failed to ask for those things that were needful, or even tried to ignore revelation they didn't personally find pleasing, and the Lord has had pretty direct and intense ways of bringing it to their attention.   Why would he not do so if the prophet today were failing to address that which was needful, particularly if his other children were diligently seeking and asking?

It seems deeply woven into our mortal nature to look beyond the mark. When I hear women declaring that they should have the Priesthood, there's always a small part of me that thinks, "Have you done your Visiting Teaching this month?  How consistent is your Family Home Evening?  Are you magnifying your current calling?"  In our present division of labor, responsibility and authority, the Lord asks plenty of each of us.  Maybe some of these sisters are nearly perfect in those things, but the truth is that nearly all of us could improve within the stewardships, responsibilities and obligations that the Lord has already blessed us with.  I have not been asked to bear the responsibility of performing ordinances, or with specific administrative or ministerial duties.  But I can fully participate in any ordinance of which I am living worthy, and I have many other duties and responsibilities.  My energy would be better spent striving to perfect the responsibilities I already have than demanding that someone give me different ones.  If I am living worthily, I can call on the power of the Lord for whatever I might need--never have I had reason to doubt that.  If I can call to my assistance ministering angels, not being able to reach my husband or home teacher at a moment's notice doesn't feel like a deal breaker.

But the crux of the issue, as far as those who demand the Priesthood as their "right" is this:  we define the Priesthood as the power and authority of God.  No one has a right to it.  If you demand that you be given the power of God, declare that you have a right to it, you immediately show yourself to be unworthy to wield it.  The Priesthood is not about earthly arrangements of power, and it is not about self-fulfillment.  Its about the salvation of man through the great power of Heaven.  The Lord determines how that authority is delegated, and I am grateful to live in a dispensation where the Lord has given that authority and power to his children more abundantly than ever before.  There are still some gaps on the map to fill in, but we are rapidly approaching the point where any child of God living on the earth can access the ordinances and blessings of that power if they desire it.  What a marvelous time to be alive.  I think there may be sufficient reason to think that how the Priesthood is wielded in the eternities may be slightly different than how it is done here on the earth, but the bottom line is that this is the order the Lord has declared, and I trust that his reasons are good, his purposes can be fulfilled, and that all of his children can access the the power and authority of God unto salvation.  

Kinder Ready

Yesterday was the Head Start transition day for the kids heading to Kindergarten this fall.

Kylie will be in Mrs. Seymour's class--we're glad for it.

The biggest, nerve-wracking, "what do I do?" issue for most Kindergarteners is lunch.

So, we rode the bus to school, and then they fed them lunch,

and taught them the whole process.

You know, just like in prison.

I jest (sort of).

Kylie, being Kylie, ate all her broccoli, grapes and Jello,

and left her burrito untouched.

Love this girl.

 Because she seems so little to me, 

I sometimes forget that she's one of the bigger/older preschoolers.

She was pretty confident,

and just had a lot easier time reaching everything

than a lot of the other kids.

After lunch, she went to her teacher's classroom,

with the other Head Start kids that will be in her class.

They read a book,

and colored a picture,

and then lined up for recess.

At this point, the teacher had them put a giant,

pretend marshmallow in their mouth

to keep them quiet in the halls.

Kylie thought that was awesome.

And she was really good.

The Dwyer playground is a whole different world

than the Head Start playground.

SO HUGE. 

It was super exciting for all the kids to play out there.

After recess we loaded up on the bus

and headed back to preschool.

After work time, I left to pick up Keira and Dylan

(and take Keilana to a church activity),

and then I took the other two back to Head Start with me

to enjoy their last recess of the day with them.

The sun was shining, most of the kids were in shorts,

and everybody was pretty happy about it.

We're pretty happy that sunshine is here fairly consistently,

at long last.

And Kylie is learning to wink.

Word Play

I really can't stand when abortion advocates use the term "anti-choice".  It is an intentionally disingenuous phrase.

The only thing I'm against is ending what can be very reasonably (scientifically, not just religiously) called a unique human life. That's it.  I'm not trying to tell anyone (or make the government tell anyone) that they must raise their children in a certain way, or teach them specific things that are to my liking;  I'm not trying to control how much of what you can drink, whether or not you join a union, what kind of light bulbs you can use in your own house, whether or not you buy health insurance (and what your insurance should cover), which causes your income supports (or doesn't),  or really anything else.  No--its largely the supposedly "pro-choice"crowd who supports all those choice-restricting legislative gems.  Those who are constantly pushing for ever more expansive legislation to affect and control the day-to-day decisions and life styles of huge numbers of people rather ironically call themselves "pro-choice".  I have no desire to control anyone else's life or decisions, and tend to hate it when I see people doing it to others.

Yet I get labeled "anti-choice" because I don't think it should be legal to end a human life on a whim, even if that life is temporarily dependent upon your body for survival.  Don't give me the "its just a clump of cells" line.  While that may technically be true for about a week (by the time most women know they're pregnant, and are thus capable of choosing an abortion, an embryo has a distinctly human, if extremely under-developed, form), I have birthed four babies, and have watched them grow into beautiful, intelligent, funny, kind and fascinating young children, and every one of them started out as two cells fused together.  But those two fused cells are so much more than the sum of their parts.  The Bible states that a man shall leave his mother and father, and cleave unto his wife and the twain shall be one flesh.  We see this made somewhat literal all the time in the creation of children.  One gamete containing genes only from mom, another only from dad, fuse and form a new person that is parts of both of them, and yet distinct and unique from either of them.  From the moment that egg and sperm meet and meiosis completes, a unique individual is present:  if we had the capacity to peer into the the tiny genetic code, it would tell us--from the very moment of conception--what gender that new individual is, what color her eyes and hair will be, how tall he will likely grow to be, whether or not she'll have freckles, or Dad's cleft chin.  That's incredible.

And in our society, that wonderful, unique person can be thrown away--literally--because the timing isn't "good", or a woman is scared or nervous, or feels trapped by her circumstances, or parents find out that the child will not be "perfect" in the ways they imagined, or a hundred other reasons.  We have created a society where we trifle with the power to create life, and so abuse the power to end it.  I certainly think there are better circumstances than others to raise a baby in, but that doesn't make it OK to throw a life away.  I have known more than one young woman who, finding herself pregnant, felt panicked and unprepared, to say the least, but found that bringing that baby into her life made her own life much better than she could've imagined.  I've known more than one young woman who knew she couldn't raise a baby in her circumstances, and selflessly carried that baby to term and then gave it up to a couple who could provide the things she could not.  I've known many, many couples on the receiving end of that gift, couples who often spent years (in some cases more than a decade) giving in to frustrated, desperate tears in the belief that they might never have children.  Their joy upon being blessed with a child is indescribable, but delightfully supernal.  I've watched children light up the lives of parents who "couldn't afford" them, I've seen women surprised to discover how little the "career disruption" actually mattered to them in the long run, and I've seen parents of special needs children fall in love with their "imperfect" kids over and over again.

We have been blessed with the power to create life.  Sometimes, that gift is used inappropriately or unwisely.  There are better options, however, than compounding a mistake with another mistake.  I believe we should be able to choose how to live our own lives, but I don't believe we should have the power to end lives because they are inconvenient to our own.   I don't think that fairly bears the the label "anti-choice".

Grandma and Cousins

This is my mom's maternal grandmother, and some of my mom's nieces and nephews (she was the youngest of 7, and was only about 13 when this picture was taken, so this is by no means all of her nieces and nephews).  A little over a generation later, I got to see my own grandmother often in circumstances like these.  Its uncanny how much she looked like her mother.

This is what several generations of my family looks like: lots of cousins, grandparents who delight in all these kids everywhere, able to see some of the benefits of all their years of sacrifice.  Lots of love, lots of people who share your story.

I've said it before, but its worth repeating: I know big families aren't everybody's thing.  I am deeply grateful that they're ours.