11 years ago...

11 years ago today I was living one of the most perfect days of my life.  Most wedding days have one fiasco or another to overcome, but somehow, for us, the stars aligned, and everything went off without a hitch--except the one we wanted.  The weather was gorgeous and crisp, the decorations at the reception were elegant but modest, everyone was cheerful, no one forgot rings or licenses, the photographer was pleasant and there was much love in the air.  I was amazed.  Our courtship had not been so smooth, and there had been many moments that I felt panicked that I was about to make an eternal commitment to a being separate from myself, over whom I had no control, in whom I would put implicit trust with no guarantee of the consequences besides his word that he would take the same chance on me.  But here, at the end and beginning of it all, everything felt right, and the world was at peace.

And here we are, 11 years, 4 kids, and 9 homes later, still working on being better people and better partners, and very much still in love.  Today I celebrate not only my marriage, but the institution itself.  In a world where the very concept of marriage is becoming passé, I still believe in it, and the kind of love and loyalty that lasts forever.  Is it easy?  No.  Is it possible?  YES!  Is it worth all the hard work, and tough times, and the sacrificing, and apologizing, and forgiving, and the patience, and the believing in each other?  A thousand times, yes.

Happy anniversary to my best friend.  Long live marriage!

Are Mormons Christian?

There has been a lot of chatter in the news lately about whether Mormons are Christian or not.  With two Mormons vying for the Republican presidential nomination, and some speculative comments from their opponents, the media has been peppered with opinions about whether or not these alternative-scripture-toting religionists really deserve the coveted title of "Christians."  A simple definition of a "Christian" would obviously be a person who believes in the divinity of Jesus Christ and adheres to his teachings.  As evidenced by the many different Christian denominations existing today, there are many different opinions about what Christ and his apostles meant when they taught the gospel in what has become canonized scripture, specifically the Holy Bible.  Yet all these churches are still considered "Christian."  I don't see the logic in singling out one religion and saying because they have a specific interpretation of Christ's teachings that is in some ways unique from all others that they are not "Christian."  Mormons, or Latter-day Saints, believe in the Bible, they believe that Christ is the only way by which man can be saved, that he is the center of the gospel, and he is the center of their worship.  Sunday meetings are focused on the study of his life and his teachings, and during the week, members of the church strive to live according to those teachings.  It really baffles me that anyone could say Mormons are not Christian based on scruples over scriptural interpretation.

I am a Mormon, and I have a very personal relationship with my savior, Jesus Christ.  I know he is the only man who ever lived a perfect life, and that through his suffering, death, and resurrection, he opened the door for me and any who will follow him to return to the presence of God.  I love to study his life, and I love to read the teachings of his apostles.  For the past year, I have been making a careful study of the New Testament.  I have read it many times before.  I know that book is scripture, and I love it.  I feel like I understand what God expects of me, that I know what the purpose of life is, and what we are to do to be saved.  I have many friends of other Christian faiths, who practice different traditions and have a different understanding of the gospel, but I would never dream of saying they are not Christian.  It hurts me when I hear someone say that I am not, that I don't know Jesus.

Let me make a comparison to help illustrate: say I have a friend named John.  I know John is an athletic type, and I was thinking he might really enjoy going to a baseball game, so I plan to invite him to a game I've got a few tickets for.  You, on the other hand, have heard John say in some passing conversation that baseball bores him to tears, so you know he would probably not enjoy going to the game.  We're both friends with John, but have gotten to know him in different situations, and have had different conversations with him.  Would you or I ever accuse the other of not really being John's friend, just because we have different ideas about his personality?  Or would one of us say that the John you are friends with is a different John?  One of us may be wrong about John's personality, but maybe we are both right.  Maybe John doesn't like baseball, but he may still enjoy going to a game to enjoy the company.  If we really wanted to know the truth about John, it would be rather ineffective to argue about which of us knows him better, or is actually his friend.  What we ought to do is simply go ask him to settle the dispute and stop worrying about what we think we know.  It's not a perfect comparison, of course, but it touches on what I feel when people say that I and all the members of my church are not Christian.  They are saying that this man whom I love and worship and depend upon for my salvation is no friend of mine, that I don't know him, that I don't serve him.  If studying the teachings of Christ and striving to live them to the best of our understanding is not being Christian, then I don't know what is.

Standing in One Place

A few weeks ago, I attended a small carnival with my three older kids. They all wanted to go on different rides, and not wanting to disappoint anyone, I told them they could, so long as they would each come back and report to me when they were done and let me know where they were going next. I told them exactly where they would find me and let each go off to enjoy themselves. Since there were only a few options, I could stand in one place and keep everyone within view. However, I soon realized that I had picked a rather uncomfortable spot to stand and wait in because it was right in the hot sun. I looked around and saw a much better shady place not far away. It was not as central, but it would have been much more comfortable. As I considered moving there to wait for my kids, I worried that even that small of a shift in a crowd such as that might cause some confusion, and my kids might experience some anxiety if they did not find me right where I had said I would be. So I stayed, and I waited. In time, each child came and reported back, and I thought about telling them I was going to move, but I never had them all there at the same time, and I didn't want to risk any confusion, so I continued to stand in the sun, until we were all worn out and ready to go home for lunch.

This little experience made me think about how important it is that we stand in one place morally as well. Our kids rely on us for a sense of stability. If we are constantly shifting where we stand, it can cause confusion. They may end up feeling lost, or uncertain where to find us. They need us to be constant so they can learn to be constant, too. Of course, this means we need to be wise in establishing where we stand in the first place, but once we have decided on the best place to stand, we need to be steady, even if it may be uncomfortable.

That Funny Thing Called Fame

I unexpectedly found myself attending a concert last week given by a talented performer. Her prowess was exquisite, her repertoire ranging from musical theater to jazz to folk and back again to rock, and I thoroughly enjoyed every number. After the concert, a line quickly formed to meet and have autographs of this famous, talented singer. I debated whether I should take the time. While I was truly captivated by her performance, I did have a tired husband at home, and sleeping babies I felt the call of duty to be near. But this was my one chance to meet this star. Maybe I might even be able to say something to impress her. My husband is, after all, a pseudo-star himself. I happened to be wearing my Chinese blouse, which is not a particularly common wardrobe piece. What if she complimented it? That would give me the chance to say, "Why, thank you! I actually got this while I was in China with my husband. He was there performing with the National Tour of Les Miserablés." It would be a perfect segue into the fact that I am special too, at least by association.

Yes, I am embarrassed to admit, that was my train of thought. I can't believe I'm confessing this, but now you know the petty workings of my feeble mind. Gordon B. Hinckley once said "Adulation is poison." I guess it just goes to show how potent a poison it can be when even the wife of one frequently inundated with praise for his incredible talent is in serious need of a de-tox. Thankfully, I was spared the chance to make a fool of myself that evening. As I neared the end of that hour-long line, I was informed that the artist was only signing purchased merchandise, not the concert programs. Baffled and without my carefully planned conversation to lean on, I stepped out of line and stood there flabbergasted while the last die-hard fans slipped their new CD's and 8x10 glossies under her flourishing Sharpie. Then the security men shooed us off, announcing that the star had had a very long and exhausting day.

In my humiliation, I had some time to reflect on just what it was that had driven me to act like a little groupie. It made me wonder about this funny thing we call fame, and why it is so addictive and attractive. There is something about being known. We want to be known. We love people who are known. We are even more eager to be known by people who are known. That artist had seen hundreds of fans that day, thousands in her lifetime, perhaps millions, many adoring, many showering praise, many seeking their 15 seconds of fame with a famous person. She would not remember my carefully planned, brilliant conversation starter from the next person to shove a CD under her nose. So why was I so anxious for her to know something about me? Why did I want her to think I was special? Why would I seek validation from a celebrity?

I thought of my babies sleeping at home, of my sweet husband who should have had the ticket to that concert but who graciously let me go instead. They knew me. They loved me. I am special to them, and always will be. What more did I need? And then I thought of God, the creator of the universe and my very own Father. He knows me. No celebrity on earth comes close to his importance, prominence, accomplishment, or even his "fame." And he knows me and cares about me every moment of my life. I have far more than 15 seconds of his attention. I have a lifetime of his attention. There is no facade he wears for me, and I can't possibly wear one for him. I don't have to impress him. He loves me, regardless.

In the end, it occurred to me that I should have been more interested in thanking that good woman for taking the time to share so much with us. I had no need to be flowery or impressive. A simple thank you would have expressed everything I needed to say. And my thank you did not have to stand out above the millions of others she has heard. This moment should not have been about me and making an impression. It should have been a chance to express gratitude. Regret? Yes, I have it. But I also take away a lesson which I hope I will be able to apply the next time I am tempted to be star-struck.

Shock Value and Relative Goodness

It's been about 5 years since we had regular TV service in our home. At first it was a financial decision, but by the time we could have fit it into our budget again, we never wanted to go back. Occasionally, when we have stayed in hotels and had the opportunity to watch TV, we always felt it was such a waste of our time, and that it brought an icky feeling into the room that we certainly didn't want in our home. We have also been shocked by the kind of things that have become so common place, which just 5 short years ago were still pushing the boundaries of acceptable programming.

Our media has relied on "shock value" to entice its audience for decades. The problem with this is, the method is self-defeating. Eventually, the thing that was shocking becomes common, and they have to come back with something even more shocking to achieve the same result. Where will this downward spiral take us? How numb can we make ourselves before the whole system implodes?

As a designer, when looking at color swatches, I have noticed that it's really difficult to accurately tell what percentage of gray you have unless you compare it to a scale of white to black. Gray is just gray. You can discern a really light gray or a really dark gray pretty easily, but there is a wide range of middle gray that is very hard to place on the percentage scale. Without something to compare it to, 30% looks very much like 60%. Not having TV in our home for so many years made it really easy to discern the contrast of quality and morality that existed when we turned it on again. On the other hand, I have been surprised by what my friends, whom I know honor the same values as me, consider "clean family programming." After so many of my friends had raved about a certain popular show, I decided to watch an episode of it online. I was surprised at all the subtle, and even not so subtle sexual references, and the destructive worldly philosophies presented in such a favorable light. Okay, so maybe no one was getting shot, or hopping into bed together, but the doctrines being preached were not something I wanted for my family. Setting my children down in front of the TV and turning on a program for them as good as says, "This is what we believe, what I want you to believe." And I don't want to forever be adding in my own disclaimers, like, "That thing you just saw? We don't do that." Or, "We don't say words like that, okay, kids?" Are they more likely to listen to their mom in sweats lounging on the couch, or the perfectly coiffed, stylishly wardrobed, gorgeously lit teenage actress with a catchy soundtrack and well-scripted wittiness?

Relative goodness is a precarious measuring stick. When we look around at all the evil in the world, and use that as our gage to determine how good the things we surround ourselves with are, we can easily be deceived. If we find ourselves saying, "At least it's not as bad as..." then we are probably treading on dangerous ground. The gospel must always be our source of judgement. It's our white swatch at the edge of the gradient. When we start playing with shades of gray, we may not know how dark things are getting until we've gotten into the 80% or darker range.

Lessons From the Garden: Bothersome Pests and Welcome Guests

Sometimes while I'm turning the earth in my garden, I suddenly see a glossy pinkish thread slipping for his life away from the danger of my trowel. It always makes me smile to know my garden is patrolled by earthworms. I know the soil is being enriched by their presence, quietly and secretly under the ground. Grubs and slugs are no uglier than earthworms, but I have a very different reaction when I find them in my garden. My nose reflexively wrinkles up, and I squeamishly remove or mercilessly destroy the invaders.

In the realm of lovelier species, I have long regarded ladybugs as a sign of good luck. As a long-time rose gardener, I have come to appreciate the assistance they render in removing pesky aphids from the tender forming buds. Bees are welcome with their fuzzy little bodies that aid in pollination. Butterflies and moths, though often just as beautiful, are a mixed blessing and curse, as they both help with pollination, but bring with them their voracious young, who can lay waste to even the healthiest plant.

So obviously, you can't judge a bug by it's cover. Nor can we judge the people we let into our lives simply based upon their appearance. We have to know a little more about their character, what they stand for, and what they do before we decide whether we can safely welcome them into our lives, or cautiously guard ourselves from their influence. Likewise, we should not turn someone out of our life's garden just because they are less stylish or attractive by the world's standards. Quiet, consistent friends, like the humble earthworm, labor faithfully beneath the surface and enrich our lives so the seeds of our faith have a fertile place to grow.

Lessons From the Garden: Seeds & Soil

If you stop to think about it, seeds are such a miraculous little package! You stick it in dirt, and it grows things like grain and flowers and fruit trees! How amazing is that?

The scriptures are replete with stories about seeds. When I was young, my dad had me and my siblings memorize large sections of Alma chapter 32, specifically the part that compares trying out the gospel message to planting a seed. The Savior also taught several allegories that used the idea of seeds to teach about faith. He talked about faith as a grain of mustard seed, told the parable of the sower, and that of the tares. There's really too many parallels to cover them all, but I'd like to talk a little about my favorite lessons about seeds.

First of all, choosing seeds. Not all seeds are worth planting. In similar fashion, not all things we hear about are good for us to take into our lives. If we chase after every fad and craze sweeping the nation, we will find our garden full of useless and sometimes even dangerous plants, occupying ground better spent on nourishment or beauty. Every seed planted will require an investment of time, space, and water. So choose wisely what you bring into your life.

Sometimes, though, we aren't certain whether a seed is good or not. In Alma 32, the prophet talks about conducting an experiment to see if the gospel is true. He compares it to planting a seed and seeing if it will grow. There are two reasons the experiment will fail: one is if the seed just isn't good--if the gospel, or whatever we are testing, just isn't true. But the other reason he gives is that the ground is barren, and not receptive to the seeds. The Savior gives a similar allegory when he talks about the seeds cast on stony ground, or among the weeds. They don't have a chance to grow. So if we are to rule out the possibility that lack of germination and growth is our own fault rather than that of the seed, we must be fully responsible for the quality of our spiritual soil. In other words, our hearts must be soft, free of the stones of anger, sin or pride, well watered by the time we take to study God's word, and well lit by the light of the spirit. If we do not take care that our garden is an appropriate growing environment, then how can we ever make accurate judgements about the quality of the seeds we may plant?