Christian

I carried this phrase as a mantra for many years. As a Mormon I knew that there were lots of things said about my faith--including that we weren't Christian. Since I most certainly was Christian by every definition in the book, I tried really hard to show my beliefs through my behavior, so that I would always be 'convictable.'

I remember one day when I was 17 I was talking with a group of associates at community college, and said something about being Mormon. One of them said "Well, I've always heard that Mormons aren't Christian, but you clearly are, so I guess those other people were wrong."
(Convictable? Yep.)

Now, today, I find myself contemplating this question from the other side.

I do not consider myself Christian anymore. I've left Mormonism and fall somewhere in the complexity of athiest/eclectic Pagan. But even though my theological beliefs have changed, my way of living really has not. I don't believe in Jesus as God or Savior, but I do believe that the teachings to love one another, forgive, and care for others are good moral value and I do follow them. In other words, I'm pretty sure I'm still 'convictable' even though now that conviction would be incorrect.

And it's got me thinking.

I think that "christian" and "Christ-ian" are not the same thing.

I mean, yes, in the literal meaning of the word, a Christ-ian is a believer in Christ-as-Savior.
But in the common cultural use, as in "that wasn't a very christian way to handle that situation," nobody is asking--or even caring--about the beliefs of the person in question. They are simply focusing on behavior. And in that sense, a lot of non-Christ-ians are some of the most 'christian' people I know.

So go ahead and convict me of being christian. (You'll probably want to convict me of being a witch too while you're at it...just sayin...) Neither label is technically accurate, but I also don't mind either one.

The Edges of Life

When Wolf was small we noticed that he had an inclination toward violent play (as many little boys do). So we taught him the law of the jungle: one may only kill for two reasons, either for food, or to avoid being killed yourself. (This may have slightly backfired when, at five years old, he asked if we could please shoot--and eat--a songbird in the front yard, and I had to explain that it was too small to provide enough meat to be worth eating. He was terribly disappointed.) But I digress.

For the last two years we have been raising chickens. We are in it for the eggs, and we have quite a flock of happy ladies.

We knew that eventually they'd get too old to lay anymore, and we agreed from the start that when that time came we would kill them and eat them (or--since an old bird is tough and isn't great eating--put them in the crockpot to make soup or dog meals etc). However this last summer it became evident that one of our spring babies was growing up to be...not a girl. And so we had to face the prospect of slaughtering sooner than we had anticipated. I named him King Louie, because he strutted around, crowed a lot, and was destined to lose his head.

King Louie

(At this point you may be realizing that this post deals with slaughtering animals. If that bothers you feel free to stop reading. One photo shows blood but isn't graphic. I do discribe the process but it's not overly gory, and I share because the experience overall has been significant and poignant, so I hope you'll read on.)


We had no use for a roo. He eats food, he harrasses the ladies, we don't need fertilized eggs since we're eating them all anyway, and he doesn't need to defend the flock since we have that covered. So in October I sent a message to my friend who has butchered birds before, and asked if I could come over and she could teach me how. She was willing so we set a date.

Bear greeting the turkeys.

Hubby didn't happen to be available that weekend, and neither was Wolf, so I piled the younger boys into the truck and took them to my friend's house. She had a turkey that was destined for Thanksgiving dinner and the plan was to take care of Louie and her bird at the same time. Turkeys are big and strong and have to be wrestled a bit, so she'd invited another friend (also with experience) to come and help. All of us had young kids there, and we invited them to watch or help if they wanted to, but also told them that they didn't have to if they didn't want to. I feel like it's healthy to be part of the process though if you're going to be a meat eater, and to be conscientious of where our food comes from. (Bear opted to watch us kill the turkey and Eagle helped with plucking it.)

I was so glad that I slaughtered with these ladies though, because the first thing they both said to Louie as I got him out of the kennel was "thank you" and then I held him while one of them slit his throat, and as she did she was saying "thank you Louie" to him again.

It was a deeply respectful process. 

The place where we took Louie's life.

I somewhat expected to have a moment where I wanted to back out, but I never did. I didn't wield the blades but I helped hold both birds, helped with the plucking, and I cleaned out Louie's insides. We saved some of the feathers from both birds too--I don't know what I want to do with them but they are beautiful and I feel strongly about utilizing as many parts as we can. One of the ladies kept commenting about how clean Louie was so that made me feel pretty good about how we keep our flock. :)

It wasn't until afterward, when I was packing up and getting ready to come home, that I realized that Samhain was that weekend. That's the old observance of final harvest. (There's a grain harvest observance in August, a fruits/vegetables harvest observance in September, and the November observance is for harvesting animals.) I'm sure you know that Halloween has origins in the traditions about Nov 1 being the new year, and the old year dies on the 31st which is why the veil is thin between life and death and ghosts roam etc. Dia De Los Muertos as well as other ancestor-remembering traditions are celebrated at this time, and it all ties into the recognition of death as part of life, which I think is important even if I've never really been into any of those celebrations. This year we ate Louie on that day. It seemed fitting.

 ~~~~~~~~~

But the story isn't over. Because literally the night that I got home from killing Louie, I heard a crow from the coop.

And that's when we realized there was another roo.

I have to explain a bigger story here. We bought chicks in the spring from a local farm store. But in the summer one of our adult hens (from the year before) got broody. So we got her a few fertilized eggs to sit on, and she hatched three babies. So these babies were four months younger than the spring ones, hadn't reached their adult appearance yet, and thus we hadn't realized that one of them was a roo.

Until we took Louie out of the coop, and realized that he hadn't been the only one crowing.

But back to the broody hen: I was checking on her daily, and I was the first to see the tiny fluffy babies when they hatched. I was even there during one of the hatchings--I watched the mama turn this way and that, continually shifting her weight and position and slowly turning a full circle until a third little voice started cheeping with the other two. It was the first time I had ever been present for a non-human birth, and I felt something similar to the births of my siblings or children.

The longer I live, the more I realize that the edges of life are sacred, on both sides.

The transition between life and non-life is an important time, regardless of what you believe is before and/or after it. And regardless of whether the being involved is human.

We gave Chanticleer time to reach maturity of course, but this week his time was up. I had hoped to wait until the snow melted so that we could do it outside, but we've had a lot of snow this winter and finally we decided to just do it in the garage.

Chanticleer

This time it was just myself and Hubby. I opened the door of the little kennel we'd put him in and carefully grabbed his feet with one hand and around his body with the other. He flapped and wiggled a bit, but quickly calmed. I adjusted my grip to make sure it was secure.
Since Hubby hadn't done it before, he asked to hold the bird and have me wield the knife. I had expected this, and had had several months to anticipate doing it, but in the process of getting Chanticleer out some part of me had thought and hoped that maybe it wouldn't be me.

Because here is the thing about taking a life: it is easier to do if you can distance yourself from what you are doing (indeed, the farm kills I had seen in my youth seemed to be of this sort). I certainly understand the inclination to dissociate onself from the act of taking a life. But I think that it is important--even vital--to get ones head INTO the space of what is happening, rather than out of it. The end of a sentient life--as with the beginning of one--should be a mindful thing. 

And it was. 

As my husband held Chanticleer's body and feet, I pulled our sharpest knife from its sheath and circled around to face the bird. I gently took his head in my hand, feeling his neck to make sure I would make my cut at the right place. I looked him in the eye. He looked at me for a moment, and then his eye slid shut, as though he knew what was coming; as though he were resigned to it, and knew that he was filling the measure of his creation. I pulled the knife across his neck quick and deep. His death was almost instant.
We quickly tipped him in a large bucket as he bled out, continuing to hold him as his body spasmed a few times. It's disconcerting to feel a body move when you know it's dead, and I had the fleeting fear that perhaps I hadn't done my job right and he was still alive and suffering... But he was not. I did my job properly.

And that is my biggest takeaway from all of this: how to do the job properly. It's not that I've learned how to hold a bird to kill it, or where to put the knife, or that I've learned how to make sure the blood doesn't make a mess, or that I know how to pluck it quickly and cleanly and how to get the guts out. I think the most important lesson in all of this is that life matters, and that whether I am ushering someone into it or out of it, I will always do it with mindfulness and respect for the life in question.

Holding Space

This may be a difficult post for some to read, but it's one that has been percolating in my mind for a few days and one that I needed to write. Writing helps me sort through my thoughts, and this was something I needed to sort. So I hope you won't mind reading.

In both birthwork and bereavement work we often do something we refer to as "holding space." It means that there is not anything particular we are doing or saying (sometimes not anything we can do or say) in the situation, but we stand as sentinel over the space. We protect the peace, the calm, the energy, the emotions, and the simple right to feel.

Over the years I have held space for grieving mothers: sometimes in person but more often in virtual space, via phone or instant messages with someone geographically distant but emotionally close. Similarly I have held space for friends and family members as they labor through the delivery of a child or through any difficult time.

I have also held space for my children on many occasions; holding a small one on my lap and surrounding him with the calm of my arms and my breathing, and giving him permission to feel what he feels, and also giving my support in getting through it.

In recent days I have come to recognize the need--and value--for holding space in another way.

My paternal grandfather's health declined sharply a few months ago. He moved in with my aunt so that she could help care for him, and we have all been aware that he would not live much longer. Early last week we learned that he had stopped eating, so we knew to count time in days.

Meanwhile, my maternal grandmother has been dealing with multiple health issues for many years, and in the last few years her hospital stays have increased in frequency, duration, and complexity. A couple of weeks ago she entered the hospital, and within a few days it became apparent that this time was more severe than others had been. Last Thursday her doctor said she probably had a week left.

Last Friday my grandfather passed away. His funeral was on Wednesday.

On Tuesday my grandmother came home under hospice care, to spend her last few days with her spouse in the home they had built and lived in together. My mother was there with her, and said that grandma sat at the window and looked out at the trees that they had planted and raised together, and seemed to be at peace. She had some good hours, and got to spend her 58th anniversary in the arms of her sweetheart and with family by her side. Today she passed on.

I had neither the money nor the scheduling flexibility to visit my grandparents in their final days, nor have it now to attend their funerals. I think they will not mind, seeing as how funerals are for the living rather than the deceased. I had time to send letters, call and communicate my love, and I am grateful for the time we had to do that. Now their spirits are free of the worn out bodies that had held them back, and all I can do is hold space.

This is a different kind of space-holding from what I have done before. My grandparents are no longer here, and do not need me to hold the space for them; instead I must hold it for myself. I must allow myself to feel--whatever I feel--without judgment or guilt. I can hold their memories, carrying them onward by sharing them with my family. I must allow myself to be quiet, to rest, to think, to cry, and to be not-my-best-or-brightest at some things for a while. I must also allow myself to laugh and play and carry on, because the cycles of life continue always.

Choosing My Peace

We all make choices every day. Some are bigger, some are smaller, some have long-term consequences and many do not. Sometimes we make smart and thoughtful choices, sometimes impulsive ones. Eventually, our lives (and our selves) become the sum of our choices.

Sometimes we make a choice that seems like a good idea at the time, but which soon reveals itself to have been a poor one for whatever reason. I recently made a choice which I felt strongly was the best thing out of my options. I am not exaggerating when I say that within a few days I began to feel physically ill over it. I pondered the situation and the choice. I counseled with my husband (who can be a goofball sometimes, but is also thoughtful and wise and often can see perspectives I hadn't thought of). Over the course of a couple of weeks I concluded that the decision I had made--which I thought I had made so carefully--was a poor one. I forgave myself and made a new decision. Almost instantly I was flooded with inner peace, and felt certain that this new decision was the best thing for me and my family. It is fraught with complications of its own (complications I might have avoided with the original choice), but the peace and serenity I have over this decision give me certainty that it is better.

In my experience getting sufficient peace
can make up for a lack of sleep;
but no amount of sleep
can make up for a lack of peace

We all make mistakes, probably every day. Some are bigger than others. Some have bigger consequences than others. But in almost every case we can take steps to undo those mistakes, or to repair the consequences of those non-ideal choices. We can apologize--to ourselves as well as to others--for the choices we've made. And we can make new choices. Choices that are better for us or our families or communities or whatever is applicable. Life is a pretty transient state. We can fix a whole lot of things if we are willing to be humble enough to say "I was wrong" and "I'm a work in progress" and then change tracks and do something different.

I realize I'm "vagueblogging" here, and that is intentional. I don't want this to be a commentary about me and my choices, but more of a musing about the bigger picture. (Remember when this blog used to be "Musings of Mommy Bee"?!) I am hoping that these thoughts will be helpful to someone else contemplating choices that lie ahead (or behind) and that they will be able to apply them in some useful manner.

Take care of yourself. 

Trust your feelings. 

Be honest and authentic with yourself and with others. 

Don't be afraid to say NO to things that bring you down instead of lift you up. 

Don't be afraid to say YES to the things that sustain you, 

even if they were not the things you expected.

I'm Still Here

Hi, it's been a while, I know. I haven't posted here in nearly two years because my life has moved into a new season and I simply don't have the time. But I will catch you up a little on my life these last 21 months, and at least tell you where I've gone.

I finished graduate school in August of 2014 and shortly thereafter began working full time in behavioral health as a case manager. I enjoy it and (at the risk of sounding not humble--which is fair because I'm not) I will add that I am really darn good at what I do. With that said, work now consumes 40 or 45 hours of my week, and when I am home I try to put my attention and energy toward my family.

Also in the spring/summer of 2014 my depression reared its head again. It has done this periodically over my life, but certain spells are worse than others. This time however there was something that helped. It was unexpected, but it was the right thing at the right time and has made an enormous difference in my life: Glee. 

Yes, I do mean the TV show. I had started watching the episodes on Netflix that spring, and yes it's a cheesy dramedy and sometimes the writing is terrible, but the musical and dance performances are amazing. And more than any of that, Glee reminded me of something: It reminded me of my own love for music and dance. Somewhere along the way I had forgotten how much those things mean to me. Somewhere along the way I had stopped singing and dancing around the house (or anywhere else). I had gotten so busy with the many things I had to do that I had forgotten what it was that drove me to major in theater only a decade ago. 

I started singing again. I downloaded music and I started singing along with it. I had fallen out of touch with the arts so gradually that I hadn't realized how far I had moved. But now I sing again. I dance again. I feel more (dare I say it) glee than I did for years.

The other thing that Glee did for me--or helped me to do for myself--was writing fiction. For years I've said that I'm a good writer, and a good storyteller, but that I didn't feel that I had any original stories to tell. (So much for writing a bestselling novel, right?) But then with Glee--because it was impacting me so significantly, and because I wanted more of it--I learned about the phenomenon that is fanfiction. And lest you be too judgmental (because I was too at first), I will clarify: Fanfiction is original stories--sometimes really impressive ones--that just happen to borrow characters. But do you know how helpful it is to be able to practice writing with borrowed characters? Without having to create everything from the ground up? Did you further know that authors do it all the time? Shakespeare hardly wrote anything original, and how many novels or movies are "based on" or "inspired by" another story? Yeah, so everybody writes fanfic. And, for me, Glee fanfic was a gateway. Reading it was a gateway to writing it, which in turn was a gateway to something else... Because dabbling around with borrowed characters gave me confidence to build my own. And now I'm writing my own fiction (working on two different novels actually). The practice with fanfic helped me build up my writing chops--I can write longer things than I ever used to. It also gave me the chance to get feedback on my writing from readers and other writers, and that's invaluable (and good for the self-esteem too).

So the time that used to go to writing nonfiction (blog posts and then grad school essays) has now turned to fiction. I plan to submit my novels for publishing when I finish them, but I also know that now I'm not going to stop writing either. Writing (along with dancing, music, and knitting) are my antidepressants, and they are working pretty well so I'm sticking with them.

At first I felt silly, saying that a TV show had changed my life. (Sounds crazy, no?!) But it did, and it does, and I'm better off for it. And you know, I'm not going to be shy about saying it either. Because maybe it will help someone else.

So no, I haven't written here on the blog in a long time. The truth is that I don't know how often I will write here in the future either. I am spending more time in the real world and less in the digital one. I do still see comments that are left, here, and I will reply to them and to emails. I'm also on facebook fairly regularly. I don't know how much I will post here, but I am not going to take it down because I believe that the archive here can be useful to others. I know it is useful for me: both as a reference, and as a reminder of where I've come.

Shalom.

The law of the land: considering same-sex marriage

Today my facebook wall is covered with these:

Today the Supreme Court will decide whether same sex marriage is legal in this country.

In recent years, the equals symbol has been used by the marriage equality movement and those who support it. I am told that representing it in red is indicative of this movement being about love.

I have been raised my entire life with the teaching that homosexual behavior is wrong. That is a moral stance adopted by more than a few religions, and I believe that these religions are entitled to it.

I also believe there is a reason for the separation of church and state. Our founding fathers were spiritual men and I think they were inspired men, but most were not actually religious. They objected to state religion because they saw how it had been abused in Europe. They felt strongly that government and religion need to operate independently. I agree with them.

There are times when government and religion agree on issues (such as murder), and there are times when they disagree. When they disagree, each should function in their own sphere. Government establishes what is legal in the temporal world, while religion declares what is acceptable in the spiritual one. In this imperfect world, it is inevitable that they will not always be in perfect alignment. Marriage equality is one such issue. I believe that government has a duty to interfere with things like underage marriages (because by legal definition the underage party is not able to give consent). I believe that government has a duty to interfere in cases of abuse of spouse or child. I do not believe that government has a duty--or even a right--to legislate or vote on the non-abusive relationships of consenting adults.

Ironically, just over a century ago my religion fought hard for the right to polygamous marriages. Sixty years ago many states had laws against interracial marriages. I do not think it was right for the government to interfere at those times. I do not think it is right for them to interfere now. The constitution says that people should have equal rights under the law. The only logical constitutional conclusion that I see for the Supreme Court today is to legalize marriage for any pair of consenting adults. No religious group will be obligated to perform religious rites for these couples unless they want to (and I'm sure that many will not). No religious group even has to allow these couples to be part of their sects (and again, I'm sure that many will not). But I also think that no group (religious or otherwise) has a right to overrule the constitutional rights of anyone else. (Writing as someone from within a faith group that has had our rights stomped on, I feel very very strongly about this.)

As my friend eloquently put it:

As homosexuals couldn't possibly do anything to desecrate the institution of marriage that hetereosexuals haven't been doing for millenia, I cannot support the notion that marriage equality is going to destroy it.

As "traditional marriage" has very often historically meant as a transfer of property from one man (the bride's father) to another (the groom), sometimes based on affection but often based on convenience, politics, economics, or the need for another generation, I cannot support the notion that our modern ideal of marriage union largely based on love should exclude consenting adults.

I think the rift between the exclusive and the inclusive will cause more damage to society than marriage equality.

I can't support that it's bad for children when lesbian homes have a 0% rate of reported abuse, where 1 in 4 children in heterosexual homes report abuse. http://bit.ly/aOkzC3 I cannot look at my friends' long-sought daughter and think she will be disadvantaged for having two amazing mothers.

I hope that when Justices go to make a decision, the Constitution alone becomes their Bible.

I am a straight ally.

I have heard people speak with great emotion on this issue. I have heard appeals about love, about physical ambiguity, about moral imperatives... Ultimately, the thing that speaks the most loudly to me is logic. And while I do feel some conflict over how to reconcile these opinions personally in my religious context, I do not feel any conflict over what I think the law of the land should be.

I know these statements will probably be troubling for some of those nearest me (particularly my family). I hope they can be understanding of my attempts to reconcile my thoughts on this matter. Honestly, I hadn't planned to say anything about this today. As I said, my facebook wall is covered with little red equals, but I had no intention of joining them because I simply did not want to engage in the conflict. I was going to stand quietly on the side. But Thomas Jefferson put it well when he noted that "All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent."

This is my conscience. I will speak it.

Between Worlds

Samhain

All Hallows Eve

All Saints Day and All Souls Day

the Day of the Dead

A time when the veil between worlds is believed to be thin, when those on the other side and those on this side can reach out toward one another, maybe even touch, and exist in the mindful space of knowing that life is eternal, relationships are eternal, and that these cycles will go on and on for always.

One heart inside another, one generation inside another

Many things are on my mind today...
Miscarriage and infant loss awareness month is just behind us and I have been working on projects for The Amethyst Network all month.
A friend who recently passed a due date for a baby who was stillborn two months ago
A friend who just found out she is pregnant (after multiple miscarriages)
A friend who is expecting a baby any day (after a difficult miscarriage almost exactly a year ago) 
My own children who are not with me here, but who sometimes seem to reach out to hold my hand or pat my shoulder
My great great grandmother Juliette who made eye contact with me through a photo this summer and whom I have been trying to learn more about ever since
Many others who have crossed over to that side, whether prematurely or very maturely, and others who are on their way to this side...
Do they see us from their side as rarely as we see them from ours? Or is the veil a one-sided mirror, where they can see us easily, but except in fleeting moments we see only ourselves?

I do not know the ins and outs of life and death.One thing I do know is that the universe and the eternities are bigger than our little minds can know in this human form. I believe in a larger interconnectedness between all generations, all times, all eternities. I believe because of times like now, where the veil is thin and we catch a glimpse between the worlds.

Interconnectedness

I was thinking about jack o lanterns this morning. A very ordinary squash, but once a year we poke through the crust so that we can see what is inside. We carve a variety of shapes and for a variety of reasons, and then we set a light inside and behold, a simple squash becomes a lantern. When I look at one now I cannot help but think of looking through to a world beyond. I just got to like them a whole lot more.

Why is it all in October?

Today is a microcosm of something I have felt about October in general.

Today is the first ever International Day of the Girl, but it's also National Coming Out Day. With respect for the validity of recognizing both issues, what am I supposed to put on my blog or my facebook page anyway?
(I might abstain, except I actually care about this stuff, about the courage of the people involved, so I want to participate...)

October is breast cancer awareness month. I have family members and friends who have fought breast cancer. October is pregnancy loss and infant loss awareness month; oh boy do I have feelings about that. October is also SIDS awareness month, autism awareness month, domestic violence awareness month, bullying prevention awareness month, fair trade month, German-American heritage month, national popcorn month and national pizza  month. (really!) And those are just the ones I care about.
In addition, there are weeks or days in October designated for focusing on children's books, non-violence, teachers, Leif Erikson, appreciating children, appreciating dead ancestors and friends, the purchase of Alaska by the United States from Russia, and crunchy leaves. (OK, I made up the last one, but it should be real!)

Admittedly, there are awareness months and days all year long. Probably every month is full of something. But October has a disproportionate number of things that I care about. In addition, there is an intense cultural focus on one of those things: Breast cancer. (I'm going to go ahead and guess that this is because our hyper sexualized culture likes any excuse to fixate on breasts, because in spite of the uber-pinkness of a decade of Octobers, we still are not any closer to decent treatments--let alone cures or prevention--of breast cancer.) More women miscarry than get breast cancer, and that's a fact. But breasts are cool and dead babies make people uncomfortable. And battered wives, teenage girls getting shot by the taliban, nine year old brides, slave labor and gay people make people really uncomfortable. So we'll stick with breasts. And maybe the occasional feel-good story about a girl (right here in Kotzebue) who started a movement to stop wearing makeup on mondays.

So let me see, what shall I do this month to try to be more balanced?
I'll read books to my kids.
I'll join the wave of light next monday and light a candle from 7-8 to remember my angel babies (maybe I'll light 4).
I'll hug somebody who is out of the closet.
I'll read and share stories about brave women and girls all over the world who are fighting injustice, speaking up against violence, and holding up half the sky.
I will donate to causes that are helping to educate and uplift those girls and women.
I will snuggle my kids.
I will make pizza and popcorn (and pie, for good measure).
We'll talk about our ancestors and tell stories from their lives.
And if we had any crunchy leaves here, I would stomp on them. But we don't. Before the end of the month though, I'm pretty sure I will have a chance to stomp on crunchy snow, so maybe it's ok.

Of Hearts, Brains, and Assumptions

If you aren't liberal when you're young, you have no heart. 

If you're not conservative when you're old, you have no brain.

I've heard this several times recently.
I've also noticed that it is always said from old conservative people to young liberal people. In other words, it's something that old conservatives tell young liberals (and tell themselves) to justify the fact that they have changed as they've aged.
It's also pretty patronizing.
Because what I actually hear is this: "well, you're young and emotional, I am sympathetic to your childish feelings. But when you grow up and think about things more, you'll be like me."



How many times does one change in this regard? Because I started out very young as a conservative. It's what I was taught to be. And then in my mid-twenties I became liberal, because I learned more about the complexity of the issues and the world. When my parents were the age I am now, they were conservative... so did they get 'old' prematurely? Or do I get to qualify as 'old' in spite of my liberalism? I wonder, at what point will I be 'old'? President Obama turns 51 this year, and he's liberal. Sarah Palin is three years younger, but she's conservative.

Let us be logical here, political beliefs are not a product of age. They are the product, I think, of priorities. Consider, for example, the simple matter of finance. The average young person has very little money, and might naturally be in favor of things like economical stimulus programs and wealth redistribution. The average older person has significantly more money. They have probably worked hard for it, and they feel entitled to keep it rather than be obligated to share it. So they want to get rid of taxation on capital gains and estates.
A younger person--a poorer person--may be more likely to need assistance from welfare, whereas an older person is more concerned with investments, property taxes, and social security. This is all rational, I don't think less of a person for having different priorities than my own. I do get a bit miffed when they belittle my priorities or (especially) my intelligence.

Please, do tell me what you believe, and why. Tell me why it's important to you. I do care, and I am interested. If you can, give me statistics to back it up (because I find facts to be remarkably convincing). From time to time, new information leads me to change my perspective (that would be how I became the liberal I am today in fact).
But don't pat me on the head with a patronizing "Mother knows best" attitude. Do not belittle me, my mind, or my abilities in that way. Trust that I am capable of feeling--and thinking--rationally and responsibly.
Be willing to appreciate that we can have different interests and priorities, and that that's ok. We can still respect each other. Let's just stop pretending that our differences are a product of maturity or intelligence, because they aren't.

Lenten Thoughts #1--help thou mine unblief

Today, while the children were napping, I took my two minutes to sit in stillness and quietness to ponder. I did not have a mantra or particular concept in mind when I sat down, but almost immediately a scripture verse came to mind:

Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief  

(Mark 9:24)

The dichotomy is striking. I pondered on what it meant (since there is no conjunction in the sentence).
"I believe, but help mine unbelief?"
"I believe, and help mine unbelief?"
And then I was struck with "I believe, so help mine unbelief."

I think that belief is a choice, and that it is one we must make constantly, even daily. Belief may inherently mean daily looking unbelief in the face and saying "I still choose to believe." Some days, at least for me, it is more of "I want to believe," but the result is the same.


Lehi taught his son that "there must needs be opposition in all things," and so it is with belief. If you really care about your faith, about your spirituality, then you will have to face a certain amount of conflict over it. Sometimes that conflict comes from outside yourself, and sometimes from within. Sometimes it comes both directions.

So choosing belief can also mean accepting unbelief as something that you'll have to face repeatedly.
And that's ok.
Because when your doubts cause you to question your faith, you can also use your faith to question your doubts.

Ruby

My birthday is in July, so my birthstone is the ruby. It's a pretty gem, intense and dark, and very expensive (more expensive than diamonds actually, last I heard). It is a very sturdy stone, second hardest on the rating scale after diamonds.
And it's red. My favorite color is pink. I almost never wear red. So I never really wanted anything with my birthstone on it...
And then I learned that the ruby and the sapphire are actually the same stone on a molecular level, they just come out in different colors. Actually they come in a wide variety of colors, but for some reasons the red (or sometimes pinkish) ones get called "rubies" and all the other colors are called "sapphires"...the blue ones are plain "sapphires" and the others are "green sapphires" or "orange sapphires" and so on.

these colors are all sapphires/rubies

This year I was reading about the properties of various gemstones. I have never really believed that a rock could have power, but the more I learn about the universe, the more I believe that the whole energy field notion actually has some merit. And so I decided to read up on the ruby, and see if I could make friends with it.
I found some interesting things.
The ruby

• brings integrity, devotion and happiness 
• brings and increases love
• very protective of home and children
• is a stone of high energy and power that promotes healing on all levels [link]
• is a stone of nobility 
• brings love, confidence, loyalty, and courage
• instills stamina, vitality and strength
• re-energizes one after exhaustion 
• helps to reduce negative thought patterns
• is a good stone of protection. 
• helps you feel more like giving to others and doing so with love and joy in your heart. There is no room for resentment in ones heart who is being of service to others and this stone does not allow that to be a part of your heart. it helps you relax as you caretake others because you can trust you will not be trapped in any way in that role. It helps all to be warm, caring and help out with the needs of others. it also helps one with devotion to others. [link]
• considered to be the most powerful gem in the universe
• the symbol of vitality and royalty
• contentment and peace [link]

I most frequently found the ruby associated with motherhood, home, service and healing. For these and other reasons, I and others have come to feel that the ruby's energy field is a reflection of mother, or, more accurately, of Mother.
I thought also of the fact that ruby is also the most expensive gemstone--more than diamonds--which puts me in mind of Proverbs where it asks "who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is above rubies." I have thought much on that, and about the idea that equating virtuous women (us) with rubies is actually equating us to Heavenly Mother and our potential to be like her.
Making this connection has been powerful for me, because of the ruby being MY birthstone, I now feel an additional connection to the Divine Feminine that I hadn't before. Not just a connection in terms of being more interested in Her, but a connection in terms of seeing Her in myself.

star ruby

You know something else interesting? The ruby (aka sapphire) is the only stone which may have a star in it. I haven't reached any conclusions about deep meanings in that, except I bet that there is one. (What do you think?)


Depending upon which type of gold you have the ring set in, (yellows or silvers) the ruby would bring with it these healing properties as well. The yellows carry the energy of the Sun or a masculine energy, while the silvers carry the energy of the Moon or a feminine energy. [link] Ruby rings should be worn on the left hand so as to receive the life force and have protection. [link]
It seems that I should be in the market for a left-hand, silver-set ruby ring. Don't you think?

Second Week of Advent: GRACE

[image source]

This week I am considering grace.
This is a virtue that gets a lot of air time in most Christian faiths, but not so much with Mormons. I think this is unfortunate, but I also think I know why it is.  In the Book of Mormon, there is a verse which says

For we labor diligently to write, to persuade our children, and also our brethren, to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God; for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do. (2 Nephi 25:23)

I usually hear it read this way:

we know that it is by grace that we are saved, AFTER ALL WE CAN DO.

I think it should be read this way:


we know that IT IS BY GRACE THAT WE ARE SAVED, after all we can do.

Works are important, I don't doubt that for a second. James wrote that faith without works is dead (James 2:25). But the simple fact is that we are still saved by grace. Works do matter, and we should do good works, in fact we should do all that we can do...but we should never forget that no matter how much we do, it will not be sufficient on its own. We still need Saving Grace, even after all we can do.

Christ says "my grace is sufficient for all men" (Ether 12:27) and so it is. We should not stop doing our best, but we also should not forget that grace is personal (just as "our best" is personal and will vary from one person to another), and that Christ's Grace will fill up the parts we cannot fill, so long as we invite Him in.

Meditating on Hope

On Sunday night, I lit some candles in a darkened room, and made my quiet space for pondering and meditating on hope. As I've mentioned before, I need to find something to focus on if I want to think without distraction...I cannot just "empty my mind." I like to use a candle for this purpose, as looking into a candle flame helps keep me centered and mindful.

As I thought about hope, a phrase came to me repeatedly, the "perfect brightness of hope" mentioned in scripture. I also thought about hope as a virtue, large enough to be worthy of combining with faith and love (or charity as the KJV states). It's something significant. We use the word 'hope' in a flip way so often, and yet the true meaning of hope is anything but flippant.
Hope is the belief, anticipation, or expectation of something...but not just of anything. Hope is the expectation of something good. In other words, I think that hope is inherently positive, and might even be a fair synonym for "optimism." It is the expectation that goodness will come to us, the belief that people are good, the trust that God will fulfill his promises. If faith is the belief in things which are not seen, then I think hope (the next virtue in the sequence) is the expectation of goodness which is not yet realized.

I have always been a fairly optimistic person. It is interesting to consider this trait in light of being not just a happy habit, but an actual virtue.
What do you think about hope?

Earthquake!

So there was an earthquake on the east coast of the USA yesterday. My sister lives in Virginia and said it was pretty scary for her and her little ones--things fell off shelves and they had just all gathered under the dining room table when the shaking stopped. Friends of mine in Pennsylvania and New Hampshire said they felt it too. A 5.9 is a pretty good size. I remember an earthquake in Seattle 9 or 10 years ago that was about that size, and I felt it where I was in college in Ellensburg  (110 miles away). It made the lights swing and they closed several buildings on campus for several hours while they inspected them for structural damage. I remember that being unnerving.
Prior to that I remember one other earthquake. I was 13 or 14 and I was babysitting and the whole house started swaying. It scared me for a minute until I realized that it was just an earthquake... I don't remember how big it was, but there was no damage. I called my dad and he made the excellent point that aftershocks tend to be smaller than the initial quake, and I calmed down and was ok.

When we moved to Homer two years ago I learned what it means to be totally unphased by earthquakes. We had been there just a few weeks when one afternoon things started to shake. At first I thought it was our dryer, because it could get a pretty good vibration going on through the house...but the dryer wasn't running. By the time I realized it was an earthquake it was over. I hurried to the other room where my then 2-years-old Bear was playing serenely. I asked if he was ok. He said yes. I asked if he felt the shaking. He looked at me like I was asking about quantum physics. Alrighty then!
Over the next few months I learned that we would get earthquakes several times a week--sometimes several times a day--and that every 6-8 weeks one would be a 3 or 4 or 5 and I would feel it. I learned how to guess at how big they were (and I got fairly good too--I'd put my guess on my facebook, and then ten minutes later go look it up, and I was usually within 0.2 or so!) I also learned that familiarity breeds contempt, or, at least, apathy, because not one of my kids has ever seemed the least bit phased by all these earthquakes. And, I confess, at this point, neither am I. If nothing even falls off a shelf, well, I just hop on facebook and make my prediction...
Of course, here in Kotzebue we are off the ring of fire (for the first time in my life I live in a non-earthquake zone!), so perhaps I'll re-sensitize to them. Who knows. Here I think we are probably more likely to see a polar bear in downtown than to feel an earthquake. (I'll be sure to let you know if that happens.)

But back to the Virginia quake, KSL News (in Utah) made sure to let us all know that four spires broke off the top of the Mormon temple.
AND, in case you haven't heard yet, there are some conflicting opinions about the causes of the shaking...

It has been determined that the epicenter of the Va earthquake was in a graveyard just outside of DC. The cause appears to be all of our Founding Fathers rolling over in their graves.


The President has just confirmed that the DC earthquake yesterday occurred on a rare and obscure fault-line, apparently known as "Bush's Fault."

Michelle Bachmann has promised to keep future quakes at 2.9.

The president wanted it to be a 3.6, but the Republicans said it needed to be a 6.0, so they compromised.

It wasn't an earthquake. It was a 14.6 Trillion dollar check bouncing.

...got any more for me?

What's in a Name?

Juliet asked the question, what's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet!
Anne of Green Gables responded that she thought that a rose could not possibly smell as sweet if it were called a skunk cabbage.

I think we can all appreciate that words matter, and that there is value in using the proper word or name for a thing. I would argue in favor of proper terminology, even if we have to overcome some personal baggage about it. I always felt a bit awkward about proper anatomical names for males, but now that I have little boys I do teach them what their parts are called, and I don't say "that's your wee-wee."

For years I was turned off by the word "feminism," and yet, now that I understand what it is (or, more specifically, what third wave feminism is), I find that I am more comfortable with it, and can even apply it to myself. I got over my personal baggage, so that I could use the most accurate word.

I now find several people have responded to me with discomfort or distaste at my use of the word 'pagan' and at my applying it to myself. Sure, I could say "earth-based spirituality" or "seasonal awareness" or "mindful, balanced, peaceful, harmonious, intentional living" or a dozen other things, but the truth is that one word sums it all up more effectively than a dozen tongue-twisting phrases. And so I use the one word. And just as I have been getting over my personal baggage about the word "feminism," so too some other folks need to get over their personal baggage about the word "pagan."

Since the beginning of time, some societies and groups have belittled and disenfranchised other groups. Some groups became powerful so they wrote the histories and somehow we have often believed their one-sided stories without stopping to try to learn the other half...but that is neither logical nor appropriate. To learn what it means to be in an ethnic minority, there is no better way than to get to know someone from that demographic. To know what it is to be Mormon, one should ask a Mormon rather than a Southern Baptist. And to learn what 'pagan' means, one should ask a pagan; because whatever anybody else says will probably be tinted.


If you're familiar with the movie "The Princess Bride" then you probably remember this scene.

Buttercup: But how is that possible [that you're the Dread Pirate Roberts], since he's been marauding twenty years, and you only left me five years ago?


Westley: I myself am often surprised at life's little quirks. See, what I told you before about saying "please" was true. It intrigued Roberts...[and he] and I eventually became friends. And then it happened. Roberts had grown so rich, he wanted to retire. So he took me to his cabin, and told me his secret. "I am not the Dread Pirate Roberts", he said. "My name is Ryan. I inherited the ship from the previous dread pirate Roberts, just as you will inherit it from me. The man I inherited it from was not the real dread pirate Roberts either. His name was Cummerbund. The real Roberts has been retired fifteen years and living like a king in Patagonia." Then he explained that the name was the important thing for inspiring the necessary fear. You see, no one would surrender to the dread pirate Westley. So we sailed ashore, took on an entirely new crew, and he stayed aboard for a while as first mate, all the time calling me Roberts. Once the crew believed, he left the ship, and I have been Roberts ever since.

Words and names can indeed be powerful things. The same few letters that inspire one person can terrify another. And therein is the crux of the matter: a word may carry baggage, but it is only as powerful for us as we allow it to be, and it only means what we believe it means. So let us be mindful of our own baggage when we encounter words. And try to be conscious of the literal meanings of the word, and of the intended meanings of the speaker or writer. And do not fear a word in an of itself.

Picking Birthdays

It's my birthday. We are on vacation though, spending a brief week with my folks before we all move in in Kotzebue, so this is a pre-scheduled post.

I remember having a conversation with my cousin years ago about how we felt about when our birthdays were. She had a birthday right before Christmas, and she hated it. Too many people rolled the two holidays into one, and she felt like she didn't get a special day for herself. (I have two great grandfathers who had birthdays ON Christmas day, and I remember years of making sure to send two separate cards--a birthday card and a christmas card--so that the birthday wouldn't be forgotten in the holiday hubbub.)

In high school, I had a friend whose birthday was just a few days before mine--in July. She told me that she hated having a summer birthday. Many of her friends would get balloons at school, or decorated lockers, or cupcakes in class on their birthdays, and she was sad that her birthday was not during the school year and that she never got to have those things. I remember being shocked, because one of my favorite things about having a summer birthday what that I didn't have to do any school work--that the day was mine to do with as I pleased!

For myself, I've always liked having a summer birthday. I like that it's about half a year between my birthday and Christmas, no matter which way you look. I like that (theoretically) the weather will be nice and we can be outside or go somewhere interesting. I like that some of my favorite foods are in season and available for my birthday dinner. (In fact, for many years of our youth, I always requested artichokes for my birthday dinner, not because I liked them much, but because my sister liked them, but couldn't have them at her January birthday dinner.) I don't particularly like that sometimes my birthday gets lost (or has to be 'rescheduled') for the sake of camping trips or other summer busy-ness, but in the long run I do like the summertime birthday.

How about you? When is your birthday? How do you like it? Would you change it if you could? When would your ideal birthday be?

Thoughts on Patriotism

(I'll warn you upfront that this post carries a tone of frustration and annoyance at the narrow definition of 'patriotism' that I often encounter.)

I like to be patriotic. I think our national holiday is a good time to think about what patriotism is and how we can be patriotic. I do NOT think that the military is the be all and end all of patriotism.
There you have it. I'm sick and tired of people saying "well I wanted to serve my country so I enlisted..." By all means, support the troops. If you'd like to enlist, feel free! But if you'd like to serve your country, please remember that you can do it in many other ways too. My husband wanted to serve his country, so he became a school teacher. My friend wanted to serve, so she works for a local women's shelter. I care about my country, so I teach my children to take care of the earth we live on and to serve the people we live around. I care about my country, so I get involved with politics, and I always vote.
As I said, I support the troops--the men and women who get out and do things. I really don't support the military-industrial complex that the USA has developed. I'm a pacifist, conscientious objector, and so on.  A friend of mine (who served in the military for several years by the way) has some very similar opinions about this. She wrote a great post here.

There's another thing that really makes me sick, and I hear it every Independence Day too: We live in a great country ("the promised land" yadda yadda yadda), and in fact it is the best country on earth. No it's not folks. We live in a great country, definitely. We in the United States have a lot of blessings and opportunities that are not available elsewhere. We have a lot of wealth (a ridiculous amount in fact). But we are not superior to other countries or peoples. More blessed (in certain areas), sure, but not superior.
Can we please learn to appreciate what we have without knocking down others in the process? Julie can be pretty without saying that Susie is ugly, you know?

That's all. Be grateful and happy with what you have. Work to take care of it and of the people around you. Remember that no one is inherently superior to anyone else, especially not because of being born between some transient manmade borders.

Why Bad Things Happen to Good People

I've miscarried twice as many times as I've carried a baby to term. I don't know why my body does this. I've had a battery of tests done, and the results told us nothing. I have no idea how many times I have burst into tears and wailed to the sky "Why?!"
Why do bad things happen to us?
You know, the bad things that are not the natural consequences of choices, but the things that nobody has any control over: poverty, untimely deaths, chronic illness, famine, abuse...

One explanation I've often heard is that we cannot fully appreciate good if we have no bad to compare it to. I think that is part of it. I think that's why we get hangnails or ear infections or bang our funny bones. I think that's why we have disappointments and phobias. It's why some days are diamonds and some days are stones. But I don't think that anyone needs to feel starvation in order to be grateful for food--mere hunger for a few hours or a day can make a person glad of a meal. And I do think I treasure my children a little bit extra because of how difficult it was to get them here, but obviously mothers without angels also love their children very much. Opposition is just a little piece of the answer to this question.

I have come to the conclusion that the primary reason that bad things happen to good people is to make us more patient and compassionate with others.

In my youth I was very judgmental about couples who waited to have kids, because I knew we were supposed to multiply and replenish... now I realize that life is so much more complicated than that, and maybe they had good reason for waiting, and maybe they didn't want to wait but didn't have a choice. In my own case, with all my miscarriages, for the first 2 1/2 years of my marriage an outsider looking in would not have known what I was going through. They would merely have seen someone who wasn't having children. It's not unusual for a couple to wait a few years after marriage to have children. Unless we told someone what was going on, I'm sure that most people assumed our lack of babies was intentional. They had no idea of our pain.  Now that I've been on the inside of a situation, I have learned to not judge, but to just love.

Could God stop the bad things? The pain and the sorrow and suffering in the world? I think so. I think He could. But I think He doesn't, so that we'll learn to be compassionate to our brothers and sisters in the world around us.

Have you learned yet?

Going to the Temple

As I shared recently, I've been thinking a lot about some churchy things lately. This month we had a trip up to Anchorage for a weekend, and since we were staying with friends I was able to arrange for my friend to watch the kids so that I could go to the temple.

I tried to go with an open mind, asking beforehand that I would find some clarity or answers on some of the things that have been on my mind. I do feel that I found some of that, and some of it is things I won't share it here. But there were several "aha" moments which I feel are entirely appropriate to share, because they don't divulge anything of the ceremonies.

Before I even entered the front doors, I noticed the windows above the door. There is etching in the glass of a circle within a square. That's a fairly common decorative motif (and appears in windows in several parts of this temple as well as carved in the stone), but that particular symbol struck me that day. It reminded me of the saying about being a "square peg in a round hole" (even though in this case the circle was inside the square hole). It felt like a little reminder from God that it's ok to be different from other people around me (in or out of the church). So long as I am honest with myself, and honest with my God, and doing my best, I don't have to be the same--or even try to be the same--as anyone else.  I can be different. I can be peculiar.
 
As soon as I stepped inside the front door, I saw a coatroom. There was a little sign that indicated that everyone should leave their coats and shoes in that front room. I have been to several other temples and none of them had such a room. Every Alaskan I know has a shoes-off policy though, it's just common sense in a place with snow half the year (and sand on the snow), and with mud during the other half! So it didn't surprise me that a building with white carpet would have a place near the door for leaving boots. Since the dressing room lockers are usually small, it's also nor surprise that they would offer a place for hanging bulky coats. However, I was not thinking about those things when I saw the sign. What came immediately to my mind was the verse from Exodus 3, where Moses sees the Lord in the burning bush, and as he begins to approach the Lord says "put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground." I was struck by the appropriateness of removing our shoes at the door, of the symbolism of it, and I had a wistful moment of wishing that all temples had such coatrooms.

After I had gone inside, I asked directions to the women's dressing room. I had never been to the Anchorage temple before, and even though it is small, I figured I'd prefer to go directly in the correct direction! Someone pointed me down the hallway. I went down, and saw a door with a sign that indicated it was a dressing room. I reached for the handle, which was a lever style like the one in this picture. It wouldn't move. I tried it a couple of times and still it would not budge. I wondered if perhaps this was a special dressing room (a handicapped-accessible one perhaps) and it was occupied and thus locked. So I went on down the hall to find the main dressing room. I saw three more doors before the hallway ended, but all were labeled, and none were dressing rooms. So I went back, but was still unable to open the door. So I went back out to the front, and found a temple worker, and told her that I thought the dressing room was locked. She smiled and said "no it's not" and led me back to it. She pushed on the door and it opened. The handle did not--could not--turn. The door did not latch, the handle was decorative more than functional (in that it was unnecessary). I felt foolish, but the temple worker assured me that newcomers made that same mistake regularly.
And the lesson I took away from that? There are often unlocked doors right in front of us. They will open with the gentlest nudge. However if we don't know the right way to open them, we will remain stuck outside. We may not even be able to tell that they are open, we may be convinced that they are locked to us. But they are not. Truth is there. Healing is there. Forgiveness is there. Peace is there. We can have these things if we will ask the right questions of the right people, and learn how to open the doors.

Ask

And ye shall receive

Seek

And ye shall find

Knock

And it shall be opened unto you

I can't just turn off my brain...

(As a note, there is a bunch of LDS content in this one which may or may not all make sense for those who are not members of the church...so feel free to skim or skip if it's losing you.)

The Ostara Supermoon ~ taken from my porch

In the last couple of years--particularly in the last few months, several of my friends have left the LDS church. They have all left for different reasons, and in different directions, but so many are going that it's beginning to feel like an exodus.  I got to know these people through the common ground of the church, but came to love them through our other common ground, and so I still am friends with them. I find myself reeling a bit to see intelligent, thoughtful people walking away from the church, and I am left with what feels like a very important question: why?

And so I have talked with my friends about their reasons and their choices. Like I said, these are intelligent people whom I respect, and when they explain their choices then I start to think. I start to ask questions too.
It's not that I'm asking questions with a malicious intent, nor that I'm looking for flaws with the church or excuses to leave it. I have no desire to leave the church--I never have--but some things are coming up that I am struggling to reconcile, because they're in my head now. Some of them are pretty big questions, and I can't just turn off my brain.

And so I think.

I realize that this really got going last summer, and that I was somewhat depressed at the time. I know that depression (for me) brings with it a real lack of feeling. As in, I just don't care much about much of anything. The combination of lack of feeling with the raising of questions about my church was unquestionably a troublesome duo. I really struggled for a month or so, until in August we went in for our temple recommend interviews. I'd felt a little awkward about going in actually, because I wasn't feeling sure about some things. We only have the interviews every other year, so I didn't remember exactly what was in the questions. I'm the sort of person who is honest to a fault, and if I'm really troubled about something I'm not going to say that everything is ok, so there was even that nagging part of me that wondered if I had any business seeking a (re)new(ed) recommend in the first place... However, when it came down to it, as I went through and answered each question with my Bishop, and then a few minutes later went through them all again with the Stake Presidency counselor, I felt with absolute certainty that this church is exactly where I need to be. In spite of my concerns about certain issues, my basic testimony seems to be intact, and was bolstered by the reminders in the interview.


I am not asking for things to change, but I am trying to understand why some things are the way they are. For example, I know people who are agitating for women to have the priesthood. I don't feel a need to do that--I never have--I'm ok with how things are; but these agitators do raise some logical questions, and so I would really like some nice logical answers for why women don't have the priesthood, you know?

So I still think about things, like I said, I can't just turn off my brain. So I wonder why the church is legally a corporation rather than incorporated as a church (which is what most religious organizations do). If our righteousness and salvation are between us and God, then why is there so much official checking-up on each other, from taking attendance in sunday school to holding interviews every year to officially state whether you've paid a 'full' tithe? Why do there seem to be conflicts between scriptural teachings and certain practices of mainstream LDS culture? (eg: "love one another" verses anti-socialism, or the political actions against homosexuals*) Why are there double standards about things? (eg: piercings or tattoos = evil and disrespectful of our bodies; but botox, boob jobs, and circumcision = totally acceptable?) My dad and my husband have both had church leaders give them grief for wearing beards. How is that anybody elses business anyway?!

I have shared this questioning of mine with a few friends. Some of them are asking some of these questions themselves, but others have warned me that this kind of thinking and asking is dangerous and will probably lead to apostasy. Pardon?! Talking about things or asking questions doesn't make me an apostate. As a matter of fact, I think questions are a healthy part of discipleship: Joseph Smith's asking of questions was precisely what instigated the organization of the church in the first place, and we've been told over and over by leadership to seek personal confirmation about everything.

Several people approached me after my post about delving into paganism, warning me that it was a path into darkness. I appreciate the concern with which the warnings were given, and what I trust was concern on the part of the person who reported me to the Bishop (who then called me in to ask some very awkward questions to 'check' and 'make sure' that I was not 'going off the deep end'). At the end of the day though, my spiritual path is mine, not anyone elses. I prayerfully and thoughtfully seek direction for myself and my family. I instigate and participate in conversations (even debates) about some of these awkward topics in order to try to make sense of things that trouble or confuse me. I am hoping for some answers at General Conference, but ultimately the responsibility for my testimony is only mine.

I think that any group of people will have a certain amount of human error inherent in the system; even church organizations. I do believe solidly in the gospel of Christ however, and I know without question that personal revelation can be relied upon to guide us in all things. So I'll keep relying on those things, and I'll keep ignoring the naysayers all around me.

at the beach, taking in the mountains, waves, and wind

*For anybody who is wondering, yes, I do think that homosexual behavior is deviant, and not acceptable in God's eyes. However, in light of solid scientific evidence (from multiple sources) that same sex attraction is inborn (rather than being a choice), I am troubled by how to reconcile the whole thing. The behavior may be a choice, but if the attraction is not, then isn't it asking a lot to ask someone to act against their nature? It seems something akin to saying that shortness/blondness/autism is a sin...and really, that's just messed up. I do not have any answers on this one. It is one of the things that troubles me.