Recently friends of mine lost their brother. I saw it unfold on my Facebook newsfeed. First he was missing, then police found his car, after a search went out they found his body. Seeing this all broke my heart, even though I believe in Heaven, death is the scariest thing to me. The sudden death of a loved one is probably the thing I fear the most. As I scrolled through Facebook again I saw the cause of death, he had taken his own life. And then it all made sense, in a horrible and personal way, I understood exactly what their brother went through. In trying to offer my condolences to my friends I had no words except that Daniel and I both know the pain of this situation. For Daniel and his family, this is how they lost his brother. For me, this is how my family almost lost me.
I've dealt with some heavy and challenging stuff in my life. Growing up my dad drank and had a temper that left us wondering not if he would snap, but when. At age 11 my parents divorced, it was a good thing really, but it was a long and bitter battle with lawyers, mediators, restraining orders and forced visitations. Freshman year of high school I faced anorexia. My world was consumed with food, counting every calorie, exercise and being as thin as I could. I lost weight, my period stopped. My mom took me to the doctor and they sent me straight to the hospital. My resting heart rate was 30 bpm, dangerously low. Hooked up to monitors that alarmed every time my heart rate dipped too low, I barely slept that first night. 9 days in the hospital were followed by 10 more in a psychiatric facility, the first stay of many. When I got out I had regular doctor and psychiatric appointments. Still my battle continued, now with bulimia. I bought and hid my binge foods. I knew what was good for throwing up and in what order to eat it in. I threw up in the shower, friends houses, at school, anywhere I could. More hospitalizations followed. Then the cutting and depression started. Cutting was a way to manage and release all the emotions I had inside. I will wear those painful scars all my life.
I talk about all these things to highlight one, off all the things I have dealt with, depression in by far the worst one. It is a numbness and hopelessness like nothing you can imagine. It is crippling. The world is no longer the same, and you can do nothing about it. And yet despite the numbness, there is simultaneously an overwhelming amount of emotions. My chest and heart would physically hurt, it was the worst pain I have felt. That emotional pain is what led to the cutting. Physical pain to distract, physical pain to release the awful raw emotions. The depression made my once happy (yes it was happy, even with everything else going on) life dismal and bleak. Add any sort of disappointment or failure to that, and the world might as well just end, because living through the pain was not an option. And that is what brought me, several times, to the act of trying to end my own life. I was almost successful. But I wasn't, and somehow I made it through the worst time in my life. And then through the years of depression, my life started to turn around. The feelings weren't so strong, the numbness wasn't there all the time. Slowly, surely, I was turning the corner. Was it the medicine? Not entirely. Therapy? In part, maybe. I honestly don't know, but I made it. I survived not alone and unscathed, but rather with physical and emotional scars and with friends and family who always loved me. No one condemned me, no one made light of my situation. I had dear friends who loved me for who I was at that time, and did anything they could to help. Talk to me on a bad night, left me alone if I needed it, loved me from a distance if that is what helped.
I write this not for my own benefit. While I am not shy about my past, I do not openly talk about it much. The scars on my arm are obvious and many, if people ask I will always answer, I don't mind. But I write this for those people who know the awful pain I have written about, who have thought the only way to make the situation any better is to cease to live anymore. For those people I say, you will get through, you will be happy again, it will get better. You are worthy of living, you are worth having around. You are infinitely important. Do not be embarrassed about your pain. It is not a sign of weakness, you cannot just 'make yourself happy' or 'snap out of it', it is a serious illness, treat it and look at it that way. I feel like I was a victim of depression, and I still bear the burden if those memories. But you will get through it, because I got through it, and so can you.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Because modesty is for me
This blog should really be called, 'things I want to talk about but it is too long and complicated a topic to post on Facebook'. It's kind of a long title, so I'll just keep the title as is ;)
But seriously though, I have all these thoughts and opinions swimming in my brain, sometimes I put them out into the Facebook world, more often though, they stay swimming around in my brain. This is one of those topics.
As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, or Mormon church, we believe very strongly in modesty. For women this means shorts and skirts that are knee length or longer, shirts that cover shoulders and midriffs. No low cut shirts, no bikinis, no spaghetti strap tank tops, no strapless dresses. That is a lot of 'what not to wear', and for teens especially can be hard to live when it comes to current fashion trends and finding dresses for dances. But this is what we are counseled to do, and this is what I believe in.
Recently I saw an article in Facebook about a photographer who was doing photo shoots of Mormon women, nude. The purpose? Helping these women to feel good about their bodies, to not be ashamed. I read about this (posted by a non-member friend) and was shocked. Were they really suggesting that the push for modesty made these women ashamed of their bodies? If that was the case, then I think they missed the point.
Before I was a member I wore tube tops, bikinis, strapless dresses, tank tops, short skirts, etc. The first time I wore a spaghetti strap tank top I remember feeling so uncomfortable and exposed, but the more I did it, the less awkward I felt. I wore bikinis, and felt all those same feelings, and I never got used to it. When I was learning about the Mormon church I was taught about modesty. My response? I grew up swimming, I am a swimmer, I've spent half my life in a swimsuit, why is that okay but a tank top isn't. But there really is a time and a place for everything.
On top of concept I've often heard told to Young Women, dress modestly so boys don't get the wrong idea or think bad thoughts. While I would love my sons to only associate with modest women, that will not always be the case, and they are responsible for their thoughts, not the women they come in contact with. So to be modest for the sake of vulnerable and impressionable young men only, that is not the point.
The point is, I am modest for me. I am modest to show that I respect the body I have been given, that I respect myself to not have to show lots if skin to be fashionable. I dress modestly because I believe that is how Christ would want me to dress. I feel more comfortable and more confident when I dress this way, I do not have to worry about what will show when I bend over or squat down. I do not cover up because I am ashamed of my body, but because I love it enough to dress it nicely and modestly so that my light can shine through.
But seriously though, I have all these thoughts and opinions swimming in my brain, sometimes I put them out into the Facebook world, more often though, they stay swimming around in my brain. This is one of those topics.
As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, or Mormon church, we believe very strongly in modesty. For women this means shorts and skirts that are knee length or longer, shirts that cover shoulders and midriffs. No low cut shirts, no bikinis, no spaghetti strap tank tops, no strapless dresses. That is a lot of 'what not to wear', and for teens especially can be hard to live when it comes to current fashion trends and finding dresses for dances. But this is what we are counseled to do, and this is what I believe in.
Recently I saw an article in Facebook about a photographer who was doing photo shoots of Mormon women, nude. The purpose? Helping these women to feel good about their bodies, to not be ashamed. I read about this (posted by a non-member friend) and was shocked. Were they really suggesting that the push for modesty made these women ashamed of their bodies? If that was the case, then I think they missed the point.
Before I was a member I wore tube tops, bikinis, strapless dresses, tank tops, short skirts, etc. The first time I wore a spaghetti strap tank top I remember feeling so uncomfortable and exposed, but the more I did it, the less awkward I felt. I wore bikinis, and felt all those same feelings, and I never got used to it. When I was learning about the Mormon church I was taught about modesty. My response? I grew up swimming, I am a swimmer, I've spent half my life in a swimsuit, why is that okay but a tank top isn't. But there really is a time and a place for everything.
On top of concept I've often heard told to Young Women, dress modestly so boys don't get the wrong idea or think bad thoughts. While I would love my sons to only associate with modest women, that will not always be the case, and they are responsible for their thoughts, not the women they come in contact with. So to be modest for the sake of vulnerable and impressionable young men only, that is not the point.
The point is, I am modest for me. I am modest to show that I respect the body I have been given, that I respect myself to not have to show lots if skin to be fashionable. I dress modestly because I believe that is how Christ would want me to dress. I feel more comfortable and more confident when I dress this way, I do not have to worry about what will show when I bend over or squat down. I do not cover up because I am ashamed of my body, but because I love it enough to dress it nicely and modestly so that my light can shine through.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
because it really does take a village
I'm back! School has started, and therefore I am working again, and finding an hour to blog has become as hard as I thought it would be. But do not be dismayed! Today is the first day of a 4-day weekend called 'fall break' here in Utah (formerly known as UEA), and blogging is at the top of my to-do list (along with many, many other things). So here I go crossing off one thing on my list (ahhh, that feels so good).
You know the phrase, 'it takes a village to raise a child'? Well I recently learned how true that phrase really is. On September 27 I celebrated my 25th birthday and I wanted to do something special to celebrate it. 25 is not really a milestone birthday, but in my own mind, it seems to be. Besides the fact that I can now drive a rental car (with paying extra to do so), there is nothing very momentous about the number. But for me, half way between 20 and 30 seems important, so I decided to make it important to myself. I started thinking about what I would do, I found a blog post on pinterest (of course) about a woman who did 27 random acts of kindness on her 27th birthday. I thought about doing that, but logistics talked me out of it. Then I started thinking about my life up to this point. I have truly come so far and have experienced (at at times merely survived) so many things in my life. Perhaps the most defining times in my life have been my high school years, and post high school years. The former where I battled with (and nearly lost my life to) anorexia, bulimia, cutting, and depression, the latter where I found my way and became baptized as a member of the LDS church. But none of what I have been through would have possible without the support, love and friendship of so many people. In short, I would not be who I am today (or maybe even be alive today) if it were not for the many people who have helped me along the way. This pondering of my life, combined with the blog post I read led me to the project that would mark my 25th birthday. Write letters to 25 people who have helped me along the way, and helped me be the person I am today.
Originally I intended to write 25 separate letters, but as my deadline (aka, my birthday) approached more quickly than I realized, I decided to write to 25 people. On the top of my list was my mom, and she was the first letter I wrote. If you know anything about my relationship with my mother over the past 25 years, you know that my mother is a saint, she is my hero and a best friend to me, and I owe her so much (especially my life). Others on my list included my sister, grandparents, friends, my 5th grade teacher, people from my past and from the present, and my husband. When I started this project I thought I might just write an email to each person (because stamps are really expensive, and I had a better chance of finishing if I could send an email) but I decided good old fashioned snail mail would be better, and I think it made the process more meaningful for all those involved.
As I wrote each letter I thought about why I had put this person on my list (my list was much longer that 25, but I had to narrow it down or I would be writing letters for months). I searched my memories and my past, I put my thoughts and feelings to paper. Often they were letters of gratitude for things they did, whether they realized what they did affected me or not. At the end of my letter writing journey I realized how lucky I am to be alive. How blessed I am to have the help of so many people in my life. And although I only wrote to 25 people, there are dozens more who deserve a letter (and maybe they will get one at a later birthday). Because through this whole experience I have realized that it really does take a village to raise a child into a women, wife, mother and friend such as I.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
because we still remember...
I was not intending to do a post about about 9/11 today, however what I wanted to put as my facebook status was too long, so I decided to make it a blog post. So here is something I have been thinking about for a few days (yes, I have a constant running narrative in my mind of what to put as my facebook status).
11 years ago today I was a freshman in high school and I remember the moment I heard what happened very clearly. My mom was dropping me off at school, we picked up some of my friends who were already walking, they told us to turn on the radio. I also remember not getting any other information until I got home from school, and at lunch time singing the song "It's the end of the world as we know it" with one of my best friends (I realize know how awful that is, but we were 14 and had no idea what was happening). When I got home my sister was there, she had just driven from LA to Fremont that day with her friend, and all that was on the radio were reports of the events. When I got home all I wanted to do was watch the news, all my sister wanted to do was watch something else, so we watched the Disney channel. I pulled out a photo album I had of my trip to the East Coast with a good friend and her mom, it included a trip to New York City, and I had pictures of the World Trade Towers behind me. Living in California at the time, I could not have been farther from the devastation, but like so many others, the collective hearts of America were there.
I clearly remember so much of that day, and many others can relate. Sadly it seems something like this happens each generation, where people have a "where I was, and what I was doing" moment when they get the awful news, Pearl Harbor, the Kennedy assassination, and 9/11.
As I have reflected on the upcoming 11th anniversary of the attacks I was reminded of how long 11 years really is, even though it may not seem like it. The young women at my church were barely alive when it happened, and have no memory of it. The third graders with whom I work with, were born 3 years after the fact. To them this is something they have only heard about, seen in video clips on TV, and will read in history books in years to come. As weird as that may be to me, I am grateful for that fact.
In a world increasingly filled with war, genocide, religious intolerance, terrorism and all other evil and heart-wrenching things, I can only hope and pray that this rising generation never have to experience what we did. As Americans we enjoy a sheltered life, and while some will argue that the things I just mentioned absolutely do affect our children today, it does not have the same personal impact of what happened 11 years ago. I can only hope and pray that the things that we tenderly remember today stay a thing of the past, something that lives within the pages of a history book and in the hearts of those of us who lived through it. It is my wish that we never have a moment where news reporters compare a future tragedy to 9/11, as many on that day compared 9/11 to Pearl Harbor. However naive this may be, let us pray earnestly for those brave soldiers who are doing their all to make this hope happen and our government leaders (however much you may like or dislike them). Because while we still remember what happened, let us have hope for a future with out such a tragedy.
11 years ago today I was a freshman in high school and I remember the moment I heard what happened very clearly. My mom was dropping me off at school, we picked up some of my friends who were already walking, they told us to turn on the radio. I also remember not getting any other information until I got home from school, and at lunch time singing the song "It's the end of the world as we know it" with one of my best friends (I realize know how awful that is, but we were 14 and had no idea what was happening). When I got home my sister was there, she had just driven from LA to Fremont that day with her friend, and all that was on the radio were reports of the events. When I got home all I wanted to do was watch the news, all my sister wanted to do was watch something else, so we watched the Disney channel. I pulled out a photo album I had of my trip to the East Coast with a good friend and her mom, it included a trip to New York City, and I had pictures of the World Trade Towers behind me. Living in California at the time, I could not have been farther from the devastation, but like so many others, the collective hearts of America were there.
I clearly remember so much of that day, and many others can relate. Sadly it seems something like this happens each generation, where people have a "where I was, and what I was doing" moment when they get the awful news, Pearl Harbor, the Kennedy assassination, and 9/11.
As I have reflected on the upcoming 11th anniversary of the attacks I was reminded of how long 11 years really is, even though it may not seem like it. The young women at my church were barely alive when it happened, and have no memory of it. The third graders with whom I work with, were born 3 years after the fact. To them this is something they have only heard about, seen in video clips on TV, and will read in history books in years to come. As weird as that may be to me, I am grateful for that fact.
In a world increasingly filled with war, genocide, religious intolerance, terrorism and all other evil and heart-wrenching things, I can only hope and pray that this rising generation never have to experience what we did. As Americans we enjoy a sheltered life, and while some will argue that the things I just mentioned absolutely do affect our children today, it does not have the same personal impact of what happened 11 years ago. I can only hope and pray that the things that we tenderly remember today stay a thing of the past, something that lives within the pages of a history book and in the hearts of those of us who lived through it. It is my wish that we never have a moment where news reporters compare a future tragedy to 9/11, as many on that day compared 9/11 to Pearl Harbor. However naive this may be, let us pray earnestly for those brave soldiers who are doing their all to make this hope happen and our government leaders (however much you may like or dislike them). Because while we still remember what happened, let us have hope for a future with out such a tragedy.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
because I still believe what I believe... Part 2
In an attempt to not leave anyone in suspense (and to distract myself from the things I really need to do, but do not want to) here is part 2, a continuation from my post yesterday.
Where last I left you it was past midnight and as everyone in our cabin snoozed away I was trying to keep my eyes open and the pamphlet "Are mormon's christians?", as well as try to understand all the big words they were using to prove their points. There were three main points that really struck me (to recap incase you don't remember) namely that mormons are not christians because... 1.)they believe that God and Jesus Christ are two separate beings with bodies (not in line with the traditional trinity), 2.)they do not believe that they are saved by grace alone (I have issues with this one), 3.) they believe we can become like God. So I read as much as I could, feeling confused and having so many questions, I gave into sleep and turned in for the night.
The next day went much like the first, but this time I had so many questions in my mind it was hard to focus on what the man what saying without firing back a question every time (mentally of course, but very distracting none-the-less). The workshop continued into the flaws of mormon doctrine, the flaws of Joseph Smith and other things that got the audience as a whole nodding their heads in agreement. Things were not sitting right with me, I couldn't quite put my finger on it, and then it hit me. Between the things this man was saying was wrong with mormon doctrine and what the pamphlet said, I was hearing a lot of what is wrong, but nothing telling me what exactly was right (other than it was not the LDS church).
After the workshop finished I waited around to talk to the speaker. I'm not sure exactly what I was trying to accomplish, but I knew that I had questions about what I had read and that this man could answer the evangelical side. I also knew that I wanted to tell him I was LDS, I did not want to sit silently in the back over the course of three days and say nothing (although in hindsight, people probably knew Daniel and I were mormon form the BYU sweatshirts we were wearing the whole week). There were several other people who wanted to talk to the speaker before me, I stood back and listened to their conversations, and mustered up the courage to continue to wait (instead of giving up and going back to the cabin were everyone was eating lunch and subsequently worrying about where I was). When it was finally my turn the whole place was basically cleared out.
I started off by saying, "Hi i'm Michelle and I live in Utah as well, and I am a mormon." As you can imagine intrigued filled his face. I started off by asking the questions I had from reading the pamphlet, basically, was I so naive to think that the differences in doctrine meant that we were not christians? And if what we believe is so wrong, then what church is right? I shared with him my conversion, and he shared with me why he left the church. And upon analyses we had quite opposite experiences. I was a person raised (starting about age 8) in a a christian environment, then at the age of 18 converted to the LDS church. He was someone who was born and raised in the LDS church and left it in his teen years. His main reason, he told me, was because as a teen he saw evangelical christians who talked about Jesus on a personal level, they had a personal relationship with Him, and this man wanted to learn more. I shared that I had grown up around mormons (my best friends are members, I went the church dances with them, even met with the missionaries once out of curiosity) but was never interested in their doctrine in a way that made me want to join their church, until I graduated from high school. In high school I went to christian summer camps, I did bible studies, and youth group activities twice a week. But when the church my family attended shut down, I was confused as to how that could happen. My friend Soren invited me to family home evening, ward activities and eventually to meet with the missionaries. I was skeptical still when I met with them, but everything that I did not understand about the church suddenly made sense. Everything they talked about, made sense. God and Jesus Christ are separate beings with bodies, that made sense to me (I could never quite grasp the concept of the trinity). The priesthood is Christ's authority on the earth today? Made sense. To my brain (which can be overly logical at times) it all made sense. I already knew who my Savior was, I already knew what the Holy Spirit felt like, I already knew God was always there watching over me, but now I could know the rest.
The rest of the conversation I learned more about his point of view, but the differences seemed small, and I was still confused why others thought they were so important (me being naive again?). When asked the question I really wanted an answer to, I received a very disappointing and underwhelming answer. "So in reading the pamphlet it said that those were the things that we got wrong, then who has it right?" (to paraphrase, of course). **I will add this, even growing up in a christian church I struggled with why all the different sects were so, different. What is the right way to be baptized? Sprinkle or dunk? How often do you take communion (the sacrament)? Every week or special occasions. What happens to people who were not baptized and die? What about children and babies?** I was fully reading for some sort of grand answer but what I got was, "I don't claim to know who is right.....". He added something else but I do not remember what he said, but it did not answer my question.
We also talked about being saved by grace alone, as opposed to grace plus works. I still don't understand all the differences. I believe I am saved by grace alone, but I need to do my best and do everything I can do to be the best I can be. If this is grace plus works, then yes I believe that, I guess. But I do know there is nothing I can do on my own the be saved. His explanation only made me more confused.
So what did I learn from all of this? I learned that people still do not think mormons are christians and why they believe that. I was exposed to the way some evangelicals look at mormons and at mormon doctrine (not all may think this way, but a lot do). Above all else I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is the only true church on the face of the earth, I believe that because it has all the things I wanted answered, it a wonderful and divine way. I am so thankful for this whole experience. Going to Mt.Hermon with my family for this vacation I fully expected to have fun, to relax and to grow closer to those who I was with. But I never imagined I would question what and why I believe what I believe, and then come out the other side with a strengthened testimony, because now I can say, I still believe what I believe.
Where last I left you it was past midnight and as everyone in our cabin snoozed away I was trying to keep my eyes open and the pamphlet "Are mormon's christians?", as well as try to understand all the big words they were using to prove their points. There were three main points that really struck me (to recap incase you don't remember) namely that mormons are not christians because... 1.)they believe that God and Jesus Christ are two separate beings with bodies (not in line with the traditional trinity), 2.)they do not believe that they are saved by grace alone (I have issues with this one), 3.) they believe we can become like God. So I read as much as I could, feeling confused and having so many questions, I gave into sleep and turned in for the night.
The next day went much like the first, but this time I had so many questions in my mind it was hard to focus on what the man what saying without firing back a question every time (mentally of course, but very distracting none-the-less). The workshop continued into the flaws of mormon doctrine, the flaws of Joseph Smith and other things that got the audience as a whole nodding their heads in agreement. Things were not sitting right with me, I couldn't quite put my finger on it, and then it hit me. Between the things this man was saying was wrong with mormon doctrine and what the pamphlet said, I was hearing a lot of what is wrong, but nothing telling me what exactly was right (other than it was not the LDS church).
After the workshop finished I waited around to talk to the speaker. I'm not sure exactly what I was trying to accomplish, but I knew that I had questions about what I had read and that this man could answer the evangelical side. I also knew that I wanted to tell him I was LDS, I did not want to sit silently in the back over the course of three days and say nothing (although in hindsight, people probably knew Daniel and I were mormon form the BYU sweatshirts we were wearing the whole week). There were several other people who wanted to talk to the speaker before me, I stood back and listened to their conversations, and mustered up the courage to continue to wait (instead of giving up and going back to the cabin were everyone was eating lunch and subsequently worrying about where I was). When it was finally my turn the whole place was basically cleared out.
I started off by saying, "Hi i'm Michelle and I live in Utah as well, and I am a mormon." As you can imagine intrigued filled his face. I started off by asking the questions I had from reading the pamphlet, basically, was I so naive to think that the differences in doctrine meant that we were not christians? And if what we believe is so wrong, then what church is right? I shared with him my conversion, and he shared with me why he left the church. And upon analyses we had quite opposite experiences. I was a person raised (starting about age 8) in a a christian environment, then at the age of 18 converted to the LDS church. He was someone who was born and raised in the LDS church and left it in his teen years. His main reason, he told me, was because as a teen he saw evangelical christians who talked about Jesus on a personal level, they had a personal relationship with Him, and this man wanted to learn more. I shared that I had grown up around mormons (my best friends are members, I went the church dances with them, even met with the missionaries once out of curiosity) but was never interested in their doctrine in a way that made me want to join their church, until I graduated from high school. In high school I went to christian summer camps, I did bible studies, and youth group activities twice a week. But when the church my family attended shut down, I was confused as to how that could happen. My friend Soren invited me to family home evening, ward activities and eventually to meet with the missionaries. I was skeptical still when I met with them, but everything that I did not understand about the church suddenly made sense. Everything they talked about, made sense. God and Jesus Christ are separate beings with bodies, that made sense to me (I could never quite grasp the concept of the trinity). The priesthood is Christ's authority on the earth today? Made sense. To my brain (which can be overly logical at times) it all made sense. I already knew who my Savior was, I already knew what the Holy Spirit felt like, I already knew God was always there watching over me, but now I could know the rest.
The rest of the conversation I learned more about his point of view, but the differences seemed small, and I was still confused why others thought they were so important (me being naive again?). When asked the question I really wanted an answer to, I received a very disappointing and underwhelming answer. "So in reading the pamphlet it said that those were the things that we got wrong, then who has it right?" (to paraphrase, of course). **I will add this, even growing up in a christian church I struggled with why all the different sects were so, different. What is the right way to be baptized? Sprinkle or dunk? How often do you take communion (the sacrament)? Every week or special occasions. What happens to people who were not baptized and die? What about children and babies?** I was fully reading for some sort of grand answer but what I got was, "I don't claim to know who is right.....". He added something else but I do not remember what he said, but it did not answer my question.
We also talked about being saved by grace alone, as opposed to grace plus works. I still don't understand all the differences. I believe I am saved by grace alone, but I need to do my best and do everything I can do to be the best I can be. If this is grace plus works, then yes I believe that, I guess. But I do know there is nothing I can do on my own the be saved. His explanation only made me more confused.
So what did I learn from all of this? I learned that people still do not think mormons are christians and why they believe that. I was exposed to the way some evangelicals look at mormons and at mormon doctrine (not all may think this way, but a lot do). Above all else I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is the only true church on the face of the earth, I believe that because it has all the things I wanted answered, it a wonderful and divine way. I am so thankful for this whole experience. Going to Mt.Hermon with my family for this vacation I fully expected to have fun, to relax and to grow closer to those who I was with. But I never imagined I would question what and why I believe what I believe, and then come out the other side with a strengthened testimony, because now I can say, I still believe what I believe.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
because I still believe what I believe.... part 1
I'm back... again. It has been a while, life has ben busy (lame excuse I know, also because life is about to become exponentially more hectic). This post is one I've been mulling over and thinking about for a while, then it was kicked into motion by our recent (wonderful, relaxing, fun, amazing) vacation to California. So fair warning for those who want to turn back now, this is a blog post about religion, so be prepared for views that may not be fully aligned with your own. My goal is to portray my experience, and is in no way meant to offend anyone. So proceed and read at your own risk.
Our vacation had been planned a year in advance. My mom and her best friend made all the reservations and my sister and her family, and me and my family, had a year to prepare and to make it all work with various schedules and such. For 5 days we stole away to the beautiful Santa Cruz mountains (to be more specific, the town of Felton), surrounded by truly inspiring redwood trees, we stayed at Mt.Hermon. Mt.Hermon is a christian family camp. As a youth for 3 years I attended its high school branch, Ponderosa for a week long summer camp. I knew (and told my husband ahead of time) what would be our daily routine when we arrived. In the morning there was a chapel session (akin to a devotional) that included announcements for the day, sometimes a skit relating to the week's theme, praise and worship music, and a speaker. A short break then several workshops were offered. The afternoon was left up to us campers, and filled with much fun and relaxation. The evenings had a chapel session as well (almost the same as the morning but with a different speaker) and then activities available afterwards. I knew Daniel would probably be bored with the chapel sessions (he did not want me to interpret for him, so I honored his request), but other than that I had no qualms with our daily routine. The first night we arrived, there was a fun and yummy barbecue for all the families to enjoy together, information was given to everyone to let them know of the activities and workshops for the week. One workshop being offered was about Mitt Romney and Mormonism, I was interested in going and seeing what they had to say. My mom commented, "they probably are not going to say nice things", I responded "well, then maybe I can educate them". What followed was my own personal enlightenment.
The workshop was a three part series, over three days a man (who grew up in the LDS church and left in his teen years who still lives in Utah and his the founder of "Standing United Ministry") taught and lectured about the history of mormonism, what they believe ( and consequently how it is doctrinally 'wrong' as it is not a sect of christianity) and how to bridge the divide and talk with them (and convert them). Over the course of three days, I sat and listened with my mom, my sister, my brother-in-law and family friends (all of whom are evangelical christians). I will be honest, I felt out of place, I felt like a black sheep. For the most part, everything that man said was true, some of it may have been presented in a skewed light, but it was true none-the-less. My emotions ran the gamut, I was angry, confused, and defensive. I felt vulnerable and unsure. He said things about the LDS church and Joseph Smith I had never heard (most of which was entirely unflattering), he said things I did know, but when spoken aloud to a room full of skeptical evangelicals sounded awful. The man threw our names and dates so fast that it was hard to follow. He name dropped the boost his credibility, evangelical theologians and LDS general authorities alike. I will admit, the time he has spent in the company of so many general authorities of the church, makes me wish I could do the same. With the connections he had, it was obvious that he was at the forefront of this discussion. Day one ended with admonition to have this discussion about religion with love and openness, without defensiveness and hate. Some of the things and way he said things did not sit right with me, and I was not entirely sure why.
As the first workshop ended and I was confused and unsure of what to do. Afterwards the man had a table set up with pamphlets and books and dvds pertaining to the subject (mainly, how doctrinally mormons are not christians, and the success his ministry was having in Utah spreading the evangelical word) I bought a pamphlet that was titled "Are mormons Christians?". My immediate answer, yes! Of course we are! We believe in Christ, we are saved by Christ, we talk of Christ, the cornerstone of the LDS church is Christ! That night as everyone else was asleep I read the pamphlet. What I was faced with were the the doctrinal differences that supported the claim that we are not christians, and a lot of big words to explain and support that fact. I do not claim the be a scholar of any kind, least of all of religion, but I feel as thought I am fairly intelligent and well versed. It may have been that I was fighting off sleep and midnight had come and gone, but the words and terms the author used were way over my head, and I struggled to understand what I read. What I did understand was this: 1.) Mormons are not Christians because they believe that God and Jesus Christ are two separate beings with bodies, 2.) Mormons are not Christians because they do not believe that we are saved by grace alone, 3.) Mormons are not Christians because they believe they can become like God.
Once again I will state, I do not know everything LDS doctrine, but I do know some things and those statements hit me. Maybe I am just very naive, but do those things mean we do not follow Christ? Or Is the definition of Christian something that alludes me? The second reason mentioned was something I do not even believe to be true. However at the end of that day, and after reading that pamphlet I was entirely exhausted, confused and bewildered, not to mention all the questions swirling around in my mind. But I did still know that the Church was true, and I did still believe what I believed, but now I was confronted with the why and how, and that was something I would find the following 2 days.
To continue to blog would be entirely too long winded, so join me back here for part 2 for a date yet to be determined.
Our vacation had been planned a year in advance. My mom and her best friend made all the reservations and my sister and her family, and me and my family, had a year to prepare and to make it all work with various schedules and such. For 5 days we stole away to the beautiful Santa Cruz mountains (to be more specific, the town of Felton), surrounded by truly inspiring redwood trees, we stayed at Mt.Hermon. Mt.Hermon is a christian family camp. As a youth for 3 years I attended its high school branch, Ponderosa for a week long summer camp. I knew (and told my husband ahead of time) what would be our daily routine when we arrived. In the morning there was a chapel session (akin to a devotional) that included announcements for the day, sometimes a skit relating to the week's theme, praise and worship music, and a speaker. A short break then several workshops were offered. The afternoon was left up to us campers, and filled with much fun and relaxation. The evenings had a chapel session as well (almost the same as the morning but with a different speaker) and then activities available afterwards. I knew Daniel would probably be bored with the chapel sessions (he did not want me to interpret for him, so I honored his request), but other than that I had no qualms with our daily routine. The first night we arrived, there was a fun and yummy barbecue for all the families to enjoy together, information was given to everyone to let them know of the activities and workshops for the week. One workshop being offered was about Mitt Romney and Mormonism, I was interested in going and seeing what they had to say. My mom commented, "they probably are not going to say nice things", I responded "well, then maybe I can educate them". What followed was my own personal enlightenment.
The workshop was a three part series, over three days a man (who grew up in the LDS church and left in his teen years who still lives in Utah and his the founder of "Standing United Ministry") taught and lectured about the history of mormonism, what they believe ( and consequently how it is doctrinally 'wrong' as it is not a sect of christianity) and how to bridge the divide and talk with them (and convert them). Over the course of three days, I sat and listened with my mom, my sister, my brother-in-law and family friends (all of whom are evangelical christians). I will be honest, I felt out of place, I felt like a black sheep. For the most part, everything that man said was true, some of it may have been presented in a skewed light, but it was true none-the-less. My emotions ran the gamut, I was angry, confused, and defensive. I felt vulnerable and unsure. He said things about the LDS church and Joseph Smith I had never heard (most of which was entirely unflattering), he said things I did know, but when spoken aloud to a room full of skeptical evangelicals sounded awful. The man threw our names and dates so fast that it was hard to follow. He name dropped the boost his credibility, evangelical theologians and LDS general authorities alike. I will admit, the time he has spent in the company of so many general authorities of the church, makes me wish I could do the same. With the connections he had, it was obvious that he was at the forefront of this discussion. Day one ended with admonition to have this discussion about religion with love and openness, without defensiveness and hate. Some of the things and way he said things did not sit right with me, and I was not entirely sure why.
As the first workshop ended and I was confused and unsure of what to do. Afterwards the man had a table set up with pamphlets and books and dvds pertaining to the subject (mainly, how doctrinally mormons are not christians, and the success his ministry was having in Utah spreading the evangelical word) I bought a pamphlet that was titled "Are mormons Christians?". My immediate answer, yes! Of course we are! We believe in Christ, we are saved by Christ, we talk of Christ, the cornerstone of the LDS church is Christ! That night as everyone else was asleep I read the pamphlet. What I was faced with were the the doctrinal differences that supported the claim that we are not christians, and a lot of big words to explain and support that fact. I do not claim the be a scholar of any kind, least of all of religion, but I feel as thought I am fairly intelligent and well versed. It may have been that I was fighting off sleep and midnight had come and gone, but the words and terms the author used were way over my head, and I struggled to understand what I read. What I did understand was this: 1.) Mormons are not Christians because they believe that God and Jesus Christ are two separate beings with bodies, 2.) Mormons are not Christians because they do not believe that we are saved by grace alone, 3.) Mormons are not Christians because they believe they can become like God.
Once again I will state, I do not know everything LDS doctrine, but I do know some things and those statements hit me. Maybe I am just very naive, but do those things mean we do not follow Christ? Or Is the definition of Christian something that alludes me? The second reason mentioned was something I do not even believe to be true. However at the end of that day, and after reading that pamphlet I was entirely exhausted, confused and bewildered, not to mention all the questions swirling around in my mind. But I did still know that the Church was true, and I did still believe what I believed, but now I was confronted with the why and how, and that was something I would find the following 2 days.
To continue to blog would be entirely too long winded, so join me back here for part 2 for a date yet to be determined.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
because I worry... a lot
I'm back!!! I hope you did not think I gave up on writing in my blog (that probably won't happen until school starts and I get super busy again), I've had a good reason this time, I promise! Last week we took our long awaited and much needed vacation to California. For 9 glorious days we enjoyed the incomparable weather that the Bay Area and Santa Cruz montains have to offer (when we arrived saturday morning I was so cold I had to put on a sweatshirt!), spent time with friends and family, celebrated birthdays, went to the beach (Leo's first time seeing the ocean!), and ate lots of really yummy ice cream.
We needed this vacation in the worst way. Daniel has been so busy with work and school and his internship that we (Leo and I) spent more quality time with him during those 9 days than we have in a month. And even though I had been looking forward to this vacation for a year now, I did not realize how much I needed it either. It was probably our third or fourth day into the vacation when I honed in on the reason I was enjoying this vacation so much (besides the obvious aforementioned reasons). I realized before going to bed one night that I was not worrying about anything, and that was such a peaceful and relaxing feeling. I knew I worried a lot, but I never realized how freeing it would be to not worry.
If worrying was an olympic sport, I could compete with the best of them (my mother-in-law would probably win the gold, but I could be a contender). This summer has been particularly worriful (pretty sure not a real word). Between not having a job, figuring out my job for the fall, trying to be certified as an interpreter (to get a job now), car problems and everything with Daniel and his schooling, I have been on worry overload. Most of this worrying is tied to money (I hate money, dealing with it, trying to get it, not having it, etc.).
The problem with worrying is that I'm pretty sure it is genetic, it is so ingrained in me I don't know how to not worry. When my husband sees me getting stressed out he tells me not to worry. I love you honey, but that is the worst thing you could say to me in that moment. Telling me not to worry is like telling me to not blink, the more I try not to, the more I do it. I often try to recite the serenity prayer to myself... God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. It helps in small situations, but often I have this underlying worry that is always with me, even when I am not actively worrying about something, it is there with me.
Having said all of that, the best unexpected part of our vacation was that I did not have to worry. I knew that no matter what I did or how much I worried, I could not change our life in Utah while we were in California, so I did not worry. I know that rationally worrying does nothing for me here in Utah either, therefore I should use the same reasoning and not worry, but it does not work like that. So while I miss my family and friends and want to go back and have another month of vacation just to spend time with them, the part I miss is the peace I had when I did not have to worry, because I worry... a lot.
We needed this vacation in the worst way. Daniel has been so busy with work and school and his internship that we (Leo and I) spent more quality time with him during those 9 days than we have in a month. And even though I had been looking forward to this vacation for a year now, I did not realize how much I needed it either. It was probably our third or fourth day into the vacation when I honed in on the reason I was enjoying this vacation so much (besides the obvious aforementioned reasons). I realized before going to bed one night that I was not worrying about anything, and that was such a peaceful and relaxing feeling. I knew I worried a lot, but I never realized how freeing it would be to not worry.
If worrying was an olympic sport, I could compete with the best of them (my mother-in-law would probably win the gold, but I could be a contender). This summer has been particularly worriful (pretty sure not a real word). Between not having a job, figuring out my job for the fall, trying to be certified as an interpreter (to get a job now), car problems and everything with Daniel and his schooling, I have been on worry overload. Most of this worrying is tied to money (I hate money, dealing with it, trying to get it, not having it, etc.).
The problem with worrying is that I'm pretty sure it is genetic, it is so ingrained in me I don't know how to not worry. When my husband sees me getting stressed out he tells me not to worry. I love you honey, but that is the worst thing you could say to me in that moment. Telling me not to worry is like telling me to not blink, the more I try not to, the more I do it. I often try to recite the serenity prayer to myself... God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. It helps in small situations, but often I have this underlying worry that is always with me, even when I am not actively worrying about something, it is there with me.
Having said all of that, the best unexpected part of our vacation was that I did not have to worry. I knew that no matter what I did or how much I worried, I could not change our life in Utah while we were in California, so I did not worry. I know that rationally worrying does nothing for me here in Utah either, therefore I should use the same reasoning and not worry, but it does not work like that. So while I miss my family and friends and want to go back and have another month of vacation just to spend time with them, the part I miss is the peace I had when I did not have to worry, because I worry... a lot.
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