The Pit

In a Religion class I took 10 years ago at BYU-Idaho, we were given an assignment to write a parable. As I brainstormed topics to write about, I came across one of my doodles (that was my idea of taking notes at one point), and this became the inspiration of my parable.

I felt like sharing it today because... one: I think it is pretty good (if I do say so myself), and two: I was reminded of it during the recent General Relief Society broadcast when Sister Linda K. Burton told a similar analogy.  (I just discovered that her analogy was taken from a primary lesson manual, and although I feel that my parable was completely of my own creation, it makes me wonder if it might be a sign that I actually was listening in primary and that those things really do stick.) 
So here it is.  (The numbers are the verses --it was supposed to be written like the scriptures, in case you were wondering.)

The Parable of the Pit

1. In a certain city there was a pit.

2. The breadth thereof was exceedingly large and exceedingly deep and dirty.

3. There happened upon the pit two youths who, not knowing the dangers of the pit and the slipperiness of the sides, did venture too close to the mouth of the pit to peer in and they did fall into the depths thereof.

4. A certain stranger traveling by, hearing their cries, approached the pit.

5. The youths cried unto him saying; Thou who standest on higher ground, wilt thou have mercy on us and rescue us?

6. And the stranger answered and said; Nay, for I see that the pit is exceedingly dirty and I desirest not to be soiled as thou art. And he went his way.

7. Another stranger passing by and hearing the cries of the youths approached the pit.

8. They cried unto him saying; Thou who standest on higher ground, wilt thou have mercy on us and rescue us?

9. Looking into the pit, the stranger answered and said unto them; Nay, for I do not have the means wherewith to pull you out. And he went his way.

10. And the youths were exceeding sorrowful.

11. Yet two strangers traveling together passing by heard the cries of the youths down in the pit and approached.

12. The youths cried unto them saying; Thou who standest on higher ground, wilt thou have mercy on us and rescue us?

13. And the one stranger, straightway lowered his rod into the pit in order to draw them out, but alas, it was lacking in length.

14. The second stranger, seeing the deficiency of the rod, straightway jumped into the pit and built for the youths a ladder that they may all reach the rod and be lifted out of the pit.

15. And when they had done this, the youths rejoiced saying; Blessed be thy name forever, for thou art our saviors, and have shown great mercy upon us for we should have surely perished in the pit!

16. And thus they did cry all the days of their lives.

Translation:

            The youths represent people, who in their ignorance and curiosity, fall into the pit of sin –perhaps bound for the very depths of hell.

             The strangers represent members of the Church.  They stand on higher ground, meaning they uphold their standards and keep the commandments, yet perhaps they are traveling in different directions.

            The first stranger is one who, in his pride, refuses to help those in trouble because he is afraid that it may adversely affect his own standing. He, like a Pharisee, is afraid of associating with anything considered “unclean.” One may wonder which direction he travels when it says, “And he went his way.”

            The second stranger, though he stands on higher ground and looks into the pit wanting to help, is lacking in the resources –perhaps the knowledge, the willingness, and the strength –whereby to pull them out.

            The last two strangers are a representation of our companionship with Christ. He is the one who was willing to descend below it all.  He prepared the way, building the steps of repentance whereby all mankind may be saved through His atoning sacrifice.

            Notice that the ladder is built to be used at the will of the youths. It is by their own strength and choice that they ascend the steps.

            The rod, as in other scriptures, is the Word of God. It is extended to all people and should be kept close at hand by faithful members.

            We, like the unfortunate youths, are all subject to the pits of mortal life and are in constant need of the saving and enabling powers of the atonement. Let us rejoice and praise God continually for his mercy, and let us proclaim these happy tidings all of our days.

It's amazing to me to see how smart I once was, even at 20.  It's not a perfect analogy, but I got an A.
Hope you enjoyed it.

Melons

My babies have big heads.

It runs in the family.

My sister-in-law calls it our "German shaped heads," and indeed we do have German ancestors, but I don't know if one can speak in such generalities...

Okay, so based on principles of perspective and depth, the head sizes in this picture are all wrong,
I think you all know who's the German though. Coincidence? I think not.

Anyway, it makes for difficult deliveries, and sometimes I look at other people's newborns and think -"Man! That one would have been a cinch to give birth to!"

I was reading a lady's blog where she wrote a lovely article about how there is so much spiritual symbolism in the natural childbirth process, and how we were meant to go through pain and suffering when we bring children into this earth and so forth... (did I mention she's a doula or midwife or something?) However, I could only think how grateful I have been for epidurals and that if I hadn't been able to have those (and I still felt plenty of pain by the way) I would have been way too traumatized to appreciate the experience and I most likely would have resented my babies for causing me so much pain.  I applaud women who can have their babies naturally, and I try not to let it make me feel like less of a woman because I don't.  I'll just keep telling myself that their babies don't have as big of heads as mine do.

I have to admit, big heads make for really cute babies, if I do say so myself.

I love how when my baby bends over to pick something up it often ends up in an impromptu somersault.

Gotta love the bed-head too.

And I love how when he looks up at me too quickly he has to stagger backward a few paces just to keep his balance.

Babies are miracles however they are born, and everyone can have the deeply spiritual experience of knowing that this little spirit came straight from heaven and was meant for us to take care of regardless of whether we physically brought them into this world (with or without the blessings of modern medicine), or adopted them into our families.
Heaven knows the pain we mothers feel extends beyond the physical kind at delivery.  I think when Eve was cast out of the garden that perhaps some of the sorrow she would experience in bringing forth children wasn't just the physical kind but the kind that comes from watching them use, or should I say misuse, their agency --which was a direct result of the fall.
Still, she wisely chose to focus on the joy and happiness that her children brought her as well as the hope that the plan of redemption gave and she praised God (Moses 5:11-12).
What a wonderful example.

So, when life gives you lemons... just reverse the first three letters and you've got yourself something that's naturally sweet.

(I made that up all by myself.)

((I think I better go to bed.))

Anyway, I was just thinking of all my sisters and friends who are expecting right now (some sooner than others) and I wish them all the best! (plus small baby head circumferences ...not too small though).

Mottled Chameleon

So, I'm having a bit of a blog-identity crisis.

I don't feel that I've kept with the original purpose of this blog, and so when I sit down to write I start feeling all sorts of anxieties and things that try influencing what I post or how it will come out.  Some of it has to do with other blogs I read and how they rub off on me, some of it has to do with what I think other people expect of me, some of it has to do what I expect of myself, and some of it has to do with how I'm feeling in general.

Maybe it's my own identity crisis.

I remember a saying on the wall of a high school English class, right next to the plaque that read "Eschew Obfuscation," but that's beside the point. This other wall hanging read:

I AM

WHAT I THINK

OTHERS THINK

I AM

I don't know who first said this, but it has plagued me for years because I often feel that I fit this description perfectly.  I say plagued, because whenever I fall victim to other people's opinions of me (good or bad), whenever I feel like I am just playing a part to fit in or to keep up appearances, or whenever I listen to the voices inside my head that tell me I have no personality of my own, no original ideas, and that I am just a sad imitation of those whom I admire... this saying comes to mind.

I mean, have you ever had someone ask you if you're feeling sick, or if you've been crying, and suddenly you really do feel sick, or your eyes start welling up even though you're not sad in the least?  It's like being a victim of the force. Please tell me I'm not the only one this happens to.   

To explain this phenomena, aside from the inference that I'm a mindless twit that can be easily swayed by the merest suggestion, when someone asks me if I've been crying --which I rarely do, (okay, rarely did before I had three pregnancies) I suddenly start wracking my brain to think of reasons they would think this and feel sorry for myself, or else I start think of reasons I might have to cry (whether real or imagined) and that inevitably makes get teary-eyed, or sometimes I'm simply touched that someone would go out of their way to ask me something personal, so I start crying. Makes sense right?  

Don't answer that.

So on my mission, soon after arriving in the country and meeting my Mission
President for the first time, he interviewed me to get to know me a bit and assigned me a companion (probably not on the spot, I'm sure he had decided previously and was just seeking confirmation). I don't know what my MTC teachers had told him about me, and I do believe he was working on inspiration for the most part, but in the course of our conversation he labeled me as "bold" and told me that he was putting me with a sister who was meek and timid and could use someone to help her be more bold.

Me?  Bold?!

Now, I may have been outspoken and tactless at times, and perhaps even a little stubborn, but that does not equal bold.  I was anything but bold, especially when it came to sharing the Gospel --which honestly terrified me --especially in a foreign language!
But, bold he thought I was, and so bold I became.  Not always in the best ways mind you --I think I bowled her over and nearly drove her insane.  Poor sweet sister.  She didn't know what to do with me.  I told the elders off, I repeated offensive phrases I had learned to old men who hit on me, and I flatly refused to make phone calls until I could understand what the person was saying on the other end.  Yeah, I was that kind of trainee.
On the other hand, when paired with a companion who the President mentioned was "another red-head" (in the stereotypical sense of the word) and that he thought it might prove interesting (although I didn't consider myself a red-head --maybe auburn or chestnut, but not red), I found that my brand of "boldness" to be useful in not letting her push me around, keeping her out of trouble with the elders (yeah, she was that kind of sister), plus it motivated me to learn the language better so she couldn't do all the talking ...er, I mean, so I could explain what she was really trying to say.   I was paired with her three separate times on my mission, and I truly believe that if I hadn't been my "bold" self, she wouldn't have finished out her mission.
Despite my inner conviction that I wasn't bold, just stubborn, I did however come to recognize how the Mission President's view of me hadn't been so far off after all. Less than half way into my mission, a new companion and I met with a girl we had only taught once before (actually another companion taught her while I took care of a drunk guy in the lobby but that's a whole other story). She had come to see a baptism of another investigator, and afterwards we had our second discussion. Things were going so well, and as I bore my testimony I felt inspired to invite her to be baptized.  She said "yes" and we set a date and she was baptized four weeks later. She was what we call "golden." I didn't think much of it, since it happened so naturally, but later after my mission I learned that an elder who was present at that meeting had written to my parents to say how impressed he was with my boldness.  And it hit me.  Either my mission president had been right all along, or I became that way because that's what was expected of me.  Either way, that's who I was.

Sorry, where was I going with this?  Oh yeah.

I remember writing in my mission journal how much I felt I changed with each companion.  Some were meek, so I was loud, some were pushy, so I was stubborn, some were cool, so I was nerdy, others were nerdy, and well, I was still nerdy. Some were shy so I took charge, some were beautiful and I the ugly duckling, some were troubled and I was calm, some were old and well... okay so I couldn't blame being young on my personality fluctuations, but perhaps my own immaturity was more apparent, I don't know.  I wondered to myself if choosing an eternal companion would be essentially choosing my eternal identity.  There was hardly any consistency to the roles I played, although looking at this list, it may seem that mostly I was just contrary, and perhaps I was but not in the negative sense of the word.  Still, I felt a little lost as to who I really was.  I couldn't so easily label myself one particular thing as others could.  Was I being insincere or dishonest?  Was I not being real or authentic?  I don't believe so.
Then I realized, that that is who I am.  I am the person people need me to be!  I am the friendly one when someone needs a friend, I am the creative one when others are out of ideas, I am the calm one when others are worried, I am the bold one when others are timid.
It's true that I wasn't always my best self, and my fluctuations included times of low self-esteem, but doesn't that happen to everyone?
I'm not always just the opposite of others either (--although I try to avoid the awkwardness or competition associated with being too similar or taking on the same roles).  In high school I fit in with many different people.  I was on the soccer team, and hung out with the sporty types, I was in band and choir and drama, I was a photographer on the yearbook staff, participated in the Russian club and loved AP Chemistry. My best friends were sterling scholars, art royalty, and and student body officers. Overall, my friends were intelligent, kind, hard working and fun.  I hung out with them because I admired them, I appreciated them, I hoped I was like them.  And to some extent I was.  However, at graduation the truth came out.  So many of my friends were surprised to discover that I didn't graduate with honors or high honors.  I even had one well meaning friend comment, "you forgot your cords," and although I was flattered, it kinda stung as I had to explain.  I believe that I was just as intelligent as them, but intelligence doesn't matter much if you're secretly lazy.  It made me resent my diploma in the end. Still, I was grateful for my ability to connect with many different kinds of people, and although I never stood out in any way, no one ever felt threatened by me and I was never the target of any unkindness. It suited me well.

When I got to college, I did well, but I was indecisive about majors.  The voices in my head said it was because I didn't know who I was, or because I wasn't good enough at any one thing to succeed.  It made me feel inferior to people who seemed to have direction and purpose and knew exactly what they wanted to do.  It made me feel like I had no "personality" when I had to explain that I was just a General Education major (...and we all know that girls majoring in General Ed at any Church school are just planning on getting their MRS degree right?).  I felt like if I could at least say I majored in Liberal Arts, it would sound better, but they didn't technically have that major at BYU-I by name.  The real problem was that I had too many interests, and I felt if I chose one, that meant leaving all the others behind.  I went from major to major; Music, English, Psychology, Biology, Education, with minors in P.E., Art, Photography, Child Development, etc.  I even considered transferring to BYU-Provo and majoring in Geneology... but then I met my husband, got married, and soon my credit limit was up (for those of you who don't know, Church schools are too in demand to let you stay around very long, so once you reach a certain number of credits you have to petition to stay, graduate, or move on), so I graduated in "University Studies."  Could that be any more ambiguous?

Over the years though, I've come to realize that however directionless my academic record may seem, however little qualified it makes me for any specific career, I feel that nothing could have prepared me better for my present occupation as a mother and homemaker.

So I guess my point is this.  That who you are is who you are. Whether outside influences affect how you act, and regardless of what people think of you or expect from you, you're still you.  Is a chameleon not a chameleon just because it changes its color?  No.  And it doesn't mean that a mottled one is confused or being dishonest or unauthentic either.  It's just doing it's thing.

Okay so that was a long tangent to get to where I was going.  Hope I didn't obfuscate too much :).

I was talking about the identity of my blog.

So what if my blog is sometimes a travelogue? So what if it sometimes resembles a craft or cooking blog but isn't really?  Who cares if sometimes I am poignant, and other times sarcastic? What does it matter if sometimes I have beautiful pictures I took myself and sometimes pirated images from google?  Will people be bored if I write about myself, my life, my kids?  Will they stop reading if I quote scripture or share my opinions about controversial topics? Do I care if I am shunned from blogging groups because my blog can't fit neatly into any specific category? Is it a problem that I love comments but write it more for myself than anyone else?  Does it mean my blog is lame if I never have any more than 4 followers?

I think not.

It may not be what anyone expects, but this blog is mine, and it is what it is.

I guess I've overcome my blog identity-crisis.

I really should start blogging more, and think less about what others think.

Family Proclamation in Pictures (100th post!)

This was inspired by an invitation to participate in the annual family proclamation celebration hosted at a blog I follow.  I've really enjoyed reading articles from this year and years past written by different people about specific parts of THE FAMILY, a Proclamation to the World. You can access those articles by clicking here. If you'd like to use my images, send me an email, my address is at the bottom of this blog.

1st day of the rest of his life...

My 5 year old has entered a new phase in his life --about a month ago, he started kindergarten.
(I know, I'm a little behind, but life is busy. What can I say?)

Isn't he so cute?  The one day he doesn't go to school with bed head.

I'm not sure what to feel (besides feeling older). I'm a little bit sad and a little bit happy, a little bit worried and little bit excited.
I mean, it could mean the beginning the difficult process of growing up, of suddenly having expectations placed upon you --which you may or may not live up to--, being judged and tested and given scores with actual numbers and letters that may or may not reflect how "smart" you are or the particular talents you have, of having less say in the course of your day to day life, and dealing with outside forces and influences and people that may or may not be kind and loving or have your best interest in mind...
However it could also be the beginning of great growth and exploration, of gaining confidence and will power, having structure to your day, making goals and seeing measurable progress, meeting new people who are just like you or who are on your side helping you to be the best you can be, realizing just how big the world is and seeing your potential as part of it, and having an opportunity to affect the lives of those around you in a positive way...

I guess it will probably be a little of both.

I hope that even though I can't control what happens to my kids when they're out of the home, I can prepare them and instill a in them a positive attitude about school, and about life in general, and help them see the possibilities life has to offer ...even on those days when I don't want to get out of bed in the morning either.

Sigh...

So, I admit I have been putting off blogging because I felt like I needed to do a long post about all that's been going on since I last blogged, and all the wonderful things we did, both significant and insignificant, before we moved back to Idaho, like...

swimming at our favorite pool about once every week,

picking up trash along the highway for a earth-friendly family home evening activity,

 going to the rodeo,

taking apart a broken etch-a-sketch to see what was inside,

celebrating the baby's first birthday complete with outdoor "hot tubs" 

 and water balloons

 as well as the traditional pancake breakfast and Jell-o birthday "cake,"

 going to the county fair 

and narrowly missing a downpour,

going on a picnic and wading in the shallow String lake in Teton National Park with friends and family,

(even the baby enjoyed the water, it's relatively warm)

picking wild huckleberries,

(They're gonna make the best homemade ice cream!)

going to Bear World with Grandma and Grandpa

where the kids got to feed and pet animals at the petting zoo

(accruing quite the collection of feathers from various fowl)

as well as ride kiddie rides,

(Grandma taught us the trick of following the feeding tour truck to see all the bears in action!) 

helping cut a big branch out of a large tree at grandma and grandpa's house 

(okay, so that was mostly my husband, but I gave great moral support from below),

roasting hotdogs over a campfire

Mmmm...

along with strawberry-and-nutella s'mores, 

Double Mmmm!

riding the ski lifts to the top of the mountain, 

going down an alpine slide,

finding a snake on my doorstep,

driving to a beautiful waterfall to try and take family pictures

then picnicking in a familiar camping spot,

and countless days spent playing at the parks --the ones with streams that the kids just had to get into,

(the crystal clear kind which were much too tempting even though they were ice cold!)

and ones with climbing walls (my oldest became quite the expert), others with ponds, or big hills,

or crazy toys... 

...not to mention all the wood chips you can eat!

They have it all there.

*Sigh*

I'm afraid life is a bit dull now, and I'm actually thinking it wouldn't be too bad moving back there again for one last Summer...  Am I insane or what?

I call it the "Lucky Charms Effect." (Or Marshmallow Mateys if you're more frugal like me, but that doesn't have the same ring to it).

I generally don't like Lucky Charms, but if I have to eat them (as in there's nothing better in the house and I need something, anything, sweet) I like to eat all the brown parts first, so that one-- there's no soggy brown parts, cause that's the worst, and two-- so I get a whole bowl of nothing but marshmallows at the end!  Awesome! (Yes, I know, I'm 30 years old... So?)

I also like to wash it down with some fresh cold milk at the end, not that warm sugary stuff that's left --it's just one of those things that delights me... Like the little tiny soap bubbles that sometimes puff out of my dish soap bottle and make me smile...

Anyway, even though I don't generally like Lucky Charms, after finishing off a whole bowl of just marshmallows and washing it down with fresh cold milk, suddenly I want another bowl of Lucky Charms.  I think that by ending on such a good note, I forget about having to choke down all the brown stuff and only remember how good the marshmallows and milk were.  My memory can sometimes be selective in that way --I guess it could be worse, I could focus on all the bad stuff, and sometimes I do, but either way, I still end up eating like three bowls of Lucky Charms!

Living in Jackson, and absolutely packing the last few weeks with all sorts of fun and exciting things makes me forget how stinkin' cold it is when I first move there, and how small the apartment is, and how expensive groceries are, and what a pain moving is in general --because moving from Jackson actually isn't that bad. After all, it's only a one bedroom apartment, and more than half our stuff is already boxed and in storage (-not to mention that the last two times I hardly had to do any cleaning myself) so I start thinking "that wasn't too bad, I can do that again" --and in the Spring I curse myself all the way.

This "Lucky Charms Effect" comes into play in a few areas of my life --like every time I decide to invite people over for dinner, or agree to do a babysitting swap (FYI -it's better to let the other couple go on their date first I think, so you have something to keep you from kil ...er, to look forward to).
(I am joking Sandi, we're still on for next week right?)

Even bottling fruit has a bit of a forgetfulness that comes with time.  I love bottled fruit, I love how it looks on my shelves, and the feeling of satisfaction I get when I look at all those gleaming bottles, and I  completely forget how tedious and time consuming it is and how horribly messy and sticky it makes my whole kitchen... *thinking of the several boxes of ripe peaches and tomatoes in the garage, ugh.*

I suppose the "Lucky Charms Effect" has its purpose. I probably do more stuff than I would if I really thought about it first. In fact, it's probably the reason I keep getting pregnant and having babies (they're just so darn cute!). But mostly it just gets me into situations where I want to pull my hair and cry out, "What was I thinking?!" or, "Why do I do this to myself?!"

Perhaps it is all worth it. I guess nothing good comes without a price.  Looking at this list makes me think that it really was worth it.
(I'm still going to petition for bigger accommodations next Summer though.)

Anyway, I'm sure I'm not the only one.

What is your memory selective about and what do you find yourself doing over and over again despite your best judgement and the hardships involved?