One Reason Not to Vote Against the Amendment

MMiles

It has been prophesied that in the last days that the world will be confused, led to and fro in a whirlwind by the issues of the day. Well, if my own position says anything about the ends’ of times, they are here. I am one of those confused; frustrated and sitting on the fence about same-sex marriage. Just a few days ago the dreaded letter was read from the pulpit in sacrament meeting—and I was there, trying to reconcile the morality of God with the immorality of inequality in the world.

A conversation with my parents

MMiles
I was lucky enough to be able to seeNobody Knows: The Untold Story of Black Mormons on June 15th at the Oakland Interstake Center on Temple Hill. I was left curious about the relationship of Mormons of my parents generation to Bruce R. McConkie’s Mormon Doctrine. What were they taught about it? Do they perceive it as doctrine? I called my parents out of curiosity to pose the questions.

Taking Responsibility for Our Own Perceptions Redux

When my sister was about 12, a girl in our ward whom we knew fairly well became pregnant. She was fifteen. Upon finding this out, my sister went to my mother and said with great alarm, “Oh no! Now J. is going to hell!” My mother looked at her quite puzzled and, in all earnestness and seriousness, asked, “Where did you get that idea?” or maybe it was, “Why do you think that?”

As the discussion ensued, it became quite clear that somehow my sister had not internalized the repentance and atonement discussions at family home evening. They continued the discussion at great length. It seems of all the children in my family able to understand what was going on at the time, only one of us was worried that J. was going to hell. We all felt bad for her, understood it was sad–but none of us but one thought she was doomed to eternal torment. Yes, I am certain my sister’s youth had something to do with it, but even then there were younger siblings who understood a little better. Rest assured I am not faulting her.

Gospel Hobby (redux)

MMiles

I admit it, I have a gospel hobby. But somehow I feel more justified in mine because I see it as a general facet of the gospel. But I do still feel guilty about it, lest anyone worry about too much arrogance. My gospel hobby is daily personal scripture study. I think it is so important - and the worst part is, I get silently annoyed when others don’t do it.

Am I on Candid Camera?

sol

Sometimes people say things and I think, “Wait..Oh, you almost had me there. I thought you were serious“. I inwardly chuckle at the joke that has been played on me, the one I almost fell for. Then I realize they aren’t joking. No, people really are this ignorant.

Some recent gems:

This Is To Mother You

sol

I’m guessing many of you have heard the song “This Is To Mother You” by Sinead O’Connor. I first heard it about ten years ago while working with troubled teens in the wilderness. I found the lyrics moving at the time and they caused me to reflect on the sacred responsibility I had with those kids at such a vulnerable time in their lives.

Tonight the song came up on my Ipod Shuffle. I have been thinking about the Female Divine a considerable amount as of late and as the song played my thoughts wandered to a  Mother in Heaven offering comfort and love. I was especially moved by these lyrics in that context:

For child I am so glad I’ve found you
Although my arms have always been around you
Sweet bird although you did not see me
I saw you

The 5 Year Plan

sol

Coming on the heels of last night’s post is some clarification. I realized, upon re-reading, that it might seem really silly without some surrounding context. Giving up some items of clothing while still consuming large amounts of this world’s goods loses some meaning. I’ll try to make sense of it here.

A few months ago I realized I was going crazy. I felt like I was suffocating. Each day we get up, race through breakfast and getting dressed, send two kids to school, and one husband to work. The remaining two kids and I clean, run errands, work on my church calling, etc. Eight hours later the two school kids get home, we do homework, we rush through dinner, we ready for bed, we read, we sleep. Nine hours later we start over. I began to ask myself why.

How Much Is Enough?

sol

As a rule I don’t like to have a lot of stuff. We live in a relatively small space (American standards) for six people and I don’t like clutter. I don’t like holding on to stuff I’m not currently using. Clothes for the kids to grow into, Christmas decorations, and camping equipment are about the only things I can feel good about storing. To me, everything else is just stuff. Stuff we have to clean, organize, keep up, haul around, and store. Yuck.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the stuff other people have. Well, let me back up. I used to think about the stuff other people have who live around me and go to church with me. I used to want that stuff. For a long time I really felt like I needed that stuff. At times I felt embarrassed that I didn’t have some of that stuff. We were looking for a house in which we could put that stuff and a lot of it. This is why we struggled through a Master’s program, to be able to afford the stuff.

Then a funny thing happened. I began thinking about the stuff other people have who don’t live around me. People in the places I’ve been, like Honduras, and in places I’d like to go, like anywhere considered dirty, poor, and under-developed. What kind of stuff do they live with? What kind of stuff do they want? I remember a woman in Honduras who couldn’t fathom that almost every home had a working toilet and refrigerator. A washing machine and dryer? Inconceivable to someone who had only known washing her clothes in the dirty river that ran through the village. Thinking on this I am reminded of how, at the time of my visit, I realized that she could not begin to dream of or want the things that I dream of or want. It would be like wishing a fairy tale or science fiction novel would come true. Those things just don’t exist or at least don’t happen to people in real life.

Are There Mason Jars in Heaven?

sol

Recently a member of my stake presidency made the following comment, ” A girl who cannot can or sew is a like a young man who doesn’t know how to use the priesthood.” WTF! Being new to my stake calling and not wanting to be immediately branded as Stake Feminazi Representative, I bit my tongue. Hard. That lasted about two days. I decided to call Brother Stake Presidency Counselor and pose the question this way, “I am going to repeat something you said and then you tell me if the statement accurately represents your feelings.” He was down with that. His first reaction was, “I said that?” He went on to half correct/half apologize. He obviously knew his statement sounded bad, but couldn’t quite put his finger on why. I wanted to help him out. Okay, I wanted to fix him.

Nobody Knows…Because nobody would go

sol

Okay, that’s not entirely accurate. I went. My husband went. My best friend went. Other people I don’t know went. But nobody, not nobody I invited dared come along. Where?