Apparently, tonight is going to be one of those times when my worry box runneth over. For some people, their worry boxes only allow for a new worry when one moves out. Yeah. Mine's not really like that. Mine allows worries to stack one right on top of another; a never-ending series of frets about what I'm doing or not doing or being or not being...the list goes on and on.
At the moment, my worry box is consumed with obligations. Work, family, church, other kinds of work, more family, more church...you get the picture. Now some of these worries I suppose--no, I KNOW--I brought on myself. There are so many things I want to do that I have a difficult time saying "no" when opportunities arise even when the reality is that, like my worry box, I scarce have time to fit another thing in.
Family, I must admit, is not an obligation in and of itself. Therein lies much of my joy...but also many of my worries. Am I spoiling my son? Am I raising my daughter the way I should? Do I give them too much or too little? Do my attempts to give them memorable moments backfire? Should I make things simpler, or have I oversimplified? What example am I setting for them? Right now I am even left to worry about the the childhood memories and traditions of my son and daughter and how I'm supposed to create them.
I watch other parents--mothers who seem to have everything so together. The ones with clean houses and time to volunteer at school, the ones who instinctively know how much money to leave under a pillow, who are at home with their children and planning activities and taking them to swimming lessons. And I am left to worry about whether my apparent lack of that same mothering instinct and ability will somehow affect those two little dark-eyed children that began their lives first in my heart and then grew just below it.
And so now I type these thoughts, unsure why I am sharing them so late at night...or at all for that matter. But for some reason my worry box seems to ease, if only a little, as I do. So I hope, if you are reading this, you'll pardon me for being a little serious or sad for now. Perhaps it will mean a brighter day tomorrow.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
On beginnings, endings and 9/11
So today is 9/11. I, like many, remember where I was 8 years ago. I'd been married just a month, and the previous day had been my 33rd birthday. I was getting ready for work and happened to have the TV on. They were showing the first tower with its black smoke, and as they were talking, I watched the second plane hit. I remember what I wore, I remember making calls to make sure my brother wasn't in NYC, and listening to the radio and internet broadcasts all day. I remember that the managing partner of the firm in which I worked was stranded in an airport because the planes were grounded. And I remember that by the end of the day I just wanted to turn everything off and stop hearing about it all.
Eight years later, I find myself feeling much the same. I will admit that I am one of those who believe that had the planes struck in cities other than New York, we would have stopped dwelling on it long ago. I think Westerners, like me, have a different perspective on things and, certainly, don't generally think of ourselves as being nearly so important as those who live in New York or Washington DC or any other one of those cities around which the residents thereof seem to believe the world rotates. But it's not that I don't care about those who died on the planes, in the Towers, in the Pentagon or in a Pennsylvania field. Certainly, I mourned their loss then and I still find their deaths senseless and inexcusable. No--I believe that by lowering flags, reading the names and dwelling on it year after year it gives those who did it too much hold over us. Too much credit. Too much acknowledgment.
Instead, I prefer to think about how a country came together. I prefer to think of how the flag took on a whole new meaning for me--and how I cried when I saw it waving in the breeze. I prefer to think of how politics stopped mattering, even just for that little while. I prefer to think of the men and women who have since risked--and at times given--their lives in order to keep this sort of thing from happening again. I prefer to think of how we have gone on, perhaps wiser...perhaps not, depending on your particular leanings. I prefer to think of the children who were born on that day and thereafter, and the immense potential they have brought with them into this world.
So my question to you is this: Will 9/11 forever mean a day with wreaths laid and names read and bells rung, or can we make it more than that? A beginning, rather than an end.
Eight years later, I find myself feeling much the same. I will admit that I am one of those who believe that had the planes struck in cities other than New York, we would have stopped dwelling on it long ago. I think Westerners, like me, have a different perspective on things and, certainly, don't generally think of ourselves as being nearly so important as those who live in New York or Washington DC or any other one of those cities around which the residents thereof seem to believe the world rotates. But it's not that I don't care about those who died on the planes, in the Towers, in the Pentagon or in a Pennsylvania field. Certainly, I mourned their loss then and I still find their deaths senseless and inexcusable. No--I believe that by lowering flags, reading the names and dwelling on it year after year it gives those who did it too much hold over us. Too much credit. Too much acknowledgment.
Instead, I prefer to think about how a country came together. I prefer to think of how the flag took on a whole new meaning for me--and how I cried when I saw it waving in the breeze. I prefer to think of how politics stopped mattering, even just for that little while. I prefer to think of the men and women who have since risked--and at times given--their lives in order to keep this sort of thing from happening again. I prefer to think of how we have gone on, perhaps wiser...perhaps not, depending on your particular leanings. I prefer to think of the children who were born on that day and thereafter, and the immense potential they have brought with them into this world.
So my question to you is this: Will 9/11 forever mean a day with wreaths laid and names read and bells rung, or can we make it more than that? A beginning, rather than an end.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
You gotta love it when a plan comes together...
I have to admit that yesterday gave me a whole new perspective on being a Primary president. You see, it's something that I've struggled with for the past few months...the woman who was the previous president was able to have everything run like clockwork. I'm less like clockwork and more like semi-controlled mayhem.
For those out there who aren't familiar with Primary, it's the Sunday School program in my church for kids aged 18 months to 12 years of age. I was called, or "asked with emphasis" to be the president of this organization late last year--a move I still believe may yet shake the foundations of our church to its very core.
In addition to our weekly meetings, Primary children are also asked to attend quarterly activities as well. We made cards at Valentine's Day and had an activity that focused on fun and fitness in July. This month, we have been focused on the blessings that come from LDS temples, and so we decided to have our quarterly activity a little early, and take the kids to the temple here in Billings.
Unlike our last activity, which had a rather small turnout, this activity brought together more than 15 children aged 4 to 11. Dressed in their church clothes, they arrived at the temple at 10 a.m. We had an opening prayer, and sang songs. Then we began to tour the temple grounds, which are amazing this time of year. The children got to see what we mean when we liken our bodies to temples, and how at the temple everything is always clean and beautiful--just like our bodies should be. We talked to them about how Jesus Christ is our living water, which is represented at almost all of the temples through the use of fountains or reflecting pools, and how when He comes again He will do so from the East--the direction which the statue of Moroni points. A member of the temple presidency met us, and talked to the children about the cornerstone of the temple and how it was dedicated, and later they kids got to see a bride come out of the temple after having been married.
The kids were amazingly reverent, and really got involved in the activity. That is not to say, however, that there weren't some funny moments. I laughed especially hard when one of the 6-year-old boys, Carson, asked why everybody kept talking about the bride coming out of the temple, but not "the man". He was a little perturbed by it all, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that he just needs to get used to weddings being about "the girl". So we then made sure that everyone knew that the groom would be coming out as well. I also had to laugh because when we asked the kids what they liked best about the day, most of them replied "the popsicles". (They got to have treats afterwards.)
Anyway, I just was so glad that everything worked out (even the weather cooperated!). I guess I'll probably stick around in this calling for a few more months. Until, at least, the next activity....
For those out there who aren't familiar with Primary, it's the Sunday School program in my church for kids aged 18 months to 12 years of age. I was called, or "asked with emphasis" to be the president of this organization late last year--a move I still believe may yet shake the foundations of our church to its very core.
In addition to our weekly meetings, Primary children are also asked to attend quarterly activities as well. We made cards at Valentine's Day and had an activity that focused on fun and fitness in July. This month, we have been focused on the blessings that come from LDS temples, and so we decided to have our quarterly activity a little early, and take the kids to the temple here in Billings.
Unlike our last activity, which had a rather small turnout, this activity brought together more than 15 children aged 4 to 11. Dressed in their church clothes, they arrived at the temple at 10 a.m. We had an opening prayer, and sang songs. Then we began to tour the temple grounds, which are amazing this time of year. The children got to see what we mean when we liken our bodies to temples, and how at the temple everything is always clean and beautiful--just like our bodies should be. We talked to them about how Jesus Christ is our living water, which is represented at almost all of the temples through the use of fountains or reflecting pools, and how when He comes again He will do so from the East--the direction which the statue of Moroni points. A member of the temple presidency met us, and talked to the children about the cornerstone of the temple and how it was dedicated, and later they kids got to see a bride come out of the temple after having been married.
The kids were amazingly reverent, and really got involved in the activity. That is not to say, however, that there weren't some funny moments. I laughed especially hard when one of the 6-year-old boys, Carson, asked why everybody kept talking about the bride coming out of the temple, but not "the man". He was a little perturbed by it all, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that he just needs to get used to weddings being about "the girl". So we then made sure that everyone knew that the groom would be coming out as well. I also had to laugh because when we asked the kids what they liked best about the day, most of them replied "the popsicles". (They got to have treats afterwards.)
Anyway, I just was so glad that everything worked out (even the weather cooperated!). I guess I'll probably stick around in this calling for a few more months. Until, at least, the next activity....
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