Christmas Lists

     Annie came today and sat on my lap and started listing off all the things she wanted for Christmas.  Okay, I know she knows the big secret and has for years, and yeah, maybe I've gained a bit of weight lately and yes, I'm wearing red today...but when did I become the same as an old, fat man who flies in a sleigh and gives presents to every child in the world on one night?
     Anywho...I asked the kids to write up their lists for me just for kicks.  Without further ado, here they are (donations are accepted at any time, hint hint):

Chase

- Play station 3
- To win a basketball game (they've lost both so far)
- See specific PG13 movies that we won't let him see
- To dye his hair blue (thank you Annie)
- X Box 1
- To celebrate Chanuka (he found out from Annie that you get 8 days of presents)
- For the Jazz to win a game
- Play station 4
- To go to a Jazz game
- To perform in community circle at school
- X box 360
- To get a lot of money (wouldn't we all?)
- To go to the movies
- Big Hero 6
- The whole Diary of a Wimpy Kid series books
- And the 'best of all' a Bike

Annie

- Remote control helicopter
- Olaf the snowman (but she doesn't want him to be cold)
- A good immune system
- Joy, happiness and peace (good choices)
- A unicorn
- To go to Warp Tour
- To know French and Latin
- Gold, frankincense and myrrh (I don't know why...at least the last two)
- A ride in Santa's sleigh
- A reindeer
- More time to procrastinate
- To meet all her favorite bands
- To be a metamephmagi
- For it to be summer
- To celebrate Chanuka (for the presents) and Kwanza (she suspects more presents)...and in addition to Christmas of course
- To go to Hogwarts, Narnia, the TARDIS, Neverland, Wonderland, Middle Earth, Oz and the North Pole
- A real pony
- A wand
- A silver jingle bell
- Tom Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch and the Hemsworth brothers to be...basically slaves to her (butlering, gardening, making sandwiches for her, doing her homework...and I think there was something in there about being shirtless or dripping wet)
- A picture of Santa and Rudolph together
- To fly
- A cat, a dog and a snake

Little Wonders

     Okay, confession time.  I struggle with Thanksgiving.  Not so much the eating pumpkin pie or turkey with mashed potatoes.  But the part of being publicly thankful.  Don't be too quick to judge, it's not that I don't appreciate the blessings I've been given...I do, though like most people I do tend to take them for granted more than I should, but in the last few years Thanksgiving has been harder.  It started during those really hard infertility years where we'd get together with extended family, which was always hard for me as I would see everyone else's life going as planned and mine was so drastically different, not to mention the fact that all these adorably cute kids were running around and their moms were all bragging about them and how wonderful they were and it all made me want to vomit.  Then we'd have the everyone-go-around-the-table-and-say-what-you're-thankful-for thing, which I hated.  I felt so fake.  Everyone would say how they were thankful for their families and their lives and all the wonderful things they had and I felt so barren and alone and my life was astonishingly apart from theirs that I really struggled with saying in front of everyone how wonderful my life was and how everything was just peachy keen!
     Even though I've healed a great deal in the infertility area, the feeling hasn't really left me.  I guess I still feel uneasy about the command to be grateful on the spot and so publicly.  I'd rather do my thanksgiving to God in private and feel more honest about it.  There's also the fact that most years a strange anomaly has consistently happened around this time of year- things seem to be going okay then shortly before Turkey Day I'd have an anxiety ridden week or some crisis happen.  Then there's the guilt that is so common in my life when I'm not perfect...i.e. 'I am not as grateful as I should be or as everyone else is so there's obviously something wrong with me...I should do better'.
     So this year, BINGO, right on time I have a few stressful weeks leading up to Thanksgiving and the guilt sets in and the anger or bitterness or jealousy starts biting and I just want to hibernate in my room under my covers and eat the whole bag of those peppermint chocolate truffles I forced Lyle to buy for me at Costco.
     I'm so glad Heavenly Father knows me and how to soften my heart and make me think twice.  A cousin-in-law posted this video a few days ago and that's exactly what happened when I saw it.

     It's true that my life is stressful right now.  I'm working 40 hours a week plus now I'm teaching piano lessons as well (I have 9 students) in an effort to eventually change my working status so that takes a chunk of time every week.  I have a very active 9 year old who takes a lot of energy, a 14 year old that's struggling, a 16 year old who doesn't really want to have a relationship with me, a marriage, an ex-wife who can be difficult, church responsibilities, a dirty house, family to take care of, friends who I try to see, then there's driving kids to therapy or scouts or who knows what else and somehow I have to try and take some time for me (haha) since, being a true introvert, being with people exhausts me and my only way to recharge is alone time (you can imagine how often that happens now).  Some days I'm just about going crazy.  And in all the dizzying busyness it's hard to see anything but the next task that needs to be accomplished, the next person who needs to be taken care of.  It's difficult to be thankful some days because on some days it's hard to feel anything other than exhaustion and discouragement.  After all, even with all I do, I still can't do everything.
     And yet, the Lord has helped me lately to notice little things.  Just tiny stuff that normally gets lost in the shuffle or everyday life but recently has been sticking out more.
     The way my stepdaughter crawls up to me to cuddle.  Chase's head bobbing up and down as I watch him running from the car to his babysitter's house in the morning when I drop him off.  My husband's voice telling me he loves me.  The joy of sitting down at the piano and producing beautiful music even for a few minutes.  My sister taking time out of her schedule to be with me.
     Such small snapshots of time and yet those small moments become etched in my heart.  How can I not be grateful for my life with moments like those?  I'm reminded of how fast time goes.  Every year goes faster and faster.  Before I know it, Annie and Taylor will be adults and Chase will be a teenager.  My mom will be retired, I'll probably have more nieces and/or nephews.  And who knows what else lies in store?  These moments are happening now and they won't last forever.  Maybe the Lord is helping me to appreciate them now, even if they're happening in a crazy time of life.

Let it go

Let it roll right off your shoulder

You should know

The hardest part is over

Let it in

Let your clarity define you

In the end

We will only just remember how it feels

Our lives are made

In these small hours

These little wonders

These twists and turns of fate

Time falls away

But these small hours

These small hours still remain

(Rob Thomas, 'Little Wonders')

     So this Thanksgiving I'm thankful for my 'little wonders'.  I'm thankful for the Lord who looks out for me and helps remind me of the good things when all I can see are the difficulties in my way.  I'm thankful for the people in my life who matter.  And I'm thankful for the opportunities to grow, though they mostly come through pain and struggle they have made me who I am.  Here's to another year of little moments to look forward to.

The Spooky Tale of Big John

     The following post is an account of true events.  They have been slightly (very slightly) exaggerated and spookified to enhance the overall effect of the story.  Names have been changed to protect the people involved.  I thought it would be fun to share these experiences as a ghost story since it's Halloween.  They're the closest I've ever come to living a horror story (sarcasm intended).  In truth, I look back at this time of my life with amusement and a sense of gratitude for many a belly laugh which came as a result.  My description of Big John is sadly accurate, though I admit that in trying to find words that adequately describe him, it does sound rather harsh.  Wait until you finish this ghastly story before you judge me too harshly.  I hope you enjoy it anyway!  Happy Halloween!

     Little Lori, now an old woman, remembers the events of those months spent working at the old movie theater with mixed feelings.  Horror intermingles with confusion and disbelief as the memories from so many years ago crowd her mind.  The anger had faded over time and a sense of the surreal touched her as she related these events to me.  Now, gather around as I relate her spooky tale of mayhem when, once upon a time, she was plagued by a malignant being known as Big John.
     It is true that Big John's origins could never be traced accurately.  Still unknown, his parentage has been questioned by many who he appeared to.  Was Big John a changeling?  It's almost certain that he was part goblin, all troll or possibly the dimwitted spawn of the devil himself whose man-like appearance haunted the old, dilapidated theater for a time.
     Big John was tall, a few inches above six feet at least, with a hulking build which would have looked like it belonged on a football field had it not been for the fact that his muscle mass had started to turn into softer flesh.  His Cro-Magnon like appearance may have been dismissed as inaccurate had it not been for Big John's lower intelligence and lack of hygiene, which could not be hidden when one was in his presence.  A general sense of a lumbering fool with bad body odor was the best was to describe the haunt of whom this tale depicts.
     Little Lori does not remember the first time she spied Big John, nor does she wish to recollect the episode.  When she first went to work at the theater she was excited.  Having reached adulthood, Little Lori now needed a way to provide for her own self in the world, and the neglected, old theater, even with the creepy feeling that accompanies older buildings, was as good a place as any to start her journey.  She enjoyed movies and the atmosphere appealed to her as a place of fun where she might learn and experience new things.  Little did she know what was in store...
     Lori's earliest experiences with Big John, a fearsome wraith who possessed the theaters and believed he was in charge there despite his lack of work ethic, were not drastic or terrifying.  She was, at first, only aware of his oafish nature and learned not to stand too near his person.  But slowly she became aware of what she at first thought of as 'Big John's quirks'.  She, with the help of the other assistant managers at the theater, learned not to leave her keys, pens, or any other small and portable objects sitting around the office, lest she should enter that place to find Big John eerily lying on the couch digging said pen into his belly button or ear (she preferred not to think of where else he may be using those objects to scratch, touch or...whatever).  With feelings of hesitancy, and a sense of foreboding, she would politely excuse herself from speaking with him citing work, although most of the time Big John did not seem to seek her out to exchange words.
     Soon Lori began doubting Big John's judgment and sometimes his intelligent quotient.  At the end of a shift, Lori would count up the profits from the night's work only to find she was $50 shorter than she should be.  Panicking at what might happen if this money was not found, Lori would question the other employees which she soon learned could almost always account for the missing money.  One of the box office personnel or concession attendants would have recalled a sighting of the supernatural specter Big John who maliciously took money from their tills in order to buy some supply which he thought essential for the running of the theater.  No receipts would be presented for some time to account for the missing funds.  Thankfully, the head assistant manager, Timothy, was well acquainted with Big John's scare tactics and Lori had only to tell him of another disastrous episode of 'assistance' from Big John as an explanation of the night's happenings.

     Her following experiences with this spook cemented in her mind his tortured mental capacity.  Such episodes as using Nair on his entire head of hair instead of getting a haircut or shaving it himself, painting his car with house paint, and gliding around the theater breaking everything in his path were soon a part of daily life.  It was not uncommon for Big John to appear in the office stating that "someone" broke projector five or the drink machine or one of the cash registers (I'm sure you can guess who that 'someone' was) and then he would order his employees to fix the broken items as soon as possible while he took off for home on his mini motorcycle, atop which he looked ludicrously large.
     Loris' great dislike of this malevolent spirit (which frequently left her feeling dyspeptic and slightly queasy) increased with later catastrophes.  Big John once decided that their 'waste product' percentage (items such as a popcorn tub returned by customers who wanted their money back) was too high and would take said waste products, which had been damaged after their return to signify them as having been already used, tape them together again and resell them to new, unwitting customers.  Other circumstances included Big John deciding to splatter paint the lobby pillars one day while the other workers was at a staff meeting.  Returning from their meeting, the employees were greeted by Big John's haunting smile in the middle of a gruesome sight.  He had neglected to cover a single object in plastic; paint had been ground into the carpet, flung all along the concession areas, it enveloped the hot dog and food machines, smeared the mirrors, and even sat in globs on the walls across the lobby!  Halted by the spectacle of horror, the staff stood stock still in silence.  Big John creepily told the group that they had half an hour to clean up the mess that "somebody" created before the theater opened...oh and "somebody" had broken one of the cash registers as well (better get that taken care of).  Little Lori's thoughts at that time centered on the idea that some apparitions are just plain evil.
     One day Little Lori was working in the office with Timothy while Big John disturbed them (in more than one sense).  Somehow a piece of a pipe from some broken equipment lay in the office and Big John, supposedly having nothing else to do, picked it up.  Spidey senses on alert, Lori edgily watched Big John as he quietly inched toward Timothy who sat with his back toward them.  Piece of pipe extended in his hand, Big John lowered the pipe to the level of Timothy's rear end, and just as Lori was about to give a warning cry, Timothy, sensing Big John's approach, looked around which stopped the demon's progress, and even triggered his regression.  But as soon as Timothy turned around again, Big John repeated the process.  After about the third time, Timothy irritatingly asked what Big John was doing.  The reply was both disgusting and agitating.  "I was just seeing if it would fit!"  he cackled and whirled out of the office.  (Nowadays, this would have been classified as sexual harassment and would have had much harsher consequences, as would many of these experiences come to think of it.)
     This was not the first nor the last time Little Lori's stomach took a sickening turn while being around this fiend.  In abject terror, she once saw Big John write on the wall in his own spittle.  He was trying to describe where a store was that he wanted Little Lori to go to in order to purchase needed supplies.  Making a muck of it with words, he dipped his finger into his mouth and brought it out with a glob of saliva on it with which he used to draw a map on the wall.  Standing with her mouth open and tears forming in her eyes, Lori didn't know what to do.  She'd never had to encounter such unspeakable acts before and was as overwhelmed as a young girl could be.  She stood in the same place long after Big John had left the office watching as the clear liquid ran down the wall and hoping that she would wake up from this nightmare.
     Lori, by this point, as may be expected, was clearly uncomfortable in Big John's presence and reluctant to have anything to do with such a ghoul.  Consequently, when she was summoned by Big John one day to help him in the projection booth, she felt like she was facing her execution.  She entered the booth to see Big John shirtless and sweating.  He had been "fixing" a projector (which meant that he was breaking it into worse condition than it already was to begin with) and wanted to show her something.  The horror of that day still prevents Lori from recalling exactly what he wanted, but she'll never forget what happened next.  Wanting her to look through the small window from the projection booth into the window of the theater, Big John grabbed Lori and pulled her to him.  Her head ended up a few scant inches from his bare, hairy, stinky armpit (his arm being raised to move the curtain over the window).  Lori froze.  She couldn't think of anything but escape.  Mumbling in agreement to whatever Big John had been saying, she wrenched herself free.  Stumbling as fast as she could out of the booth, Lori could not prevent herself from watching as Big John took a paper towel (which he had been cleaning the inside of the projector with and which was covered in grease) and with it wiped his face clean of the sweat, thus smearing the grease all over his ghastly visage.  Big John's laughter as she ran away still rings in Little Lori's ears to this day.
     On a busy weekend night, Big John wreaked havoc.  He would try to help behind the concession stand, which every employee at the theater tried their hardest to prevent for hygienic reasons as well as for the fact that he was just a fumbling nuisance, though truly scary.  He would insist on checking that the projectors were working (after which they amazingly wouldn't be working as well) or he would offer to take the money drops to the bank every few hours (which they encouraged as it would mean he'd be away from the theater for short bursts of time).  Mostly Big John would cause confusion and disarray by quietly stalking around the lobby or uselessly hanging out in the office reading the paper.  One particular night Big John was doing these last two things intermittently and while Lori was in the office counting the money, he came in and declared he didn't feel good.  Ignoring him and hoping valiantly that he would go away, she was then subjected to the scariest sound in the world: retching.  She whirled around to see Big John throwing up all over the office floor.  The irony of this situation is that if he didn't feel good, Big John could have easily gone ten steps out of the office door and into the men's restroom which was directly across the hall to take care of his illness.  Instead, Big John, not trying to stop himself or trying to find a garbage can or even going any place better to vomit than the on the office floor, finished giving his contribution and got one of the concession workers to come into the office.  He threatened the poor child to haunt him forever if he did not clean up his vomit and departed without another word leaving a stinky office and a devastated employee cleaning up his sick.

"Somebody broke the..."

     Maybe one of the hardest things that Little Lori found in trying to accept Big John was his strange and unearthly ability to not comprehend basic life concepts; like how to be a parent.  Sad and frustrating memories come to Lori of a day she went to the theater to open it and was busy doing her morning office work with only Big John for a companion (this kept her very determinedly working and not engaging in conversation with her distressing harasser).  The office phone rang and Big John answered it.  The person on the other end of the line was the specter's very own wife (yes, he had a wife) and she was talking to him and asking questions.  Through Big John's end of the conversation Lori could hear that they were talking about their daughter, who at the time was around two years old, and that the conversation from his wife seemed to be littered with indignation.  Lori's hackles raised as realization dawned on her of the dire situation as she eaves dropped on this conversation.  Big John got off of the phone and said he was going home, which didn't surprise Little Lori at all; in fact she wanted to kick him in the backside to hurry him along on the way out.  Here's what had transpired that morning in their haunted residence.  Big John's wife left for work in the morning, leaving their daughter in her husband's care.  Big John, deciding that he didn't want to wake Stephanie up since she was sleeping so peacefully, left her on their bed, got in his car and headed to work.  Sweet Stephanie had been left alone- as in all by her toddler self- while her father came to work, sat on the couch in the office, read the paper, dug lint out of his belly button with some sad employees abandoned pen and had no intention of going back home anytime soon...that is until his wife called and shouted and cursed the spook after he told her where Stephanie still was.
     You may wonder, and rightly so, why it was that after so many haranguing occurrences it was so hard to get rid of this phantom that haunted the theater.  Rest assured, there were many times Lori and her coworkers gathered together in a seance, trying to communicate with corporate headquarters in order to get big John removed from their theater.  It took a lot of hard work, too much time and many exorcisms until they were finally successful and Big John left the theater never to return.  There were many a tear shed and many a light heart that day when he was banished forever and peace once again settled on the theater.
     The legend of Big John (for Big John did become a legend, at least in Little Lori's family) has been told over and over through the years.  There are always new listeners who for the first time experience the thrill and the chill of these queer stories and I would wager there are some who think these events to be lies or the product of an overactive imagination.  But I assure you that, though the horror has somewhat diminished and Lori can now look at those experiences with much more humor, they were quite real, and the feelings of drastic relief that such a malicious spirit has never crossed her path again have been a blessing to her even to this day.

Being a Chocolate Mom

     This blog is a bit difficult to write.  I know some people may be hurt by it.  Some will be offended by it or just not understand my feelings.  But since it's my blog and this is something I've thought about a lot over the of years, hopefully it will be cathartic for me to write about it.

     So it basically comes down to this, I'm an infertile stepmom.  I raise other people's children...not my own...and that's a difficult thing.  I know women who are stepmoms and I know women who are infertile, but I don't know many who are both.  Being an infertile stepmom is not for the fainthearted.  There are times I wish I was closer to others who belong to my same, rare species of woman so I'd have someone to understand my position better.

     Don't get me wrong, my husband, my mom, and some of my best friends (you know who you are) have been wonderfully supportive.  In fact, though some of my friends's lives are very different a few of them have been, at times, more supportive of my situation than anyone else.  These women have a great amount of empathy.

     But even though I do have wonderful support, it's still difficult at times for even those close to me to understand the scope of my day to day life.   Most of my infertile friends tend to feel a that I have children to mother.  And so do fertile women.  I admit my situation from the outside looks like I have a simply wonderful opportunity to care for and love children...which I guess is true.  But the awful truth is this...I have never felt like a mother.  Not truly.  Nor do I find it likely that it will change after 7 years of 'mothering'.

     Lyle's children were 6 and 8 when I met them.  Old enough that they didn't need constant physical care and young enough that they didn't automatically hate me.  I naively thought that I'd step right in and we'd have this wonderful bond and I would become their mother.  That never happened.  Now another young child has entered my life and I find myself in the same position all over again.  

     Let me reassure you, the kids and I DO have a bond.  We DO love each other.  But it's not how I thought I would feel.  It took me a while to realize that most likely I'd never have that bond that I was expecting for 2 reasons.  Number one, I never carried them in my body.  I never anticipated their arrival with excitement.  I never held them as babies and counted all their fingers and toes.  I never cooed over them as they were adorable, even when they cried and pooped all the time.  I never sat up with them when they were sick.  I never kissed their boo-boos.  When I entered their lives I was already behind.  I didn't have those bonds, those memories, those special moments with them.  So while we loved each other, there wasn't the SAME bond that sealed us as they had with their true mothers.  I assumed that would come.  There have been times that I felt a moment or two of a strong bond.  There are times I have cried myself sick over them, had a riot laughing and enjoying time with them.  And yet, I know that the way I feel about them is not the way their mother feels about them.  Which brings me to...

     Reason number two. they already have a mother.  This is the biggest obstacle that I've found to me truly feeling like a mother.  They already have someone who they DO share those moments and bonds with already.  They love their mothers.  They worry about their mothers.  They spend time with their mothers.  And their mothers love them and want to spend time with them and have those feelings back for them.  They don't need those bonds filled, because they already are filled...with someone else: their mother.  

     I have had many people criticize me for voicing my feelings on this subject.  I know saying it out loud bothers many people.  Some people love me and find it hard to relate to my situation, and don't particularly want to hear about it...they assume those bonds have/will/should have formed and think me hard that I tell the truth about my feelings.  Others, because they love me, feel sorry for me and don't want me to feel that way so they pretend that I do feel like a mom and don't want to hear otherwise.  The mothers of the children I've helped raise have in general been very grateful toward me, have cared for me and wanted to assume that those bonds would form (although they are fearful of that very thing happening as well, understandably) and have never NOT had those bonds, and so can't understand how I can not feel the same way.  I find very few people...very few...who have listened to me, put themselves in my shoes, understood that I DO love the kids while still comprehending that it doesn't automatically give me those feelings that a mother gets.  Very few who have been the shoulder I've needed to cry on during my very trying days, which have been many.

     I think I've done a decent job in trying to lovingly raise the children of other mothers.  I can truly say that I've done all I can do at any rate.  And I do recognize that I have a mothering role in these children's lives.  But being a KIND of mother to them is not the same as being THEIR mother.  I take care of these children day in and day out.  Making sure they shower, brush their teeth.  Show physical affection, listen to their problems, be emotionally supportive, make sure they do their homework, take them to scouts, fix them meals, go to their parent/teacher conferences, and not get upset with them when they get mad at me because I stick to my guns and follow the rules/consequences set in our house.  And yet, when something goes really right in these kids's lives, the first thing they say to me is, "I can't wait to tell my mom!"  I've done my best to put my fake smile on (some days it's even  a real one) and hand them my phone so they can call their mother and rejoice with her while I go on doing all the daily requirements I'm charged with doing, knowing that my approval really isn't that big a deal to them.  It IS important to them, just not as important as their mothers.  I TRULY don't resent them for this, how can I?  I have a mother who I adore and no one could ever take her place.  Why should they be any different?  I understand that.  I don't expect them to feel those feelings for me when they already have a mother to feel those things for.  But all the same, it hurts.  These are the only children I will ever have, but no matter what I do for them, even if it's things that their own mothers can't (for various circumstances, most of them not in their mother's control), and it's still not good enough.

     There have been few things that have hurt me so much as when one of these children have something drastic happen and need motherly love and comfort so I hold them and love them; they cling to me and allow me to pet them and sometimes calm them, and yet sometime during this encounter comes the dreaded words, "I want my mom."  I have to sit there calm (I can't fall apart like I want to when they need me to be strong) and apologize to them that I'm not her and that I understand, I assure them of their mother's love and promise to let them contact her as soon as possible.  I continue to fill their needs and help them while inside my heart is shattered into a hundred pieces.

     I hear every day about their mothers...the things they like, the things they do, their experiences with my kids, their good qualities, their weaknesses.  I listen to poems of how much they love their mothers, I listen to the traditions they have with their mothers.  I change plans in a heartbeat so their mothers can spend time with them.  I drive them to see their mothers, I call them on the phone and talk about the challenges the kids are currently having, with their mothers.  When their mothers and I disagree about something, most of the time my opinion goes by the wayside, not because their mothers don't care about my feelings, but because their mothers have more of a right than I do to decide what they need.  In a plethora of different ways, I'm reminded every SINGLE day of who their mothers are.  And I'm not them.

     Infertility has strengthened these feelings.  Heavenly Father has buried in my soul an intense desire to be a mother.  He has also taken away the physical requirements needed to become one.  It's been 6 1/2 years since Lyle and I started trying to have kids and without fail, every single thing I have done to have my own has failed.  Every single one.  I can't think of many people who have failed as thoroughly as I have.  And the feelings of inferiority, of jealousy, of unfairness, of unworthiness, have been compounded by the fact that I raise other people's children, take on their sufferings and sacrifice for them, and yet am regarded as 'less' by the children I care for because I'm not actually their mother.  As stated before, I certainly understand their feelings for their mothers and don't fault them for their natural feelings, nor their mothers for their feelings for their children, but truthfully those feelings that are so right and wonderful between the kids and their moms, are a true pain that I feel as a part of my every day life.  Isn't it funny, how truly good things can hurt so much?...

     Back to the topic.  I hope this makes a little more sense to people now.  Because frankly, people get angry with me for having a hard time on Mother's Day...after all, I AM a mother, right?  I've heard people be short with me for denying that I have the same feelings for the kids that their mothers do.  I've had people tell me I'm wrong when I tell them my feelings, my struggles, my longings to have children of my own.  After all, why should I need children when I HAVE children, right?  

     So here it is, I should just say what I DO feel like, shouldn't I?  I feel like a FAKE.  I'm not a REAL mom, I'm just pretend.  No matter how many people try to convince me that their point of view is correct and mine isn't...I still don't feel like a real mom.  

     It makes me think about Alex the lion in Madagacar 2.  He arrives in Africa and finds his family that he's been separated from for years.  A problem emerges: he's not the kind of lion that his father is, in fact he's not the same as any of the other lions there at all.  Instead of being tough, fighting and killing, he prefers dancing and performing, which he's done for the crowds at the Central Park Zoo for years.  In an effort to prove himself to his father, Alex and his friend Marty the zebra, go off the reservation to unclog a dam and restore water on the reserve for the animals.  On the way Alex tells Marty of his problem stating that he's doing it, "Because I want to show my dad that I'm a REAL lion."  To which Marty replies, "...as opposed to a...CHOCOLATE lion?"

     I remember laughing my head off at this line the first time I saw the movie.  I mean how ridiculous is Alex being?  Of course he's a REAL lion...he's just different from the others.  But his talents end up saving both him and his father in the end and his father comes to see him in a different light.  So what's the big deal, Alex?

     I kind of understand better now.  I don't feel like a real mom.  So if I'm not a real mom, what does that make me?  I guess a chocolate mom.  I don't have the same experiences, bonds, ideas or desires for the kids I care for as their mothers do.  But, I certainly do mother children.  I do the day to day things a mother does.  I do understand some of the things that mothers struggle with, even if I have no idea how they feel about the rest.

     I'm so confused.  I've been trying for years to figure it out.

     Here comes the real question (and my feelings for this subject are so deep that I'm actually having difficulty typing this sentence)...Could it be that I AM a real mom...I'm just a different kind of mom...even if it doesn't feel like I am?  Not the kind that others are, but something else...a mom for when natural moms can't be around...a mom whose good at loving other people's children...a mom who tries her best to treat the kids she cares for as if they ARE her own (at least the best she can since she doesn't really have any idea how a true mom feels). 

     I don't know the answer to any of those questions.  But I guess I don't really have to.

     I just have to keep fake mothering...chocolate mothering...the best I can and hope the Lord will fill in the gaps.  And hope that someday I'll be able to have those feelings that all the other mothers do...that I'll one day, even if it's not in this life, have the opportunity to have a child who DOES cry for me, who wants ME and not another woman, who helps me FEEL like I'm a real mom after all.  Maybe I'll understand better then than I do now how what I do for the kids I care for now really is mothering after all.     Maybe...?

Mrs. Know-It-All

     As a young child one of my favorite playmates was my cousin, Angie.  Our two families frequently saw each other and so we had many fun adventures as youngsters together.  We had a mild obsession with 'Jem and the Holograms' (a cartoon that depicted a band of girls...which had real songs, short though they were), played in her family's playhouse and on their trampoline and had sleepovers...one particular night we spent hours smelling her scratch 'n sniff book which had a page with pizza that smelled really gross...so we'd smell the gross page and pretend to throw up in the toilet and then repeat the process over and over again just for fun.  I know what you're thinking...and you're right.  Kids are weird.
     Anyway, inexplicably some days we would have fights (I know, weird huh?) and the result seemed to be something that I'm ashamed of today, although it's good for stories.  Back then, I, because of my vast and extensive living experience at my advanced age of around 6...at least far more experience than Angie had since she was 5 1/2 months younger than me...understood our relationship of 'cousins' to be different than it actually was.  I thought the term 'cousin' meant something akin to 'friend'.  So on those days when Angie wouldn't agree with me or do what I want, I clearly remember telling her, "Fine.  I guess we're not cousins anymore."  Then I'd storm away leaving her crying and begging me not to disown her, saying that she'd do what I want...at which point I would generously give in and reassure her, "Okay, I GUESS you're still my cousin."
     I'm not sure exactly when the knowledge of the fact that she was my cousin wasn't in my control came to me, but I've thought of it since, mostly laughing at how ignorant I was.  I was just so sure, with my young mind, that I knew what I was talking about that I didn't even think to ask anyone if what I understood was the truth.
     Fast forward years and I became a (gasp) teenager!  Yeah, by that time I was SURE I knew everything.  I was totally misunderstood, everybody picked on me, I never got what I wanted...etc.  And I was totally right in my knowledge of my world and my relationships, and was frequently irritated at those who had the gall to suggest that I was mistaken.  What was wrong with those people anyway?  Did they think I was stupid?  I knew what I was talking about!
     I was in my early twenties before I truly had the rug pulled out from under me and had the opportunity to look at the world in a whole new way.  I finally learned that as opposed to being omniscient, I in actuality knew very little about life.  All of a sudden I realized that the world I knew and saw didn't actually revolve around the rules that I had always understood to be its governing force.  What was I supposed to do then?  It was an incredibly scary thing.  Everything I thought, everything I knew was wrong.  I can't tell you how completely humbling that was when I finally understood.  Thankfully Heavenly Father was there to help teach me to look at things a different way.  Even if I didn't know what the heck was happening, I was following someone who did, someone who wanted me safe and loved me.  He helped me understand many things and I continued to learn and grow; I saw more of a more correct picture of reality or truth, or as I learned to think of it 'the way God sees things'.  It has had me on my knees many times since then, questioning my knowledge, my pride, my self worth, my desires, etc.  And I can't say that I've completely conquered it yet.
     Now my life has changed in a new way.  I'm on the other side of the fence.  In the last few months I've had 2 children move into my house and for the first time I'm a full time parent of sorts.
     I've had the opportunity to practice my parenting skills for 7 1/2 years now since I met Lyle and had the opportunity to try and care for Taylor and Annie without any prior parenting experience...except bossing around my younger siblings which was quite fun on the whole, though probably not exactly the training I needed.  When I met Lyle's kids they were 8 and 6 years old, their minds still young and malleable.  They looked up to me and thought I knew what I was talking about (sometimes I did, sometimes I didn't, sometimes I thought I did when I really didn't), but they respected my knowledge and experience.
     We've had many experiences together and life has moved on.  Years pass and all of a sudden they are now the (gasp) teenagers!  I've changed in their eyes.  I have become someone who doesn't know anything.  Where they used to care about my advice and want my good opinion, they now think they know everything (ironically exactly how I did when I was their age...go figure) and that I don't understand them, enjoy being mean and making them follow rules, am extremely annoying in expecting them to keep their word, etc.  All of a sudden I once again know absolutely nothing.  And although I laugh knowing that it's partly a phase and that they'll have their chance to learn about their complete lack of understanding of life, their new opinion of me hurts a bit.  The sad part is that they are right.
     I always thought, like most people probably, that I knew a thing or two about parenting.  I recognize the fact that because I haven't had children of my own, there are parts of my knowledge that is woefully lacking, but I do have common sense, a strong morality, and I've learned to put my big girl panties on and do the hard parts of parenting without too much embarrassment.  But just like in my early adulthood, I've come to understand that I know so much less than I thought I did.
     I remember being a teenager, I remember the feelings, struggles, pressures, confusion, divided loyalties, not knowing who I was or what I wanted and so many more things that go with that stage of life, and yet sometimes I now feel that since my own experience, somehow or another teenagers became a completely different species, as yet unknown to humankind...or at least to me.  When did that happen?  They talk funny, worry about stupid things (in my opinion), want to wear the most horrid clothes.  One minute they want my help while the next they have everything completely in their control and know exactly what they're doing so just leave them alone, thank you very much.  The thing I find going through my mind the most often these days goes something like this:  'Wha...huh?  What the heck are they talking about?  What are they doing?  That makes no sense whatsoever!  Just keep cool, Laura, keep cool.'  I try to fake that I know what I'm doing, but I have a terrible feeling that they smell my insecurity, rather like my copier at work smells my fear that it will jam again and so it does jam just to spite me.  What's am I supposed to do now?
     I guess I should learn from my past experiences and go to the One who does know what the heck to do, since I clearly haven't the foggiest idea.  Somehow the Lord still understand teenagers, and I mean actually understands them as opposed to thinking they do like I did.  I have no idea how to influence my stepson to think about the consequences of his actions before he makes his choices.  I am at a complete loss as how to help my stepdaughter truly understand her worth, which I know will empower her in so many ways.  How, in the name of the every loving stars,  do you get your teenager to WANT to go to school, eat good stuff, brush their teeth, go to bed somewhere before dawn, look at their future, not spend every waking moment on social media or on their cell phones, be totally enthralled at what they call my 'lectures' and most importantly to want to have a testimony and a relationship with the Lord?
     Sheesh!  I'm totally exhausted just trying to figure it out!
     I guess I'll just have to keep in tune with the spirit, make greater strides toward being understanding and having patience (ha ha, that's a laugh), and most of all love them no matter what.  I think I'll leave the rest to Someone who knows a lot more than good old Mrs. Know-It-All (yours truly).

The Agency Puzzle

   Here I go again, blogging.  I'm thankful for this blog.  It's been something to help me process thoughts and events that happen in my life.  Many of the blogs I post are things I struggle with, so even if I have found good answers to some of my questions that bother me, I still struggle activating those principles in my life, but I'm thankful for the chance to learn and grow anyway.  

What a ham!  Lyle not wanting
a good pic taken and Annie
tolerating him.

     Those of you who know me know that the last month of life has been more trying than usual.  And since I tend to be a whiner, that's saying something.  I'll leave out most of the details to protect the involved parties but in the process of trying to deal with some family problems, my 14 yr old stepdaughter, Annie, ran away.  She was gone for 3 1/2 days before she contacted my husband to pick her up.  She is now living with us (before she was at our house 1 weekday night a week and every other weekend).  As you can imagine, I've felt a huge array of emotions on the spectrum during the events that lead up to this experience and the resulting adjustments, which have concluded in some profound thoughts to go along with them.
     During the first night when Annie was gone and we had no idea where she was, who she was with, what was happening to her, etc, I got physically sick and spent half the night near the toilet. As I sat there cooling myself on the bathroom floor, my thoughts revolved around agency.  Why does God allow us to use our agency to make choices that hurt other people?  Many times in our lives we suffer at the hands of others.  How do we reconcile ourselves to the fact that life is ultimately unfair and that we have no control to change others actions?
     Annie was hurt by someone and her choice was to run away from the situation.  This choice hurt those closest to her who love her and were worried about her, and during the whole thing I sat there helpless to force either of these people make the choices I felt would have resulted in peaceful coexistence.  Frustration, anger and hurt mounted though I had not made the choices that had resulted in the events that transpired.  How is that fair?  It's not.  And this is not by far the worst consequences someone has ever had to pay because of the decisions of others.  So why would Heavenly Father allow suffering to the innocent at the hands of those who either make mistakes and bad decisions or purposely inflict pain on others for their own purposes?
     I know I'm not the only one who asks these questions.  I know people who have given up that God exists or that He loves because of the presence of trials and afflictions in this life, especially those which occur at the hands of other people.  So I thought I'd apply myself to thinking about how I feel about this question, which I trip over myself on a somewhat regular basis.  I think pondering this has helped me feel a little bit better and a little bit wiser.  We'll see how much of that hangs around when things are back to normal.
     As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (i.e. a Mormon) I've been taught what is called the 'Plan of Salvation' since I was a child.

   

     I believe that before this life we all lived with our Heavenly Father in a premortal existence where we were presented with Heavenly Father's plan which would enable us to come to Earth, gain a body and have the opportunity to live a mortal life after which, if we were faithful we would be able to live with Heavenly Father for all eternity, now perfected beings, in glory and love.  A very important part of this plan was free will or agency.  Even in this premortal existence we were given agency.  Lucifer and a significant part of Heavenly Father's children decided to rebel against him because He could not guarantee our return to Him and because He chose His Son, Jesus Christ, to be the central part of His plan- to become a Savior and suffer for our sins, since because of free will, we would sometimes choose wrong and sin and no longer be able to return to God's presence without a reconciling of justice and mercy.  We chose the plan including Jesus Christ and came to this Earth to live our lives, to learn and grow, hopefully, into the people who will use our agency to choose to use Christ's Atonement and return to the spirit world in a state of progression which will lead to eternal life.
     However, not all of us know about the plan of salvation or what it can do for us (which is why Heavenly Father wants us to share it with those around us who don't know about it), and there are others who do know who choose not to accept it.  In addition, some of us who do know about the plan don't completely understand it, while others, because of our mortal condition still slip up and sin sometimes.  Many of these sins inevitably lead to hurting others.
     C.S. Lewis in his book, "The Problem of Pain" says referring to a widespread argument against God's willing such a plan for us: "'If God were good, He would wish to make His creatures perfectly happy, and if God were almighty He would be able to do what He wished.  But the creatures are not happy.  Therefore God lacks either goodness, or power, or both.'  This is the problem of pain, in its simplest form."  So does God exist?  If so is he powerless?  Is he not as good as people believe?  Or could there be a fourth option which we, as humans, find difficult to understand?  At one time or another I've wondered if the first three could be right.  But the sum experiences of my life and relationship with God have lead me to believe that the fourth is the ultimate truth.
     There is this same argument for the fact that God lets us suffer at all, even when it's not at the hands of other people, but today I'd like to address why He allows us to suffer when others make bad choices and we suffer the consequences.
     I turn to C. S. Lewis to discuss the arguments presented: "His Omnipotence means power to do all that is intrinsically possible, not to do the intrinsically impossible.  You may attribute miracles to Him, but not nonsense.  This is no limit to His power.  If you choose to say 'God can give a creature free will and at the same time withhold free will from it', you have not succeeded in saying anything about God: meaningless combinations of words do not suddenly acquire meaning simply because we prefix to them the two other words 'God can'.  It remains true that all things are possible with God: the intrinsic impossibilities are not things but nonentities.  It is no more possible for God than for the weakest of His creatures to carry out both of two mutually exclusive alternatives; not because His power meets an obstacle, but because nonsense remains nonsense even when we talk it about God."
     I think many people don't realize that though God has all power, he still has rules by which He is bound; for instance the law of obedience.  If God chose to go against this law (though in His perfected state that could not happen), He would cease to be God.  He would no longer have power or glory if He could not obey His own laws.  Though it is possible for our Heavenly Father to help us, to try to encourage and influence us to make good choices and to consider others in our decisions, He cannot take away the choice of even one person and yet still allow this person to keep their free will.  It is completely self contradictory and therefore impossible.  So although Heavenly Father is all powerful, He cannot stop one person from hurting another without taking away that same free will which allows us to make choices to love and help each other.  It is simply not possible.
      In addition, C.S. Lewis has to say: "The permanent nature of wood which enables us to use it as a beam also enables us to use it for hitting our neighbor on the head...We can, perhaps, conceive of a world in which God corrected the results of this abuse of free will by His creatures at every moment: so that a wooden beam became soft as grass when it was used as a weapon, and the air refused to obey me if I attempted to set up in it the sound-waves that carry lies or insults.  But such a world would be one in which wrong actions were impossible, and in which, therefore, freedom of the will would be void; nay, if the principle were carried out to its logical conclusion, evil thoughts would be impossible, for the cerebral matter which we use in thinking would refuse its task when we attempted to frame them.  All matter in the neighborhood of a wicked man would be liable to undergo unpredictable alterations.  That God can and does, on occasions, modify the behavior of matter and produce what we call miracles, is part of Christian faith; but the very conception of a common, and therefore stable, world, demands that these occasions should be extremely rare.  In a game of chess you can make certain arbitrary concessions to your opponent, which stand to the ordinary rules of the game as miracles stand to the laws of nature.  You can deprive yourself of a castle, or allow the other man sometimes to take back a move made inadvertently.  But if you conceded everything that at any moment happened to suit him- if all his moves were revocable and if all your pieces disappeared whenever their position on the board was not to his liking- then you could not have a game at all.  So it is with the life of souls in a world: fixed laws, consequences unfolding by causal necessity, the whole natural order, are at once limits within which their common life is confined and also the sole condition under which any such life is possible.  Try to exclude the possibility of suffering which the order of nature and the existence of free wills involve, and you find that you have excluded life itself."
     Now as for the argument that if God loves us, He would not let us suffer.  "The problem of reconciling human suffering with the existence of a God who loves, is only insoluble so long as we attach a trivial meaning to the word 'love', and look on things as if man were the center of them.  Man is not the center...We were made not primarily that we may love God (though we were made for that too) but that God may love us...'"  We need to forget about ourselves and think about the nature of God if we truly want to understand Him.  1 John 4:8 "He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love."  Love is so central to His character that the scriptures actually say, "God is love".  So if He really is love, why would he allow suffering?
     Joseph Smith, a modern prophet, was persecuted severely for bringing forth the Church of Jesus Christ once more on the earth.  At one time, he was taken away from family and friends and imprisoned for false charges while the Saints, or followers, of Christ's church were innocently enduring horrible pains at the hands of mobs.  Joseph in despair asked of God, as many of us have at times, "O God, where art thou?...How long shall thy hand be stayed, and thine eye, yea thy pure eye, behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs of thy people...?"  His answer came, "My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes."  He later adds, "If thou art called to pass through tribulation; if thou art in perils among false brethren; if thou art in perils among robbers; if thou art in perils by land or by sea;...And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.  The Son of Man hath descended below them all.  Art thou greater than he?  Therefore, hold on thy way...fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever."
     If Heavenly Father, truly loving his Only Begotten Son, allowed Him to suffer for the sins of the world, for every physical, mental, emotional and spiritual pain each of us will ever experience, though He was pure, in order to make it possible for us to gain salvation and live with Him again, can we truly expect that we will not have trials and suffering?  We certainly do not have the goodness that Christ did.  Why would we have an life free from persecution when the Son of God didn't?  The wonder of God is that even though we may experience truly horrible things at the hands of others and because of their free agency which God cannot take away, He can truly make these things become a way to strengthen us, if we let Him.  He can no more force us to accept His offering of help and healing anymore than He can stop someone from hurting us, but the offer is always there for us whenever we choose to accept it.
     So I guess there's no getting around the truth that when there is free will, there will be abuse of it at the same time.  What a hard thing for us to have to accept.  It's easy for me to sin in a way that hurts someone else and apologize, have my apology accepted and think that all is well, but to accept that someone else has that right as well, someone who may sin in different ways and hurt others even more, and who may not be sorry at all at what they have done, is an entirely difficult thing to have to come to terms with.  And yet, this is how free will works.  How do I find acceptance or even peace in such times when my heart is torn because of the actions of others?  Here I think is the most puzzling part, because the answer seems to be one word: faith.
     We're asked to have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.  That means all the time.   That means even when its hard.  Heavenly Father has said through scripture on numerous occasions that He has the ultimate control of His plan, that we should not be afraid and that all will receive justice and mercy in the end according to their desires, thoughts, words and actions.  How do we let go and have faith that He means what He says and that He really does know what He's doing; that He really will be able to take care of everything in the end?  Because we cannot see how He will take care of it, it's hard for us to be reconciled to this idea.
     I thought of an analogy once a number of years ago which has helped me with faith.  I am not personally a fan of jigsaw puzzles but my mother-in-law really likes them.  I see her set up a card table and open a 1000 piece puzzle and start the process of fitting each of them into place, one by one.  I know when I was little I would get frustrated when there was a certain piece that didn't seem to fit anywhere.  Did the manufacturers get a good laugh including a piece that won't fit while frustrating us as consumers?  I would look on the front of the box which usually showed what the puzzle would look like when fitted together and wonder where the heck that piece went.  Ultimately I'd have to set it to the side and come back to it when I had more of the puzzle done.  I've yet to hear of a puzzle where there are superfluous pieces which have nothing to do with the puzzle included in the box.  Somewhere or another, that piece will fit.  I just need to be patient and work on other things until, after completing more of the puzzle, I pull it out and try again to see where it fits.

     Maybe this is what we need to do when we don't completely understand a piece of the gospel puzzle.  Exercise faith and realize that even though we can't understand where or how that puzzle piece fits, that Heavenly Father does, and that someday when we're more progressed, we may be able to fit it in and understand better.
     I hope I understand agency a bit better now and that I'll choose to have faith even though I can't see how everything will be in the end.  It's a good thing an all knowing and all powerful God is in charge and not me.