Kids are the Worst

I have the best and worst job.  This afternoon was one of those "bleh" times.  You know, it's like lunch isn't settling, your stomach is cramping, your up-chuck reflex is in full-swing, and your colon is threatening to explode unless you take off your panty-hose right now!  It's like your head is pounding, your eye twitching, back aching, and-- basically-- your body hurts so much that all you can seem to do is sit behind your desk while student after student come to you asking the same question that you know you answered at least 12 times before they began working on their assignment....  Yeah.  It's like that.




Kids.  How annoying.




Can't they let me enjoy my body's violent episode in peace?  Can't they listen to directions the first time?  Can't they just sit quietly at their desks and teach themselves how to spell "another" and "responsibility" on their own?  Can't they use the restroom without asking my permission first?  (PS-- When is my restroom break?!  Huh?)  Can't they find something with which to quietly entertain themselves while I quietly cry to myself until the bell rings?




Kids.  What a pain.  What a terrible blessing it is to take stewardship over 26 little people everyday who may-- or may not-- want to be in school.




I think Charles Dickens said it best in Nicholas Nickelby when he called children exactly what they are-- "a divine burden."




Do I enjoy every moment as a teacher?  No.  Kids are hard work, and I applaud you parents who get to take the little rascals home.  They are-- they are a burden.  You actually have to take time to teach them to do things the way you want them done.  You have to make sure they have clothes (and coats for recess, please), food, a place to stay.  Anyone who knows kids know that they can smell bad, they can do the stupidest things (like pour water on a light-bulb for no reason), and --for some inexplicable reason I've yet to figure out-- they're usually sticky and messy.




Who would want to put up with that?  Who would willingly put themselves in charge of a little person that, by the way, looks up to and absorbs everything you do?  Who would choose to give up their selfish habits and lifestyles in order to maintain a safe living environment for a kid?  You cry when they cry.  You hurt when they hurt.  You would sooner chop off your own head than wish them harm (except for, you know, vaccinations).  Why on Earth would I care enough to fight through my own physical and emotional pain to run laps around a classroom as I'm bombarded with raised hands that may--or may not-- have a pertinent question on the other end?




Yeah-- kids make us miserable.  But you know what else they do?  They make us better people.  And, you know what?  It kind of bugs me that some would see kids as lesser-people.  They're little.  Not lesser.  In many ways, children have impressed me and taught me more than any adult ever could.  Who wouldn't want that divine burden to become acquainted with a child?




Yet we still have stupid "grown-ups" who feel that kids would "cramp their style."  (Insert TIME magazine article here, except I won't because it made me mad.)  Nope.  No kids for us.  We're too cool.....  All right.  Have fun looking back and regretting your life in 20 years.  Having no kids for medical reasons is tragic, and I'm deeply sorry for those in that situation.  Having no kids because you're too selfish... yeah.  That's maddening to a girl like me.




Even worse-- what about the adoring parents who so lovingly abandon their children on the street?  (Seriously?  Do you know how many people would love to care for that baby?)  At least be responsible enough to get rid of your offspring in an adult way.  Sheesh.




I think I need to mellow out a bit.  Maybe I'm just cranky because my insides are still actively stabbing at me from the inside out.  Maybe it's this stupid "uplifting" video I just watched: watch at your own risk.  I suppose that, deep down (even beneath my temperamental bowels) there's a girl who would gladly carry a divine burden such as a child.  For those out there who crave to hold a baby and help that child grow into adulthood-- yet haven't had the opportunity-- I get it.  I understand your need to punch a wall and/or throw up whenever a child is abused or neglected.  I understand your frustration when you wonder why "so-and-so" had an abortion when you haven't been so divinely "cursed" with a pregnancy.  (Or even the opportunity to get pregnant.)




I don't know why that happens.  I don't know why some of us who yearn to be mothers and fathers never get the chance.  But I do know that every child is infinitely loved by a Heavenly Father who is infinitely aware of their trials.  That goes for both born and unborn.  That goes for you.  That goes for me.  That even goes for the girl who, for some misguided reason, felt that the best choice was to kill her baby.  That even goes for the jacka** "father" who "helped" create the child, yet did nothing to help save him/her.




As for the parents who ask teachers what they can do to help their child improve their grades:  Thank you for taking an interest in your child's education.  You never annoy us teachers when you do that.




As for the parents who joyfully accompany their children on weekend outings:  Thank you for exposing your child to the world in a safe environment.




As for the parents who work three jobs to make sure their children's needs are met:  Thank you for loving your child enough to sacrifice for their physical needs.




As for the parents who would do anything within their power, up to and including the sacrifice of their own lives, in order to raise their children:  Thank you.  Just thank you.




Kids.  What a profound responsibility.  What a meaningful adventure.  What better way could we choose to spend our lives?

Guns

I had plans to run all over town getting this-and-that done today.  That was before I woke up to find that I'd be lucky to make it out of my driveway.  In spite of my hatred for driving in the snow, I did manage to make it a few blocks to the grocery store to buy dog-food.  (My dogs are spoiled.)  I wanted to stop by the classroom and set up a fish tank, but the unplowed parking lot didn't look like something my Chevy Classic needed to try to conquer today.  So now I'm at home.  The dogs are fed (or would be if they'd quit hiding food in the couch), and there's a whole lot of nothing for me to get done here.

That happens sometimes living in the Rockies.  Weather happens, and sometimes my plans have to drastically change.  It was a minor "problem" that I had to learn to deal with in New York too.  Yeah-- NYC and Wyoming/Colorado definitely have snow in common....  That's about it, though.

Due to changing gun laws in some states, I've been thinking a lot lately about the differences between gun culture out east and gun culture in my house.  Hopefully, based on other posts, I've proven myself as a person who doesn't revel in violence or the mistreatment of life.  However, I'm also one who would refuse to give up her AK, even to the extent of surrendering my life.  In simpler terms, they'd have to kill me before I'd let them take my guns from me.  (Whoever "they" are.)

Don't be surprised.  That's western gun culture vs. city gun culture.  We don't use our guns as a means to gain control or power.  We don't use our guns in petty turf wars or gang shoot-outs.  We never use our guns pre-emptively as weapons.  Ever.  (Yes, that includes hunting.  We'll get into that later.)

So, my east coast friends, let me elaborate on some of those reasons why your "crazy" Wyoming friend would sacrifice her life before sacrificing her guns:

• Guns are a tool, not a weapon:  Let's get into that hunting thing.  Personally, I was never able to bring myself to shoot anything, but I don't judge those who have.  Most hunting families who I know use their meat throughout the year to keep their kids fed.  Guns, then, are a tool used to make sure a family's dietary needs are met.  For those of us who own land and/or animals, guns are an absolute necessary tool in scaring off and, in rare cases, killing threats to  property.  Losing a few cows to some coyotes may not seem like a big deal to folks out-east, but such a loss is devastating out here.  Losing a few cows could mean losing the farm, losing the family, losing everything.  Thank goodness ranchers and farmers can use their firearms to protect their livelihoods.  Guns are also tools necessary for self-reliance.  I can confidently say that, if the west were suddenly cut off from all outside resources, my family and I could live comfortably for years providing for ourselves.  We'd rely on our survival skills, knowledge of the land around us, and our guns-- we could do it.  How many people can say that?
• The vast majority of gun owners are responsible:  What I mean by responsible is that they practice gun safety.  When a Wyomingite walks into a gun shop, they're not doing so because Rick's .357 colt python was SOOOOOOO cool on The Walking Dead.  Gun purchases are not on a whim or done to achieve a certain image.  When we bring our money to a gun store, we also bring years (yes, YEARS) of firearm and self-defense training with us.  It's our culture.  Learn to ride a bike-- check.  Learn to handle and store firearms safely-- check.  No joke.  Long before I was allowed to touch a gun, I had it drilled into me what it meant to own one.  "Always act like a gun is loaded."  "Never aim at something unless you intend to kill it."  And there's a whole mess of other rules to go along with those two.  Most of us are professionals, folks.  We have the training and the permits to prove it.
• Firearms run in the family:  Some of the most precious family heirlooms out west are the family firearms.  The shotgun that great-great-grandpa used to settle the homestead.  (We don't have one of those in my family.  It's just an example.)  It's true that certain guns are significant in a family tree.  To take those away from the family would be to take away an important part of that family's legacy.
• Guns protect us from people:  I was going to post a bunch of statistics here to prove my point, but I'm getting hungry, so I'll leave it up to you to do the research.  Where there is strict gun control, there are also elevated amounts of violent crimes-- homicides, stabbings, shootings, etc.  Yeah-- I can't think of any criminal who would walk into a Wyoming establishment expecting to get much done by waving a gun around:  No doubt that criminal would have more than a few barrels pointed back at him/her.  Problem solved.....  I know what you're thinking-- What about mass shootings?  I certainly don't mean to make these tragedies out to be less ...well... tragic than they are/were.  The loss of any life is remorseful.  Did you know, though, that more people are killed by drunk drivers every year than by guns?  (Again, I'll leave you to do the research.)  Yet we're not rallying together to outlaw alcohol or cars....  Think about it.  Taking away guns would only serve to treat the symptoms of a much larger issue, all while taking firearms away from responsible owners... and pissing off everyone from Montana down to Texas.
• Guns protect us from animals:  Living out here, one can expect to run into all sorts of critters.  We're not talking about going up to the mountains for the weekend (although that is an option).  We're talking about seeing elk, deer, antelope, coyotes, foxes, and badgers on the way to work.  Ever been nose to nose with an angry moose?  My dad has.  You never know when a ridiculously aggressive rattle snake or mountain lion is going to pay a visit to your backyard to play with your dog.  Or your kid.  (Yes, there are parts of the country still like this.  Many of us call it home.)  "But that's not safe!" you say?  "Why would you choose to live in a place like that?" you wonder.  Where else would we go?  Chicago?  Detroit?....  No thanks.  I'll take the grizzly on my front porch.
• Guns are a symbol of our independent "western" spirit:  My ancestors were some of the first to settle in America, because they sought freedom.  Tired of persecution and regulations, they came to a land where they could live and let live.  They supported the 2nd amendment, because they knew what it was like to live under a tyrannous government.  Generations later, other ancestors-- again tired of persecution and regulations-- sought freedom again, this time out west.  They established themselves.  (Let's not get into American Indian rights.  That's another blog for another time.)  Generations later, you have me.  You have my family.  You have my friends.  You have thousands of us.  And we're not the types to give in to persecution and regulations.  (Imagine that.)  If a tyrannous government were to demand our guns today, it would be an insult to our identities and everything our ancestors fought to establish.  That's why we won't give it up.  Are we stubborn?  Yes.  Are we right to stand up for rights?  Yes.  Don't like it?  Fine.  Don't move here.

That, my friends, is why I would rather die than live in a world without my AK.

Books

If you're anything like me, resolutions for a new year don't really amount to much.  I'd rather pursue (or, realistically, not pursue) my goals all year long.  One of my ongoing goals has always been to learn as much as I can about... everything.  That's probably why libraries and museums are my favorite places to visit.

Anyway, in my endeavors to seek learning/understanding, I've spent more hours than I care to admit on reading.  If you happen to have resolutions to read more this year (or make your kids read more), then let me suggest a few of my favorites:

Fiction Books for Kids:

• Ella Enchanted:  A book for girls, about a 5th or 6th grade reading level.  I first read Ella Enchanted when I was in 4th grade.  I think it's the reason why I'm so obsessed with fairy tales.  Ella is a heroine worth looking up to as well.  She's both brave and kind-- with a whole lot of loyalty and integrity mixed in.  By far, the best version of Cinderella I've read, and I've read a lot.
• Island and Dive series:  These series books are good for girls, but especially interesting for boys.  About a 5th grade reading level.  Gordon Korman, the author, does an incredible job at researching and constructing believable stories where kids come out the heroes.  These books have been essential in getting my reluctant students to get into reading for the sake of reading.
• Shadow Castle:  About a 3rd or 4th grade reading level.  I grew up on this one.  It's an older story, but certainly timeless in its whimsy.  It's one that left me hoping I would stumble onto a magic castle whenever I went to play outside.  While girls are more drawn to the story for its fairy tale qualities, I find that boys are interested in the story as well (though they pretend not to be).
• Key to the Treasure:  About a 3rd grade reading level.  A great story for boys and girls.  In this story, three children visit their grandparents and discover a treasure map.  Through the course of the story, they piece together the puzzles of the map and discover a whole lot about their grandparents' land in the process.  Perfect for kids who like solving mysteries.
• Coraline:  About a 4th or 5th grade reading level.  Good for girls and boys.  This is the story I give to kids when they tell me they want to read something scary.  It is definitely eerie-- not for the faint of heart, especially if your kids are prone to nightmares.  The book, in this case, is leaps and bounds better than the movie.
• The Westing Game:  About a 6th or 7th grade reading level.  This is the ultimate story for kids who love the mystery genre.  Throughout the narrative, we follow an eclectic group of characters, all involved in the solving of Mr. Westing's murder.  The winner receives the multi-million dollar inheritance.
• Son:  About a 6th or 7th grade reading level.  Have you ever heard of The Giver?  Son is the final book in the Giver series.  (The second and third books in the series are Gathering Blue and Messenger.  I recommend all books of the series.)  In Son, we get to meet Claire, a girl who's stuck living in the community introduced in The Giver.  While the story is written at a junior high level, I find that its themes are more mature.  The driving force in the story is a mother's love to find and care for her child, in spite of the natural and sociological obstacles that would keep her from her son.
• Harry Potter series:  Does this one even need an explanation?  I'm still certain that my acceptance letter to Hogwartz got lost in the mail.  That, or the owl carrying the letter gave up once he had to fly against that Wyoming wind....  Thanks a lot, owl.
• The Chronicles of Narnia:  We've seen the movies.  The books are a lot simpler in plot, but they're a lot more complex in metaphor.

Fiction Books for Adults:

• Les Miserables:  I have not yet come against a version of this story that I do not like.  The book, though, is the best.  I find it refreshing to read of a character who has every right to curse God and humanity but then chooses not to do so.  Likewise, it shows the power of forgiveness.
• Lost Horizon:  I didn't originally have this on the list, but my dad reminded me of it just now.  It raises some interesting points about what is to be valued in life and society.  Shangri-La.
• To Kill a Mockingbird:  Atticus Finch.  Probably one of the greatest protagonists I've ever had the pleasure of "meeting," even if he is a fictional character.
• Hard Times:  I love reading Dickens.  Maybe I like depressing things?  I don't know.  At any rate, this is my favorite of Dickens' works.  It begs to answer the question-- is life all about living by rigid facts?  Or do we enrich our lives with more?  Which is to be valued more:  a wealthy man of learning, or a humble man of hope?
• A Dog's Purpose and A Dog's Journey:  This one is a must for dogs lovers.  It's told from the dog's perspective and offers insight into why our fur-babies behave as they do.  While reading the narrative of this particular dog's life, I was touched with the dog's insightful commentary of the human condition and his understanding of what it means to loyally love another.  It ends happily too, to the point where I was crying.  I don't cry that often.
• The Way of Kings:  This is the best, best, BEST, BEST book ever in my life EVER!!!  It's a fantasy that, by far, surpasses any other book I've read in the genre.  It's better, dare I say, than Lord of the Rings.  It's the first of 10 books (the second comes out in March).  The storyline is complex and compelling.  The characters, though, make the book.  Sanderson masterfully creates his characters with such depth that a reader can't help but feel invested in their stories.  The characters, Kaladin in particular, in spite of all of the wickedness around them, strive to maintain righteousness where it would, otherwise, not exist.  Throughout the story, a reader is challenged to question their own set of values and to question their own motives.  Seriously.  Read this one.

Nonfiction Book for Adults:

• Mere Christianity:  Sometimes I feel like we throw the term "Christian" around as a cutesy, cover-all definition for someone who went to church with their parents on Easter Sunday when they were little.  I appreciate C.S. Lewis for "laying down the law," so to speak in setting forth what it truly means to be a Christian.
• Jesus the Christ:  This is my favorite nonfiction book.  Other than through scripture, this book has helped me to understand Christ more than any other book.  Unlike the New Testament, this book takes a chronological and biographical look at the life of Jesus Christ.  It educates the reader on the cultures and customs into which Christ was born, which clarifies many of His teachings and actions.  It not only speaks of Christ's divinity, but also lends the reader understanding into who Jesus of Nazareth was as a man.
• The Book of Mormon:  Yeah.  Had to throw this one in there.

PS-- I'm a self-proclaimed expert at matching kids with books they'll enjoy reading.  If you have a kid in mind, feel free to message/comment on their grade and interests.  I should be able to recommend a book that they'll actually want to spend time with.  You're welcome.  :)

Christmas

The anthropologist in me is rational-- logical.  So, let's think logically for a minute or two.  Logically, it doesn't make sense that any religion, let alone Christianity, is correct.  If anything, all of us should either 1) adhere to the teachings of Zoroastrianism (Google it), because it's the oldest religion of which we have record, or 2) believe only in that which can be observed through our senses.  Makes sense.  Facts, facts, facts.

Certainly, things have changed since that first Christmas.  It's a fact.  For starters, Christ was not born on December 25.  Lights.  Trees.  Rudolph.  Gift exchange.  Most of our Christmas rituals today more closely resemble pagan tradition rather than Christian tradition.  (That's all right, though.  I recognize that cultural influences often mingle with pure doctrine.)  Some people only see Christmas as an excuse to get a few days off work and spend time with friends and family.  For the businessman, it might be the chance to capitalize on the materialistic nature of gift-giving.  Take all of that away, and what's left?  A baby, His virgin mother, and some shepherds....  So, what's the big deal?

Here's another fact for you:  Jesus of Nazareth was, indeed, a person who truly lived.  It's a fact.  No respectable scientist would dispute that.  Then, logically, His life meant one of two things.  Either 1) He was a Jewish man who addressed religious and social corruption through "radical" teachings OR 2) He was the Son of God, born of Mary--a virgin--in Bethlehem, who not only addressed religious and social corruption, but also took it upon Himself to correct every injustice and corruption ever.  Seriously, ever.

It's a simple "yes" or "no" question.  Was Jesus who He said He was, or was He not?  There's no in-between or "sort of" answer here.  While it may seem illogical, the anthropologist and Christian in me both agree (for reasons we'll address in a later post):  Jesus of Nazareth was (and is) the Son of God.  Wonderful.  Counselor.  The Savior of Mankind.

But what does that mean?  Why is it so important that a little baby was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger over 2,000 years ago?  Sure, He grew up to teach some really wonderful things.  As the song says, "Truly He taught us to love one another.  His law is love, and His Gospel is peace."  (O Holy Night, 3rd verse).  But is that what sets Him apart?  Last time I checked, a lot of other exceptionally wise people also taught some insightful concepts to their followers.  Buddha.  Gandhi.  Mohammed.  To name a few.

What, then, is so significant about Jesus Christ?  What sets Him apart from these others?  Why bother celebrating His birth and life?...  Remember those questions.  We'll come back to them later.

My personal perceptions of Christmas have evolved a little overtime.  While bouncing around in the living room with my sisters, wearing matching pajamas, and singing "All I Want for Christmas is You" and "Santa Baby" isn't totally out of the question, the depth and meaning of Christmastime has attached itself indefinitely to my heart.  I'm kind of like the reformed Grinch or Scrooge, I guess.  Christmas means more to me now, because Christ means more to me now.

But why?  (Look back at aforementioned questions.)

Injustice, cruelty, hatred, corruption, greed....  All of these exist in full-force today.  Although I wish it wasn't true, children are abused (and never dream of getting a Christmas present), honest people starve, families suffer from illnesses that they can't afford to see treated, natural disasters destroy entire cities, and the bad guys win sometimes.  And it's not fair!  Not fair at all!  The complexities of the challenges faced by mankind in general is, to say the least, overwhelming and gut wrenching.

That's not even to mention the very personal, individual challenges that each of us have to undergo.  Whether a 4th grade teacher in Colorado or a homeless orphan living on the streets of Dubai-- pain and suffering is not general.  It's individual.  How many of us have caught ourselves crying out in despair, "No one understands me.  No one knows what I'm going through right now."  And it doesn't matter if our pain is comparatively minimal-- like dealing with a bad day at work-- or substantial-- like watching a child suffer through painful medical treatments.  Pain is pain.  Suffering is suffering.  Sometimes we deserve it, but usually we don't.

That's why Jesus Christ is important.  That baby boy born in Bethlehem would, one day, grow to be the man who would take those horrible things upon Himself, in spite of the unfairness of it all.  Those generic circumstances of human suffering-- yeah-- He felt it.  Those individual circumstances where we cry, "No one understands,"...  He understands perfectly.  Again, to quote a song, "He knows our need.  To our weakness is no stranger."  (O Holy Night, 2nd verse).  My stubbed toe, that really bad stomach flu, that broken heart, that Mother's worry, that family's loss.  He felt it all.  All of it.  Willingly, He felt it!  Out of love, He felt it.  That's why He's different.

But, that's not all.   He didn't just feel all of that.  Jesus Christ, somehow, overcame all of that.  As the only perfect man to walk the Earth, as the literal Son of God, He was the only one who could do it.  I don't begin to profess that I understand how the laws of justice and mercy were met in Him, but I trust Him when He says, "Be of good cheer.  I have overcome the world."  That's not a figurative statement, by the way.

Because Jesus of Nazareth was born, everything that is cruel and wrong and unfair about life will be corrected.  Even in the darkest of times, "the wrong shall fail, the right prevail" (I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day).  Perhaps some of the results of our Savior's actions won't be realized until all is said and done.  However, His peace can immediately enter in and soothe our troubling hearts as we celebrate His life throughout the year.

And that's a fact.

PS--  Favorite Christmas Songs that teach this message:

Hallelujah
O Holy Night
I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
(Definitely do this one!!!)  O Come, O Come Emmanuel
Hallelujah Chorus
For Unto Us a Child is Born

Marriage: For Time and All Eternity

This last Thursday marked a very important day in the history of my family.  My big sister married my new big brother in the Temple.  The ceremonies are always very simple but very powerful by nature.  In Mormon culture, you might hear of people being "sealed" rather than being married.  That's because a marriage is "until death do us part."  A sealing is "for time and all eternity."

After the ceremony, we met up at the location of the reception.  Words really can't do justice to how much fun those receptions are.  It's a genuine celebration of two people, and their children--whether current or future, making one giant step forward in their eternal progression.  It's a celebration of sincere gratitude that a family is to be eternally intact.  Personally, I spent the night dancing with the cutest people at the wedding-- my nieces and nephews.  When it was finally time to pack up for the night, all of the kids starting wailing in unison:  That's how I know that we had had a successful evening.  Then came clean up and going home our separate ways.

That's always the worst part.  Going home without the family.  Certainly circumstances sometimes need to take us in separate directions, but it doesn't make it any easier.  Especially not when a little niece sobs into your dress and whispers, "I will miss you.  I love you so much!"

My sister's wedding/sealing has everything, and nothing, to do with the subject I want to write about tonight.  It's a topic that's been weighing on my mind for some time now, one that I've felt burdened to address.  I've put it off, because I realize how sensitive of a subject it is, and I likewise realize that my thoughts on the matter may lose me some friends and family.  Please, understand that I'm merely trying to voice one side of an argument that isn't often expressed.  I recognize that I'm setting myself up to sound an unprogressive bigot with an uneducated mind and a closed heart.  I recognize that I'm setting myself up for criticism and hateful rebukes-- that some might call me condescending or self-righteous.  But, I guess that's OK.  Some really great people have been called those things before, so I suppose I'll be in good company.

So-- let's get down to it.  Let's talk about gay marriage.  But, before we do, let me illustrate some points that I have been taught and believe are true, so that the foundation of my argument makes sense.

• There is, in fact, a God.
• God is God, and I am not.
• God is, in a very literal way, a Heavenly Father whose purpose is to help us achieve perfection and eternal happiness.
• The surest way to achieve that perfection and eternal happiness is through following the commandments of God.  Those who do not follow these commandments cannot enjoy their full potential in life or in the life to come.
• The thing that will give us the greatest eternal happiness is being eternally "sealed" (or belonging to) our families.
• The family consists of a mother, a father, and their children.
• No one is perfect.  Everyone is has a personal set of challenges that best mold our spirits into what Heavenly Father would have us become.  If we trust Him enough to overcome those set of challenges.  God doesn't give us the challenges, but He does allow us to struggle through them.

If these things are not true, then I'll be the first to jump on the bandwagon and rally for gay marriage.  Here's the other thing, though, that I believe, which has caused a great deal of soul searching on my part:

• An individual should be allowed to choose which path they'll take in life.  No one should ever be forced to conform to someone else's beliefs.

You see how a girl could get confused?  On one hand, I have the desire to uphold all the commandments of God and to encourage others to do so.  On the other, I don't want to force others to live in a way which causes them great sorrow.  For the longest time, I couldn't seem to see how those two concepts coexist.  I think I have it figured out now.

The answer is love.  Pure love-- without malice or expectation of reciprocation.  It's God's love for us.  It's our love for Him.  It's our love for each other.  This, above all else, is the key to answering our "dilemma."

Let me put it this way:  My classroom window faces our school parking lot.  (This will make sense-- I promise.)  There's a door by the window that leads directly to the front of the school and parking lot as well.  One day, I noticed some students playing in the parking lot after school let out.  They were running along the curb where the school busses usually park.  I know that these students had been instructed not to do this, because I-- along with many other teachers-- had warned these students to be safe, especially when waiting for the bus.  Still, though, they made their choice.  Their choice was to play on the curb.  Let me ask this:  should I have been a person who would stand by and let them choose that option?  Shouldn't it just be all right with me to let them do with their lives what they want?  Because I love all the students at my school, to some degree, I absolutely could not stand by and let them risk endangering themselves.  I ran from my room and pulled those kids back to the safety of the grass just as the busses pulled in just where they had been running.  Then, I gave them a very stern lecture about how I was worried for their safety and that better choices were necessary if they expected to stay away from danger.

Think back, then, on the principles I believe.  That God loves us.  That He can see dangers that we cannot, and that He sets up the rules and guidelines accordingly.  I have to realize that going contrary to His teachings can be just as spiritually dangerous to an individual as playing in front of oncoming traffic can be physically dangerous to a child.  So, I can either stand aside and watch people put themselves in these precarious positions-- that will not end well eternally-- or I can love my neighbor enough to do everything in my power to keep them from that danger.  It's not because of bigotry, hatred, or misunderstanding.  It's because of love.  How can I stand by and watch a beloved child of God hurt themselves?

I also have to realize, especially when it comes time to vote, that it doesn't really matter what I say or what society says is correct.  While, yes, I believe that people should be free to choose, I have to remember that I don't really make the law.  The laws have already been irrevocably decreed in Heaven-- I don't know why they have to be the way they are.  They just are.  No amount of votes is ever going to change what is already set.  Even if we vote and decide that the sky is now made of marshmallow crème, even if everyone agrees to it, we still will not have changed the sky.  Not really.  God is God, and we are not.  I, then, don't vote for how I believe the law "should" be.  I vote based on how Heavenly law was, is, and always will be.

I'm a jerk, huh?  I know that philosophies like this really dig deep and hurt a lot of people who deserve to feel accepted.  Who deserve to feel loved.  Who deserve to lead fulfilling lives.  I don't begin to claim to understand the struggles a homosexual faces-- I can't imagine how difficult their particular set of challenges must be.  Quite frankly, it's not my right to even say that I'm better, just because my set of challenges is different.  Again, that's why love is so important.  That's why love needs to be the motive in all we do.

While I may not understand what it's like to be told that my body shouldn't function a certain way, I do understand what it's like to wait.  I know what it's like to feel different and judged.  I know what it's like to be told that I'm living my life incorrectly.  I know what it's like to feel misguided and manipulated by others to fit into their mold of what they think I should be.  It hurts.  But it's a necessary part of life if one expects to be refined.  That's the point.  We just have to decide, do I trust and love God enough to overcome this, or do I give in to my natural and carnal self?  Do I take the easy way out-- instant gratification?  Or do I fight the fight until the battles won and God is able to bless me with more than I could have ever imagined?  Do I love Him enough to overcome the unholy person I'm inclined to be?

Again, I want to say that these thoughts are not meant to hurt or demean.  These thoughts are meant to breed understanding of where I, and so many others, stand.  I don't mean to criticize or make little of others' situations.  I do, however, mean to love my fellow man enough to encourage all to "come unto Christ and be perfected in Him."  Because that's what life, marriage, and family is all about.

Gramps

My father's father-- or Gramps, as we lovingly call him-- is my favorite kind of person.  He was himself.  No show or misguidance for the sake of impressing others-- just Gramps.  He was, at times, a little rough around the edges, being the sailor and railroad man that he was.  For those of us who really knew him, though, he was about as genuinely loving as a person can be.  It's been a little over five years since he's passed, but this time of year always brings his memory to the foreground of my thoughts.

You see, I was born on Gramp's birthday.  With our birthday just around the corner, it's hard not to reminisce about him and what he meant-- and means-- to me.  He always said that I was his best birthday present, and I believe that he wasn't fabricating that.  He was truly happy that I was born, and even happier that we'd be celebrating our birthdays together from that time forward.  When I turned 9, our birthday fell on a Sunday.  In order to celebrate, Gramps bought me the most elaborate, beautiful pink corsage he could find (because he knew I'd be wearing a pink dress) and bought himself a matching boutonniere.  We wore them to church.  Whenever anyone would ask him why we decided to dress so formally for church, he would beam and say, "Because my granddaughter and I are celebrating our birthday."

I'm still getting used to this whole "birthday by myself" concept.  I wonder how others get by without a birthday buddy, because it's sure hard for me.  Regardless, I am so grateful for the birthdays I shared with that man.  In order to honor him this year, I thought it would be nice to maybe describe some of the gifts-- or life lessons-- which he taught me during his time on Earth.

• Appreciate beauty.  Gramps had quite the artistic eye, a talent he has passed on to many of his posterity.  While Gramps was not always the most patient man, he could somehow sit for hours sketching with his pencil or charcoal.  He always appreciated a beautiful piece of art.  A box of his old art supplies sits in one of my closets now, and it's still used-- on occasion-- to create works intended to make the world a bit more beautiful.
• Don't let circumstance define you.  Gramps loved his mother very much, but never had a lot to say of his father.  Nothing good anyway.  Even though I never knew my great-grandfather, I'll respect him enough to not go into detail.  What I will mention is that Gramps, statistically, should have ended up a man very similar to the man his father was.  Instead, he chose another path-- a better one.  He was not content to pass onto others what was unfairly given to him.  He rose above the circumstance.
• Be aware of others' needs.  There are too many stories to share here of Gramps being aware of others.  Through his observance of others and their needs, Gramps not only saved a few hearts from breaking or a few tears from falling-- he also saved a few lives that needed saving.  In a very literal way.
• Appearances aren't as important as character.  As mentioned above, Gramps was a rough-and-tumble kind of guy, born and raised in Wyoming.  He knew how to work hard and humbly provide for a family.  He never cared much about looking good.  He cared about being good.  To Gramps, it didn't matter if a person were a wealthy city-slicker passing through town or a poor, farming family with unkempt clothes:  Gramps would take them all as they were and respect them for it.  It was their conduct and kindness that determined his thoughts of them.
• Music and Jesus.  Gramps always used to tell us that it was his goal to make sure his posterity loved two things-- music and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  Without a doubt, Gramps is a major contributing factor in my ability to sing and play instruments.  Without a doubt, he's also a major contributing factor in my own faithfulness in following the teachings of Jesus Christ. 
• Be curious.  Gramps was always tinkering with stuff.  If he ever had a question about something, he'd either research (you know, call up the experts) or take stuff apart.  I recall many times going to visit Gramies and Gramps, only to find Gramps huddled over something on the kitchen table.  Wires, wood, plastic-- I never knew what it was he was doing, but it looked important.  He told me once that he felt over-educated, that it was unnecessary for one, such as himself, to know so many things.  He said it with a chuckle, and then told me, with a twinkle in his eye, to make sure that I never get too smart.
• Prayer works.  During WWII, Gramps served in the NAVY on the ship Wichita.  (Here's a link if you would like to know more about his ship: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Wichita_(CA-45)  Everyday aboard the ship, Gramps would go to the tip of the bow and say a prayer for the ship's safety and everyone's safe return home.  During his time aboard, the ship and its crew went through hell-- truly, it did.  It fought in many naval battles that should have left it sunk, including a battle in which the Wichita was hit by a torpedo which, miraculously, failed to detonate.  In all that time, only one sailor lost his life aboard the Wichita.  Some might believe that it's coincidence and luck that got my Gramps and the crew out of the war alive.  I like to think that the prayers of a young sailor have something to do with it.
• Decide what you stand for, and never give in once you've decided.  Aboard the Wichita, Gramps was confronted with many conflicts of lifestyle.  One of those had a great deal to do with alcohol.  Maybe I'm making it up (although I really don't think that I am), but I recall a story of Gramps getting confronted by one of the "meanest, nastiest sailors on the whole ship."  Knowing that my Gramps was a Mormon, and, therefore, didn't drink, this sailor confronted my grandfather and told him that the choice was-- essentially-- drink this alcohol, or all of us are going to beat you up.  Without hesitation, Gramps said something to the effect of, "Well, get on with beating me up then, because there's no way in h*** that I'm going to drink."  Impressed with his convictions, the sailors left him alone after that.
• True love is never forgotten.  Toward the end of his life, Gramps couldn't remember a lot of things, but one thing he never forgot:  The first time he saw Gramies.  He could recall how she had her hair, what she was wearing, and where she was sitting in the chapel-- "smack dab in front of [him]."  That was his favorite story to tell, and he never forgot it.
• You don't need a reason to be kind.  When I was a junior in high school, it was a favorite pastime of mine to go to the mall and try on clothes.  (Don't ask why.  I'm a girl, or something, OK?)  During one of my trips to Dillard's I fell in love with a beautiful, princess cut prom dress.  It looked great on me too, as though it had been patterned to belong to me forever and ever.  Unfortunately, it was not on sale and triple-digit too expensive-- and wasn't going to go on sale any time soon.  I reluctantly put the dress back on its rack, but I often frequented the store just to see if it was still there, always crossing my fingers that it would be so that I could, at least, try it on one more time.  As fate would have it, I was trying the dress on again one weekend (to show my sister, I think).  When I came out of the dressing room, I saw Gramies and Gramps walking through the store.  I waved to them, and they came over.  They thought the dress was beautiful and asked if I was planning on buying it for the upcoming prom.  I explained that it was a bit too pricey for me.  Without further conversation, Gramps was insisting that he and Gramies buy the dress for me.  They did.  No reason, just because they loved me.  I don't think I ever truly expressed how thankful I was for that gesture.
• Don't get caught up on trying to be perfect.  Just do your best.  Rough around the edges is right.  Something I've definitely inherited from Gramps is his ability to swear at inanimate objects when they don't work like they're supposed to, or when I do something stupid that, in turn, makes an object do something stupid.  Exhibit A:  piece of s*** lawnmower, or Exhibit B:  d*** microwave.  When I got my learner's permit, Gramps offered to take me driving so that he could teach me how to swear at the other drivers.  Check and check!  I remember another time in Church when Gramps was talking loud enough that the people five pews in front of us could hear him.  My mom passed him a kindly written note asking him to pipe down.  He scribbled something and passed the note back to my mom.  It said, "So excommunicate me then."  No, he wasn't perfect, but perfect enough.
• Take care of your family, especially the little ones.  From the time that my siblings and I were young, all the way to the end of his life, Gramps fiercely loved his family.  He found no greater joy than in spending time with us.  Baking fudge.  Trying to teach us to play the harmonica.  Teaching us to play billiards on the pool table in the basement.  Raking up leaves and letting us jump in.  Rescuing me from the crabapple tree when I climbed too high to get myself down.  Instructing us on the finer points of poker.  Pushing us on the swing.  Fixing our bikes.  Every time he'd hold a new grandchild or great-grandchild he'd say, "You can have all the cars, boats, and houses in the world-- but nothing compares to this."
• Endure to the end.  Up until his death, Gramps never missed Church.  Even when his strength was waning, he'd still get up and put on that suit and tie so that he could be at services 30 minutes early, so he could greet others when they came in.  I pray that I can be as diligent when I reach my 80s.
• Death doesn't separate families from their loved ones.  Shortly after Gramps passed, I served as a missionary.  Although one can describe what mission service is like, I don't think it's something one can truly comprehend unless they have served a mission themselves.  What a difficult thing it can be at times!  There were days when I would ask myself, "Why?  Why put yourself through this?"  Even with incredible companions (assigned missionary partners), I would sometimes feel very alone.  I would cry, wishing that someone familiar were there to help me through.  Because missionaries are only allowed to contact their families weekly through emails and semi-annually through phone calls, reaching out to my family for support was out of the question.  On those really hard days-- and there were several of them-- I found it interesting that it felt as though my Gramps was cheering me on.  I somehow knew that he knew.  I knew that he was proud of me.  Even in death, he wasn't content to let me waste a minute of my precious time, especially when that time would be spent in the service of others.

I suppose I could go on a lot longer.  Maybe my family would be willing to fill in their thoughts in the comments below.  (Or not.  Whatever.)  Truly, I am such a blessed individual to have shared a birthday with a man who was/is so inspiring to so many.  I'll be sure to keep lighting an extra candle for you, Gramps.

Circumstantially Thankful

I suppose I'm a bit late to start blogging about gratitude now that Thanksgiving has passed.  Oh well.  While it's great to have a day (or week, or month) set aside for gratitude, I find it more helpful to remind myself to be thankful throughout the year.  Not just because November told me to be.  (Yes, that's a sentence fragment.  No, I don't care.)

Every year, my family has a tradition to get together the weekend after Thanksgiving for another post-Thanksgiving dinner.  This year, Aunt and Uncle (who shall remain unnamed) did an excellent job of pulling it all together.  About 200 of us gathered for an afternoon of just enjoying each others' company (and Grandpa's mashed potatoes and gravy).  These are the moments I wouldn't trade for anything and the moments for which I am deeply thankful.

However, it's become more and more evident with each family gathering that I am a disappointment to some of my extended relatives.  Unlike their own children, I have not married at 19 (or 20, or 21, or... you get the point).  I've never been congratulated for graduating college (with a 3.9 GPA, by the way), working towards a Master's degree, serving a mission, learning to SCUBA, buying a house....  Sometimes they ask how work is going, but I can tell how some aren't really interested in the answer....  None of it matters compared to my failure to marry, I guess.  It's always the same.  "Where's your boyfriend?  What do you mean you don't have one?  Why not?  You need to get on that."  Although I know their gentle reprimands are meant to encourage me to find greater fulfillment in life, I often wish I could show them-- if only for a moment-- what it means to be in my position-- single yet fulfilled.  I know they want the best for me, but I can't help but feel emotionally spit on when my current circumstances are so detested.  Way to add insult to injury.

At these family functions, I tend to get a lot of pity too.  My relatives find that my life is lacking, and they try to appropriately express how sorry they feel for me.  To that, I try to bite my tongue and respond with kinder words than I instinctively wish to use.  Don't feel sorry for me!  You see, in a way, I feel sorry for those who haven't been able to see life through the scope of my experiences.  Yes, I know I have missed out on a lot of growth and learning to be done within a marriage; however, I am nonetheless still living, thriving, and learning a great deal that (sorry, married folks) those who marry at young ages won't get to learn in the way that I have.  I repeat:  Don't feel sorry for me.

In that sense, I am profoundly thankful for the lessons I've learned (and continue to learn--some just yesterday)  during my time as a single girl in a culture that values marriage and family above all else.  Here's my list of lessons learned that I will forever cherish:

• Don't judge others.  "Don't you want a family?"  "Your career is obviously an excuse."  "You're just scared of losing your independence."  "You're not trying hard enough."....  I've heard it all.  Yet, these cruel comments usually beg for the reply, "You don't know where I've been.  You don't know what I've had to go through to get where I am."  How, then, could I point an oblivious finger toward the beggar, the broken family, or the rude clerk at the grocery store?
• Losing face is not the end of the world.  I've found that more strength comes from being humble than in being arrogant.  My life may have the mark of disapproval from many, but it doesn't matter.  Where others may see failure, I see opportunity for growth.
• Some people want to hurt me.  Not everyone is kind, and I need to respect myself enough to stand up to those people.  I need to respect myself enough to keep these kinds of people out of my life.
• Not everyone wants to hurt me.  In spite of unfortunate experiences with those mentioned above, not all people are bad.  I need to take risks sometimes and let people into my life even though experience would teach me to trust no one.
• Taking care of oneself is important.  It's important that I remember to love myself.  In so doing, I am able to enjoy the solitary moments and appreciate my own company.  As I take care of my physical, emotional, and spiritual self, I grow as a person.  I won't be able to resent myself or my situation, because I'll always be able to rely on myself.
• Taking care of others is important.  Bitterness toward humanity is not an option. 
  Through caring for others, being dependable, and demonstrating honesty in all my interactions, I am able develop genuine and lasting friendships both inside and outside of my family.
• It's all right to both accept and reject advice.  Enough said.
• Disappointment happens, but life and responsibility don't pause to let us nurse our wounds.  Sometimes the money I save up gets sucked out of my savings to pay taxes, fix the brakes, or buy stain for the fence (that I then, subsequently, have to stain by myself).  Sometimes the dog eats my favorite bird.  Sometimes that guy I've been trying to get to ask me out suddenly announces that he has no interest in me and wants to date my friend instead.  Sometimes data meetings at school make me feel as though I'm the worst teacher in the world.  But I still have to get up and keep on keeping on.  I can't rely on someone else to coddle me and take my problems away.  I have to stare those problems in the face, emotional as I may be, and tell them that they will be resolved-- that I am not destroyed.
• Patience truly is a virtue to be practiced... and practiced... and practiced....  Patience is trust-- trust that all good things truly do come to those who wait... even though, while we wait, terrible things may befall.  Patience is more than just waiting too.  It's moving forward with goals.  It's understanding that maybe those good things we wait for won't come until the next life.  And that's OK.  They will come.
• It's all right to be successful and not feel sorry for it.  I learned a new term over the weekend.  "Intimidation factor."  (Thanks, Obispo!)  Apparently, girls who are successful are intimidating.  So intimidating, in fact, that it scares the guys off.  My question to this was, "Does this mean I have to become less successful if I want to get a boyfriend?"  Absurd, right?  Why lower my expectations when, truly, it's the gentlemen who should be raising theirs?
• It's not enough to do the right thing.  It must be done for the right reason.  It's easy to make good choices when others are watching.  When I'm with my students, or my nieces and nephews, or any children-- I'm especially aware of how important it is to set a good example for them.  At work, with my colleagues, it's the same.  When surrounded by family, I feel encouraged to make good choices.  Why, then, should it be any different when I'm with myself?  I could get away with a lot now, and no one would ever have to know.  I've learned that I need to stubbornly do the right things, not because others are watching.  I need to do them, simply because they are the right thing to do.
• Time is a gift.  Using time wisely isn't always my greatest strength.  (Thanks, Netflix.)  BUT, due to not having kids, I am able to use my time in ways to develop my own talents.  Whether it be checking the air pressure on a tire, fixing a leaking pipe under the sink, or becoming a fairly talented chef (if I do say so myself), there is never reason to be bored.  Why limit myself when it comes to taking on new skills?  Old dogs can learn new tricks.
• Love comes in many forms.  How's my love life, you ask?  It's fabulous!  I love so many people.  Just recently, as I took my niece shopping for a new outfit, I thought my heart would burst every time I looked at her.  It's the same feeling I get whenever I hold my nephews, watch ridiculous internet videos with my siblings, or listen to my parents tell stories from "back in the day."  I feel such love in return when my kindergartener niece tells me, "I will love you five-ever, because forever isn't long enough."  (Pause and say, "Awww!!!"  Adorable, right?)  I have friends whom I love (yes, LOVE) scattered throughout the world (yes, WORLD).  I love so many people that I hardly have the time to stay in touch with all of them.  So, how's my love life?  Keeps getting better.  How's yours?
• The Lord does not forget anyone, and he never chooses to leave anyone behind.  By far the most personal lesson I've learned is this.  Many years worth of lonely moments have brought me to my knees on numerous occasions.  I've felt forgotten and betrayed by others.  I've felt left behind as I've watched those my age, and now those much younger than me, get married and start families.  I've shed many tears asking the Lord why I'm not good enough yet to be a mother.  I've cried myself to sleep many times wondering why I was chosen to fulfill the roles which I'm in when there are other roles I'd rather be filling.  I've struggled through making difficult decisions without the aid of much-prayed for inspiration.  I've learned that sometimes the answers to my prayers are "yes."  (Although, that response doesn't come as often as I'd like it to.)  I've learned that sometimes the answers to my prayers are "no."  (And thank goodness!)  Most often, though, the answers to my prayers are "not yet" or "I trust you."  With every prayer, though, I receive the assurance, "I love you.  You are not forgotten, and every promise I have made will be fulfilled in its proper time and way.  Trust Me."

I know there are many lessons I haven't learned.  I know there are many lessons I won't be able to learn without having a family of my own.  It doesn't matter, though.  I am thankful for the lessons I have learned.  Especially that last one-- for even though I may not have a relationship with a boyfriend or husband, I have been able to nurture and rely upon my relationship with my Heavenly Father and with Jesus Christ.  Through my time alone-- during times of both elation and disappointment-- I have learned to draw closer to Them and feel how Their love eliminates and compensates for everything my circumstances and I lack.  How can I not be thankful for that?