Cup of Sorrows, Mountain of Joy

Kahlil Gibran is supposed to have said, "Your cup of sorrows is carved from your mountain of joy."

Sometimes it seems to be the other way around.

This month has been a terrible emotional roller coaster. My youngest separated from her husband of less than eight months. She told us this three days before I left to attend the birth of our first grandchild.

The couple has sought counseling and she moved back in with her husband, but she seems to have abandoned her responsibilities. Stress makes her anxious, and she is quick to rewrite history to support what she wants to do right then--run away. The entire situation has made me physically ill. My heart literally feels like a broken weight in my chest. This is the same girl who was a lovely bride last fall, taking on herself serious religious commitments and responsibilities!

There has been much prayer and temple attendance, which are great blessings, but I fear that she has not changed her heart and may never do so.

The baby took his time making his appearance, so I extended my stay (at great expense) twice. I will have been here over three weeks by the time I leave on Friday, June 22. The Lord wanted me here for my children, and though it has been very tough, I am trying to submit myself to this trial meekly.

But then there is the mountain of joy. Our little grandson was born on Monday, June 18, his great-grandmother's 91st birthday. He is beautiful, and doing well. Babies are such a miracle. We are so happy to have him in our family!

An amazing revelation occurred to me today: My life is far from perfect. I keep trying to make it perfect, and berate myself for the imperfections. This wrong. No more! I need to embrace my life--and live it as my own, as imperfect as it is, because it is mine. It's okay just to do my best, honoring my covenants and repenting when I need to. I embrace my interesting, imperfect life.

And it is beautiful.

The Loss of Humble Skills

I came of age just after the New Feminism (ushered in by Betty Friedan's "The Feminine Mystique," the Pill, and early-seventies consciousness-raising) had its heyday. So I still experienced traditional home economics classes in junior high (the boys took shop classes). We had a semester of sewing and a semester of cooking. Enough to at least learn to get by in the kitchen and to make a basic skirt and blouse.

At the same time, raised by a working mother, I swallowed hook, line, and sinker the idea that to be a true success, a woman must have a Meaningful Career. And I thought I wanted that, until I had a child. Suddenly, someone else's well-being was more important than mine. I necessarily slammed the door shut on my own professional ambitions.

Unfortunately, the situation has worsened over the intervening 30 years. Now, more women than men graduate from college, and they are bound and determined to use those degrees to live lavishly and build up stock portfolios and 401(k)s.

This is not necessarily a good thing.

We have raised a generation of women who, in pursuing careers as being morally superior to any other option, do not know how to cook, clean, or raise children. Men too have suffered; they cannot do simple wiring or building construction, or even change the oil in their own cars. Blue-collar work is frowned upon, regarded as the last resort of the redneck or the immigrant.

True homemaking has been replaced with doing crafts and heating up frozen foods--though occasionally elaborate desserts are made from scratch. The maid does the floors; I have seen even t-shirts in protective plastic bags awaiting their owners at the dry cleaner. Kids go from the daycare center to the school, then to sports or other classes. All yard work is hired out; the car goes to the dealership for everything.

Does anyone besides me think this is dangerous? Does anyone else realize that when a parent puts work first, her child gets the message that work is more important than he is? That you can't give your best to both your family and your career? That being able to take care of one's own belongings and dwelling are important life skills?

Women, I suggest you go home. Learn to live with, and on, less. Discover the joy in caring for your family and your husband to a higher degree. Slow down. Enjoy growing a few flowers or sewing some curtains. Fix a family meal from scratch--no microwave needed. Make your home an oasis of calm in a hectic world, instead of one more hectic place where everyone just stops for a change of clothes.

The Burden of Motherhood

My kids all at one time or another, have praised their childhood and said they were happy compared to a lot of other people.

No more.

I tried very hard to encourage positive things and discourage negative things. But I have one child in particular who took my chastisements very hard, evidently. And this child refuses to forgive and move on.

Was I an alcoholic? Abusive? A sloppy housekeeper? Selfish? Neglectful? Did I ignore them? No. My husband and I were at almost every game and performance. We went on field trips. Healthful meals were on the table. The rooms were decorated with custom-made draperies and bedding. We paid a good portion of the college tuition, and they went to the schools of their choice. We took them to church. We encouraged them to be creative, letting them use cameras and art supplies. We have a wall of books, which they were free to read. They all graduated from early-morning church seminary, and I was the one who got up and made sure they got there. They had beautiful homemade Halloween, Colonial Day, and Medieval Day costumes. They had hand-knit sweaters. I made homemade cakes for birthdays. Christmas was a beautiful, festive event. We We went to both Disneyland and Disney World, the beach, New York, Niagara Falls and other places on family vacations. We paid for lovely wedding events. I taught them to write thank-you notes. But I still went wrong, evidently.

We were not perfect. My husband and I argued in front of them sometimes, we griped about our responsibilities, and we didn't have Family Home Evening or family prayer and scripture study on a regular basis. We did set a good example, though. There was not nearly the level of arguments and strife in our home that both our parents had. We went to the temple, we fulfilled callings in church, we helped them participate in both Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts.

Still, somehow I went so wrong that this child has long-simmering resentment and anger. I didn't understand this child's sensitivity well. Unfortunately, the past is past and there's nothing I can do about it now, but hope that someday my children realize how much of my heart and soul I put into them.

My children do not realize how hard I pray, how much I care, and how fervently I hope that they will all be with us in the life after this. I took, and take, my job as parent very seriously. I know that ultimately, they are responsible for their own actions, and that their father and I are responsible for our own. But oh, how much of my heart they hold in their hands!

On Forgiveness and Redemption

It's been three years since I went to stay with and care for my mom for two weeks, the year she died.

As her incapacity grew, so did her anger and frustration. She was a tormented, angry person at all times, and this only became more marked as she aged.

I have to say that I didn't always treat her with compassion. Partly, I did not understand the true nature of her problems. I have come to the conclusion that her behaviors were textbook borderline personality disorder, and I also suspect she was abused at some point in her childhood. She may have had a measure of ADD as well.

Why none of this was ever diagnosed by a medical professional will always puzzle me. She went to several psychiatrists and psychologists over the years, and saw her last general-practioner a lot. But that is the way it was--and I certainly do not have the whole story, since I didn't speak with these people.

Unfortunately, she took out her frustrations on my sister, my father, and me. I wish I had known about BPD ten years earlier; maybe I could have handled it better, and discussed it with her doctors.

Stuff swims up in my memory, and although I know she loved me, as much as she could, there was so much that was unfair and just plain bad. Try as I might to get rid of it, the influence of my upbringing still comes through in my life and into my relations with friends, colleagues, and family. I'm not a mean person, and I try to be uplifting in all that I do, but a rough childhood is hard to overcome. Living with a mentally ill person, even if it's relatively minor, is a lot like living with an alcoholic.

To this day I am trying to forgive my mother for her domineering, rigid, eccentric beliefs and behaviors. Just as I need to be forgiven of my faults.

What this all boils down to is whether or not I believe in the Atonement of Jesus Christ and its universality. Intellectually, I do. Intellectually, I know it applies to me and my mistakes as well. And I pray for forgiveness, of my own shortcomings and to be able to forgive others' that affect me.

Opposition in All Things

I have evidently gotten the 'flu. I never get a 'flu shot; it's my opinion that healthy people do not need them, and this is the first time I've gotten influenza in years.

It's had me down for four days now. But how much of my inertia is laziness, and how much is just feeling lousy? For I love having an excuse to do absolutely nothing. I haven't been out of the house since Saturday, and today is Wednesday.

Presuming it's the actual illness, I think I would be doing more stuff if I really felt well. I haven't been to exercise class since Saturday (and I could feel this coming on even then) and I frankly don't miss it, but I certainly would be going if I thought I could do it.

I have done a few dishes, cleaned the bathroom, changed the bed, and done laundry. Wes went to the grocery store. He cooked a frozen pizza last night, and got takeout the night before. Oh, and I've made one sock out of self-striping yarn, an interesting process!

We need to experience sickness to appreciate health. We need to be sad sometimes, to fail, and to experience loss. That way, the good times are all the better.

So, although it's no fun feeling lousy, I am grateful for the time to reflect on health. I have been a very healthy person and I appreciate that. Still, I want to feel better soon.

Relevancy and Redundancy

In the British TV show "One Foot in the Grave," the main character, Victor Meldrew, an older man, is forcibly retired from his job-"redundant," they call it.

I am beginning to understand the reason older people seem to endlessly discuss their past triumphs. They seek to remain relevant in a world that, increasingly, does not need them. I think that is why a lot of people do not retire--they want to feel a part of things.

So what is my function now? I feel increasingly irrelevant. Sure, I do things for my husband and family, but they do not necessarily need me as they once did. I no longer work outside the home, either. What function do I fulfill?

Every week when I talk to my dad, we have the same conversation. He bitterly decries the downfall of society--a place he no longer recognizes. My sister got him some kind of an electronic tablet for Christmas--he asked her for a manual to learn how to use it. There is no such thing as a manual--you go online for tutorials. This, from the man who dragged his boss, kicking and screaming, into the 20th century when he convinced him to buy a computer back in the late sixties. I suppose I am headed for a similar fate.

Fortunately, the Church has a program for older people to keep on serving. I can do volunteer work, help those in my ward, and work in the Temple. I hope those things fill the hollow place where my mother-busy life once was.

Love Thy Neighbor

On Christmas we attended church with our son, Ethan, and his (pregnant) wife, Sarah. They attend a rather small branch in, of all places, Orem, Utah. There are a few older people in the branch, and a gray-haired gentleman spoke that day.

It's rare that a particular comment really sticks with me, but one thing this man said did: "The Lord is just as interested in the happiness and well-being of your neighbors as he is in yours."

Wow.

Now, I do try to love my neighbors. I believe benevolence, kindness, and tolerance are due to every one of God's children, unless he or she is threatening my life or someone else's. But we human beings tend to be pretty self-centered. I'm pretty wrapped up in my own problems and concerns, happiness being one of them. Still, I think I am generally loving toward my fellow man; I certainly believe in working to make others feel loved and valued. Even so, this succinct statement jolted me into really putting myself into others' shoes. I'm not really so special that the Lord loves me better than anyone else, even my neighbors with cranky tendencies.

Lifting our eyes from our own navels is something we need to do now and then. As we study the life of the prophet George Albert Smith this year, who truly embodied love for one's fellow men, I hope to increase my service and love toward others.