Conversations

I have a good friend down the street that I love to talk to. We talk about books, kids, parenting, whatever, and we keep the conversation going for hours, literally. Even though I head home feeling full and inspired, I also feel guilty. No one should suck up as much time as I do. I’ve really got to work on that…

Lately the topic we keep coming back to is religion and since she is a faithful Christian we have a lot in common, but then we also differ. I love diversity. Would I really like to have a whole bunch of “me” running around? No way, too much competition and chatter. I already feel the headache coming on!

I prefer to learn about other viewpoints, cultures, beliefs, ideas. It’s what fuels my own personal growth and what stimulates those quiet moments of meditation that cement and fortify my own passion and testimony. Plus, having the opportunity to share the “real” me…it’s pretty much priceless.

How much do I appreciate having someone not only willing to listen without prejudice, but also share so much of herself?

More than I could write and I use A LOT of words!

So thank you for the marathon Saturday night. As a result, church this morning was a pretty darn good follow-up!

The Bishop

I don’t write about my husband much these days. I guess I never really have but it seems even harder now since we lead pretty separate lives. I think (?) we used to spend more time discussing our days together but with him playing the role of bishop, many of our conversations are one-sided. This is not good for me…I’m a terrible talker, so bad that the other side usually has to fight to get a word in. When the other side has nothing to say, or nothing they can say, I tend to run amuck.

I miss talking to him. I miss hearing about his responsibilities, his problems, (well, maybe not those so much), his victories. Now, there is a lot of radio silence, and really, that’s good too. He never messes with the confidentiality of things and our lives are better for it.

But I don’t give the man enough credit. I don’t sing his praises like I should. I think, sometimes, I don’t even realize what a diamond I have been blessed with.

Here is a guy who at the age of 29 meets this strange girl, joins her strange church, and then marries, hitching his future to hers for all eternity. You could decide that he did it all for me, but it wouldn’t be the truth. The reality of his commitment to the gospel and to the Savior, Jesus Christ, is evident in all that he does. It is most strongly manifest in his willingness to accept the call of a bishop and the countless hours of dedicated service he performs.

I was raised in the church. I watched my parents and grandparents serve in different capacities all of their lives. I, more or less, understood the importance and the responsibility we all carry to further the work of the Lord. Then just ten short years after becoming a member, Todd was called to be a bishop. This was utterly shocking to me and I could hardly believe that the Lord would want such a fledgling to take on this kind of responsibility. I was sure the stake president had the wrong guy.

But in that same moment of confusion and disbelief, I had the distinct impression that this call was for him. He needed to serve in this capacity to learn and to grow. My muddled brain could understand that and I could see the benefit for us and our future.

Here sat a man who knew very little other than what he saw working as executive secretary to the now former bishop. He lacked sufficient life experience. He didn’t have a strong gospel background and education, but what he did have made up for everything else. He had faith.

Todd had, and still has, the faith to know that the Lord will tutor him. He will use him in whatever way is needed for the people of this ward. He will guide and direct him and He will be there because this is His church, and these are His people. Todd doesn’t have to know all the answers; he doesn’t have to have a lifetime of experience because he has faith. This is Todd’s ace in his pocket. It is the fuel which allows him to perform at maximum capacity each day. It is everything.

I tease Todd about his dog-like loyalty, but this really is his best feature. I am in awe and feel constant gratitude for the man who showed me that you really can leave it all and change your life; embrace something new, and make it yours. I am thankful to this man that is still teaching me through his example what faith is and what it means to be constant and stalwart and brave.

The Importance of Names

As usual, this is way too long but sometimes I just can't help myself. The good thing is I will never know that you got bored and stopped reading...and really, I wouldn't blame you anyway.

How many times have you heard that giving service is the ticket to feeling better about your own life? Getting outside of yourself will lift and inspire you. This is a bona fide, absolute truth.

Well, I want to submit that remembering others will also raise your self-esteem and slowly begin to change your self-perception. And honestly, I think we all need a little of this now and again.

Back in high school (and earlier if you really want to go back) I was a shy kid. Not a painfully shy kid, but timid and reserved. I wasn’t courageous enough in my convictions to speak out and I wasn’t even sure of who I was. Life experience has taught me many things and much of that hadn’t happened yet.

And so I spent most of my time trying to hide in the background believing that if I stayed just below the radar, I would go unnoticed, and unnoticed was safe. The sad truth about this tactic is that being invisible also means missing out on many interesting opportunities, many more growth experiences, and it even hinders any significant achievement.

In the fall of 1992 I began attending Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho. For a shy girl, a new town and a new school could have been very difficult, but I found that the larger crowd allowed me to blend and disappear even easier.

But here was the problem with my personality. Though I never felt pretty enough to get the appropriate attention, I never felt smart enough to rise to the top, and I didn’t have the confidence to make up for either of those deficiencies, I was a social person. I wanted and needed to have friends and after the first semester of my freshman year, I realized I didn’t want to blend.

And so, a wise bird whispered a little idea in my ear, and I ran with it. It was simple really. All I needed to do was remember a name, or many names, as the case may be.

Everything changed. For four months I had spent three to four nights a week going dancing; dancing at the Retrix, the weekend school dances, and the Galleria. I had met quite a few different people but did I remember a single one of their names? Did I even know who they were by the time the song had ended? Nope, in one ear and out the other.

And you know why? Why exactly did I forget their names? Well, simply put, I was too busy worrying about myself.

Boy walks over and asks me to dance.

Agreeing I follow him to the dance floor thinking, “Oh my gosh. He asked me to dance!”

The three golden questions are asked;

What is your name?
Where are you from?
What is your major?

And though I answer coherently and ask him the same questions back, the entire time I am thinking…

I hope I don’t have bad breath.
Did he notice the zit on my chin?
I think these jeans make me look too fat. He’s probably embarrassed to be dancing with me because that girl over there looks so much skinnier.
I wish I would have worn a cuter outfit.
This song is kind of long. I’m so uncomfortable.

And on, and on it would go. Was I ever thinking about him? Did I even recognize the fact that he had asked me and that point alone should have put at least a few of my fears to rest.

In the midst of all of these thoughts, I wasn’t processing anything he said and when the dance was over I virtually ran back to the safety of the throng of girls I came with…even if the boy was cute. I wouldn’t even remember his name.

You see, names had never been important to me. If I saw someone I knew, or had met previously, and I wasn’t absolutely positive they knew me, I would walk on by ignoring the fact that I saw them. How embarrassed would I be if I said hi and they didn’t recognize me? I would look like some kind of stalker…I would be humiliated.

But this new semester would be different. I realized that everyone wanted to be recognized and remembered. We all wanted to hear our own name and to feel important to someone.

So I began my transformation by remembering others, or at least their name. The “new” me would memorize each and every name; this solid memory came at the expense of hearing little else in the conversation that followed, but in the end, I knew their name.

The true magic happened later when we would run into each other again. The conversation would go something like this:

Me: “David! How are you! It’s been so long!”
David would, of course, not remember me. Who remembers anything from so brief a meeting?

David: “Uh…mmm, hi?”

Me (looking flabbergasted): “What? You don’t remember me? How could you forget? We played almost every day as little kids…the sandbox, the swings. Remember you fell off your bike and cried like a baby?”

David (clearly uncomfortable at this point): “Uh…”

Me: “Just kidding,” I would laugh but with a kind, inviting tone. “I actually met you at the dance probably three weeks ago.”

David: “Oh, I think I remember.”
He would be lying but would be clearly grateful he hadn’t forgotten someone of more importance.

Me: I would then extend my hand and reintroduce myself. “Hi, I’m Rebecca and you are David. It’s nice to meet you.”

David: “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.”
This time it would be genuine and from that point on, we were friends. David would never forget me again, probably for fear of another episode of public ridicule. Eventually his friends would all become my friends as well, ever widening my circle of influence.

A really interesting thing happened through all of this…

When I spent my time and effort memorizing things about someone else, it stopped the relentless thoughts of doubt and self-deprecation. I lost myself in someone else. It was this simple act, the decision to “remember,” that changed my life.

Now, I’m not here to say that just recognizing someone is equal to serving him, but it’s a start. Sometimes a warm smile of recognition is all the service we need and this is universal whether you are fat or skinny, smart or challenged, rich or poor.

As a natural consequence, my self-esteem literally blossomed and now I look back on my years as a young adult with great fondness. I grew, I lived, I became who I am today through much of it and I realized that no matter how we look, we all feel the same on the inside. We all feel deficient in some way or another and though it manifests itself differently, that feeling is universal.

So, here’s your second absolute truth…well at least how I see it:

Remembering and recognizing someone else will do more for your self-esteem than pretty much anything else...and as a bonus, for those of you who are not so self-centered…it will completely lift and brighten their day as well.

Mambaaaa

We’ve been watching a lot of Megamind so the following “toilet” snippet should come as no surprise…

“Andrew, are you done yet?” Todd asked while standing by for wipe duty.

With his little face turning red and a hint of strain in his voice Andrew replied, “Not. Yet.”

A moment later, he looks up, gripping the edge of the toilet seat and says, “Bring on the Black Mambaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”

Plop.

-Man, what will I talk about after the potty humor goes away?

Gorillas

Today we took a trip to the LA Zoo.

The gorillas were probably the most noteworthy of the habitats. I chanced upon an educator/zookeeper who spent about 15 minutes telling me some of the more intriguing characteristics of the residents, like for instance:

Did you know that gorillas see direct eye contact as threatening? It seems that their zookeepers have mastered the habit of avoiding this issue as this girl almost never looked anywhere near my face the entire time we spoke. I found it really odd, until she brought up this point. It must be hard to differentiate between gorilla and human after so long!

There is usually one male per three or four females. Here in LA they had four females and three males, though the other two (non-alphas) were kept in a separate but attached habitat. They were still young so I guess it is totally ok for them to be without any women. If we could, I bet we’d do the same thing with our young men.

The gorillas like it relatively quiet and I can totally get on board with that. When it gets too loud, they sometimes slink off to the back of their territory where no one can see them, or Kelly (the dominant male) has been known to throw things at loud onlookers…i.e. his poo. You can bet this was Ethan’s favorite story of the day!

Kelly has a six year old daughter, Glenda, that he and Rapunzel (the mom) spoil pretty badly. Though her mom is attempting to wean her, Glenda still insists on continuing to breastfeed at least once a week. This was dang obvious when I saw the poor mother’s milk ducts hanging like unfortunate deflated balloons. It happens to all of us, but after six years – yeah, you could tell!

The “baby” tends to steal food and then hides out just under the electrical fence; she’s just barely small enough. But dad tries to be a just and equitable leader and comes right over, ripping her out of her hiding spot and promptly confiscating the stolen goods.

I guess food pillaging is a common theme “out in the wild.” The new female they brought in for Kelly (he needed a little loving since Rapunzel is still preoccupied with his daughter and the older, 35-year old female, Evelyn, won’t have anything to do with him – her heart is elsewhere chasing after a slightly hairy zookeeper – but that’s an entirely different story all together) is pretty much a fatty with no desire to change. She and Kelly have not “connected” yet but she’s become very adept at thieving much of the allotted food and hiding it away for herself. The keepers have been trying to enforce a diet but she’s not giving up the bon-bons.

All in all, the gorilla family dynamic wasn’t all that unfamiliar…well aside from the poo flinging. Thankfully we don’t have an issue with this in our family, though I would be willing to bet that we’d have fewer problems with loud unnecessary noise if this tactic was ever tried.

A Totally Unsolicited Book Review

I am in love with Matt Gibson. Yes, you did read that right and no, my husband should have no problem with that considering the fact that Matt is fictional and the girl he is in love with is named Ashley, not Rebecca.

I don’t read a lot of chick lit and I read even less “Mormon” fiction but I loved every minute of “The List” written by Melanie Jacobson. I especially loved the fact that I could intuit what was coming and I could hardly stand not to skip ahead. There were points where my chest hurt, my heart beating with pain because in those moments, I was Ashley, and sometimes it broke me.

Now, this was not the greatest work of fiction ever written, and reading it hasn’t changed me in any fantastic and noticeable way, but these are things that Melanie would openly admit about the book herself. Why did I love it so? Why I am having a hard time coming down from my romantic high?

Maybe it was because the main character, Ashley, was drawn out so well. She and I share so many commonalities.

Let’s have a look:

Ashley feels that getting married young is akin to death.

(ok, she may not have been so dramatic…)

As a result of this belief, she keeps everyone at arm’s length with her witty and somewhat sarcastic style of flirting.

Marriage wasn’t at the top of my list either and it wasn’t until I was 26 that I finally married.

(Yes, I do realize this was not old but pretty much everyone else I knew had already taken the plunge)

I interacted with the opposite sex in much the same way that Ashley does, using my quick thinking and joking banter as really the only hook I had.

I had goals, I was fiercely independent and would rather die than be squashed by a dominant male. And so, in this character, I was reliving so much of who I was for so long.

I waited tables for my income, spent my summers at the beach, my winters at BYU. I ran down to the “Beachside” singles ward whenever I got a chance because I didn’t like the smallness of my home singles ward (sound familiar) and besides there was a much larger selection in Orange County.

I could pretty much pick out exactly which house was Matt’s, from the personal experience of being there for the barbeques myself (I wonder if Melanie was there too?). I knew his board shop, all of the places they went, the church building, even the restaurant in Riverside.

But here’s where we differ:

I would have never had the guts to set my sights on the “Top Dog.” I was self-confident but the hoard of blonde girls she describes, were far too intimidating for me. Unless I was somehow lucky enough to get the “Top Dog” alone, this would have never happened.

I loved to try new things but because me and swim suits/wetsuits never mixed, I would not have had “learn to surf” on my list…though after reading this at the beach yesterday, I am seriously reconsidering.

Back in my single days, I saw myself as relatively witty and able to hook a man based on my conversation skills alone.

(If you know me well and would beg to differ, please don’t crush my fondest memories with the embarrassing realities – I do enjoy a bit of fantasy)

But Ashley is far more skilled than I ever was. She says less when I would probably say too much. She’s quick but kind in her banter, where my “love bites” might have been a bit more sarcastic and painful. She has it all over me but somehow I still feel like we are soul sisters.

And last, but not least, Ashley still seems to have a hard time admitting her own guilt in the “game” part of the whole relationship thing. I tend to be quick to own up to my decisions, good or bad. And I would have totally felt the need to explain it…see, always saying too much.

Oh yeah, and I would have honestly thrown out the list long ago if I had someone like Matt in my clutches, because, let’s face it, I’m not nearly as stubborn or driven.

So now, it’s over. I’ve closed the book on the last page and I kind of miss it. It’s sort of like the end of summer and all I want to do is go back to the beach. Why can’t I go live in some little happily ever after with Matt and Ashley? I would promise to be good…

On a side note: A huge thanks to Melanie for unknowingly writing something so close to my memories and for being incredibly skilled in the area of dialogue. I have been hashing out my own personal story on paper for a long time and for me, writing dialogue comes much slower than many other skills. Your book was a huge reminder of my own conversations and how translating that onto paper can really make your reader fall in love with and relate to your characters. I’ll be using this book as a “how to” text in the near future.

Expressing Gratitude

We serve in many capacities for years in callings and in life, and most of the time our efforts go unheralded. Most of the time I don’t even expect kudos for a job well done because I’m too painfully aware of my many shortcomings…we really focus too much on these! I just keeping pressing forward, hoping that those shortcomings don’t affect anyone too adversely.

The other day I received an extra special comment that showed me the value of gratitude, even for an old-grumpy who thinks she doesn’t need it, like me.
It came from a time when I thought, in retrospect, everything I did was probably wrong. I was doing my best, but I was immature and naïve.

I wonder if that ever goes away?

I didn’t always know what needed to be done and I’m pretty sure I consistently focused on the wrong, or less important, aspects. But I learned, a lot, and hopefully grew up some.

When I read this comment I felt validated and grateful to have been a part of someone’s life, and that somehow all the mistakes were worthwhile. Someone noticed my efforts and that’s all we can really give.

And then I started thinking…how many times do we let others go unnoticed? Who have I not expressed my thanks to? Who have I benefited from and yet, have allowed their efforts to slip into oblivion; my gratitude never given a voice? How many times have I thanked my Father in Heaven for someone’s healing hand, but never told them personally?

They need to hear it too, just like I did.

Thank you, Kina, for reminding me of the blessed virtue of gratitude and its importance in all of our lives.