Up to Me - Part 3 on Faith Transition -

Interestingly, I found my solace in music! Neil Young, Cheryl Wheeler, Greg Brown, John Prine, Emmylou Harris, Iris DeMent's "Let the Mystery Be," validated my religious beliefs; Nanci Griffith's "I Live On a Battlefield," was me, and I fully acknowledged the battlefield was of my creation. I am ever so grateful for music that put lyrics and sounds to my emotions; the one place where I found comfort and release. And if this music was outside, in the warmth of a sunny summer day, I was able to worship my creator - because I had never quit believing in a higher power.

I've vacillated back and forth since those angry years. I found happiness, or at least peace, with my religious surroundings. I thank my cancer journey for giving me the time to go inside, and for taking away the energy to go outside. I thank the Givens for their book, "The God Who Weeps," and Brad Wilcox for his book, "The Continuous Atonement." I read little other of a spiritual nature during my time of confinement; these were my Mormon theology go-to's."The Tao of Pooh" touched my heart, and I hungered for simplicity and complexity, and I found it.

Today - my church congregation is not my family. I don't expect anything glorious from it. I have attempted to find my home within my congregation, but I have determined it is not my social circle, it is only a house for my spiritual actions, really, nothing more. And having no expectations has been quite freeing. I serve when asked, I have even volunteered, but I have absolutely no buy-in, and some days I'm disappointed, and some days I find this liberating.

I have no voice within my religious congregation. I will not be consulted as to whom I think the next RS President, the next Bishop, Stake President, Home Teacher will be. I will not be consulted when Enrichment Night activities are assembled. I will not be consulted, nor have I ever, in regards to members and membership, that remains a man's right, a man's voice. Although there are plenty of women who can now speak in that voice. I tried - once. I've decided I don't want one. I am disenfranchised, I did it to myself. I will not be consulted in regards to my areas of expertise - no one has asked me to teach about culture, grief, dying, family traditions; although I did once volunteer to make a casket piece out of garden flowers - it was beautiful.

At 58 the lessons I've learned are lessons I'm still learning. Don't follow anyone off a cliff, get help when needed, find your own path, but remember there are choices to modes of travel. Travel lightly, travel wisely, and travel with hope and peace as companions rather than anger and fear. Doubt is good - it's the momentum to getting moving. Doubt is the drive toward something more. And resignation is a good way to close one door. And a closed door can be a good thing.

Up to Me - Part 2 on Faith Transition -

So like dozens of other folks, I stepped away from Mormonism feeling disenfranchised, but I did not look for like-minded, within the congregation surrounding me. I can't help but think I wasn't alone in my questioning my beliefs and my decisions. Goodness - one thing I was taught was that there is no such thing as "only me," but here I was, thinking I was all alone. There was no social media - FB, IG, groups to reach out to or to become a part of. I had a few friends with whom I bravely shared. That was it.

And back to the "good thing," it was this - I couldn't find books, couldn't find a therapist who dealt with transitions, couldn't find folks in my congregation, to explore. So, like so many many times in my life, I trudged, alone. I had no support - not even from my spouse. Religious attire off, "Leaving the fold" letter ready to print (but I was going to BYU and didn't want to jeopardize my status there), I blazed furiously bright, holding that, "Stepping Away" flag so high, yet so subtly. I was my own dichotomy, my own dilemma, my own oxymoron -

I had no idea what I wanted, only, "not this."

Anger is a nasty place to be. Resentment hurts families, ruins marriages. Paralyzes.

And I was all of these, in all of these places. Hurting my family, ruining my marriage, paralyzing my growth, all in the name of stepping away. Wanting something I didn't have.

Why didn't I stay inside and examine? Too many times Mormon women feel shut-down, closed-off, less-than when they even attempt to ask a question. "Why do I . . .?" "Oh honey, you don't really feel that way." "Oh, you shouldn't . . . " "Where is my voice?" Was answered with, "Don't question; the Lord knows." And so, for the most part, there was no safe place, or at least for me, 17 years ago, there wasn't.

Once upon a time listened to everyone else, and took my questioning inside, where I learned to suppress, carry my anger deep, smile on the outside. Until the boiler blew, and then I "freakin' hit the road running, ready to explode with words unsaid, feelings unshared, unvalidated."

And rather than this be the road to redemption and peace, my anger took me on a rocky path that was hard, bright, and lonely. Which only enhanced my anger, my separateness.

Joseph Campbell said,

We must be willing to get rid of
the life we’ve planned, so as to have
the life that is waiting for us.
The old skin has to be shed
before the new one can come.
If we fix on the old, we get stuck.
When we hang onto any form,
we are in danger of putrefaction.
Hell is life drying up.

Up to Me - Part 1 on Faith Transition -

This past week I wrote about taking my life back rather than working on making someone else's dreams come true. As a woman, a mother, a Mormon, that's a tough changing of the guard. I've been taught, all my life, that not only am I responsible for my own life, but for the lives of those around me - husband/s, children, friends, church congregation. And that by losing oneself in service, I can find myself.

But - I've never really been taught how to take care of myself. And so when I've attempted to care for myself, take some of me back for me, it has come across, to myself and others, as defiant, angry, fearful, out of spite rather than love. And I have hurt.

Years ago I decided to step away from Mormonism. It was out of anger, defiance, "I'll show you who's in charge," mindset. It wasn't about self-love, more about preserving what self I had left, at any cost.   didn't know any other way. And that cost was high - because every morning when I awoke and put on my morning attire, I was also seeing what I wasn't putting on, and that became the definer - the "not," rather than that "have," the choice I was making. I constantly reminded myself of the hole rather than my wholeness.

This wasn't a knee-jerk decision, rather one a long-time in the making. I spent the two years with that hole right in my face, and so it was never so far away that I couldn't examine it. Which is what I wanted - but out of love.

The bad news is I inflicted that anger and defiance onto my family - Clark, Tyler, Jenna. It was important for me that they were able to see my questioning, see my searching, see my individualism - and to see this was safe in our home. But I didn't feel safe, I only shared the illusion of safety with them. And I wonder, even today, if their religious, spiritual, political, familial, beliefs have been affected by my "crisis of faith."

Sadly, I made this leap, this transition, this stepping away, alone. Well, only with the support of other like-minded folks, particularly women who were as made and angry about Mormonism and patriarchy as I was. Today, looking back, I yearned for an open-mind rather than a judging one. Where was someone who could walk beside me, on the other side of me? I had a mass of folks on the "betrayed" side, but no one telling me that my transition was safe, that I was safe, that I could have hope and be angry at the same time.

But no one asked me what I was feeling, how I was journeying, and I shared with no one within the faith.

Nourish - Me - I said "No" -

This week I've said "No," loud and clear to dreams someone else had for me. For more than a year I've heard, "You would do well to . . . " and I've worked hard to make these dreams come true - even though my heart hasn't been in it. And, come to find out, not only were these dreams a dream, but truly a cage that stifled my own creativity and desires.

I've always been taught, and modeled, to listen to others "who are in authority," listen to their suggestions, their promptings, and when possible, "follow their direction." And I've trusted, sometimes too much. And I've suppressed my desires, because, after all, who am I to say, "no."

This week I turned 58 years old, and with this 59th year on its way comes the license to take care of me, to listen to me, to do what is right for me. To see clearly in front of me, behind me, no regrets, no fears.

So I took my dream, my very own dream, put it into words, and spoke these out loud, for the first time, to someone other than my higher power and my husband.

"I want to counsel others, have my own private practice as a pastoral counselor," I said. "I want to grow the palliative care program at UVRMC, to serve patients," I said.

"Hurray," they said. "About time," they replied. "I'm here to help all the way," they applauded. And then, another door opened only a few hours after I said my final, "No thanks, that's not what I want to do."

Who knew that saying no, nourishing me, could unfold, so rapidly? There's lots of work ahead, but the fog has lifted, and I can see the path.

Oh My Crappy -

I HATE THIS WEATHER!!! The inversion is horrible. Scott and I have been hacking up our lungs for nearly two weeks. We have snot noses, gray bags around our eyes, and sore chests from coughing like crazy. We can't even sleep in the same room - between my coughing and Scott's snoring we've run each other away. This gross gray grimey air has got to break.

And you? How are you today?

3 Good Things -

I'm not a Pollyanna or a Doubting Thomas, but gosh darn, there have been days when fear seems to be the word of the day. And after a few times online, in social media, it seems that this may be the word of the month. Thank heaven's January, the longest month of the year, is almost over. Yet, there has been happiness this month.

In fact, last night, before sitting down to write, I decided to wash the windows, just to get a little frustration out, and now they are sparkling clean, at least inside. And as I was washing the last window, there was a knock at my door. I opened, recognized the person as our plumber. He said, "I have extra farm-fresh eggs tonight, would you like some? I told him I had no cash. He replied, "I'm giving them away tonight to people I think will enjoy them. Would you and your mother like some? Do you have a container I can put some in?" I did, and he does, and he walked away with a thank you from me. That's it. Yet his generosity speaks tons, not just of him, but of good people every where, who reach out, instead of in, when they have something to say, something to share. Thank you Mr. Plumber, whose name I don't know.

So three good things that have happened this month, to kiss January on its way.

School started, and while I began January wondering if I would even be teaching, I prayed, and sent good thoughts, to UVU, and I waited, sometimes patiently, other times with a little angst. And keeping my mouth shut and negativity away, I have three classes - at the exact times I want, with return students in each, and with classes that aren't full, which is a blessing, because I was pretty burnt out at the end of last semester.

I love my jobs. Hospital, UVU, my career/s is where I want to be. I have amazing colleagues, and I've learned how to deal with those who aren't so amazing. I spent December remembering names and reaching out, and I am grateful I did this. Recognizing folks, by names, removes my own anonymity and creates buy-in for me. And I am grateful to a team of professionals who are darn good people. Who care, who are funny, who love.

Snow!!! With the uproar this month, and so much unknown and speculation, as Jenna reminded me, it's good to have something that is known. We have snow upon snow upon snow. And I'm not a lover of cold and snow; I stay indoors, but it is beautiful. And as anyone who complains about the snow adds to their complaint, "But we need it." So even whines end with blessings. It is beautiful, and we do need it, and it will melt, eventually.

And I end another January, and for me, another year, thanking 57, with 58 pending on the morrow. Life is good. I am good. G'bye January - grateful you could end with a nod to gratitude.

Of Marches and Circles -

As I "age," I realize more and more that life is cyclical - not just my life or that of seasons or families, but of knowledge, beliefs, wonder, discovery.

Knowledge - we build on existing knowledge, and we need to continually examine those beliefs for them to remain alive. And the younger generation will always have "aha" moments to info some of us older folks will think is old news. I think of how university sophomores often perform "Vagina Monologue" as if it was a cutting new play, rather than written in 1996, but what is old to me is new to someone else. And I respect that. 

Beliefs - line upon line, precept on precept. And constantly needing to be reinforced, because doubt is part of human nature. When I am questioned, I have to return to my roots and examine them. Do I believe? Why? How? And its value to me now is . . . 

Wonder - The other day Tommy looked at his shadow and said, "Look, there are four of me!" It was beautiful, and when I see someone seeing something for the first time, regardless of how many times I've seen or known this, that sense of wonder is lit in me. 

Discovery - Neon colors, paisleys, vegetarianism, Sunday naps, saying "no," marching for a cause - what was once old is now new, regardless of its origin. It may have been hip in the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, and it is again - aha's don't pause. 

And so marching for a cause - I respect, I appreciate, I acknowledge, but for me, as it was 30+ years ago, I'm taking care of my own. I didn't burn my bra in the 80s, and I won't wear a pussy hat in 2017. However, just as then, I will take care of my marriage, my children, my beliefs, continue to reach out to gain knowledge, and pray that every day I will discover something new, and live in the wonder that is life, that is a circle game. 

March on - 

Yesterday a child came out to wonder

Caught a dragonfly inside a jar

Fearful when the sky was full of thunder

And tearful at the falling of a star

And the seasons they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down

We're captive on the carousel of time

We can't return we can only look behind

From where we came

And go round and round and round

In the circle game

Then the child moved ten times round the seasons

Skated over ten clear frozen streams

Words like, when you're older, must appease him

And promises of someday make his dreams

And the seasons they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down

We're captive on the carousel of time

We can't return we can only look behind

From where we came

And go round and round and round

In the circle game

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now

Cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town

And they tell him,

Take your time, it won't be long now

Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down

And the seasons they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down

We're captive on the carousel of time

We can't return we can only look behind

From where we came

And go round and round and round

In the circle game

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty

Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true

There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty

Before the last revolving year is through

And the seasons they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down

We're captive on the carousel of time

We can't return, we can only look behind

From where we came

And go round and round and round

In the circle game

And go round and round and round

In the circle game

Joni Mitchell

Tom Rush