mom’s musings

I’ve been thinking of something one of the young women said at church Sunday, and since her comments impressed me so much, a person in late midlife (how did this happen???), I thought someone else out there in Blogland might be touched as well. I’m constantly amazed at the strength and depth of the young people in our LDS ward. It could be that all teens are this way, but somehow I don’t think so. They’re pretty remarkable. But on with the story.

Last week several youth went to Youth Conference, a three-day event held at a college in NC; I think it was Western Carolina. Anyway, at the beginning of Sacrament meeting, the bishop asked three of the attendees to speak about their experiences, and although all of the speakers were fabulous (especially at such short notice), it’s Marie whom I’m thinking of today. She spoke of one event that exemplified three principles. I mean, really, I don’t know that many adults with the perception and awareness that she displayed and who could speak with such clarity and confidence.

The event: As Marie and some of the other young people were riding in a boat, they looked up, and to their surprise and fear, they spied a snake. One of the young men flung (?) it into the water and away from them.  
Lesson 1: Someone was brave enough to face the serpent and keep the others safe. Marie commented that we could all be like that when facing evil (a.k.a. Satan) by being courageous and casting him aside.
Lesson 2: No one saw the snake until the boat was right beneath it. Marie reminded us that Satan is stealthy and sly, ever vigilant for the right moment to strike. Hence, we must always be watchful and alert to his wiles.
Lesson 3: Just when I was thinking of what great principles Marie extracted from that one incident, she hit us with the best one of all. None of the young people knew whether the snake was poisonous or not. However, they didn’t want to take any chances so they (or one of them) hurled it away from them. Isn’t that profound? Sometimes you can look evil right in the face and not recognize it.

I guess the point of all this is to say that Satan is alive and well on planet Earth, but we might not recognize him right away. All around us are wolves in sheep’s clothing, people who appear to be “so good,” but they could lead us astray by telling us just what we want and need to hear. We, like the youth of our ward, need to be ever on the lookout the tempter’s disguises and deceptions so that we too can hurl him aside and keep on going down the river, poison-free.

Here’s the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey would say…the end of the earlier blog. This post has to do with a separate, yet very related, part of the “foreigner” issue: language. Who can deny that language is an integral part of our lives? It’s fundamental to our understanding of the world. Without the ability to communicate effectively with others, we’d be “in the dark,” confused, and somewhat powerless.

In the United States, there are thousands and thousands of people who do not speak English, and we’re doing our dead-level best to help them. Not to help them learn English necessarily, but rather to communicate with them in their own native tongue. As an example, every Sunday we have several Hispanic visitors in our church, and I AM GLAD to see them. At the same time, an interpreter always sits with them and translates every word of what the speakers and teachers say. It’s a good thing, but a bit distracting. I’ve been thinking for weeks that there must be an answer, a better way of doing things.

Last week I read a great column by Kathleen Parker, a fabulous editorialist. I don’t have the article with me today, but the gist of it is that we’re really not helping Spanish speaking people succeed in our country when we’re giving them all the information they need in their own language. If you want to read instructions and/or directions, I can see how reading them in Spanish is best. If you want to be understood by a doctor or medical personnel, yes, it’s nice to have an interpreter there. Same thing goes for church…and maybe school (to an extent).

However, if a person wants to become a member of congress, teach school, practice medicine, or just in general be an informed person, then he or she needs to learn the language of the land. It’s that simple. I’ve been thinking about how lost I’d be if I were living in Mexico, France, or Italy. In fact, I wouldn’t even dream of visiting a foreign land without having at least the rudiments of the language in my mind. If I were to live there, then I’d take it a step further and try to become fluent. Why? Because I’d want to read the paper, understand the man (and woman) on the street, and comprehend television and radio.

I would hate feeling ignorant and powerless in a strange land. I shudder to think of how scary it would be to be at someone else’s mercy because I could neither read nor understand the words being spoken around me. Anything from legal documents to college entrance exams would be “Greek” to me. I don’t know of any universities who offer entrance exams in other languages, do you?  If you’re going to go to college, then you have to speak English.

In my mind, it seems that not requiring others to speak English is yet another way of keeping them down, keeping others away from the bigger prizes that go with having an education, getting a decent job, casting an informed vote, and having enough self-gained information to make wise decisions. Seeing Spanish and English on signs and directions seems “nice” on the surface, but in the long run, it’s cruel.

It’s really hard to stay away from blogging when I have so many ideas to share and the whole wide world as a potential audience. Not that I have that many readers, but still…. Blogging gives one the opportunity to spout off about something she feels strongly about, ideas she’s been considering, and just plain old news updates. And you don’t have to have anyone to edit your work or give you advice or permission to post it. So here goes.

Lately one of the things I hear about just about every single day of my life is the fact that we have so many people in America who don’t speak English and who, in fact, are not even citizens (many of them). I usually keep my mouth shut tight because there are no easy answers to this growing “issue.” A few weeks ago DH and I traded in my trusty Camry for a Highlander (my dream car), and the man who worked with us was from India. I know because he told us so. His accent was still strong although he’s been in the states for a couple of decades. DH got a little annoyed at first and said something like, “With all of the people working here, we get stuck with a person who’s not even American.”

 “He is American, Dear,” I said sweetly.

“Well, okay, then someone who doesn’t even speak English,” he countered.

“He does speak English,” I hissed.

“Yes, but I can’t understand a word he says with that accent of his.”

“Don’t you think you have an accent and that he might have a problem understanding you? Besides, Hon, you just need to get over it because this is the way it is.”

The gentleman was effective, courteous, and knowledgeable, and within a very short period of time we walked out of CARMAX with everything taken care of…and I do mean everything. All I have to do now is pay for the shiny red Highlander every month.

Anyway, this conversation and others like it were on my mind last week when I was re-reading parts of the Old Testament, specifically some verses in Exodus. Within a short space of fifteen minutes, I came across three admonitions from God himself to the Israelites not to mistreat aliens. Actually, the version of the scriptures I was using was not the King James version; that version uses the word “strangers” instead of “aliens.” Still, the message is the same. Don’t mistreat or deal unkindly with people who are strangers or aliens, for as the Israelites were reminded, we were once aliens in Egypt…in a sense, that is. If not you, then your forefathers and foremothers.

So the message is, “Get over it, Folks. This country is not exclusively YOUR country. This is not to say that I don’t think aliens, strangers, and foreigners (whatever that means) should “do as the Romans do” and learn to speak English, get a job, and pay taxes because I do. That’s a subject for another day…or maybe later today depending on how things unfold.

Okay, I vowed to post once per week, but I just have to share something I read in Grace (Eventually) by Anne Lamott.  It’s an observation that the author makes upon attending church one Sunday despite feeling a little yucky (my word, not hers).

Here’s Lamott’s view: “You have to be somewhere; better here, where I have heard truth spoken so often, than, say, at the DMV, or home alone, orbiting my own mind. And it’s good to be out where others can see you, so you can’t be your ghastly, spoiled self. It forces you to act slightly more elegantly, and this improves your thoughts, and thereby the world.”

We’ve all had days like that, days when we’d just as soon hang around the house in our jammies and watch television, read, and eat waffles at noon. Once in a while, I’ll give in to the urge if I’m truly under the weather or if it’s a conference weekend. Still, most of the time I take the time to dress in something that I feel is appropriate for the occasion and head out the door, and so far, I’ve never been sorry that I did. There’s just something uplifting and soothing (yep, that’s my word) to be in the midst of others who feel the way you do, to hear a few inspiring and/or instructional words, and to listen (perhaps even sing) to some beautiful music.

This past Sunday was no exception. I was reminded of the importance of serving others even if it’s in a small way. Sending notes, giving hugs, watching someone’s children, and paying compliments are all ways we can serve in our little corners of the world. I needed to hear that particular talk because sometimes it gets a little discouraging to read about the awesome generosity of Bill and Melinda Gates, Madonna, and Brad and Angelina. I recently read that Madonna supports six orphanages, supports as in keeps them going with food, electricity, water, employees, furnishings, and so forth. Who can compete with something like that? Not I. But I can bring school supplies next week for our humanitarian project.

A young man spoke about the importance of staying on course and warned that getting off course even a couple of degrees can have devastating consequences unless one alters the flight plan. Seth then reminded us of our eternal destination and the importance of making course corrections as soon as possible whenever we get off track a degree or two. The final Sacrament speaker encouraged his listeners to be prepared spiritually and financially for any and everything that life might hold in store for us.

Yes, I’ve heard all of those things before, but as Ben Franklin reportedly said, “Repetition is the mother of learning.” I’m glad I went. It forced me to act slightly more elegantly and improved my thoughts.

My daughter Elizabeth and I went on a road trip to historic Cartersville, GA this past weekend so that she could be in her college roommate’s wedding. Beth and Jason got married on the grounds of the Sullivan House outside of Marietta on Friday, July 11, and honestly, it was one of the best (beautiful and fun) weddings and rehearsals I’ve ever attended. Yes, I loved my children’s weddings, but I was probably too emotional  to enjoy them as fully and completely as I did this one.

What made it so special? It’s hard to pinpoint just one thing because the music, the ambience, the special mix of people, and the scrumptious food all combined to make this a spectacular event. Everything from the tiny glittering lights to the potato puffs was perfect. And I stole an idea about making palm tree decorations from a potato, a carrot, a green pepper, and toothpicks. Very clever and so cool. And the people? At the moment I’m remembering the couple from PA and the American flag on the man’s lapel. “I always try to find a way to honor the troops,” he said.

As the wedding guests waited for the wedding to begin, we sat beside a huge magnolia tree listening to a gifted harpist. Although she had plenty of competition from the cicadas, birds, and road noise, the harpist managed to create a calm, peaceful ambience. It was hot, sultry even, so we sat and fanned ourselves with some fans that Beth had created for her guests.

As the attendants began the processional, all went according to plan except that one of the four little flower girls seemed reluctant to come down with her sisters. Beth was gorgeous in her exquisite white gown, and I’m still thinking about how pretty the pearls in her blond curly hair looked. Elizabeth was beautiful in her latte colored dress, but then I suppose I’m a bit biased. After the vows were spoken, the young couple poured sand from two separate vases into one, a change from the customary candle lighting.

As I waited with the other guests for the wedding party to cross the lawn to the reception, I assumed this reception would be like countless others I’ve attended: dancing, food, laughter, and words of congratulations. I was right…but I was wrong too because this was a stellar reception. Everyone there danced. Everyone. And yet very few people appeared to be drunk. Beth and Jason had carefully selected just the right music designed to get everyone on the dance floor at least once. The parents danced to John Denver’s “Annie’s Song,” and that was sweet. The father/daughter and mother/son songs were perfect as well. The DJ played “Fly me to the Moon” for me, and the four little flower girls danced with what I’d have to describe as wild abandon to that tune.  

Jason’s family made an indelible impression on Elizabeth and me, enough so that I could write about each of them. However, I’m going to stick to Ryan, a recent college grad who’s currently working for a cruise line in Alaska. He came home especially for his brother’s wedding, and as we talked during the weekend events, it became increasingly apparent that this was no ordinary young man. Energetic, fun-loving, and respectful, he was also a good dancer and made everyone feel a little more upbeat.

As we parted company with the Yohe’s, I told Carol, the mother, what a wonderful family she had and that I was glad our paths had crossed. Ryan spoke up and shared his philosophy that as long as he had to be somewhere, he was going to make the best of it and have a good time. Simple idea but a profound one too. Elizabeth and I talked about it off and on the rest of the weekend. As long as you have to go to work, try to make the best of it and have a good time. When you’re in a social setting, do the same. In fact, while here on Earth, make the most of your time here, and LIVE. And while you’re at it, try to make it more enjoyable for others too. Laugh a lot and dance too.

Thanks for the lesson, Ryan…and for the dance lessons too. Move up, move back, right?

I know I said that I was only going to post once per week, but I must share a few quick thoughts about some of the events and observations from last week, the week of Independence Day and a time in which DH and I had the opportunity to travel to Myrtle Beach for a few days. I LOVE walking, reading, and dining right on the edge of the continent. It’s awesome.

Among other things, the most important activity we engaged in was unwinding. This was the first vacation we’ve taken in quite a while  in which our calendars were relatively free. There were no mandatory tee times, scheduled shopping excursions, or timed dinner dates. We managed to sandwich those things in with the relaxing, reading, and beach walking, but they weren’t our primary activities.

One of the highlights was watching the variety of people who live in this great country of ours, a land choice above all other lands. From our vantage point, we saw people of many colors, shapes, and sizes. One day while watching an Asian couple delightedly walking along the surf holding hands and laughing, I remembered a Fourth of July image from years past. My husband and I had gone to the beach early in the morning to jog before the sun bathers and picnickers came along. It was around 6:30 in the morning. As we made our way along the beach, we were both startled (because it was so early) to see a Vietnamese family huddled together on some steps leading from one of the boardwalks. They were staring at the ocean, and I couldn’t help but wonder about their thoughts. This was/is their country too, and the 4^th is as much about them as it is about all of this nation’s diverse population.

Other fun memories are:

• Reading two books, the favorite being Grace Eventually by Anne Lamott.
• Dining out with Paul and Amanda at River City Café (love those peanuts and souvenir cups!).
• Going to a Pelicans game with Paul and Amanda and enjoying the high spirits of those around us.
• The fireworks on the 4^th. From the Sands Ocean Club where we stayed, we could see them up and down the beach…what a sparking sight.
• The variety and number of people who shared the fireworks with us.
• The music from Annie’s Attic that floated up to our room.
• Collecting shells.
• Hearing the squeals and laughter of children.
• The fireworks display after the Pelican’s game. Even the loud, beer-drinking crowd in front of us was shushed and awed by the close-up fireworks and the music in the background. I’ll always remember those moments sitting with DH, Paul, and Amanda as we watched the brilliant display and listened to “Living in America.”
• Free donuts at Dunkin Donuts after the game.
• Visiting with Elizabeth in her darling home on our way in and out of the area.
• Going to church in Myrtle Beach on Sunday and reconnecting with some fabulous folks. More on this later.

 We loved our time on the strand. We also loved arriving back at our home sweet home.

One of the reasons I enjoy teaching and learning about psychology is that it offers so much good stuff to help people live their lives more effectively and to aid in understanding self and others. Plus, it has so many neat terms and concepts, most of which you sort of already know, or are at least somewhat familiar with. Or rather, you know the idea or feeling, but you just might not have known what to call it.

For instance, I love the “self” words like self-efficacy, self-monitoring, self-presentation, and self-handicapping. My all time favorite is the first one because of what it implies. If you think you can, you can. If you think you can’t, then you’re right about that too. In fact, Albert Bandura, the psychologist who coined the term, felt that a feeling of high perceived self efficacy is more important than a person’s actual ability in achieving a goal or accomplishing a task. Plus, people who feel that they CAN will persist in their efforts despite obstacles, thus making it even more probable that they will succeed.

Always a believer in the power of one’s thoughts to make or break her (or him), I’m a believer in self-efficacy. However, at the moment, I’m also struggling with a bit of self-handicapping, a situation in which a person hampers or thwarts her success by doing things that might sabotage the odds. For instance, a star student might go out and party the night before taking the SAT. That way, if he does poorly, he has a good excuse. A person might work overtime to make extra money and then not have the energy or interest in spending time with family…the people he supposedly was working overtime for. So where am I going with this?

I think I’ve been guilty of self-handicapping over the last few months. I seriously do want to work on some writing projects and have three book ideas in my head and two manuscripts in the works. I’ve also been trying to maintain my blog, teach classes that involve discussion boards (online courses), polish some articles in hopes of publishing them SOON, review favorite and recently read books for Amazon.com (why I’m doing this, I’m not sure), maintain (sort of) a website, and then carry on a semblance of a balanced life. My job also involves a lot of reading, and we’re changing a couple of texts for the fall. Hmmm. Not that I mind that. But at the same time, it’s, well, you know, time consuming.

It’s fragmenting. Something’s “gotta go.” If I’m serious about the books, then why keep up the blog? Because I enjoy reading and communicating with people all over the world. It’s neat to think of Hayden in her new house and Sarah with her new baby, both of whom I knew nothing about a year ago. I can’t stop working just yet so the internet courses have to have top priority. Hmmm. Should I continue neglecting the website? Require less writing from my students? Stop reviewing books? Have I added this extra stuff to deliberately handicap my writing projects? After all, if I’m doing all these other things, then I don’t have time for manuscripts, right?

Oh, and one more thing, something really cuckoo. I joined a Writer’s Forum, something I enjoy but which also requires an enormous amount of time. Crazy, huh?

So here’s what I think the solution is. I need to prioritize, and the first think I need to do is to carry out my work responsibilities. I MUST blog, but I’m going to limit it to one post per week. I’m going to continue to read and comment on my favorite ones, but I can’t afford the luxury of reading and commenting as often as I have been. I’m going to work on the manuscripts everyday…or at least one of them, beginning with Making a Life. In fact, I think I’ll do that right now.

Yesterday I read most of a little book entitled The Power of Prayer, a compilation of essays on prayer edited by Dale Salwak.  Often when reading a book like this, I’ll open it up and read a paragraph or two at random. If that section looks good, then I’ll read some more. If not, I’ll progress to another section. This book, however, was filled with such good stuff that I ended up going to the Table of Contents, checking out the contributors, and then reading the whole thing. Some of the essays are “heavy duty” and require so much pondering and ruminating (love that word) that I’m certain I’ll dip into this book frequently.

The mix of authors is as varied as their “takes” on the subject of prayer. Well-known religious leaders, professors, a Jewish spiritual storyteller, a native American earth wisdom teacher and author, professors, doctors, an actress (remember Dale Evans?), and others are included. Jimmy Carter is there; so is Billy Graham, both of whom have a lot of name recognition. Mother Teresa’s thoughts on prayer are there as well, and I particularly enjoyed reading them since I have such tremendous respect for this tiny little saint who lived and worked among the people of  Calcutta. The secret to her life of service and love is simple; “I pray.” Marianne Williamson, one of my favorite female authors is included, and she reminds the reader that “through prayer, we find what we cannot find elsewhere: a peace that is not of this world.”

While I enjoyed reading all of the selections, the one I’ve chosen to share today is from the work of Stella Terrill Mann, author of bestselling Change Your Life Through Prayer. This particular quote caught my eye because of a blogging buddy who’s currently asking the question, “Oh God, what’s next?” I sure hope she reads this post today. And I hope that others who are wondering where to go with their lives or what to do or what’s next will read it too.

“If you have a desire to do a thing, count it as proof positive that you can do it no matter what the obstacles. Desire and fulfillment are two sides of one whole. If it were not possible for you to fulfill the desire, it would not be possible to entertain it either. The desire is God’s silent plea to let Him work through you. It is God’s silent guarantee that He will see you through if you will but begin….The more sorely we are dissatisfied with our situation in life, the more tormented we are by an urge to do a thing, the more certain it is that God is  inviting us to take the step.”

Can you see why I chose that quote? Pretty powerful, huh? Mann, like the other writers on prayer, feels that the answers are there if we’d just learn to listen. For more effective listening, silence is needed. Hmmm. That’s a problem for most of us in this busy, hustle and bustle, noisy world, but I’m giving it a shot today because I need answers.

I ALWAYS benefit spiritually, intellectually, socially, and emotionally when I attend church. For those who are skeptics, you should try it for yourselves. If you have tried it and don’t feel nourished in the above four areas, maybe you’re going to the wrong church, wrong meaning that it just isn’t the right “fit” for you.

Anyway, here are a couple of tidbits from today. Today was “Missionary Day” in that two young missionaries and the ward mission leader gave talks. The first missionary began his remarks by reminding his listeners that everyday was missionary day for his companion and him, and then he proceeded to sing a song that touched my soul. His talk was excellent, a great combination of scripture, illustrations, and personal applications. The second talk was superb as well. I couldn’t help but think of how I wished that their mothers could hear their sons talk about the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Anyway, towards the end of his talk, the second speaker said that he wanted to make a few remarks to the youth in attendance but that the rest of us were welcome to listen too. I’m glad I did because I’ve been thinking about the story he told ever since. Basically, it was a story of a young man who struggled with all sorts of issues while in high school. Frequently depressed and confused, he went through a dark period in which he felt that he could never please his father and was moving further away from the teachings of his youth. School was a chore, and the young man was drifting along with no direction for his life.

One day after an athletic event and a fight with his father, this young man was feeling worse than ever. After everyone left the locker room and he was assured of his privacy, he dropped to his knees and asked God if he was really there. “I just want to know if You’re there and if You care about me. Please send me a sign. Speak to me.” (paraphrase)  Nothing happened. Nothing at all. Although he stayed on his knees for six or seven minutes, there was nothing but silence. Thoroughly dejected, he got up and left the locker room. He stopped at the water fountain to get a sip of water, and when he looked up, there was a friend of his standing there looking at him, a girl he had known for a long time. They looked at each other for a moment, and she said something like (another paraphrase), “Tom, I can’t believe I’m actually standing here…and that I came back to the school to find you, but I felt like I needed to tell you something I’ve been thinking about for several days. I just want you to know that your Heavenly Father loves you and cares about your happiness. Well, I guess that’s about it. Bye.”

The speaker revealed that he was the young dejected, confused, directionless athlete who had turned his life around that very afternoon. His prayer had been answered, and he KNEW for certain that his Creator was indeed aware of his needs, doubts, and problems. Furthermore, the young elder told the congregation, it’s the same for all of us. We all have the same loving Heavenly Father who is aware of our needs and is always there waiting for us to communicate with him.

I already knew the above. Today was just a reminder, and going to church and hearing that story was just an affirmation. DH wants me to watch a movie with him so I’ll save the intellectual, social, and emotional lifts for another time. For now, suffice it to say that Valencia and I had a fabulous heart-to-heart talk, thus renewing my thankfulness for friends and relationships.  

Titles are important. I probably wouldn’t have read a book entitled Some Instructions on Writing and Life, but I was captivated by one titled Bird by Bird. What could such a book tell me about life and writing? Whatever it was, the title itself held the promise of something fun, a little offbeat, and yes, instructive too. I wasn’t wrong. This, to me, is one of the best books I’ve ever read about writing. Although I’m not a fiction writer, Lamott’s wit and wisdom applies to me and to anyone else who’s ever felt the desire to put pen to paper…or fingers to keyboard.Everyone who reads Bird by Bird will find something to appreciate. I like the way Lamott shares such wonderful advice while sharing experiences from her life. Her love for her father, Sam, and Pammy are there; so are her impressions from the nursing home, the Special Olympics, school lunches, and the death of a five-month-old child. Sad but funny is the experience with her agent who said, “I’m sorry.” Read it and you’ll see what I mean.

Are there secrets to writing? Yes and no. Lamott credits the “secret” to Natalie Goldberg who, when someone asked her for the best possible writing advice she had to offer, held up a yellow legal pad, pretended her fingers held a pen, and scribbled away. When Lamott’s students ask her that question, she picks up a piece of paper and pantomimes scribbling. In other words, just do it. Oh, and when you’re scribbling away, remember that “Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor.”

To give you an idea of Lamott’s sense of humor, she quotes a friend who says that the first draft is the down draft because you focus on getting it down. The second is the up draft, the one that you fix it up. “And the third draft is dental draft, where you check very tooth, to see if it’s loose or cramped or decayed, or even, God help us, healthy.” Gotta love that!

For anyone tired of reading about dangling modifiers and pronoun agreement, read something refreshing like Bird by Bird. You’ll be glad you did. And if you’re curious about the title of this post, then you’ll have to read the chapter called “Broccoli.”