Catch, Call and Release

In our church we have what we refer to as "Callings". Since our church is a lay church (nobody gets paid for their service) responsibilities are divided up into different jurisdictions. The congregation is divided into several groups and presidencies preside over each group. These responsibilities are usually given for an indeterminate amount of time, but generally last a couple of years or so.

For the last few years I have served as the Young Women's President in our congregation. This meant that I (along with my amazing counselors and advisers) was responsible for the girls aged 12-18. For most of the time we had about 18 girls in our care.

It was a period of growth for me. It was not an easy calling. Which is not to say there weren't plenty of moments of fun, hilarity and great joy. The girls were so kind to me. But there was also a great amount of angst because I grew to love and care passionately about these sweet girls. Heavens knows that even at my advanced age, I am not without my own set of angst and hormones. But they are teenagers! They deal with a lot, I do not envy them their youth because it is not the care-free time some portray it to be. It's a tough, tough time. It can be exciting and thrilling and wonderful...but it's not care-free.



This Sunday I got "released" which meant that I was relieved of my responsibilities which will now be taken over by somebody else. In some ways it seems like yesterday that I was talking about this process in reverse.

Because I had been in for quite a while, it was not entirely unexpected, and not entirely unwelcome. It is an intense, emotionally draining and time-consuming responsibility and there are periods of burn-out that come with that.

At the same time, it is sad and it is a shock to the system. Once it all sunk in and I had the chance to give my last lesson and say my last good-bye to "my girls" as their leader, I could not help but lapse into the ugly-cry. I felt for them. Teenagers would rather go technology free for a WHOLE HOUR then witness an old lady going into the ugly cry, as she squeaks about how much she loves them and how special they are. They may even trade that ordeal for 2 hours sans texting. Which is saying a lot.

My wise sister who has served as the president of every auxilliary, warned me that I would feel bereft and a little at sea when it all sank in, and she was right. Suddenly this major role in your life is no longer. I'm not the mom anymore. These girls were my babies. I love them so very much. I prayed for them very often, with great intensity. I worried about them constantly, I cried over their trials. I tried so hard to help them see what I see in them, what I know God sees in them. I stayed up late most Saturday nights making birthday cards, preparing lessons and cutesy handouts for them to throw away, together with my (truly awesome) counselors, I planned weekly activities and organized events. I went to camp. And the meetings. Lots of those.

But gosh I wish I had done more. More of the stuff that really counts. I am told that everyone feels as though they could have done more, wishes they had done more. If this is true, I am no exception. I wish I had done more. And as ready as I felt I was so many times to be free of the emotional burden of the responsibility, if I could go back and do it all over again, I would. And I would do more. I could have done more.


This whole "calling" process is not always a picnic. We don't get to sign up for the job we want or think we have time for, or think we'd be good at.

But most of the time we take the job, even if we feel inadequate about it or just plain do not want to do it. We do this because we believe that our calls are inspired. We believe that God wants us to be in a certain place, doing certain things with and for certain people at a certain time for a reason. Even if it seems like an impossibly inappropriate match for us. We take on callings we think we don't want and can't do, because along with a sense of duty, deep down we know they are inspired and we don't want to lose out on the blessings and experiences we know will come with them. Or the growth. Because these perks are considerable and at times, undeniably miraculous. Sometimes other people are blessed by our service, but we are always blessed by it. That's guaranteed. Tried and tested.

Along with the blessings, growth and joy I have had through this experience, I have discovered yet another advantage of this process. It is a great metaphor for life itself. And I'm all about the metaphors for life. We get to have a small taste of the lack of certainty in life, the finite nature of it. In callings as in life, we don't know when our turn at the wheel is going to end. When our time to make a difference, to learn, love and grow in this realm is going to end. It's best to seize the day. And to do more today. Regrets, powerful as they are, do not turn back time. When it's over, it's over man. Different opportunities and wonders may lie ahead but we do not get back what has passed.

In light of my post below, you can tell that I struggle with this...complacency, procrastination, burn-out. These are all stealthy robbers of opportunity and life...it's good (although somewhat painful) to have reminders like these. I'm so grateful for the experiences I had, the relationships I formed and the blessings I received. I would do it all again.

Muddled Monday....

This morning I broke my semi-virtuous early to rise streak (which was actually somewhat broken by sleeping through half of sacrament on Sunday) and slept in fitfully til 9:45am.

Dudes, I was tired. And I can't help that I have kids who don't seem to notice if I'm around or not.

Let's recap: I had most of a week of minimal sleep at camp, followed by getting up early the next morning for a 5 mile run, followed by 4th of July festivities. Add the fact that I am a wimp. And what can I say. Something had to give. Do you see why I absolutely cannot have any more children? Sadly, another 5 years of sleep deprivation is not something I believe could handle. Longtime readers may recall that I used to be able to go on minimal sleep for extended periods but wussiness/wisdom has come upon me in the last year or so and I have lost the drive necessary for abusing my body. Voluntary sleep deprivation is starting to fall into It's Just Not Worth It category. (I have a sneaking suspicion that this category only appears when you are old.)

Then after having my first normal breakfast in ages, I got all confused and got the days of my training plan mixed up. This resulted in me taking my poor 10 year old out for a 5/6? mile run at high noon. And of course today it was unusually hot. We saw mirages. It was bad. It was unwise. It was the longest distance he has run and considering about a month ago he did not run more then a mile at a time I'd say the kid is impressive. It was fortunate that we'd carried water. My one prudent move of the day.

Turns out, I was only scheduled to run tomorrow so all the pain and suffering and discussion over how much we related to people staggering around with delusions in deserts, and picking berries for sustenance along the way was in vain. Could have had a nice cool early morning run tomorrow instead. Ah well. He survived with bragging rights. When he bemoaned our terrible time (picking berries tends to take away from achieving a personal record) I asked him how many 10 year olds in our town he thought had run 5 miles that day and when last he did so. This helped with the perspective.

Back to my sleeping in. I was having a most interesting dream. In this dream my husband and I were living together and I believe, expecting a baby, and my mom called and was gingerly asking me if we planned to get married any time soon. And I thought, "why yes, what a concept..that would be fun! I could plan a wedding! Why not?'" So we decided that we would go to South Africa for the wedding. I contacted my childhood best friend Viki who lives there still and was just getting together with her to make the necessary arrangements, when I woke up. Dangit! In the back of my mind I felt sort of guilty that I had put my mom through obvious discomfort by not having been married yet but mostly I was giddy over this opportunity to plan my wedding (and make Viki do all the work-a pattern she may remember from our childhood). Basically I was me, just devoid of any of the values or morals that make me who I am. I was a shallow shell of a woman. An interesting experiment. I will let you know how it all turns out since my dreams often take up where they leave off. We left off with Aaron presenting me with a miniature dress-form he'd found at an antique store, which he proposed would make an excellent centerpiece for the wedding tables. I was disturbingly thrilled by this proposal.

I got all the camp photos up on facebook. So if you're my friend ;) you are welcome to peruse them. If you could hyper zoom would see that I am wearing my NO WHINING pendant. I could not think of a more suitable setting for it. Turned out I still did, but less then I would have. I would do it all again. It was fun.

4th of July pictures tomorrow. I know you have all been waiting with bated breath for my fuzzy fireworks photos.

Home again home again trittity-trot..

Hello again my dears.

I survived to tell the tale but I am rather tired so let's do a bullet point synopsis shall we?

• Number of girls between 12-18 at camp: Approximately 120
• Number I was directly responsible for:14
  
• Drama: surprisingly low
  
• Days spent in the great outdoors: 3.5
• Nights spent in a tent: 3
• Rain: incessant
• Spiders: plentiful
  
• Toilets: flushing-hallelujah
• Chocolate: I love you
  
• Canoeing-7 miles, no current. Fun {ouch}
  
• Screaming-yes
• Hiking: soggy
• Rain poncho: permanent fashion fixture
• Feet: wet
• Showers: warm (hallelujah)
• Dutch oven: I do not wish to speak of ever again
• My girls: troopers
  
• My fellow camp moms: Oh, Thank Heaven
  
• Individual most likely to be eaten first in a Donner Party type scenario: Me
• Time that can be added to a trip when an "S" looks like a "5" on handwritten directions: 65 minutes
• Probability that if we'd been stopped on aforementioned trip, Bishop would have been arrested on suspicion of foul-play: 90% (he had on his person: a knife, a roll of duct-tape, was surrounded by tarps and unhappy young women, and was wearing a bright blue sweater made by his dead granny.)
  
• Bats: One named Cherise who came too close to me. Another unnamed who came MUCH too close to me
  
• My bat phobia: The best entertainment Melissa and Melinda ever had
• Rivalries: Melissa and Jeff over who "John Locke-d" the fire more impressively.
• Most ingenius use of a household item: A dustpan as "billows" by Jeff.
  
• Mosquito bites: All over my face. Awesome
• Attempt to adapt All the Single Ladies into pertinent skit: Unfortunate. (aka: The Song That Went Wrong)
  
• Best camping invention: Cots
• Worst camping invention: Dutch ovens
• False allegations made against me: I am a "beetle flinger". A hypersensitive, t-shirt obsessed beetle flinger .
• Number of ribs I may have broken from trying (unsuccessfully) to stifle inappropriate laughter: 2
  
• Bed time: way too late
• Waking time: way too early
• Kim Hales' follow-through on threats I make on her behalf (ie: If you don't stop talking I am going to send Sister Hales to sit on you) :swift and true.
• Testimony meeting: eloquently tearful
  
• Energy level: miraculously high all things considered
• Tolerance level: ditto
• Percentage of tolerance/energy level decline as camp was being broken: 100
  
• Historical tour of the John Johnson farm: fabulous
• Marshmallow toasting (mine): Masterful
• Down-time: what?
• My camera: Uncooperative. I will hopefully be able to post my many photos at some later point.
• My husband: ultimate rock-star
• My kids: best in the world
• Inside jokes and catch-phrases which will annoy all those not in attendance for the next year: Tarped for birthing, chestnuts roasting, beetle flinging, sister wives at "Chick-a-fil", hypersensitive and SHUSH.
• Special thanks to: Melissa, Melinda, Kim and Rayna. Without you things would have been a nightmare for all involved. With you, it was fun and functional. Thanks also to Bishop and the H-bomb proving that men can be useful and fun. And of course my girlies-even though you would eat me, I love you all.
  

Happy 4th m'peeps. The weather here is most disappointing. It's a step up from the week of rain I just had but still most unfitting for the 4th of July. Summer, I did not want to have to say this, but you suck.

Hope you all have fun today. If you are coming to my house for festivities today know this: I did not clean it and I will not apologize for that. You may judge me at will. I am comfortable with that.

Miracles in the minutia...

A series of events led to what was for me a miracle of sorts tonight, something that left me literally shaken with the undeniable power of God's love for His children as individuals. I won't go into specifics since it just doesn't seem like the time or place but it struck me as it has so often before, that God is in the details.

The series broken down into its parts seem so mundane, and insignificant. Yet together, they truly showed the power of God's love for us, which is not this broad, generalized almost vague one size fits all love, but something so intimate, so extremely personal to each one of us, that if we will open our eyes to see, we will observe that no tiny detail is spared in Him showing His interest and love for us in a way that we can recognize it as being directly from Him to just you, whoever you are reading this right now, from Him to just me, Kirsty, the one with the Momedy blog.

It also struck me that sometimes we just have to show up for miracles to happen. That sounds glib and I don't mean it to. Sometimes we don't feel inspired, we don't feel on fire with spirituality and burning with the desire to serve and share the gospel. Sometimes we feel as though we aren't the right person for the job, sometimes we feel empty, even numb inside, unable to fill anyone else's cup, working with just the dregs at the bottom of our own. Even so, if we will scrape together enough faith to go through the motions, to do what we need to do, to say what we have been called to say, to show up...God can work with that. He transcends apathy and self-doubt if we are called to give a message of His love to another of His precious children, and if we can find it in ourselves to do little more then just show up in order to convey it..He can work with that.

Please know that I am not advocating spiritual laziness, or condoning teaching without the spirit in any way. While I believe God can transcend anything to reach who He needs to reach, we won't get much of our service if we are just plain lazy about it.

I think I'm more trying to express that when we are willing to obey and serve despite the lack of motivation, despite feelings of self-doubt and depression, He can work with that. And amazingly, incredibly and beautifully in its simplicity, He will transcend our imperfection as a messenger, enable the message to get to where it needs to go and perhaps most miraculously of all, in the process, He will fill the cup of the messenger.

Perhaps the message that we give, despite not feeling as though we personally have much to give, is the one meant more for us then for anyone else. It almost always feels that way to me. The lovely thing about being about His work is that you really can't serve without being blessed. It may not come in the form and at the time that you expect or would prefer, but when it comes, it makes everything make sense and it makes any sacrifice on our part seem insignificant.

I know this is not my typical blog entry. I hope it does not come across as preachy or oblique. The specifics of what happened tonight are not important but what I learned, and what I felt because of them will definitely fill my cup for a while.

I am so grateful for the message of love woven into the details. I'll keep showing up.

We survived New Beginnings Evening....

The girls did very well. We did an adapted version of a program found at jennyphillips.com.
We sang two lovely songs, listened to several narratives and each of the girls shared what they had committed to do to be "an example of the believers" this year. I often feel grateful that my kids will have this type of direction and purpose in their lives and friends to share it with. It is tough to be a teenager.

Along with being a light as an example to others, I spoke about being a keeper of the light within ourselves. Nurturing it, protecting it and feeding it, so that we can feel light (and lighter) and joy, and also, so that we can see and discern with light. It's really only then that we can exude light for others to see. It always comes back to what's inside of you doesn't it? You can't share what's not there.

The girls painted a lighthouse backdrop and we had a picnic on the beach theme. Chicken salad croissants, chips, punch, and a light-house cake made by my talented counselor Melissa.

Shockingly, I did not have time to take many photos. I am sad not to have a shot of the too- cute gift bags which I laboured over rather intensively. (To see them you would not understand why, but it is a long, convoluted tale of what one will go through to stay in budget.)


It was a lot lower key then last year, maybe not quite as pretty, definitely not as fancy, (I never posted photos of last year's extravaganza so here's a taste. By cultural hall standards it was pretty sweet,check out the cake Tiffany made)....



..but as I was still cleaning up an extremely sticky floor at 9:30pm last night, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for lower key. And for helpful counselors. (I have 2 of them! And 3 advisers now too! It is So Exciting).

I also felt a deep sense of gratitude that it is over.

The lighthouse picture with the 2009 theme above, is an adaptation of the invitation that I made for hand-outs. Feel free to lift it if you like.

Minutia holds momentous things hostage...

I gave a lesson entitled "Avoiding Crisis Living" today. I loved this quote, much food for thought there, and quite timely given the coming new, fresh year coming up! Credit to Emma for making it so pretty.

Good Bishops

In our church, the leaders of the individual congregations or wards as we call them, are called Bishops. Our church is a lay church which means that nobody gets paid for any service they provide. I honestly believe that an LDS Bishop does more then any paid clergy-man I know of. The responsibilities and expectations of this calling are so far reaching, all-encompassing, unrelenting and intense as to be completely mind blowing if you think about them for more then a moment. (I get a bit panicky on their behalf when I do).

And let us not forget that an LDS Bishop has to do all this in addition to his paying full-time job and taking care of his family. In short, an LDS Bishop is a miracle of nature, and they are one of the greatest testimonies of the truth of this gospel to me, because without the inspiration and mantle they are given to do the job, I honestly do not know how any of them could survive the experience. But the amazing thing is that they do not just survive, they help others, many who feel that they are at rock-bottom, to survive, and thrive too.

I have had many wonderful Bishops. They are generally just wonderful men to begin with, which is why they are called to be Bishops. I can't think of any bad Bishops I have had. But I have had a few Bishops who have gone well over and beyond their call of duty for me and my family. Tonight I am thinking of three who are particularly memorable to me.

My current Bishop had his last Sunday in our ward today. I was horrifically unprepared, finding myself tissue-less as he bore his last testimony, and they sang God be with you 'til we meet again as the closing hymn. ARGH! Can you even imagine what type of complications that created for my face? Thank goodness I do not wear eye make-up.

He and his wife will be moving to Utah after 25 years of living here. For most of our time here, he has been our Bishop and she has been the Bishop's wife. Their leaving is a huge loss to our ward and to our community at large. The gratitude I personally have for these people is tremendous. My Bishop saw me through one of the darkest, most confusing periods of my life a couple of years ago. His patience was infinite (I was often infuriating and exhausting to myself, so I can only imagine what it was like for him). His kindness was beyond description, his wisdom was profound, his restraint in allowing me to come to my own understandings and discoveries was incredible, and the many, many hours of counsel and friendship he gave me alone have earned him a really nice piece of real estate in heaven. Remember that my case was just one of so many hundreds of other responsibilities and (often extreme) concerns he had for others in the ward. But I never felt like "one of many". He is not a trained counselor, but he helped me more then any professional ever could have. He exemplified the love of Christ in all his dealings with me, in the most pure manner, and this helped me to discover my worth and understand the depth of God's love for me on a completely different level to that which I ever had before. At the same time his wife, (who as a Bishop's wife essentially says goodbye to her husband the day he is called), became a good friend and confidante. She too sacrificed many hours and put much care and energy into my emotional and spiritual well-being. They truly and literally were a God-send to me and my family. I honestly could not say where I or we, would be without their help, love and guidance. My children have felt loved and protected by our Bishop and he and his wife have given them a sense of extended family, and have been a marvelous example of love and leadership to them. I once asked them what they thought Heavenly Father might say or do if he were in our living room and they all said, "he would love us so much and teach us..like the Bishop".

Enduring Ohio winters makes a little more sense when I consider what I would have missed out on were I to have gone through this crisis elsewhere. The ward that gets them next is very blessed indeed.

Tonight we watched the live broadcast of a Christmas Devotional given by our First Presidency. It was beautiful and touching. Elder Eyering spoke of a Bishop who exemplified the true spirit of Christmas by inviting destitute strangers to eat Christmas dinners with his family at their table each year, and sending them away with another hot meal and a warm coat. I recognized his name and his location (Rexburg, Idaho, which makes Ohio look like Hawaii) as the Bishop Aaron and I had in our college ward. He was another Bishop who made a profound difference in my life and I think of him with gratitude often.

He was one of the most positive, indomitable spirits I have ever met. For much of the time I knew him he was fighting a serious illness. Some of the medication he had to take made his face swollen, and I imagine he felt dreadful a good deal of the time, but he never stopped smiling or being bouncy. He was.. bouncy. It could have been irritating I guess, but it wasn't because he was just so genuine. He came into my life at another extremely dark period. I was dealing with a variety of major traumas (which I still marvel at having retained some shreds of sanity through), and truly did not know whether I was coming or going. I felt exceptionally alone, being far from my family and too poor to even speak to them on the phone regularly. Poor Aaron felt powerless to help, and essentially he was. It was sheer hell for us both. Somehow Bishop Sellers figured out that all was not well (I thought I'd been putting up a pretty good charade up until the time that I could not get out of bed or even turn my head to look at a different wall over the course of a day). He would show up at our tiny apartment unannounced at all hours. He would sit on our couch and we would all laugh and joke like old friends. He was very matter of fact and would tell me, "oh your place is not such a mess today, last time it was awful, you must be doing better" or "how are you?- no really how ARE you? Because you look terrible! Wow you look bad." but strangely, I was never offended. One of my fondest (in retrospect) memories are his 7am wake up calls. I would awake to his bouncy voice telling me to get out of bed and go for a run. I hated those calls, but I loved him for making them. I rarely went for the run but he persisted.

Yet another Bishop we are eternally grateful to, was our Bishop in California. When Aaron lost his job 2 weeks after we had Caroline, we went directly to speak to him. We were scared and confused and we felt drawn to his calm strength. He was concerned but reassured us that we would be taken care of as Aaron searched for employment. Over the course of 9 months he provided for us in the most generous and loving way. Once our money ran out, the church stepped in (they wanted to do so before our money ran out actually). We did not have to move out of our house to an apartment, we did not ever want for food, toiletries or household supplies, our utilities stayed on and our car payments were made. Other members of the ward inundated us with clothing and gifts. This, together with the fact that my sister and brother in law who lived relatively close by (in Canada) and would visit as often as they could to lift and support us, had us feeling surrounded by love and care during a time where we could have felt completely desolate and isolated. What I appreciated most is that our dignity was always preserved. The Bishop would assure us constantly that it was "fun" to help us, he would thank us for our contributions of time and help to others in the ward (since we did have a lot of time to spare), and he alleviated the anxiety we could have had, by always assuring us that we would have help for as long as we needed it.

Between his exhaustive (and often exhausting) job-search Aaron would volunteer at the Bishop's Storehouse to help offset the abundance of good food and supplies we received from them every 2 weeks. Our Bishop would encourage Aaron not to over-do it with volunteering there, and advised him to enjoy the time with his wife and young children, and take full advantage of this opportunity to be with them. I look back on that time with such fondness. We really united as a family, and our testimonies were greatly strengthened. I feel that our foundation as a family was solidified during that time and our children, especially Benjamin were exposed to values and experiences that helped to shape the incredible kids they are today. Don't get me wrong, the stress of that time was often very intense and I had mini freak-outs aplenty, but it never completely overwhelmed us , I do not remember ever being in utter despair, and the value of what we took away from that experience far exceeds any salary we could have been earning.

Spiritually, emotionally and temporarily, during times of crisis in any of these areas, we have always been blessed with amazing Bishops. I think of them as angels who God put in our path at just the time that we needed them, and for this I am grateful to Him, and to them, more then I could ever say.

Party, party party!

Last night was our New Beginnings Evening. It was quite the event, it turned out quite lovely I think.I'll show you pictures sometime because the cultural hall turned out to be somewhat glorious, and any time you can make a cultural hall glorious you should take a picture. It is good that it is over because on Saturday is Gracie's Ballerina Birthday Party, and on Saturday night there is a dance at church which we are lucky enough to be hosting, so there is once more, decorating to be done.
On Sunday I will be all festivitied out I think, or at least a certified party planner.
Which reminds me, my friend Cindi gave me a card which says :

Tips from Helen, the almost-licensed party planner:
"When seating guests, it's best not to place all the shallow people together. A simple shallow-deep-shallow-moody-shallow-deep pattern works best.....we, of course, being perfect mixers, can sit anywhere."

Posted at 10:37 PM | Permalink

Chaperone

November 10, 2007

Is there any other word in the English language to make you feel older or stodgier? Well I suppose there are, but this is definitely on the list of Old Words.

Tonight I was a chaperone at a dance for the youth at church. I did it a few months ago too and it was downright depressing. Not only was I having vivid flashbacks to all of the angst that came with church dances in my youth, I was now also old. It was an extremely awkward and weird experience, so I had low expectations for tonight.
But tonight was actually a marked improvement on that experience. I know the girls I lead better now and had a great time finding out about some of their dramas, it is definitely a different dynamic then when you are sitting in church and they tend to open up more when they have to yell things at you over the music. The music was good, my co-chaperone is a great conversationalist and fun guy,  the 2 bite brownies were plentiful, I got to dance a little and even hula hoop some (I have "mastering the hula hoop" on my list of things to do before I turn 32 now).  I got to experience the amused detachment I had seen the youth leaders display while I was 14 and  angsting about the fact that the guy I liked did not show up or seemed unmoved by my new outfit, or had no idea that I was alive. I discovered that The Village People and NSync are both alive and well in the hearts of the youth of today. Happily co-existing with Gwen and Avril. (Btw-she does not like your gf.)
Best part of all? Someone apologised to me for mistaking me for one of the youth. Never was there a more misplaced apology.  Bless that person. Bless them.
Posted at 11:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)