Holy Day

One of my ideals for my future when I was young was to have Sunday be the day it's always been. It's something I never really thought about back then, I just assumed and expected it to be a certain way. I was raised that Sunday is the Sabbath Day and that you keep it holy by using it as a day to rest and worship. You attend church and any meetings in relation to church. You spend time visiting with family. You read good books and have good discussions. You maybe work on a talent that is Sabbath appropriate--like drawing or writing or playing the violin. You maybe take a nap or cross stitch. The T.V. remains off. This is how Sundays were in my childhood home. I loved Sundays. They truly were a relief from the worldliness of the rest of the week.

These days, Sundays are a sore spot in our marriage. My husband chose a career in which he is asked to work 3 out of 4 Sundays. Fortunately, there is an evening shift that begins at 4 pm and goes until 2 am, so he is able to attend church meetings. Many times, though, he works that same shift on the Saturday night before, so he has a hard time getting up and staying awake through church. Then when he comes home, he sleeps until he has to leave for work again. I am left to manage the children entirely on my own every week. I get up, make breakfast, get them all ready for church, along with myself. I prepare our primary lesson (he was called to teach with me, but I do all the work) and make sure to have everything in order for it. When we get home, I prepare lunch and dinner.

Then I am also left trying to teach my children to keep the Sabbath Day holy. How am I supposed to do that when one very strong example they have is their dad going to work every Sunday? Especially when he told me once that he probably could get out of working on Sundays if he told his superiors that it was against his religious beliefs. He just won't because he doesn't think it's fair to the others for him to get off every Sunday and they still have to work. Except that if this were a Friday or Tuesday in question, he would be able to do it without a problem, like he did when he was in school full time and had to have certain days and times ALWAYS off for a whole semester. He didn't have any problem telling his boss that he could never work Tuesdays because he had class all day and night. How unfair of him to make everyone else work those Tuesdays!

It is a huge source of frustration and worry for me. I worry that my children will go inactive someday because they were not appropriately taught the seriousness of that commandment. My husband's family is an example of this--his father had the same career that he does and also worked Sundays throughout his life. Of his parents' five children, only one remains active, and that is my husband. One other doesn't go to church much but still lives the gospel as much as he can in his life. The other three are completely inactive, to the point where they have turned their back on what they've been taught, married out of the church and are doing other things that are contrary to the gospel. Sometimes I wonder if they'd had a better example of living the gospel and keeping the Sabbath day holy, which is where their inactivity started--skipping church to work, they would be more active today. Maybe not. You never know. But why take that chance as a parent?

So that is one of my big disappointments in life. I feel already that my children will lose their way because of how they are being raised, despite how hard I try to teach them better. After all, actions speak louder than words.

I Should Have Been a Ballroom Dancer...

Seriously, I could have been a good one, I think. I did take ballroom classes for a few semesters and even toyed with the idea of trying out for the team, but my ambition to get through school fast (and on someone else's bill--full academic scholarship for four years) prevented me from even trying.

If not ballroom, perhaps Olympic gymnastics. Okay, maybe not the Olympics, but perhaps collegiate would have been fun. I sure do miss having such grace and control of my body that I did back then. I did gymnastics from the age of 4 through the age of 16 and had to quit because of a state-to-state move and the fact that my parents just couldn't afford it anymore (what with trying to raise 5 other kids who needed things!).

I have too many unfulfilled dreams and underdeveloped talents and now that I'm starting to get age lines and a bad back and have found myself with the inability to go up and down stairs without tripping, I sure do miss my younger self and all the future dreams I had that could have been. Now those are over and I can't go back and do those again. Sure, I can learn ballroom dance, but I can't be on a competitive team like at BYU. Sure, I could probably coach beginner and intermediate level gymnastics, but that's not the same as doing it.

I guess I have to come to terms with the fact that our bodies just age and even if I had participated in competitive ballroom or went really far with gymnastics, at some point my body would have told me to stop anyway. It's just going through life knowing that I never got the chance to try that kills me. I guess.

Behind the Blog

I really enjoy blogging. I like to write, and it's sort of a sounding board for ideas going through my head--a way to organize my thoughts and get them out. But, as any other author will probably attest, it's much more satisfactory to know that your words are being read.

I manage four blogs. One of them is a book club that I started online because I have so much family and many friends that live far away. I admit, I haven't done much with that one lately, but maybe we should get back to it. Another of them is my family blog, and the reason I keep that separate from this blog is for this exact reason that I'm writing about right now--I like to have a place where I can write whatever I think and feel and see. My family blog is our family history and I print that blog up into a book every year. It's more of a journal of what our family is doing. Then I have one where I keep track of all the preschool activities and lessons I do with my children. I doubt anybody reads that one, but if someone happened across it, they might get some ideas of their own and realize that they don't have to pay for their preschool age children to learn. Then I have this one, where I write my thoughts and opinions and basically just whatever I want.

But when it seems like nobody is reading your work, it just seems like pointless effort to come up with ideas to write about or even blog at all for that matter. It would just be nice to have some feedback so I know I'm not the only one reading my blog!

Higher Education--Is it worth it?

I have been in several social circles of late who have presented the attitude that getting a higher education isn't worth it if you don't use it for a career. When people say such a thing in my hearing range, it's like fingernails on a blackboard to me. I know that sometimes there are circumstances that prevent one from furthering their education and it can be quite difficult. But, I also firmly believe that higher education is for everyone, whether you "use it" or not. Just because it doesn't lead you to a lucrative career in your field of study doesn't mean that it doesn't have value.

A college education does more than land you a job. It broadens your mind and teaches you to think in the way that almost nothing else can. Sure, you can broaden your mind through travel and reading, but when you are challenged to look at something, anything, from another person's point of view and then discuss that topic and defend your own, it makes you think harder and in more complex ways than you would have to otherwise. It broadens your perspective on life and on people. You are taught to think in more complex ways and organize your thinking into tangible, readable, shareable ways. You become more well-rounded and perhaps even more focused.

My husband works at a job that requires no degree. The company he works for promotes from within, so all upper management started at the bottom and worked their way up. It was years of work experience and training within the company that brought them to the level they are at. Many of these people have told me they don't see the value of getting a college degree because they don't need one to get to the top within this company. They are right, but they are missing out on so much learning and so many great experiences by skipping college altogether. And I have noticed, when socializing with them, the only topic they to discuss is this company. They haven't broadened their minds to be interested in anything else--art, literature, politics, science, etc. It's no wonder that most of their friends are also only within the company because they have no other outside interests. And then I hear them say they think that college would be a waste of time--how wrong they are!

My husband worked full time at this job while supporting four children and a wife AND going to school full time to get his degree. Will he use his degree in his career? No. Did his classes help him in his career? Maybe. Is he a more well-rounded individual with a little bit of a broader perspective on life and people now? Yes. Was the sacrifice worth it? Definitely. It was so worth it in my opinion that I would encourage him to seek a graduate degree, even if it doesn't benefit his career.

I worked my way through college and earned a degree. I even used it the first few years after graduation. But then, after getting married and having my first child, I quit my job to be at home with my children. To some, that is wasting my college education. However, many of the ideas and subjects I studied in college are useful to parenting AND have helped me instill a love for learning in my children because I'm knowledgeable about a broad range of subjects. I hope to someday earn a master's degree in that field, and I may never use it for a career, but learning more about that subject interests me greatly and, if nothing else, may make me a better advocate on behalf of my children pertaining to their educations.

Intelligence is the only thing we take with us when we die. It can't hurt to obtain all that we can while we can. Even if all we do is the same job we've had since high school.

Tasty Treat

After dinner tonight, it was time for medicine. Last week we were all sick with strep, and two of us are allergic to penicillin. Our medications ended days ago, but the others, who are on amoxicillin, still have the rest of their 10-day regimen to complete. The one who was done with his medicine threw a fit that he didn't get any and then he came to me a few minutes later crying that his throat hurt and his tongue was coated in white.

"Your tongue?"

"Yes, I have strep again, so I need some more medicine."

"You can't have anybody else's medicine because you're allergic and it's not for you. Let me see your throat." I look in with a flashlight. All is fine. He was willing to fake sick just to get some medicine. I realize drug companies flavor the medicine so kids will take it, but my kids love it so much that they don't want to stop taking it!

The Lord Knows Our Needs

One night a few years ago, not too long after I had my third child, I made a huge spaghetti dinner for my family. My oldest child was only 3 and my husband wasn't even going to be home that night. For some reason, I had just made way too much, about twice the normal amount. At that time, we weren't big leftover-eaters, so I knew that all that food would go to waste. Then the idea came into my head that maybe someone else could use it. I thought of the sisters I visit taught and it didn't seem quite right. I thought of my companion and even a few friends nearby, but it just didn't feel right. So I got down on my knees and prayed to Heavenly Father to please let me know who needed this meal. Then I pulled my ward list down from the tack board in our kitchen and started flipping through it. A name caught my eye and I remembered that the particular sister had just had her third baby and her husband had also just changed jobs and was gone several days a week for work. Since it was already after 6 pm, I thought I'd better call ahead to make sure that I could bring the dinner. I called and asked if she had dinner already ready, and she didn't, so I offered to bring the remains of ours.

A few days later was fast and testimony meeting. That sister stood up and bore her testimony of the Lord knowing her needs in that she was feeling ill, having some postpartum issues, her husband was gone and she looked at the clock, thinking she still had to make dinner and had nothing to make. A few minutes later the phone rang with me on the other end offering to bring some food.

I just wanted to post this as a reminder to me that the Lord knows our needs and will let us know if we only ask. I meant to write it in my journal, and today was thinking back on journal-writing and realized that I never had written this incident down. So now it is written somewhere to always remember it.

Valentine's Day Memoir

Valentine's Day 1990. I was 12. I had just turned 12 less than two months before. 12 was a big age because that's when a girl in our church advances to Young Women's. In my family, 12 was when I got to start wearing heels and nylons instead of flats and tights. I also got my ears pierced. I was growing up.

Our ward had a Valentine's Dance for a mutual activity. In the church, youth don't attend dances until the age of 14, but in this case, the leaders made an exception and invited the Deacons and Beehives (12- and 13-year-old boys and girls). I was so excited. Let me backtrack.

At about the age of 10 is when I became boy-crazy. I used to write a "boy list" in my journals at the end of each entry, which then, was every day. I listed the boys I liked from my #1 to #5, sometimes as many as 10. So going to a real dance was an exciting thing for me. Among the deacons, there was a boy I liked. I was so hoping to dance with him. Of course, my 12-year-old girl's mind had no idea that 12-year-old boys aren't interested in girls.

I didn't get to dance with him. Yes, he was there, but he didn't dance with anyone. He just stood on the side with all the other 12-year-old boys who were also there. I danced with two people that night. The first was my dad. He was one of the young men's leaders, so was there as a chaperone. I'm glad I got to dance with him. I don't think I danced with him again like that until my wedding.

But it's the other guy that really stands out in my memory. Rusty. No last names here. He was 17, going on 18, a senior in high school. He baby-sat me and my brothers many years before when I was in about the first grade and he was in the 7th grade. He was always a nice guy and would say hi to me whenever he saw me. But here's the catch.

Rusty was about 6 foot 2. I was about 4 foot 10. It was a slow song, and he danced on his knees and we were about the same height. I remember thinking two things--I thought it was so nice of him to ask me to dance, but I about died of embarrassment with him dancing there on his knees.

That is one Valentine's Day memory that really sticks out.
Happy Valentine's Day!