As someone who has a strong interest in women studies (I plan to include women studies when I start my graduate degree next year), this bothered me, and I stewed about it all night. It bothered me mostly because I don’t think the topic of women should be so quickly overlooked. Women are so complex, so it makes no sense to dedicate a meeting to the same two topics every year, especially when so many women had absentee mothers or had abusive mothers or who aren’t mothers themselves.

Never mind the fact that Mother’s Day should be celebrated by the children of a mother; I don’t believe it should be institutional.

Anyhow, I decided to submit alternative topics for that Sunday:

• How Mary as a mother had an influence on Jesus
• Women of the Old Testament as types of the Saviour
• The influence women had in the 19th century church
• How the gospel of Jesus Christ empowers women to be leaders in society
• The female disciples of Christ
• The role of prophetesses in the Bible
• How believing in a Heavenly Mother makes us better people

I thought they were topics rarely discussed, so they could be a welcome change and allow us a ward to explore different aspects of womanhood and/or motherhood.

1. My current Bishop seems to be pretty great. We have only been here a year and I haven’t dealt with him in any leadership role, but from the back of the chapel it feels like he radiates calm, loving support. So far so good. The thing I am most intrigued about is his hobby. He is a long-distance bicycle rider. He is passionate about riding and has been known to miss an occasional church meeting while racing. I admire that. Iowa does a crazy annual ride called RAGBRI (Register Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa) that goes 7 days, over 450 miles. It is done the last week of July, when the heat and humidity is in full force and only complete wackos are out doing exercise. My bishop participates every year.

2. When we lived in rural Illinois, we had a semi-inactive guy called as Bishop in our small ward. He and his wife had 5 grown kids, all inactive. His wife was Stake Relief Society President when we moved in. I hadn’t seen him at church in over a year when he was called to serve. His big thing was hunting. He loved hunting every weekend and often traveled to hunt animals not in our area. Shortly after his reluctant acceptance of the call, he bore his testimony about how he felt closest to Heavenly Father while sitting out in the woods. He talked about how he carried a buckeye in his pocket as a talisman to remind him of God. He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up for the congregation to see. We were in the back and I couldn’t tell what it was. I was confused. What is a buckeye? How does carrying that thing help him? I asked Rob after church what the heck a buckeye was. He laughed and corrected me. It was a buck eye. A preserved buck’s eyeball. Yuuuuucckkkk.
While serving, he became fierce about the Temple. He got all 5 of his kids back at church and baptized grandchildren who had fallen through the cracks. Good things happened with the roughest-around-edges guy I’ve ever seen in leadership.
Rob’s favorite thing was the Bishop instituted a priesthood potluck before General Conference meeting that was called a “Wild Game Supper”. All the hunters in the ward brought game they killed and everyone ate them. It is amazing how many inactive guys attended the Priesthood General Conference meeting just because they got to share their secret Armadillo Marinated Stew.

3. While in Colorado we had a Bishop who had creativity oozing out of his pores. Every winter he created an ice rink for his kids and the ward in his backyard. The youth loved it. He made wooden strip canoes in his garage and the Scouts used them for their adventures. He was constantly cutting wood for Relief Society craft projects and once taught a RS class on using power tools. He and his wife were fearless about trying out new things. The best Christmas program I have ever attended was under his leadership. It took 3 months of work by the youth and transformed the Cultural Hall into Old Testament Jerusalem. Every ward activity was over the top fun because he encouraged spending time and money on socials. All of the Young Women got their Personal Progress Recognition by working on Ward projects. I really like a guy who knows how to party.

As I think about what made these Bishops special, I realize that it wasn’t their amazing testimonies or correlation skills. It was they each had personalities that flavored the call. They didn’t do what many people do, which is drop all extra-curricular activities and make Church their only focus. Instead, they integrated their passions into the call.

Even though I have no intention of ever eating squirrel or rattlesnake, I like it that there is room in our church for folks who do.

Jessie at 3 yrs old rescued a bird by braining the cat. She came in sobbing hysterically with that bird clutched in her tiny hands, furious at the cat. We kept that bird in a shoe box–I remember it fluttering around the house, to Jessie’s hysterical little girl voice saying “my bood! my bood!” You know, that bird lived and we let it fly away a few days later.

Once, when Jessie was 12, Bill said the word “hell.” Jessie’s prim comment: “Well, why don’t you just start smoking and drinking, too?”

I went to a Relief Society event one night, leaving Bill sick in bed with a migraine and Jared, age 13, to look after Sarah, age three. I came home to find Sarah sitting on the toilet sobbing her guts out and Jared watching TV in the living room (Bill was moaning in the bedroom and throwing up in a trash can). She’d gone “number 2″ and Jared flat out refused to wipe her bum “no way, I do not love her that much!” I don’t know how long she’d been sitting there while they were in the stand-off, but I think it could have gone on all night.

Sarah praying as a four year old: “Bless Tammy and Autumn………….no, don’t bless Autumn because she was mean to me.”

Sarah began to refer to her tummy as a separate entity “he” as a three year old: “He hungwy, Mommy, he need chocit candy.”

Journals are a good reminder that my mothering days weren’t all bad. Hope you have a good day (I got a gift certificate for a world atlas!)

Gandalf is taken aback, momentarily stunned. He has wielded his staff to thwart much evil and destruction, it is the repository of much power. But it fails him here. What will he do next? Will he just crumple up and die, as the Witch King says he is about to?

No, he doesn’t. Taking advantage of the arrival of the cavalry from Rohan, Gandalf gets up and continues to rally the citizens of Gondor to the defense of their city, exhorting them to hold strong in the defense of their city, even in the face of a terrifying and merciless assault.

I have a friend, and I wish he was the only one, who recently decided to leave the Church and forsake his covenants after yet another dating relationship ended. He had put all his faith and hope in himself happily married with children, and after this particularly painful breakup, he lost that faith. It had happened too many times before for him to keep the hope that it wouldn’t happen again. He didn’t want to remain single in the Church the rest of his life, and he had no remaining hope that he could be anything but that. His staff shattered. He had a choice then. I could pick himself up and fight on with what remained, or he could say, “Well, that’s done for then. I’m outta here.”

This is just one example of many I could choose. There are people who go off the rails after a divorce, or after the physical or spiritual loss of a child, or after a financial disaster. There are those who leave after being gossiped about and lied about. None of these things are fair, or deserved.

The tragedy, of course, is that my friend’s desire to be married and have a family were good things. So is reading our scriptures, having regular meaningful prayer, studying the words of the Prophets, obedience to the Word of Wisdom, the Law of the Fast, the principle of tithing, and so on with the many wonderful gospel principles. But none of these, not even all of them together, is always going to work They cannot prevent misfortune, death, disease, emotional torment, isolation, or failure in any of its many forms.

My title here isn’t if your staff shatters, but when. I believe each of us will be faced with a moment (or perhaps more than one moment) like this. We are told that good is stronger than evil, and that good will prevail. I believe that, not because of any preponderance of evidence, but because I choose to believe it. There will be times when good won’t look stronger than evil, where what in the past you have used with much success will shatter and have no effect. I say this because this has been my experience. It is at this point when enduring and continuing adherence to the gospel will not seem like the sensible or logical choice. That is when I faced my greatest choice. Will I continue, diminished, to fight on the losing side, or will I switch sides and try to negotiate a separate peace?

Faith is a power, but before it has any power for us, it is a choice. And that is where its greatest power is as well. Choice is the only thing we have true power over. We can say yes or we can say no. Such a little thing, but it makes all the difference. Faith means choosing the good even when evil is vastly stronger. Faith means fighting on even when the cause is lost. Faith means picking yourself up and fighting on even when your strength and power have failed you. It is insisting, against all evidence to the contrary, that there is light, even when all around you is darkness.

What is your staff? What would you do if it fails you in your hour of greatest need?

You can see the scene I refer to here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kCwVBBLx7dE. Note to Tolkien geeks: I am aware that Gandalf’s staff shattering and momentary collapse isn’t in the book. For the reasons elaborated above, I like Peter Jackson’s movie portrayal anyway.

There have been a number of political stories this week that will last longer and almost all of them are more important, but the story that caught me this week was the one about Mitt Romney reportedly bullying a classmate in high school by cutting off his long hair. I know! So Amish! The presentation of this information seems very Swiftboatesque; this is something that happened a long time ago and is peppered with quotes from classmates who, frankly, seem to have a really old ax to grind. Importantly, this story seems to have a permanent addendum attached questioning the relevance of a presidential candidate’s high school behavior. I suggest that, the very inclusion of this question should be proof enough that, well, no. Who among us wants to be judged as their high school self? Whether we were bullied or nerdy or thoughtless or lazy, can we not agree that high school was not the prime of our lives? Can we not forget it entirely?

Please forgive me for my high school idiocy.

Thanks.

While I have NO interest in disqualifying any presidential candidate from earning my vote based on one childish incident, I have every intention of not voting for people based on their pattern of behavior which may be demonstrated in numerous childish incidents. And their reactions thereto. That’s just me–that stuff matters to me. Because they are journalists, people have attempted to “balance” this story by reporting on an incident in which the 10-year-old Barrack Obama was also unkind to a classmate. There is a HUGE difference in these two incidents, though: the reporter who drudged up this seedy side of Obama was…Obama. He remembers his poor behavior, demonstrated reflectiveness, and went so far as publicizing it in his own book. That is such a different reaction from the uncomfortable guffawing and loss of memory Romney demonstrated when confronted with his (alleged) childishness.

Of course, it is impossible to guess what an Ivy League kind of student remembers about his own life–perhaps Romney really has no idea what these guys are talking about. Heck, maybe this incident is made up out of whole cloth. But apparently the kind of behavior is not so out-of-character for High School Mitt that he could dismiss or deny it out of hand. Bummer. Because even though I have NO interest in actually voting for Romney the candidate, I would love for Romney the Mormon to have a better reputation than this. When you just don’t remember cruelty that surrounds you, even if you didn’t participate, it seems to denote a certain kind of entitlement. The very kind of entitlement you might expect from a rich kid of a politically-connected family. But surely entitlement cannot easily coexist with empathy, and clearly a disciple of Christ seeks more after one than the other.

I admit that I have a personal bias against entitled people: I don’t socialize with them, I try not to work for them, it’s a major bummer when one ends up as my bishop, but I certainly have no interest in making one my president. Maybe you think policy is more important, and if Romney’s policy is evident to you and suits your vision for the country, more power to you both. I think I’ll stick with the underdogs, the struggling, and those of us who have misbehaved, regretted it, and can admit we were wrong. If only people like us ran for office! Ha!

What do you make of this story?

Alright I’m gonna say it. I’m disgusted by the cover on Time Magazine. “Are you Mom enough?” That’s insulting to the rest of us who tried to breast feed and either couldn’t because mentally we couldn’t handle it or we just couldn’t make enough!

I tried my best and I wasn’t able to enjoy my son with the constant worrying about breast feeding, keeping my milk supply up, drinking enough water, what meds to take to make more milk, was he getting enough–am I doing it right?–and then finally coming to the depressing result of not being FIT enough or “Mom enough” to feed him. I was heartbroken.

My struggle to breastfeed debilitated me and I became depressed–suicidal even. I am a good mom, I keep my baby fed, clean, happy and guess what,”I’m Mom enough!” Women have to deal with the media-induced stigma of body perfection (skinny, but curvy models unrealistically portraying “normal” women) and other ideals of womanhood; I don’t need to be picked on about something so primal and personal as how I choose to nurture my baby.

The article doesn’t only talk about breastfeeding but also about co- sleeping, immediately responding to your baby’s cry, etc. If I got any actual sleep when my baby’s in our bed, I’d do it, too. But my baby thinks its play time and neither of us get any sleep.

This doctor (a man)has unrealistic standards for us to raise our children. He counsels us to not let our children cry; to always hold our children, and to breast feed until they are older. Only 44 % of women breast feed their children past 6 months according to CDC 2011. I don’t judge those who are lucky enough to be able to breastfeed after one year. It’s Time’s unfortunate choice of title that hurt me to the core. It comes off as criticism of women who didn’t breast feed their children past a certain point. (Although I’m not crazy about the picture on the cover. If they wanted to publish something positive on breastfeeding they should have taken a picture of a mother lovingly cradling her infant or toddler–not a women standing and her son standing in a chair. She comes off as arrogant, in your face and the child looks like he’s hanging off her boob, not being nurtured by his mother)

While I worry about the kind of adult this approach produces (Will they always feel the need for someone else to make them happy? How are their coping skills when life disappoints? What happens when their needs aren’t met by outside sources?), it obviously seems to work for some. And go them! I cheer them on! But don’t dump on the rest of us moms who desperately tried to do it all feel “less-than” failing when we did the best we could. We young mothers need to be on each others side, and refuse to castigate each other

The author of the article did make sure to mention that while she did nurse her kids till they were three, she used the ferber method to help her oldest sleep. Because she chose to let him cry for short periods of time, he is a champ at sleeping while her youngest is not because she didn’t use the ferber method on him.

There are so many parenting methods that we can take what we like and discard the rest. Breastfeeding is pure and natural and loving. That is not what the picture is portraying. Time’s intentions were to get a rise and sell magazines. Job well done, guys. But once again media has failed to capture the nuances and heartbreak of young motherhood and the wondrous process of bonding with our babies in our own special way.

Our goal as parents is to teach them things of life. Good work ethics , moral values, and to be indepent loving people. What we sometimes forget to teach them is that life is not always kind or fair. It’s not cruel to help our children to learn to comfort themselves; it’s a gentle lesson on how strong they can be.

The gentleman’s glory days were clearly over; his hair was totally white and he walked carefully with a cane. His wife had fared a little better and she was fussing over him, getting him settled as she gathered papers and dealt with the SS worker. You could tell he’d been a handsome man and for someone who had to be at least 80, he still was! He seemed a bit curmudgeonly, but he tolerated her fussing in silence.

As we all sat in the waiting area, a solid four seats separating each little clutch of humanity, she began to chat with him. “Oh! It’s your birthday Thursday! What do you want to do for your birthday?”

“Go to lunch” he mumbled. His voice was deep and a bit gravelly, reflecting a tired old age I am familiar with myself.

“Go to lunch? That’s all you want to do?” she queried.

“Yeah” he again mumbled.

There was a three second pause….then, “Make love to you.” He uttered.

She didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, what a guy!” she exclaimed and patted his leg affectionately.

The teenage girl looked at her mother, her smile saying “did that old guy really say that?”

I reveled in the sweetness of that moment and we all sat silently for a few minutes until they called her name and she jumped up, finished her business and carefully helped him out.

She was right, what a guy.

(The picture is of someone who looked like him, not the exact guy)

Sometimes I don’t take her good recommendations as quickly as would be prudent. It isn’t that I don’t believe her opinions, she has never steered me wrong. It is just that I get busy with other meaningless projects that fill my time.

In the past months my friend has made two recommendations. The first was His Grace is Sufficient, by Brad Wilcox. It is a lovely talk about the Atonement. The second, Increase in Learning, by Elder Bednar I would to read, but I can’t. I have searched BYU.edu and LDS.org and even Googled the talk.

I did find it, in a hard bound book with DVD that I can buy from Deseret Book or Amazon.com for a mere $24.29. If only I had taken my friend’s advice and read the thing a few months ago, when it was still on the internet for free!

I know of other talks that became books, like President Hinkley’s talk to YW about the B’s. Heck, that talk become not only a book, but a whole Franklin Planner kind of program with posters, stickers, etc. to remind us to be all we can BE.

I’m not opposed to making a bit of cash off of a good concept. I like self-help books as much as the next girl. I just don’t like it when it starts out as a talk and then gets turned into a book/DVD combo that the book publisher says

“This new interactive book will help you acquire one of the most important skills you’ll ever possess: the power to learn. With its unique blend of print, media, and online resources, it provides patterns for spiritual learning that will lead you to understand and act on gospel truths. Learn how to get the answers you need for yourself!”

Dang it. Now I have to choose between ignorance or learning how to learn for $24. 95.

If any of you tech-savy types know how to find Elder Bednar’s original talk on line for free, please send me a link to it. I think I can learn the concept without the DVD and interactive online support. My friend says it is a really good talk and a definite keeper.

The next time she recommends a talk to read, I won’t wait. There is a good chance I won’t be able to afford it.

Or even worse, desperately wanting to be a mother and not having the opportunity.

The minefield of emotions about mothering, the blog posts, the books, the essays, the talk show themes about good, bad and exceptionally bad mothering never goes away. I think it is interesting that in most Disney-animated feature films the main conflict revolves around a missing mother. Not having a mother (or having a horrible one) can create enough turmoil to entertain an audience for over two hours. I don’t recall such a hullaballoo over missing fathers.

Back in the day when I was struggling to deal with my self-created reality of being a mother to three children, I stumbled upon a poem that hit my heart. I have saved it and passed it on to my fellow mothering cohorts when they were having one of those Why-Did-I-Ever-Think-This-Was-A-Good-Idea? kinds of days. It is surprising how often those feelings hit, even when you know from the depth of your innermost cellular tissues that you were created to be a mother.

In honor of the poor Bishops who have hopefully been toiling away trying to find just the right speaker for their wards upcoming Mother’s Day program (only two weeks away on May 13th) Here is my favorite poem on the topic of Motherhood:

A Mother’s Creed
by Renee Hawkley

I am a mother.
I link humanity’s past to its future.
My moment in history is today.
As a precious pearl in the strand of time,
I add love and light and luster to the timeless thread of life
That fastens me to generations past.
My task is both common and noble.
I share it with peasants and queens.
I will not belittle my part,
For I have a title role in the play of life.
My little words and deeds, though small,
Will one day eclipse those of governments and kingdoms.
My achievement will endure when even time is a memory.
For I am a mother.

I link humanity’s past to its future.