Origami Geese

          Jenna has always wanted to learn origami.  One day (between kindergarten and preschool) she told me that her friend Dean might be able to help her.

          “Really?  Dean knows how to do origami”

         

          “Well, maybe not him.  But his parents might know”

          “Why do you think that?”

          “Because they speak Spanish.  Isn’t origami Spanish?”

          “No.  Origami comes from the Japanese culture.”

          “Oh, then maybe I could get Tony to help me when he comes home.”  (Tony was severing a mission in Brazil at the time)

          “I don’t know if Tony knows how to do Origami.  Your sisters do.  But who knows if we will ever see them again.”

          “I thought Tony was speaking Japanese.”

          “Oh, no.  It isn’t ‘Japanese’.  It’s called ‘Portuguese’ ”

‘

          “Oh, I knew it was a ‘geese’ ”

          So the last time we went to the library I checked out a book on 101 origami projects – figuring I should be able to figure out at least a couple of them. I have come to the conclusion that I am very origami illiterate.  Perhaps one day Jenna can learn it for real. 

Is There a Doctor in the House?

As a child I thought that going to our doctor was an okay deal.  Dr. Spring kept a treasure chest full of toys for his patients to choose from after their visits.  I don’t remember being afraid or not wanting to go to the doctors.

 Going to the doctor’s also meant going downtown.  As a kid I thought downtown outings were way cool.  And so was riding on the freeway (my perspective has changed A LOT) I would much rather go to the doctor any day than to go to the dentist (even as an adult)

Jenna is a lot like me in so many ways – but not when it comes to doctor/dentist preference.  Jenna LOVES to go to the dentist (seriously) and squirms at the very mention of the doctor. 

I like Jenna’s doctor.  I think she’s nice.  But Jenna’s big hang up is with getting shots.  She used to be so brave when she was a baby. I don’t know why she is so squeamish about shots but has no problem with having tools in her mouth.

Before Jenna was even born, I was advised to seek out a pediatrician.  There were three in the same complex as my obstetrician.  Two of them had names that I couldn’t even pronounce.  Not that that should be a deciding factor – I just thought it would be nice if I could actually pronounce the name of Jenna’s doctor.  But only one of the three doctors were taking patients – the one with the four syllable name – that I still have troubles pronouncing.  I make appointments with Dr. Jill (first name) as I don’t have a problem with her first name.

Ironically it was the Dr. Morgan (the one whose name I could pronounce) who was the one who showed up after Jenna was born – to order instructions and “boss me around” – which didn’t go over greatly with me.  I decided that I was happy that she wasn’t taking new patients and hoped I would like Jenna’s doctor better.

I did.  She saw us the next day.  She was actually so different from the first.  But when Jenna was two we had to go back to Dr. Morgan because Dr. Jill had gone out of town.  Dr. Morgan was much more civil.  Nice in fact.  Much different from the doctor I had met in the hospital who was barking orders at me as though I was an imbecile.

It is always the assistants who give the shots.  Jenna cried though she tried to be brave.  When Dr. Morgan returned, Jenna smiled at her through her tears and Dr. Morgan smiled back and said she was glad to see that Jenna wasn’t mad at her. And I was glad to see that Dr. Morgan was smiling too and wasn’t the drill sergeant she had come across as at the hospital.

We start out life with doctors who are much older than us – sometimes the very age or even older than our parents.  As we get older, our doctors retire forcing us to find doctors who are often much younger than ourselves.  Like a father time and baby New Year thing. 

It’s no longer mom who takes her children to the doctor.  Her children are taking her now.  I understand that is a post all by itself.

Hitler helped me (and Jenna)

I had given her the nickname Hitler because of the way she was barking – trying to keep children in line.  Okay.  I understand a little bit – from personal experience I do know that not ALL children listen.  And sometimes it is necessary to bark to be heard.  But when she barked at me, I was offended.

          I was wearing the visitor name tag – only she hadn’t seen it as it was beneath my coat.  Perhaps she was just having an off day – or maybe I was.  But she didn’t make a good first impression (and maybe neither did I)  Still it was wretched of me to use a same wicked nickname on her that I do for Roland’s ex.  NO ONE deserves that!

          I have repented of my ways.  I no longer refer to her as Hitler.  I think her name is Sarah – or perhaps Sarah is the tot she pushes in the stroller.  Though the Tot was not with her that particular day.  Too cold.

          Now that she has seen me on a weekly basis, she no longer barks.  She is friendly and says “hello” and I say “Hi” back to her.  Sometimes she is so cheerful with her greeting it almost seems as though we’re best friends.  She doesn’t come to the PTO meetings and I’m pretty certain that we do not live in the same city – I’ll have to generate a thoughtful conversation next time I am making copies when school has already started

On Dec 5, I wrote the following:

          “This morning I put my dog in the car – along with Jenna and another classmate I pick up.  Just before Jenna made her tearful exit she asked where her backpack was.  I had had my hands full with my own belongings as we left the house – not to mention the dog and his blanket.  I hadn’t even noticed Jenna’s backpack still on the floor next to the Christmas tree.

          “So I dropped the two kids off, turned around to come home, ran inside to claim Jenna’s backpack and returned to the school parking behind the field (as I knew the front would be crazy) but still had the dog in the car and needed to let him out.

          “Now normally I don’t walk onto school grounds with an animal – but I had to walk to the front in order to get Jenna’s backpack into the school.  So we walked to the front and there was Sarah (without the stroller) greeting me with a smile and asking why the dog didn’t have a coat on. 

          “I held up Jenna’s backpack and said she had forgotten it.  Sarah offered to take it to her and asked for the name of the teacher.  I am very appreciative and hopefully have been humbled a bit realizing that calling her Hitler (though only in my mind) had been so inappropriate.”

Thank you Sarah.  If you happen to be reading this and have figured out our identities – I’m sorry about the nickname.  I have taken it back.

Going to the Dentist

My dentist was a good man.  I have always known that.  But the very idea of his profession made me cringe.  He would do his very best to keep gentle.  But no matter how he tried, it was always a painful experience for me.  The word “dentist” to me means “torture of the mouth”

There were two dentists at that particular location.  Mom had picked the location due to convenience of short distance – she could walk there really.  The two dentists were father and son who shared the same receptionist.  When my mom said she was there to see Dr. Rigdon, the receptionist asked which one.

Now here’s a unique way for selecting your dentist – both had uncommon first names – neither of which mom cared for – but chose the name she liked better of the two.  He actually turned out to be the better pick of the two – but not because he had a better name.  He was the son who used the latest in modern equipment, while the father seemed to have the original tools that one may find in the old west.  Scary.

Dr. Rigdon had told me that I was one of his juiciest patients.  I think I must have been his juiciest female.  My dad held the record of being the top patient with the wettest mouth.  Perhaps that’s more than you, the reader, care to know.  Oh, well.

He was good at trying to ease the pain.  There was the laughing gas that would make me forget that my mouth probably hurt.  He also provided his patients with headphones – the ones who preferred listening to music or just to drown out the sound of the drill or pick or whatever.

As an adult I remember having burned the roof of my mouth one night before seeing Dr. Rigdon – and so my mouth was extra sensitive.  To his credit, he really did have a lot of compassion.  He really worked as gently as he could.  Tears streamed from my eyes and he would wipe them for me.

The hardest part was when I left the dentist chair and passed the waiting area to the parking lot.  A little boy looked up to see my tear stained face.  What a frightening thought that must have been, to see an adult leaving the dentist office in tears.  What kind of torture would be in store for him?  I cried about having cried.

Dr. Rigdon’s not fully retired. I understand he stops by the office once a week now – though it’s been years since I have personally gone to him.  During my married life there have been a huge number of dentists.  Usually based upon whoever would take whatever insurance we happened to have at the time.

My boys were weird.  They would ask me to make dentist appointments for them.  I always had to be in excruciating pain before I would even suggest a thing.  But my boys were concerned with hygiene.  They WANTED to go to the dentist.  Weirdoes.

And then there’s Jenna.  She absolutely LOVES going to the dentist.  It hasn’t even mattered which one.  She has loved them all!

Her first dentist was a pediatric dentist.  Of course he had the most inviting waiting room ever.  The play area for the children was designed like a pirate ship.  She was big into steering wheels and would position herself at the hub.  Oh, she was the cutest thing!

She had only four teeth the first time we went to him.  She laid on the baby dentist chair and assisted him with looking into her mouth.  We saw him only one other time before our insurance changed and forced us to find somebody else.

A family dentist for all of us.  I was told he would look at children, but there was a concern with Jenna’s age.  Apparently he had never had a patient quite so young. But as it turned out, everybody in the office loved Jenna just as much as she loved going to the dentist. 

His office was not quite as exciting as the pirate ship.  There was a “skills” toy in front and a list of videos to request to watch while waiting and being worked on.  Jenna would assist and follow the aides around.  It seriously got to the point where the aide would physically have to walk out of the door that led to the parking lot just to get Jenna to follow.  But she was a joy.  She really had become a favorite patient.

Jenna’s first dentist now accepts a variety of insurances.  It’s still a weird location for me as it is awkward making a left hand turn on a busy road quite near the intersection.  Our family dentist seems so far away right now – though I had planned on returning, we never did.  I sought a dentist closer to where we currently live.

We do pass a dentist office on the way to her school.  Jenna had her first appointment with him.  His waiting room is set up with chairs.  There are no toys or set ups or videos – nothing inviting for a child.  And yet she still thrives on going.  This one tells us that Jenna has perfect teeth.  And she does.  She hadn’t with the other two.  We thought her permanent teeth would come in crooked as her baby teeth seemed to be.  But they are straight.  There are no cavities.  They are perfect.  And we both like our new dentist.

Well, I have actually not been to him myself.  Our insurance (as it turns out) is not that great.  Perhaps when the economy is over its downfall and we are more financially stable, I can return to the dentist and have him explore my mouth.

I am so grateful that Jenna likes going to the dentist and that she doesn’t view it as a traumatic experience as I did (and still do) and that I have never had to drag her there.  In fact, she is usually the one to insist I make an appointment.  Sometimes I’ve had to tell her, “NO”  Can you even imagine?

He Doesn’t Eat Onions, He’s a Mormon

          I once had a Sunday School teacher who related the following:

          He and his buddy had gone to Hawaii one summer to earn some money picking pineapples.  The two were assigned to two different groups.  Rex was the only LDS member of his group. 

Because his fellow pineapple pickers had never met anyone else from the Mormon Church, they looked at Rex to represent all members.

Rex just happened to hate onions.  There was nothing religious about it.  It was a personal preference.  He just didn’t like the way they tasted or smelled.  Many in his group believed that it was a religious thing as they had nothing else (or no one) to compare it to.

One day the two groups got together for lunch.  Some fast food place that served hamburgers.  Rex ordered his food with the added instructions, “No onions”

Rex’s buddy than placed his order.  Sensing that the two of them were together, the cashier asked, “Do you want that with onions or without?”

Before his buddy had an opportunity to answer, someone from Rex’s pineapple picking group said (I believe in a loud voice) “He’ll have them without.  He’s a Mormon”

Up until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to Rex that the members of his group had been watching him.  He was their example.  He represented the entire Church – which of course isn’t right. 

None of us is perfect.  None of us by ourselves can represent our entire religion, race, heritage, etc.  And yet so often our words are taken at more than face value.  We are an example whether we like it or not.

LDS members are encouraged to pray about the things they learn and are taught.  They’re encouraged to pray about lessons that they teach or talks that they give.  When leaders (including the prophet) are sustained, it is still up to each individual member to pray about it – to receive his or her own confirmation.  To understand the things of God and not just take the lesson or the teaching or the sustaining upon face value. 

Missionaries teach non-members and encourage them to pray that they may receive their own personal revelation as well. We each need to know and understand for ourselves.  We need to pray to Him who knows all to receive our own personal revelations. And yet many fail this simple task.  We take things upon face value due to a person’s calling or position or because of our own blind faith and idleness. 

The press picks up on words spouted from the mouths of any “Mormon” who make it to the media – be it a member of a sports team who happens to be LDS or one who uses the title bishop or stake president or perhaps is running for political office or maybe a professor who teaches at BYU.  Some individuals are more recognized than others.  But like Rex, some of us never make it to the press or receive prestige recognition, but are still being watched nonetheless. 

Do we vote according to our own personal revelation?  Or do we listen to and value the opinions of many imperfect members and take it as “gospel doctrine”?  No one of us represents the Church and yet sometimes we are the only example that some people even know of. How do our words or lifestyles influence them?  How do our words or lifestyles influence those we serve with or go to Church with?  Does what we say represent gospel truth or do we come across as opinionated and insincere?

And yes, there are many blind followers.  But there are those who are willing to admit their faults and desire to improve.  There are those who strive to become the best they can be – not because they want to represent the Church or have control or abuse their positions – but so they can be true disciples of Christ and let others see that they are striving to live up to his name.

If all of us (members or not) would take the time to offer sincere prayers so that we may have our own understanding – that the messages we hear are the truth and not misrepresented pieces of truth  (or our own misunderstandings of it) – that we may know for ourselves who we are and what path we need to follow for ourselves.  That we may understand God’s heart and not get caught up in theories or misunderstanding of imperfect members.  Because even though it seems there are so many who are close, none of us is perfect.

What makes for real Chocolate

Earlier in this school year I went to Mrs. Cavanaugh’s with the 2^nd graders.  It was great.  Here are 5 things I learned:

1.    Seven days without chocolate makes one weak

2.    The chocolates started out – not as a business but rather a fund raiser in North Dakota – for the LDS Church

3.    Wheat is for men (D&C 89) Chocolate is for women (M&M 27:3)

4.    It was confirmed to me that I have been right all along.  Chocolate REQUIRES cacoa – therefore (all you blind believers) White chocolate really ISN’T

5.    Jenna seemed a little bummed that their class had missed out on a Harmon’s (grocery store) taste testing – but I quite enjoyed the samples that were given out at Mrs. Cavanaugh’s

And here are two things that Jenna learned:

1.    Chocolate that has sugar comes in brown paper candy cups; sugarless chocolates come in white

2.    She loves Lucy (Lucille Ball played Lucy McGillicuty Ricardo in “I Love Lucy” which Jaime learned is really funny)

I LOVE Dr. Seuss

Theodor Geisel starting penning his name “Seuss” in Dartmouth College humor magazine, the Jack-O-Lantern.  Seuss was the maiden name of his mother and had been given to him as his middle name (I did the same thing with my Jenna – used my maiden name for her middle)

          He did advertisements for Sinclair Oil, political cartoons and army training movies before Viking Press offered him a contract to illustrate a collection of children's sayings called Boners. Although the book was not a commercial success, the illustrations received great reviews, providing Ted with his first "big break" into children's literature. Ted credited his mother with both his ability and desire to create the rhymes for which he became so well known.

          There are some people who are not aware of the political statements that Dr. Seuss has made in his books.  Accepting differences (the Sneetches) building bombs that are better (The Butter Battle) and Hitler’s desires to rule (Yertle the Turtle) among many. And some he wrote as a challenge (Green Eggs and Ham contains only 50 words)  I Love Dr. Seuss!

          All week Jenna has been looking forward to today – as the school will be celebrating our beloved authors’ 108^th birthday.  She’s been toting over a pound worth of books in her backpack since Tuesday. She says she could bring only “Dr. Seuss” books.  But there is at least one by Theo Lesieg.  I told her if anyone asked she could explain that it is the same author – it was the name he used when the illustrations were not his own.  Lesieg is his German name spelled backwards.

          She’s taken her English version of “Horton Hears a Who” to compare to her teacher’s Spanish version to see how well she can follow it.  I think that is awesome!

Wild Hair

          I have been blessed with thick hair.  It hasn’t always been thick – in fact it started out quite fine.  But instead of ever getting long, it grew thick.  And though one might not guess just how thick it really is – my hairdresser knows.

          I usually pull it back with pins, barrettes and/or scunchies – just to keep it off my neck.  Some days I will work hard on it, other days I will just brush it back.  Last week I felt like I had hippy hair – no matter what I did to it, my hair just seemed to get bigger.

          If I somehow forget to put my hair up and I walk into a mall (which is NEVER intentional) I am a walking target for all hair demonstrators who coax me to have a seat while they demonstrate to me how fast and wonderful their flat iron or hair straightener or wave accessories can be. 

          I must say I do get a kick out of seeing the cocky demonstrator become frazzled when it’s discovered that the tremendous amount of hair they thought they could tame seems to take growth in their hands – and the demonstration ALWAYS takes much longer than what was said. 

The demonstrator, realizing that it is taking longer to do my hair than said amount, becomes even more flustered. It’s actually nice to sit down when my feet hurt and then I don’t mind the amount of time it takes.  But sometimes I am in a hurry and recent being targeted or singled out because of the way my hair looks.

Recently I just had my hair cut and thinned.  So grateful that I did as it was majorly windy yesterday.  The extra pound of hair could have cause welts as the wind continued to slap it against my face. LOL

This morning it was so nice just to use one clip and not a three ring circus of hair accessories.

Maybe I’m Allergic to the Alka-Seltzer

          When I was little, I used to spin around until I got dizzy and then spin some more.  Especially when I had pleats on.  My skirt or dress would twirl with me.  I thought that was major cool.

          I don’t know how old I was when I lost my balance or perhaps I had just spun into the end table.  Either way, I was bleeding from a gash just above my right eye.  I had to have stitches.  As a result I have a small indentation just above my right eye.  Sort of like a dimple.  Small though.  Not actually noticed by many.

          I have had some people notice that my right eye does look smaller than my left.  Not a noticeable difference to most people – but those who study my face harder have wondered about it.

          In December I had a sinus infection which pained my left eye.  In January it was my right eye – but only for a day. With January’s eye infection, there were been few people who didn’t noticed  the difference in eye size as my right eye appeared to have swollen almost all the way shut.  It was weird. I had considered making an appointment with the doctor again on the following day (for it was a Sunday that my eyelids revealed only a slit of my eye) but by Monday morning it was gone.

          By coincidence I had also taken Alka-Seltzer plus cold medicine all three times.  I used to think it was the absolutely best cold medicine for me personally.  But now I wonder if they changed the formula.  Or perhaps it’s counter-reacting to something else I had that day (like chocolate? maybe) or if it’s the very dry air in our house.  Or if it’s the water itself.

          The pain behind the eye is not the worst part.  The worst part is being so disoriented that I’m not quite aware of what is going on around me.  So disoriented that I forget to drink water and become dehydrated.  In December I was just such a neglectful mother towards Jenna – who was home from school for the holidays.

          Today it is my left eye.  The closure of the lid makes it appear almost even with my right eye.  They haven’t looked near the same size as one another in over forty years.

          I am grateful for modern medicine.  For medical science and research.  And for those who take the time to learn it and pass it on.

Increasing Our Vocabulary

          I am familiar with the word “Hullabaloo” – I have used it before.  Not often.  It’s barely in my vocabulary.  I don’t recall ever saying that word around Jenna.  But she picked it up from somewhere.

          She and I classmate were sitting behind me in the car and were talking about “eating the flag”.  What?  She explained that the class had made American flags out of graham crackers, blue and white frosting, red licorice, and chocolate chips. 

          “Oh, sorry,” she says. “WHITE chocolate chips.”

          She then turns to her classmate and says, “Some people in this car don’t believe that white chocolate is really chocolate.  She thinks white chocolate is really just a bunch of hullabaloo”

          She may be right.  After all, if it doesn’t have any cocoa products, I don’t think it has the right to be called “chocolate” – but I don’t ever remember using the word “hullabaloo” to describe my disgust.  It’s not that I dislike white chocolate so much as I am appalled that it doesn’t live up to the “chocolate” name.

          I was so floored by her vocabulary that I didn’t think to ask her where she had heard that word.  When she returned home I asked. 

          “Martha Speaks,” she said proudly.

          I do like that she enjoys PBS programs and that she learns from them.  Thank you PBS for shows like Martha Speaks and Word Girl that help my child to increase her vocabulary.

We All Feel Excluded at Times

I had read Corey’s beautiful testimony which he posted on his blog.  Still not allowed to share it in Church – which is really too bad.  It is so powerful and does give insight into acceptance.

There were some comments made by a few whose names I hadn’t recognized.  They’d been following Corey’s blog for quite some time but had never made comment until Corey once again mentioned that he might stop blogging.

I had told him time and time again that he needed to continue – or needs to rather.  It’s not just my selfish desire to read his eloquent words – he has been making a difference for over six years now.  Followers have seen him struggle and grow and give advice – though he doesn’t mean it that way.  His words just come out so naturally that a reader can’t help but feel some sense of awe.

Until Corey’s blog had been pointed out to me – I hadn’t done much research on homosexuality – or same sex attraction rather.  Just because one has SSA does not mean that he or she may act upon it – hard as it may be.  You either remain celibate and true to your church or true to yourself at the expense of membership.  It’s hard.  It’s like you’ve been told to multiply and replenish the earth but you’ve also been told NOT to eat the apple.

There have been many who have become angry or hurt by the decisions of the church.  Recently I posted a comment on the website Mormons for Marriages.  My thought was that if missionaries teach an unwed heterosexual couple the gospel and have them commit to baptism, they expect the couple will get married first.  But what do they expect of a homosexual couple? Would they even bother teaching them?

Corey could have taken a tremendously different path than he did.  Between the time he graduated from high school and from the two year college he attended, Corey grew into a very bitter person.  I had little contact with the prick that he had become. It wasn’t because he thought he was a homosexual that put a strain on our relationship – it was just that he would invite Satan – or Satan seemed to hang around his life and I wasn’t thrilled to see his presence crossing over into my own life – denying the fact that with my failing relationship with Corey, he already had. 

Satan had interfered with the pretty awesome relationship that Corey and I had once had.  But because we were already at odds with one another when he announced his coming out – I realized then that I just didn’t care.  Somewhere between high school and his college graduation, I had stopped caring about Corey.  The Corey I had known had disappeared and a very dark and ugly personality had taken over.

Corey is the first to admit just how dark and ugly his life was.  He had been fighting a losing battle practically his entire life.  The Church had said, “You need to behave this way.  You need to think that way.  You need to repent if you are not in the Mormon Box” – okay – it wasn’t taught entirely with those exact words – but that is the message that was conveyed.  Still is at times.

We are taught to stay in the Mormon lines and yet there is a Mormonad – a youth poster – with a picture of a single daisy amongst several roses in a vase.  The caption reads: Dare to be Different.  Really?  Sometimes I feel chastised for some of the different emotions that I feel.  And it’s not just me.  It’s every feminist.  It’s everyone who has had feelings and desires toward a person who is not of the same faith that we are.  It’s every person who has experienced what many may call “failed” marriages.  It’s the person who lost custody because his or her spouse had a “smoother” attorney.

From what I understand (I don’t have hard evidence to back this up, so I could be wrong) there was a high suicide rate among the women in the Church in the 60s, unable to live up to all the expectations outlined for them.  For years and years those from a black race could join the Church, but could NOT hold the priesthood.  It appeared that they had been told, “You can join the Church but never reap all the benefits that we have to offer”

Those who have married a spouse who is not a member of the Church or have a spouse who is inactive or recently divorced may feel excluded with activities or topics of eternal marriage.  Even single people who have been looking for straight partners may not always be comfortable with the subject of eternal families and how we need to search for an eternal mate and blah, blah, blah . . . as if they’re not already searching. 

So many meeting will start with, “of course we want to include our single brothers and sisters . . .” when what they are really doing is just adding salt to the wounds that seem to become deeper with each “enduring” meeting.

I went from “single” resentment to a “budget” hang-up.  I understand the need of balancing a checkbook and prioritizing and doing without.  I get it.  Sitting through the umpteenth meeting with my given financial situation doesn’t change the economy or Roland’s greedy ex.  We’ve been behind with attorney fees (have actually lost attorneys) taxes and so forth.  We don’t even have anything tangible to show for where our money went.  It’s a problem.  Rubbing my nose in it isn’t going to change the situation.  It’s only going to make me hostile and feel more resentment.

And now leaders are advising those with same sex attraction NOT to act upon their feelings – to remain unhappy living the gospel.  Oh – they don’t say “Be unhappy” they actually advise the leopard to “change his spots – or remove them rather”  though there are a few that have come to understand that homosexuality is NOT a choice just as being born Hispanic or Asian or any other race is not a choice.  It’s in the genes. 

There are many of those who act upon their feelings to share their lives with one of the same sex – they may feel welcome to attend meetings and even feel the love of their fellow members.  But over time it becomes trite and mundane.  There are still many lessons and talks given that encourage staying within the Mormon lines. 

          I recall the day that Corey told us that he had decided that he would go on a mission.  Blew us away.  Where in the world did that even come from?  Was my brother back and the imposter of the last two years taken a permanent hike?  The transformation that had taken Corey from my beloved brother into the arrogant self-centered jerk he’d become was such a gradual one – so gradual that neither of us even saw it was there in the beginning.  But the transformation from egotistical angry soul was not.  It was like black and white, night and day – nothing gradual about it.  And he put in his papers.

          I think if Corey had remained the imposter slimeball he’d become, it would have led him on a path of destruction.  I would have seen gays in a very unpositive manner as so many people do due to some sleazy and corrupt lifestyles that so many gay people take – although there are just as many straight people who choose to lead the sleazy and corrupt life.  I would have continued believing that homosexuality is wrong. 

          I would have had a Pharisee attitude without researching.  I would have kept my eyes closed because I believed that the Church had told me to.  I wouldn’t have been open and welcoming to a new idea.  Well, new to me. 

I would have forgotten how it feels to be excluded due to culture, life experiences, being single, being poor . . . I suppose there are a great number of people in the Church who feel excluded for one reason or another.

Homosexuality has been around for thousands of years – it’s been only recently that we’ve become more vocal about it.  And yet there are thousands who still close their eyes and refuse to look at gays and lesbians as real people with real feelings.  Some choose to lead reprimanded lifestyles while others are really struggling to find their identity, to be happy, to be accepted.

          Corey came back.  He grew into an even better and more accepting human being. He has touched the lives of so many.  And he’s given me hope.  Given me a new perspective on life.  Homosexuality (or same sex attraction) is not a choice – though acting on one’s desires is.  The gay man can feel every bit as the straight.  He or she can love a partner just as much as a straight man or woman may love a partner.  Feelings are real.  We don’t often choose whether or not we would like to be attracted to someone.  The feelings are there.  They are real.

The Church offers guidelines on how to act and how to dress.  (Would Jesus really be offended to see a Snoopy tie on a deacon or 2^nd counselor or chastise a woman for wearing a denim skirt or open toed shoes?) guidelines to be conservative and professional overpowering being casual and appearing uncaring.

Not all members are willing to overlook those who really don’t have the finances of showing up in their idea of “Sunday Best”. For some people the jeans that don’t have holes in them really are their best.  If we were to exclude members based on dress code, our ward would have even less youth than we already have.  And it isn’t because they’re too lazy to dress appropriately.  We just happen to live in a rather financially poor area.

          We need to be happy.  God’s kind of happy.  The Church offers guide lines, but for most of us I think we need to spread our wings.  We need to take the principles that we have learned and continue to soar – but for most of us we need to soar beyond the walls that were created by many members who are trying so hard to live the letter of the law that they are not willing to look at others with the same heart and compassion that God does. 

          God loves us completely.  He knows who we are and what we can accomplish.  He has given us trials to overcome.  He has created paths for us to endure.  God has.  Man hasn’t.  I think sometimes we lose sight of that.  We’re encouraged to pray for ourselves to know what’s right for us.  No one can take away our personal revelation. 

Imperfect members relate these guidelines in various ways.  We are encouraged to pray about the things we learn.  We need to understand and differentiate between the two.  We need to understand God’s will for us versus man’s will for God’s expectations. God is perfect.  His children are not.

There are still some races and cultures who still struggle with acceptance.  When those who have homosexual feelings are better accepted, mankind will look for a new group of people to be afraid of, to pick on, and to exclude. Too bad.

The Idea Drawer

I may have mentioned before that even though I hadn’t officially started Blogging until the beginning of this year, I had ideas of what I would post – and sometimes I would complete my thoughts and mark it as ready-to-share while others still remain in the undeveloped idea mode.

I keep a list on file stored and tucked away until I can find the right words. Sometimes I will be inspired to visit one of my ideas and will add to it or change it around or combine it with another idea that I had.  And some I wonder if I will end up posting at all. Some I’ve actually deleted.

Most of the time I have posted, I have used the copy and paste method.  There were two times I posted directly.  From my perspective the direct post always seems to come out in microscopic form.  I prefer the font I have used with Microsoft word which I can read without trying to blow up the font size (as I often do with lengthy emails that I’ve received)

I sent one of my ideas to Corey.  He not only encouraged me to post it, he asked if he could use it in one of his posts.  Now that is really flattering.  Because it has always been me who has gone to Corey – except for two years which will be explained in the next post WE ALL FEEL EXCLUDED AT TIMES.

I like having an idea drawer that I can draw from.