Return to Church

         We fed the missionaries on Friday though the air quality was not that great.  They did not seem to mind as we built and ate Hawaiian haystacks out on our porch and visited for a bit.  I’d given them containers to take home some food which they said they would give me on Sunday.  Sadly that was my main objective for going as I knew we haven’t returned to normal and I thought it would be depressing.  Only the speaker was allowed to remove his mask.  We were told we could sing but had to leave our masks on.  I chose not to sing as the smoke has been enticing me to cough.

Several announcements were made before the bishop talked about how many of us are opinionated and often our opinions will put us into a box. There are a wide variety of boxes that exist – in our jobs, in our community, the way we serve (he didn’t say politics – but that is one I had thought of) . . . some people, such as the Pharisees, will add layers of thickness to their boxes. We need to look to reliable sources – such as the scriptures to understand the truth – to rely on truth rather than opinions and to leave our boxes.  We should not trust sources such as social media (he had addressed this as a question rather than providing a statement that we can’t trust social media or even the local news. An example he used were that some sources the fires were started by a certain group and others say that rumor is false). The best source we have is to rely on our Heavenly Father rather than ourselves.

  A representative of the stake presidency gave a message on hope. He talked about his time at the pear farm this year and working on the platform. He said that all the platform workers were given harnesses. Many would hang onto the harness with one hand and reach for pears with the other. President Efson decided to put his faith in the harness and reach for the pears with both hands. He compared the harness to the Savior and told us to put our faith in the Savior the way he had the harness.

            We were also counseled to pray for our firefighters, those that have evacuated, a plea for a change in weather and that these hardships will help to soften hearts and heal the wounds of division that are present throughout our communities, region, and country.

Medication: Often Trading One Problem for Another

               It's been a year since Jeanie passed - not that I dwell on dates when people died.  Her mom does.  She's always posting the birthdays and death dates of those who have passed on.  Some days are better for her than others.  I think some days may be worse for her than they were for Jeanie.  I can't say for certain since most of the correspondence I've had with them has been through facebook.  I didn't even have that with Jeanie those times that she not only unfriended me but blocked me as well.  Apparently, it was the medication disrupting her otherwise rational mind.  It not only shattered her own emotions, but I had allowed myself to become upset as well.  I may never know the entire scheme of things; I did learn so much more about her at her funeral than I had ever known about her before.

          Biff had tried to explain it to Roland who either misunderstood Biff or perhaps Biff hadn't explained it well enough or really hadn't understood it himself.  By the time it got to me,  there were things lost in translation or miscommunications and until the day of her funeral, I did not know, wasn't aware, hadn't understood that Jeanie had been molested as a child. 

          One of her brothers had announced it over the pulpit.  It was shocking and seemed out of place for a speaker to make that the topic of discourse at a funeral - and yet I understood his emotions and the pain of the entire family.  Jeanie had been traumatized.  It left some thick emotional scars that still have not healed.  It was both disturbing and extraordinary at the same time - not the topic itself but for the love and concern that the speaker not only had for his sister but several generations of children and adults who have also been traumatized by one they should have been able to trust.  A person who should have been there to protect her and care for her.  It was sickening and so much of what he said had a profound ring.  I wondered if their other sister had been molested as well.

          Jenna had chosen to assist in the nursery, which I was truly grateful for as the subject was uncomfortable to me - I knew it would be for her as well.  And yet his talk was truly from the heart.  It was still disconcerting to learn what had happened and his plea to talk about it.  

          I knew Jeanie had been seeing a psychiatrist.  I knew it was for some kind of abuse - though I had thought it had been inflicted on by her ex-husband.  He was never even mentioned. I didn't realize it had stemmed all the way back to when she was five.  A time of innocence that she had attempted to live out again.  How difficult it must have been for the family when she would ask why her parents looked so old.  And where were her siblings?  And who was the stranger named Biff?  And where did the baby come from?  Of course, if she thought she was only five, she wasn't going to believe that Biff was her husband or that she had given birth to the baby girl.  Two of her sibs had already passed on before her and the other two were living in other states.

          We had a few family get-togethers when we would see Jeanie. Twice I remember her feeling flushed and excusing herself.  Two other times I remembered when she genuinely seemed happy. That is who she really was.  Happy.  Full of life.  Unfortunately, we didn't get to know that person.   She would cancel appointments with us.  Sometimes Biff would show up by himself.  He wasn't allowed to take Ally her first year.  Jeanie was quite possessive of Ally.  She would get verbally abusive towards Biff and her mom.  That was the person I saw.  The one that was sick.  The one that had become violent through medication.  I think when she realized who she had become, it wasn't worth taking the medication.  And so she chose to suffer as silently as she could and tried hard not to upset the rest of the family.

          I was included in that "rest of the family" and did not understand what demons she'd been dealing with. I was aware that there had been demon's in Biff's life but did not know to what extent.  I admire Biff so much for putting up with it.  He knew that the outbreaks were not her fault.  He stayed with her and blamed himself for not being there to catch her when she fell.  It wasn't his fault.  It wasn't medicine's fault.  We don't know if it was her death that caused the fall or if she died when she landed or on the way down.  The autopsy revealed that there were seven clots in her lung. 

          Some days her mom is accepting and knows that Jeanie is better off in another world where she doesn't have to take medicine to overcome emotional or physical pain.  She is free.  And she is with a brother and their sister.  But there is still a hole.  A void.  A longing.  An emptiness.

          Biff moved on with his life.  He moved in with Claire and they are raising Ally together, although Jeanie's mom would still like to be involved.  She remains in touch with Roland's sister who is a retired nurse and has been in contact and has had a better handle of the situation than either Roland or I.  Jeanie may not have unfriended or blocked Roland's sister.  They stayed in touch. 

          Our youngest son recently texted a family photo or all three boys and their families.  They are with Roland's sister and her husband and two youngest children.  Even after Biff's outbursts with behavior at times and seemingly lack of gratitude,  I was taken aback to hear that it was Jeanie's parents that were providing room and board for Roland's sister and family as my own boys were unable to make room for them.  (Randy lives in the largest space of the three - our old house in WV - which is teeny) I'm happy to hear that they are well liked and that bridges may be mended.  

        For family home evening the other night, we wrote letters to each of the boys.  I finished my thoughts yesterday and mailed the letters along with Jenna's most recent photo from school.  I am so happy to see all of my boys together again.  Jenna's been a little sad that she is not sharing their lives in person.  I guess we all are.  If only we could get all of them to come to Oregon. 

Philosophy and Religious Values

        I've been quite emotional for the last couple of weeks or so.  Watching "The von Trapp Family: A Life of Music" and seeing the horrors of bullying by supporters of Hitler. Crying over different stories featured in 60 minutes.  It's almost like five years worth of PMS took over.  What's up with that?

            In my philosophy class, I was supposed to take a quiz and post my results about taking the quiz.  I just now finished the assignment of what I learned about contextualism or relativism and explaining the similarities between those and virtue ethics.  Actually, I am only supposed to pick one value and one ethic.  I am really quite confused by moral values - which, by the way, are part of my religious upbringing and NOT philosophy.

            So I start off the discussion by saying that I really don't put much value into logic quizzes or emotional evaluations.  Keep in mind that I do not appreciate being analyzed and find the results of the test confusing.  I found the explanation of values even more confusing.  If I understand the definitions it seems I would fall into the category of contextualism more than relativism.  Even during the lecture I was in agreement but have not retained what it was I thought I had agreed to. So perhaps I accept either relativism or contextualism.  

"Let you give you an example and perhaps you can help me with the analyzation.

          "My mother has always expected each of her children to tell the truth.  She was a woman with a sixth sense or eyes in the back of her head or something.  She ALWAYS knew when we were lying.  Always.  The fact that we often got punished more for lying than whatever we had done wrong made us realize it would be better to just tell the truth and not bother with trying to hide it from her.  I was taught to tell the truth.  Not everybody has learned the same values I was taught.  I get that.  I can even accept that.  This next part of the post is what I'm having issues with. 

          "About ten years ago she was diagnosed with a form of dementia (she did not have Alzheimer's) and lost touch with reality - though in her mind everything she spoke was the truth.  Her children were told to "play along" and accept her reality - because really, what was the point in making her sad or angry by correcting her on something she was just going to forget in five minutes anyway.  When she was up for an evaluation, I opened the door to two strangers.  One sat with her and asked her questions while I took the other into my mom's room to show her what medications and dosages my mom was taking for various things.

          "When the two aides left, my mom got really defensive and asked why she had been interrogated.  I lied to my mom about who they were and why they had come.  [My exact words were, "Oh, those weren't your visiting teachers?" though I knew full well that they weren't] It was easier for both of us for me to do it that way.  That doesn't make it right.  The evaluation was more necessary than my telling the truth.  Still, it bothered me as I have been taught not to lie and there I was lying to the one that had taught me not to.  Is that contextualism or relativism? Does it matter?"

            Before I was more than halfway into my thoughts, I was crying about the lie and dementia and missing my mom.  I'm crying because my arm hurts as I haven't had it in a relaxed position while trying to operate the mouse.  I cry because I'm not able to have a face to face conversation with different family members like I used to. An uplifting post this is not.  Sorry about that.  But if it's of any consolation, I am feeling better than when I initially wrote this (I think it might have been Monday?)