Choose Primary

This weekend I learned a great lesson from my teenage son. We were visiting family in Boise and attended church with them there. My sister and I each have three kids and my youngest two and her oldest two are the same age. That made going to primary (children's church) a little bit easier for my two girls--they got to go with their cousins. 

But my fifteen-year-old son didn't have a cousin-buddy. I totally understand how it feels to go to a strange church and feel a little out of place. He wasn't sure he wanted to go to Young Men's (the teen service) by himself. He was hoping we would go home after sacrament meeting (the main church service), but we decided to stay. He jokingly said he would go to class with his eight-year-old cousin. I told him that was fine with me and turned him lose. Later that day, I walked past the primary room and saw my teen sitting in the tiny chairs next to his cousin who had a big grin on his face. I found out later that this same little boy was very disappointed about something he had no control over and felt that he was left out. What a great gift my son gave his cousin by showing him that he is loved and important. I bet that little boy will always remember the Sunday his big cousin went to primary with him.


Nathan had a choice to make: he really couldn't choose whether we stayed for the rest of church service, but he could choose how he responded to the situation. I was kind of expecting him to complain and maybe even refuse to go to class, but he chose something better.

How often do we feel trapped in a situation and just want to complain or fight? Maybe we should look around us for a different solution. Maybe our decision could help someone else through a hard time. The next time you feel tempted to complain or dig your heels in, consider going to Primary instead.

I Admit it, I'm Racist

When I was in high school, I decided it would be neat to attend a Native American celebration being held at my school. I went alone and as I walked into the gym, a strange feeling of being different swept over me. The room was full of people who all looked alike, but not like me. No one was rude or mean to me, yet I felt out of place. For the first time in my life, I felt (just a small bit) what minorities must feel just about every day.

I grew up in an area where blacks were almost non-existent. I couldn't understand the racism that I heard about in other places in the country. But then I realized I had deep seeded feelings about a group of people I grew up around, the Native Americans, in our area. I had bad experiences as a child, things I saw, and things I experienced first hand. There was the girl from the reservation who beat my head against the bus window for standing up to her as she taunted my friend. There was the group of kids who made fun of the way the white kids

dressed as we walked into the school each day. Even though my elementary school had at least 1/3 tribal kids, I never really knew any of them as friends and so the bad experiences overwhelmed my memories. It's not right and it's not fair, but it happens.

If a woman is abused by her father or her boyfriend, she becomes fearful of all men, even though she knows that not all men are evil. We do it everyday. We make judgments of the people in Walmart for the way they dress or look. We see people who look different and decide that different must mean "not as good." We see one homeless man going into a gas station to buy beer and decide that all beggars are alcoholics. We are treated badly by a couple of people and then lump everyone who looks like them together, "all cops are crooked." I don't think there is a way to stop our brains from making these judgments, it's how many generations ago, we kept ourselves safe.

Lucky for me, I moved to many different parts of the country and had many great experiences with people of all colors and races. It is so much easier to see a person without their color when you know her as a person, not a "type."

I'd like to say I don't make these quick judgments, but I'm sure I do. I think it's normal, but the question is: What do I do with those judgments? Am I able to sort through them and keep the ones that make sense and disregard those that label an entire group? That's the question. Am I racist? Are you?

Sharing Mommy Experiences

I was listening to an interview on NPR of Elisa Albert, author of After Birth, a novel that follows a new mother with postpartum depression, and one statement in the interview really hit me. 

"Ari ... wants a lot from women, from her elders, from her peers. She wants guidance and sisterhood and she's not getting any of that. She's pretty let down. There's this sense of, like, you're on your own with this pretty enormous, powerful and very vulnerable transition. And I think that's what underlies her rage."

I began to consider if I had this guidance and sisterhood from the people around me as I struggled with each of my four babies. I feel lucky to have a supportive family and church organization. But then I began to wonder if the support I received was as honest as it could have been.

"It's a question of what do we owe each other as people, as women? And I think everybody has kind of a different idea about that. You know, to each her own, but I personally believe — and I share this with Ari — that we owe each other some measure of support and sisterhood and openness and honesty. And when we are bereft of those things, things get rough quick for all of us."

How many times have you heard or even said things that sound good and right, but later really consider them and realize that it may not have been exactly honest? I came in on the end of a conversation at church the other day and heard one mom, who--I'm sure--meant what she said, telling another mom with an infant and a two-year-old that someday she will look back on these days and actually miss them. I kind of giggled and shook my head. As the first mom walked away I slid closer to the young mom and whispered, "There's some things you will miss, but believe me, there are many things that you will be glad to leave behind." She smiled at me gratefully and admitted that she was worried that she would NOT miss these days and wondered silently if that made her a "bad mom."

So that got me thinking: How many things do we tell each other just because it was what we have been told and it feels right? I say we begin to tell each other the unvarnished truth. I don't care who you are, you will NOT miss changing dirty diapers, two-year-old temper tantrums, or cleaning the same things over and over again. We need to be willing to listen to each other and be honest with each other. We are lucky because there is not a right or wrong answer to many of the choices we face as women. We should feel free to discuss our worries with each other without the fear of being judged. My sister admitted to me once that she is glad she was able to work part-time while being a mother, but at the same time she wondered if she were judged by other moms. She felt like she was a better mom because of the things she was able to accomplish at work. I tried homeschooling once and went to a meeting of homeschooling moms. It was a strange experience. I came away feeling that if I chose to send my kids to school, I was missing out on things I couldn't get any other way. I must not be a "good" mom if I didn't homeschool.

I am a mom of four. I'm loving this time of being a mother. I must admit I really don't miss my kids being babies or toddlers. I have worked, gone back to school, and been a stay-at-home mom throughout the years. I have felt guilty for not giving my kids all of me. I want my kids to be responsible hard workers, but I feel like I'm failing most of the time. My house is usually a mess, even though my kids think I'm a "clean freak."  It doesn't matter how hard you try, your kids WILL make bad choices and bad things WILL happen. I hate comparing myself to others, but I can't seem to stop.

What is your truth?