#MineToo

With the coming of Father's Day, I've been thinking a lot about what exactly my husband brings to my home, to our family and to the beauty of our lives. I've been thinking more about the sacrifices he makes, his dedication to myself and our five
kids, and the example he sets.

My husband was the single largest blessing of my entire life, and I thank God for him every single day.

I have been richly blessed. I have a wonderful set of parents, including a rock star dad. I had a fantastic example to look to when I was growing up. I have two amazing brothers and my sister married a wonderful man.

Now that I'm married to Whitney, I have some great brother-in-laws, too.

A few months ago, when #metoo swept the nation, I couldn't quite put my finger on what bothered me about it. I appreciated the way it showcased the magnitude of the problem to those unaware. I loved that women felt safe enough, and empowered enough to speak up. I had hope that in today's world, maybe the problems of assault, of harassment, and of fear for women might be someday eradicated, or at least mitigated and far, far less common. I really hope we all emerge better educated, and better armed to handle this type of thing. I felt optimistic that the world might really be changing.

And yet, it took me weeks to actually post #metoo for myself. Why did it take me so long? I'm not afraid to say it. I've talked to countless people about my experiences over the years. After much internal struggle, I was finally able to pinpoint the why. It was because I felt like right along with the positive sweeping changes, and awareness, #metoo also increased the suspicion, and the nervous fear of the men in my life. Men who are the most amazing, supportive, incredible people I have ever known.

My two sons are beautiful and fresh and new. They are learning how to treat women from me, from their dad, and from society. I hope they will learn, more and more, about how women are their equals, and even their superiors in many ways. I hope they will learn to love and respect women, all women, of all ages, and from all parts of life.

I have faith they will do all those things, because they have men around them who do all of that and more. They are surrounded by GOOD men, men who care, men who work day in and day out to make the world a better place for every single woman living here.

So today, while I do not mean IN ANY WAY to detract from #metoo, the power, the purpose, the movement, I would also like to say #minetoo. Because my men, the men in my life, have lifted me up. They have provided support, care, a sounding board. They have helped heal me from my #metoo experiences. They been nearly super human in their efforts to make this world a better place. Today I am thankful for my husband, my father, my brothers, my brother-in-laws, my neighbors, my friends. I am grateful for my sons, and for the amazing role models who surround them, showing them how to make sure no more women have to say #metoo, ever. I do not want to detract from the powerful message we have all seen, but I would like to add to it. There are awful things out there, and men who have done bad, bad things. There are men today who still do, but there are good men, too. Positive, life changing, strong and caring men. They deserve a seat in this dialogue. They deserve to be highlighted.

If you have husbands, family, or friends who are making the world a safer place, I hope today of all days, and for days to come, you will honor them. Show them by posting #minetoo, that your world is full of beautiful, strong, caring, thoughtful men who care for women, love God and serve all people. Fill the world with hashtags that let them know we love them and welcome them into our lives, our homes and our worldview. Because Men are Good and Beautiful and Strong, too.

How Can I Possibly Help?

I was recently called into the Primary Presidency. This is new for me, and I am not very good at anything yet, but I am learning. One thing I did this week was go through the Sharing Time manual for 2018 and look at the monthly themes, which all have an affiliated scripture.

It occurred to me that God seems to send me a theme each week, if I keep my eyes and ears open to look for it. This week definitely has a theme to it. I thought I'd share the gist of God's message to me this week with my five readers. (Yes, I am up from three!!)

I was reading in Alma 57... one of the dreaded war chapters. In those long chapters, the Lamanites keep attacking and the Nephites sort of succeed or get pushed around, depending largely on their righteousness. In Chapter 57, the Nephites are in bad shape. The Lamanites have them dramatically outnumbered (as usual) and the Nephite army is about to lose.

But, a small force of converted Lamanite boys hold the line. Literally. Those young, relatively inexperienced soldiers will not give up. Verse 20 says: And as the remainder of our army were about to give way before the Lamanites, behold, those two thousand and sixty were firm and undaunted. 21. Yea, and they did obey and observe to perform every word of command with exactness; yea and even according to their faith it was done unto them; and I did remember the words which they said unto me that their mothers had taught them.

Wow, what a spiritual punch is buried there in a war chapter! The whole army of experienced men were ready to give up, but these young men buoyed up the entire force.

I thought about that, and a long ago event occurred to me. In 1995, I was a sophomore in high school. I had an acquaintance from school participating in a "Battle of the Bands" at some venue. After begging and begging and begging my mom agreed to let me go with a new friend, Jennifer. We were in Biology together. I didn't know her very well, but she seemed quite nice. I am quite sure I never shared this with my mom, who did not really want to let me go anyway. About 2/3 of the way through this event, we walked outside to chat with some people out there. Some kids were standing in a circle, and one of them held his hand out. He offered us some pot.

I didn't hesitate. I didn't hem or haw. My mom had taught me. Drugs were wrong. I shook my head and said, "I don't do drugs because they're bad for you. But also, God has told us not to. You shouldn't be smoking that crap at all." (If I sounded preachy, well, I am sure I did. I was nearly insufferable as a kid.) Jennifer and I turned and walked away.

After we reached the school again, Jennifer turned back. Two other kids had walked away from the circle, too. She said to me, "Wow, I believe in God and I believe drugs are bad, but I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there to tell them no. "

Three other kids passed on trying drugs that night because I had the bravery to say no, loudly, and clearly.

Satan's favorite lie is to convince people that they aren't good enough, and that they can't make a difference. He wants you to believe you are worthless. Useless. Because then you act like someone with no value. I don't know what you have going on in your lives right now. I don't know what struggles exist for you. I don't know what difficulty is pulling at you, threatening to drag you down into captivity, just like those brave sons, but I promise each and every one of you reading this that Satan's favorite lie is not true.

You are a son or a daughter of a God. He loves you. He created you. He wants you to be the one who makes the difference. You are strong enough and brave enough to change things, to improve the lives of those around you. Stand up. Hold the line. You are enough. And one little person can make a tremendous impact on the lives of those around them.

Bonus for you moms out there. You can make a difference, yes, but when you're discouraged about the dishes, the laundry and the general whining in your home, think about the profound difference your children will make... because their mothers taught them. You are doing God's work with every wiped nose, every scattered and frustrating scripture study and family prayer. You are teaching tiny people who will go out and save those around them. People who will light the world.

My message this week to all of you is that You Are Enough. You can do it. I know it, God knows it, and now you know it, too. I would LOVE to hear in the comments any examples you can think of when YOU made a difference (or someone in your family!). Please share!

1-800-DIAL-GOD

Last night, my six year old daughter expressed to me that she was having a crisis of faith.

She had been praying, "for years" and none of her prayers had ever been answered. I took her concern seriously, sat down and talked to her about the details. As I gained more information, it began to make sense. You see, Emmy had been praying for the following things: 1) that her mother would become a Queen, so she would be made a Princess; 2) jewels (and she wasn't unreasonable. She'd take any kind or size of jewels); 3) a pony (again, reasonable. Wings and a magical horn was preferred, but without was also fine); and when all of that was ignored, she asked for 4) that God would make her never, ever get angry. She was most indignant about the last one. Apparently, the very day after she prayed for that one simple thing, she got very mad at a little boy on the playground who stole her swing.

You see, Emmy did not quite understand the nature of prayer. I took the time to detail a beloved prophet's journey through the confusing nature of prayer.

I love the book of first Nephi. Nephi writes unabashedly of his struggles with his brothers, and sometimes even with nature in that book. At one point, he is upset with his brothers and they tie him up. He prays to have the strength to burst the bonds so he can show his brothers God's power. In response, the bonds are merely loosened. He must rely on his words and the Spirit to reason with his brothers. It wasn't as flashy, but it worked.

Another time, Nephi is in a dream and he's in the dark. It's very black, scary, and unrelenting. He prays (even in his dreams he's righteous!) that the Lord will grant him mercy, and he is brought back into the light, but in a big open field. God continues to teach him through this dream. He may have wanted the lesson to be over, but it wasn't. You can tell he's learning here, because all he asked for was mercy that time.

I think all of us have a natural tendency to ask for things to be given to us, or miraculous acts to magically solve our problems. Nephi's own brothers asked many times to have God do things, or show His power. One of my favorite parts in the Disney movie, The Incredibles is when a small boy on a tricycle has seen Mr. Incredible smash his car. The boy is sitting on the sidewalk later and Mr. Incredible says something like, "What are you looking at?" The boy replies along the lines of, "I want to see something amazing, I guess." We are all like that young child, and we too want to see something AMAZING. I understand that desire. It's not only that it would be fun, but it would also be so much easier than the alternative.

Nephi and his family travel for many long months at God's direction, abandoning their home, their riches and all their friends and family. God has promised them an amazing land of plenty for their obedience. Imagine Nephi's disappointment when God tells him that first he must cross a vast ocean! At that point, I'd be begging for one thing: give me a cruise ship please, complete with servants, food at the ready, and entertainment. After all, I've got young children and my wife gave birth in the forest. Please provide. I have had and exercised my faith enough already.

God doesn't work that way. Prayer doesn't work that way. God tells Nephi that he will show him where to find ore that he can smelt down and make some tools. After making tools (which Nephi's family is understandably not too keen on), God tells Nephi how to build a boat. Guys, I can barely handle the pinewood derby. I would never ever ever put my family on a boat I was in charge of building. We would drown before we left the sandy shores.

Why does God ask us to do this hard stuff? Why? It's so HARD! Emmy has been praying so faithfully to become a princess. To get jewels. To have a unicorn/pegasus, or even a regular pony. She would settle for God just changing the simple nature of who she is to make her a little bit closer to perfect.

But God doesn't do those things for us, nor should He.

I've been studying Latvian lately, because we are Hosting two girls from Latvia (and we hope we will be adopting them soon). I want to understand how to speak to them in their native tongue. I already speak some Spanish, so I thought it would be easy.

It is not easy.

Many concepts we have in English, and even in Spanish, are lacking in Latvian. They conjugate nouns, guys, and adverbs. It's hard. Sometimes even Google translate has no idea what to do with what I'm trying to say. Similarly, prayer can be a little tricky, because we have to learn how to speak God's language. As we learn His language, we understand Him. We become like Him. He is teaching us with prayer. It is less of a tool, and more of a lesson, or homework if you will.

We want to say, "Please give me ____." We want that item or blessing to be delivered tomorrow, to our front door, with a pink bow. We're somewhat reasonable. A yellow bow would be fine. If it gets delayed, tomorrow afternoon might work.

Except God isn't Amazon. God wants to do something more than get a good review and have happy customers.

God has amazing plans in store for us. He wants to turn us into something phenomenal. He wants us to become ship builders, and orators, and forgiving people who are not full of rage. He wants to transform us. Giving you a gift does not transform you. Handing you something does not teach you. You have no idea what miraculous blessings are waiting for you, if you will take the time to learn how to pray, and then make the effort to learn how to listen.

When I was in college, my parents paid for a 1-800 number so that their kids, who had begun to spread out, could call them anytime. If you're young, you will not understand this. All calls are free right? And six year olds have cell phones. Except then, calls weren't free and cell phones were rare (and huge). "Data" was a guy on a movie called Star Trek. It was hard sometimes to reach someone. There were things called P-A-Y P-H-O-N-E-S, and you had to insert actual quarters to talk. Prepare yourself for this one. It will be confusing: there was no texting.

In light of all that wackiness, I can't express to you what a balm it was to my heart to know that, even with my parents a thousand miles away, I could call them from anywhere. If my car died, I could call. If I was locked out of my room, I could call them. If I got stood up for a date, I could call them. No matter the issue, I could call them for free, and they would be there, even if it was only to give advice.

Your Heavenly Father is and always has been a free call. But, I think sometimes we forget that we can't just ask for something. We should instead tell Heavenly Father our problem and ask him to help us, but let Him determine how that help will come. I tried to tell God once that I was supposed to marry this guy I'd found. He was good looking, funny, and smart. I thought he'd be just fine. God simply needed to get this guy on the same page, and bam. I'd be happy!

I had no idea God had Whitney in mind for me--someone infinitely better than the dope I kinda liked.

Back in the olden days of the 1-800 numbers, it was never enough for me to simply will my parents to know I was in trouble, either. I had to find a phone, dial the number, and wait for them to pick up. Faith requires work.

I know the holidays can be hard. Life can be hard, and it frequently is. Don't just drop to your knees and pray that God will fix your problems. Instead, find that phone, dial the number and listen to His answer. Drop to your knees and tell God your problem, then take steps to line up help. If you're lonely, go to a church activity or call a friend. If you're hungry, walk into the kitchen, and look around. If you need a job, look for job listings and apply. Take the basic steps that will allow God to bless you more easily. And when the opportunity comes, be ready to build that boat. You have no idea what you may learn along the way, but I promise you, it will be glorious, and your Heavenly Father has been dying to teach you and transform you into this magnificent creature all along.

Happy Birthday Emerald

Dearest Princess Emerald!
Good morning! happy birthday.

Im at work, so this may be brief. I remember when you were born. We were living in Oregon. We had two other crazy little kids running around, I was employed for the Three Rivers Community Hospital in Grants Pass. It was a really pretty town, your mom and I were trying to figure what we should call you. I think many names got tossed around. But, Oregon was very Green, It was a fresh start for us, and May birth stone was Emerald, We thought that Emerald Dawn sounded like a fresh beginning, Symbolic of hope for the future.

I remember taking your mom into the hospital. We knew what day you would be born because Dora and Eli were HUGE and born late, The OB let us Induce you on 5/31, If I remember right we started the induction in morning and by afternoon you were born. Dr Cobb was the Obstetrician but he let me deliver you.

I was the first person to see your Head, I got to hold you for the first time, I gave you your first bath, changed your first diapers, You were pink and perfect. We knew we had something special with you.

I don't think we stayed in more than a day after you were born, I came to pick you up in my Mini Cooper Convertible, and we took you and your mom home.

You are such a joy, thanks for coming to our family...

Love you Emmy

Edited to add: I think this was written by Whit and posted to this blog by accident... This is Bridget. I didn't write this one. Hahah!

An Open Letter to Mormons Who Have Walked Away

Dear family, friends and loved ones:

Usually my posts are on topics that are generally applicable to all faiths. Not today. Today I want to begin by saying, I really hope that no one takes offense to this, but I am afraid that no matter what I say on this touchy subject, someone will. That's the reason I've put it off for so long.

I've been wrestling with this issue for years and years, and never posted about it directly.  About six years ago when I moved back to Texas, I found out a dear friend I'd known since high school and her husband, who had been married in a Mormon temple, had left the church. I'm a pretty up front person, so I just asked her why. She explained she left because Sundays were hard. Church is long (three hours) and with meetings and other service, they became longer. For someone with a family and small children and a work week, it was a better fit for them to spend Sunday relaxing, hanging with friends, or out on a boat.

That's how it started for her.

The thing is, all it takes is one little crack.  One little excuse and BAM you start the downward slide into inactivity, because guess what? Anything that is worth anything is HARD.  Sunday is a day of rest, sure, but God's rest is not my rest. God's rest is peace unto your soul and you don't get that on a boat or lounging with a beer. You just don't. And being out with friends, or staying home, or getting a root canal, all of that is just easier than going to church. I have five children, so believe me when I say that I kind of hate going to church. My kids whine and complain. Getting them dressed is a chore. Getting myself ready feels like torture with a baby on one leg. Packing the bag takes forever and I always forget the exact thing I need in the middle of sacrament meeting.

I would rather be sitting on a boat.

Actually, I'd rather be sitting anywhere else, as long as I'm wearing flip flops instead of high heels and my kids have iPads.

Miserable Sundays was the reason my friend stopped at first. You, my reader, could have stopped coming for any reason at all. The bigger issue is... why should you come back? There are so many reasons. In fact, you could read through all my blog posts and see some of the reasons I have for coming. The Spirit fills me with joy, the messages bring peace to my soul, and the people uplift me. My main reason is that Jesus Christ is my Savior and He lives. I worship because it enriches my life. The focus of this blog, however, is on those people who have walked away who may be wondering whether there is a place for them if they want to return.

The danger in writing this post is that my friends and family will think my message is: I know better than you; you are wrong, so listen to me. 

That's actually the opposite of what I'm trying to say. I can't change your mind. The Holy Ghost can't change your mind. We are all here on Earth because God wanted us to have agency, the right to make our own decisions and live our own lives. That very principle dictates that you get to decide what to do for yourself. If that's staying home on Sundays, I'll try not to badger you about it (too much.)

What the heck am I trying to say then? Like always, I'll try and make my point with a little anecdote.

A few years ago, a tree in the front of our neighborhood was struck by lighting. It was a great tree, absolutely enormous, staggeringly large, and utterly beautiful. The lightning struck at an angle and the tree was sheared off about 20 feet from the ground, completely removing the entire canopy of branches. All that remained was a badly damaged trunk.  The neighborhood spent a lot of time debating the details of how to dispose of it. Cut it down? Drag the trunk to the lake? Cut it up and have it hauled away? As time passed and no decision had been made, someone noticed something.  A very small branch was growing from the side of that tree. Three tiny leaves.

That sparked a new discussion.  Could it still be alive? What should we do about that? An expert was consulted. There was no way that growth could ever look quite right. The tree, after all, had been sliced at an angle. Any regrowth, unlikely in any event to be from the actual tree, would look terrible. The expert said it was dead and any offshoots would not amount to anything. If they did grow in any real numbers, they would be an eyesore. We needed to remove it.

We didn't remove it. We left it alone. At first, the expert was right. It was an eyesore, a lump. For a year, nothing else grew. We worried it was rotting. It might fall over and block the road again. Rats might move in. Ultimately though, we left it alone. It rained. The sun shone. Time passed.

That expert was wrong. Science does not have all the answers, because science is man's best guess.

Man's best guess is frequently wrong.

I don't have all the answers. I have some answers, but I don't know your whole story and I don't know what's right for you. I do know you have walked away from the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. I don't know why. You may not even fully understand. But for those of you who have walked away, my message has two parts. Part one is: You can choose to turn your back on God for any reason at all. You may have left the church, asked them not to contact you or even been excommunicated. You may think you can't come back. You may think you're too far gone. You may think the light of Christ is dead in you. The first part of my message is this: You can turn away from God, and you may have done so. But He never turns away from you. He is standing right by you, arms outstretched ready and waiting for you to change your mind. I am right beside him. I will welcome you back with open arms at any time, any moment, any second. Right now, even.

The second part of my message is for those of you who read my words and feel a stirring in your heart. If any part of you has considered returning, but you're hung up on something please read on. Maybe you worry that Joseph Smith was imperfect. (He was. God used him in spite of that, just as He uses me in spite of my many flaws.) Maybe you feel you've done too many things you're ashamed of. (I don't care what those are.) Maybe you feel you won't fit in. (I don't feel like I fit in.) Maybe you have people you'd like to avoid at church. (I have people I try to avoid because we have quarreled.) If any of these applies, please read on.

The second part of my message has to do with that tree.  That eyesore of a dead stump. The lightning was powerful and strong and did significant damage. It scarred that tree badly. That tree may have even had its name removed from the records of the church. It died, spiritually speaking. It might have even done some naughty things, parts of it began to rot.

But the rain fell and the sun shone and the earth provided nutrients and just maybe that tree decided to try again. None of the people in our neighborhood took steps to cut it down.

Here is that tree now.

It is alive. It is beautiful. It is healthy and strong. It is growing its own way, but it is providing shade and oxygen to the world around it. It is fulfilling its purpose here. I would venture to say it's happy.

My second message is this: You have no idea what God has in store for you, but I promise that if you come back, you too will thrive.  No one else can see the beauty that is waiting inside of you, but it's there. You are never so far gone God doesn't want you back. Please, please, please come back. Now, next year, or in twenty years. God is waiting to make something even more beautiful from your life. He loves you and so do I. Neither of us will ever give up, because something amazing is waiting if only you'll give it another chance.

Bridget

Rolling Around on the Floor

My youngest child, Samuel, the one beaming at you in that photo, is eight months old.  He still can’t crawl.  He can, however, roll around pretty proficiently.  He would really rather be held all the time, though, thanks. In fact, being held usually results in a smile like that one.  

Lately, I’ve been putting him on the floor more and more, and abandoning him.  He protests this kind of horrific treatment with a lot of squawks and protests.  You see, rolling around on the floor stinks. 

He rolls into the coffee table.  He rolls off the rug and onto the tile.  We have a dog and a wool rug.  Both are fuzzy, and he gets fur/wool all over his fingers.  When he puts those fingers in his mouth, this gets even more annoying.  He has a play mat with toys, but as a roller, he’s constantly getting stuck or whapped in the face against one of the four corner bars that rise to make the overhang portion.  So you see…all in all…

Rolling around on the floor really really stinks. 

Today I was trying to tell him that I knew he didn’t like it, and I was aware of the problems, but I only made him do it so he could learn to crawl.  As I said that, it occurred to me that crawling kind of stinks, too.  After all, it’s hard on your knees, your hands and body get dirty, and you’re low to the ground. 

Life would be much easier if we could be born walking.  Actually, forget walking.  I’d like to be born running, or doing cartwheels.  I still can’t do a cartwheel and I’m 36, so I’m guessing that one’s never happening. 

And eating.  And talking.  And if everything we needed to learn was just easy and we didn’t have to learn it. 

Of course, I’m sure you see where I am going here.  I can’t even count the number of times I’ve dropped to my knees and asked God for an end product, a goal.  I haven’t put in the work.  I am rolling around on the floor.  I am covered with fuzz and getting stuck and I’m frustrated and I just want to run already.

I’ll even give you the example that came to mind for me today.  A few years ago, after graduating from law school, I decided I wanted to be a novelist.  Well, I sat down and after a lot of time and effort, I plonked out a book. 

Knowing it was clearly amazing, I sent out queries.  I also prayed.  A lot.  To get it published, and to do some cartwheels to celebrate my enormous upcoming literary success. 

The problem was, my book was awful, so I got nothing but a big old pile of rejection letters. 

God must have known it was terrible.  Even when we are terrible, God loves us and He wants to bless us.  He wants us to be throwing cartwheels all over the place.  But we have to learn to do that.  We can’t just ask for it.  It takes a lot of rolling around on the floor before we are ready.  I had faith, and God had love.  I just needed to put in the work.  So now, years and years and years later, I have written lots of manuscripts and guess what??? I still haven’t been published.  But now I can see some of God’s hand in my journey.  I like to think I’m beyond the rolling around and have graduated to crawling on my hands and knees.  I certainly think some of what I’ve been through has been knee-bruising, and a little soul-crushing too, if I’m being honest, but I think my writing has come a long way. 

Now let’s take this one more step.  If you are feeling fuzz covered or bruised, and if you’re a little frustrated lately because you’ve been praying and praying, and by golly, God just hasn’t been listening!  If you feel this way because he has not picked you up off the carpet and carried you in His lap over to the sofa… or whatever other end product you are praying for, maybe it’s not because He doesn’t love you.  Maybe He has something beautiful in mind for you.  Maybe you can’t see Him, but He’s sitting two feet away cheering you on as you learn to crawl and then He’s leaping with joy as you learn to walk.  Maybe He’s even standing there, hands outstretched as you take your first steps.  I know for sure He’s there beaming with joy when you start throwing those first cartwheels.  One day, even possibly one day soon, you will see that He had a plan in mind for you all along.  The fuzz and the getting stuck and the whacks to the head were hard, but they weren’t for nothing.  He had a purpose. You are magnificent, but you became that way because He let you roll around on the floor.   

Because God doesn’t just want to bless you with a one time gift.  He could pick you up off the rug and give you what you’re asking for but He’s not about that. God’s business, nay His joy, is growing beautiful, glorious, wonderful individuals to become like Him, to grow in His image.  It’s hard to deal with sometimes, but God has big plans for you.  So keep rolling around.  Keep trying.  Shake off the fuzz and pick up your bruised knees.  You will get there eventually, and it will be worth it.    

Parenting is supposed to suck

My mom is awesome.  My dad is pretty wonderful too.  Because they did such a great job raising me, I really thought that when I had kids, it would be completely great and fulfilling and just... awesome.  My mom made it look that way, and I'm not exaggerating.  She found so much joy in parenting.  

Imagine my surprise when I had a baby (and by the way, pregnancy sucks, too!) and then that baby CRIED.  Like all the time.  I looked around at my friends and their beautiful, bouncing babies, and realized something: I was a broken parent.  I couldn't do anything right.  Nursing was a nightmare and I quit after only six weeks. I was incapable of going out because I always forgot the exact thing I needed.  I ran out of diapers, I didn't pack the changing pad when there was a monster blowout, I needed more bottles, more formula, I had the wrong toys, the list went on and on.  No matter what I did, I didn't measure up.  I couldn't seem to keep my little brat happy.  

Then he got older and marvel of marvel... it got HARDER.  I had another pregnancy, this one even worse.  I then had an unruly toddler AND a new baby.  I was fat.  I felt tired all the time.  My older child didn't listen.  My home was a mess. 

I was a failure.   

Now, bear with me for a moment.  I am going somewhere with this.  

Mormons believe something a little radical, I guess, when it comes to our origins, and who exactly we all are, and more importantly, who we can each become.  We believe that there are three individuals who make our salvation possible.  The first is God the Father.  The second is God's only begotten son, Jesus Christ.  The third is the Holy Ghost.  These three work together to form the Godhead, or the group of deity that allows all of us to become more than we are.  Think of us as lumps of clay, and their goal is to make us more like themselves, to mold us into masterpieces.  

Each of these three individuals must do something amazing, nay, something PERFECT, and MIRACULOUS in order for Christ's suggested plan of salvation to work for us.  

First, God the Father, all knowing, all powerful, has to allow his only begotten son to sacrifice everything for us.  I always see God the Father painted as the Just God.  The one who makes the rules and expects obedience from us.  Except He can't be quite that severe, can he?  He can't be that black and white, because He has to do what I feel I would utterly fail at if it were asked of me.  He has to stand by and watch while His perfect son lives a perfect life of service, and then suffers untold pain.  He has to stand by and do... nothing, but guide His son, then with all His power, He must watch as His son suffers and dies.  That must take an amazing amount of love for the rest of His children, and willpower not to step in.   He is not the cold figure I sometimes imagine.  He must love perfectly, as you would expect of the God of all the earth.  

Next is His son, our older brother, Jesus.  He must come to earth, walk among us lumps of clay, standing nose to nose with all our imperfections, and He must still love us enough to teach us (the scriptures are, after all, the words the prophets are recounting as messages for us from Jesus). He must live a perfect life, set an example, always doing exactly the right thing, and then He must take all our sins and sorrows upon himself and suffer the punishment and pain for each so that we can be saved.  Then He must allow humanity to scourge Him, to mock Him, and to kill Him. Then He must choose to live again, able to die due to the mortality of His mother, able to take His life up again because of the immortality of His father.  By so doing, He breaks the bands of death, so that we all can live again. 

The Holy Ghost is the one we know the least about, but can feel the most clearly in our own lives.  We do know that He was willing to postpone coming to earth, receiving a body, and becoming like our Heavenly Father, so that He can bear testimony to each of us in our hearts and minds of the truth of the gospel, of the love of our God, and our older brother Jesus Christ.  He is willing to give up His time and wait on His own progress to help us all feel the divinity we have within us.  What a sacrifice; I have so much gratitude for it. 

Now, back to my point.  My routine day is long and tedious.  I have five children.  My youngest is five months old and wakes up at night. He needs to be held all day long.  My oldest is nine and goes to school.  He is in scouts and takes piano lessons and is learning, learning, learning.  I have three girls sandwiched in between who hit the spectrum between my two boys.  Sometimes they need to be held, sometimes they need to be prodded, and sometimes I send them off to school.  My day begins around six am and goes until ten at night.  I wake up kids, get them dressed, get them ready and off to school.  I feed babies, I clean up messes, I teach, I chide.  

I say no a lot.  

Then when they all come home, I help with homework, I push for piano practice, I take them to activities, I feed and clean, and review school stuff.  I pack lunches and I do laundry and we read scriptures and say prayers and then the whole thing reboots.  This sounds pretty vanilla, really, but once you throw in the tantrums, the begging, the whining, the ingratitude, the extraordinary messes, and you mix it together with a heaping helping of tedium, exhaustion and leave very little to no time for me to do anything I want to do... well, it sucks.  

Let me say that again: being a mom sucks.  

I think sometimes about Satan's plan for us.  He wanted us to come to earth and be forced to do what is right. We wouldn't whine.  We wouldn't be greedy, we wouldn't make mistakes.  Because we couldn't.  We would come to earth, get bodies, and then turn around and march back to heaven.  

I'm not gonna lie.  It kinda sounds awesome.  

Except in that plan, I start out as a lump of clay, and when I get back up to heaven... I'm still a lump of clay.  God wants us to become like him.  He wants us to grow, to take shape, to become a miraculous, spectacularly beautiful work of art.  If you're like me, when you read about the Godhead, about our Heavenly Father, about our brother Jesus, and about the Holy Ghost, you felt the beauty of what they are, of who they must be to act as they do.  They are creators.  They are shapers.  They are givers.  They are perfect and wonderful and amazing, and you yearn to be like that. To be more than you are now.  More than a lump. 

Well guess what?  When I'm a mom, when I'm doing the things that suck, the things that beat me down and wear me out... I am a creator.  I am a giver.  I am emulating the three most perfect beings I know about.  I am becoming like them.  Because I am imperfect now, because I'm a lump, that process really sucks.  I'd rather sit around comfortably as a lump of clay.  But God knows better.  

My kids whine.  They are ungrateful.  They hit one another in the face.  They tell me I am the worst mom in the world.  They pout and they complain.  They sneak around, they lie, they take advantage of one another.  But inside all those flaws, there are flashes of brilliance.  There are little kindnesses and there are these leaps of growth that give wings to my heart.  God must feel the same way about all of us.  He sees our flashes of brilliance, the light in our souls that He wants to develop.  

So here is my point: our job as parents is supposed to suck.  If you're doing it right, being a parent isn't fun.  It's miserable, and God has given us this difficult, exhausting, miserable job because He knows it is a very expedited way for us to become more like Him.  He wants to mold us, and helping little brats become people of substance is one way to do that.  

I am grateful for my job, even though it's hard.  Even though it sucks.  I am grateful for the chance I have to be like my Heavenly Father, to give of myself, even if it's begrudging sometimes, even if it's not nearly on the same level as the selflessness of the Godhead.  

But ultimately, my point is this: being a parent sucks, and that's how I know I'm doing it right.