Segullah's Blog, page 50

Let Us Be Elegant Or Die!

I work on a college campus and this time of year is, um, how shall we say it? Insane.

My own panic at shepherding all my would be graduates through the bureaucratic hoops is only compounded by the rising panic of all the students around me taking finals and submitting dissertations at the absolute last minute.

It probably shouldn’t surprise me (or you) that I’m in the middle of several weeks of insomnia. At first I tried bedtime yoga, baths with lavender, listening to conference talks (oh those sweet soporific tones), and varying degrees of calisthenics — but lately I embraced those night time hours and started reading Little Women. I’ve read it several times before, but not since I was young. It’s one of those long, deceptively simple stories that I wouldn’t make time for in my current stage of life. But, with these untold hours of not sleeping, it’s the perfect thing.

So instead of piling my own words on your head, here are some delicious lines from Louisa May Alcott to brighten your day:

“I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the world!”— Jo March

“Now and then, in this workaday world, things do happen in the delightful storybook fashion, and what a comfort it is.” — Little Women

“I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.” —Amy March

“Jo had learned that hearts, like flowers, cannot be rudely handled, but must open naturally.” — Little Women

“The humblest tasks get beautified if loving hands do them.” — Little Women

“Be worthy, love, and love will come.” — Little Women

“I like good strong words that mean something.” — Jo March

“Be comforted, dear soul! There is always light behind the clouds.” — Little Women

I know you’re busy, but do you have any treasured lines from favorite stories you would like to share to give us all courage to make it through whatever we are trying to make it through?

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The Mormon Theology Seminar, an Emerging Home for Women in Mormon Studies

Today’s guest post comes from Rosalynde Welch. Rosalynde lives in St Louis, Missouri with four kids, two cats, and one husband. She holds a PhD in early modern English literature, and works as an independent scholar of LDS culture, theology and scripture. She loves reading, running, making music with her kids, connecting in the community, and serving in the Primary. Her favorite Christmas treat is a soft, chewy molasses cookie. 

Women in Mormon Studies, a new professional association, has recently begun organizing and networking the growing number of female scholars working in or around the field of Mormon Studies. They maintain a terrific twitter account, and they host a database of female scholars to facilitate professional connections.

While the register is not comprehensive, it provides an interesting snapshot into the distribution of female scholars across the disciplines related to Mormon Studies. The top three disciplines are little surprise: history, with 33 female scholars; religious studies, with 24, and gender studies, with 19, represent the most popular fields for women in Mormon Studies. Given the preeminence of history in Mormon self-understanding, and, well, the whole Mormon and woman thing, it’s a no-brainer to see history, religious and gender studies top the list.

Any guess about the discipline in fourth place? My title gives it away: theology is tied with oral history for the runner-up category, with 9 scholars apiece. Nine women working in Mormon theology does not seem like a lot, but this tally significantly underrepresents the actual number. The point is simply that, out of 25 disciplines, theology is in the top 5%.

Also notable, four of the nine women registered as female scholars of Mormon theology are former members of the Mormon Theology Seminar. Of course, far more than four women have participated in the Seminar! The point is that the heavy representation of Seminar almunae on the register suggests the importance of the institution in fostering women’s scholarship in theology in particular and Mormon Studies in general.

In June of 2019, the Mormon Theology Seminar will host its sixth intensive two-week residential program. Each year the seminar selects a short passage of scripture for focused study by a gender-balanced, cross-disciplinary group of 8-10 graduate students and scholars. The work is collaborative and concentrated, culminating in a published volume of essays by each seminarian. The format has proven to foster a high degree of egalitarian participation by all members, and its collected works represent a major repository of women’s theological writing in the LDS tradition.

The Mormon Theology Seminar should be seen as an important incubator of women in Mormon Studies.

I’m pleased to share its current Call for Applications. I invite the Segullah readership to investigate the Seminar, to read its published works, and to encourage qualified female scholars to apply.

In the summer of 2019, I will co-direct the seminar with Joseph Spencer. The seminar will be devoted to reading Doctrine and Covenants 25, an important and challenging text for scholars of gender in the LDS scriptural tradition. The seminar will be hosted at Union Theological Seminary in New York City, from June 16 through June 29, 2019. Travel arrangements, housing, and a $1000 stipend will be provided for admitted participants. The Seminar is generously sponsored by the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship.

The seminar welcomes applications from a wide variety of academic disciplines, cultural backgrounds, and geographic locations. Graduate students, junior faculty, and scholars based outside the U.S. are especially encouraged to apply, though applications from senior and independent scholars are also welcome.

Applications should be submitted by January 1, 2019. Notifications will be sent by February 1, 2019. Application materials should include (1) a full curriculum vitae, (2) a 200-word statement regarding the applicant’s interest in the seminar, and (3) an essay of 500-750 words that demonstrates the applicant’s ability to offer a close, creative, and theologically substantial reading of D&C 25:15.

Questions and application materials should be directed to Maxwell_Institute@byu.edu

For more information about the Mormon Theology Seminar, visit:

www.mormontheologyseminar.org

For more information about the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, visit:

mi.byu.edu

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Autism Spectrum Analysis

Most of what I want to write about right now has to do with my older kids, but it’s my personal rule that I don’t write about them here, partly because I want to protect their privacy but mostly because I think they would be really mad to be blog fodder. I’ve also written and discarded a draft of a different post on how much I hate decorating my house for Christmas (I know, I’m a grinch, but it just makes me grouchy to be in charge of Making Things Look Good even in a seasonal capacity).

Which brings me to another topic I’ve been pondering lately: my seven year old. Seven is nearly too old to write about, but I want to anyway, because he was recently diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum and I’m really at a loss. The news did not come as a surprise, but I still have so many questions.

He is high functioning (do people within the spectrum community say that? is that a thing with them/us too? what is the correct way to refer to someone on the spectrum who can go to regular school and doesn’t need as many services? or maybe he does; I haven’t figured out yet what’s even available.). He’s also always been quirky, with a deep need to follow a structure and also have other people follow it. I’ve often had a hard time explaining my reasoning to him or understanding what he’s trying to tell me. When he’s fixated on a certain thing, he cannot be moved. And his first grade teacher told me that the way she figured him out was by treating him just like her little brother who has Asperger’s (do we still say Asperger’s even though it’s not used as a diagnostic term anymore?).

The psychologist also thinks he has alexithymia, which is the inability to put words around emotions. Physical sensations tell people with alexithymia what they’re feeling, instead of the other way around. So, for instance, instead of saying “I’m mad, therefore I’m kicking you,” it’s “I’m kicking you, therefore I must be mad.” She recommended a group social skills class (I have yet to find one for his age; I need to keep looking) and individual therapy because of the way he puts himself down constantly when he fails to read the cues that other people get.

I’ve read the amazing writing by Megan on tooursurvival.com, and other stories online, and I know I’m not in the same league as far as autism parenting goes. I’m on the fringes of the club, not the deep trenches. So many online resources and stories seem geared to those trenches, and heaven knows I do not begrudge anyone that kind of support.

I’m still trying to figure out answers for my own son, though: what does he need, my Monopoly and Harry Potter obsessed child, who talks too loudly and rambles when giving answers in Primary, unable to read the cues that he’s been speaking for way too long? How do I help him to relax when he’s obsessed with something that just.can’t.happen. right now? How do I get him to understand his own feelings, much less anyone else’s?

And what happens now? Do I tell him about what he has? How do I tell it to him? I see a diagnosis as a useful tool, something to help me figure out my enigmatic child and know what he needs to be successful. But the spectrum is just that: a wide range of people, and I don’t know where to locate my son. Or myself.

Do you have experience with parenting autistic kids? What advice and resources do you have for someone who’s on the fringes of the autism parenting club? Any favorite books? Favorite websites or Facebook groups? Thank you in advance.

And now I need to go decorate something. Seven year old is really, really bothered that it’s December 7 and our tree isn’t up yet.

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Superstitions and Writing

“You mean we have kiss it upside down?” I said as I stood in line, shoulder to shoulder, with fellow strangers seeking to be blessed with the “gift of gab” by kissing the infamous Blarney Stone. I cocked my head and looked at the suckers high above me, trembling as they folded their awkward bodies backward to plant their own kiss on the Blarney Stone like Spiderman at the lip of the towering fortress.

“I’m afraid so,” said the older man from England in front of me. “Hope you don’t mind germs. Are you afraid of heights? There will be someone there to hold you so you don’t fall.”

This is insane, I thought. The legend was foggy: millions of pilgrims had come for over 200 years to kiss the stone to obtain the gift of eloquence from a slab of rock dating back to 1314, a stone once believed to hold the prophetic powers to determine Scottish royal succession. The tourist brochure says that “its powers are unquestioned.” But I’m a skeptic.

Here at the mouth of the Blarney Castle, I have a choice: I can stand in line for an additional two hours to participate in this gimmick, or I can go back to my hotel in Cork. It’s not too late to make it to the Butter Museum before they close…

I chose to go into the castle.

Why?

Perhaps to say I had done it—this was my first time in Ireland, after all, and for my first writing retreat to boot. But that reason is hollow and insufficient. I am no longer at the stage of life where the accumulation of deeds holds so much evidence of proof that I have lived. Perhaps more embarrassing but more honest to admit is that, when it comes to my writing, I am not above entertaining superstitions. I believe I cannot write without silence, without being alone, without lighting a candle, without my favorite pen, etc.

After the two-hour slog through the tourist traffic, I made it to the top of the Blarney Castle and inched towards the stone. I squirmed into the appropriate position onto my back, gripped the iron handlebars, arched, then pecked the gritty blackened spot on the slab. A camera flashed. The man working the kissing station pulled me up and ushered the next visitor forward.

I wiped my lips on the collar of my shirt, trying not to think of the millions of mouths before mine. Then I ran my tongue along my lips, recoiling at the taste of unfamiliar salt. I quickly exited the castle, passing the opportunity to buy a portrait of me kissing the stone. The proof wouldn’t be in the picture, but in the writing.

Crazy? Maybe. But sometimes, crazy is what is exactly what writing feels like.

During my writing retreat at Anam Cara in the lush, seaside village of Eyries, I wrote and wrote and wrote. I wrote like a dam had burst in my mind. I wrote like a dog was chasing me. I wrote like my days left on Earth were numbered. I wrote like I had finally woken up from a deep sleep. I wrote like I’d never written before. And I never have written like that again since. Writing is like that sometimes—we are never quite sure what will come out, but we show up to the desk and hope. The product of hope and work for me can be inexplicable, surprising, baffling, even magical.

So no, I’m not too proud to admit that I might believe in a bit of writing magic, of life’s ability to awe, even in the seemingly obvious clichés. I will still light candles, still crave solitude, still cultivate silence in my writing practice, still seek silly talismans. But perhaps most importantly, I will still say yes to what others may bypass or dismiss. If you asked me to kiss the Blarney Stone again for good measure, I’d be back in line again.

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Such Great Heights

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Years ago I read a story in Oprah’s O magazine, one of the few magazines allowed to be styled or left atop my grandma’s shiny wood coffee-table. I remember sitting on the blue couch – my feet propped up – flipping through the ads and turning pages, waiting to land on something interesting, faithfully knowing Oprah wouldn’t let me down. The quiet mumble of the TV on in the background kept me just far enough away from my thoughts until I saw a picture of a woman with a straight gaze and beautiful face looking directly into the camera.

The article began recounting a story someone told her about clinging. The first few lines struck me down in the pits of my gut. See, I’m a clinger. A tight-fisted-hard-to-let-go-of-things-girl, so it really spoke to me, making an even bigger dent than I felt at the time, as years later, I still remember and think of it semi-often (I kind of marvel at this when it comes to mind, wishing I’d remember a lot of the other myriad of articles, words, and stories I stuff into my psyche on a daily basis).

Maybe a less gullible more seasoned parable-lover would have recognized the formulaic arch of the story if they began to read as I did, but dear reader (pardon me, I’m reading Jane Eyre again), not me. I was taken from the start when the author acknowledged she was done with inspirational tales. Me too! I undoubtedly thought. At the time, I was desperately pleading and praying my heart would release and let go of a certain someone and certain expectations. I couldn’t get my heart to do what my mind told it to and I was sick of it! A few lines down my eyes gobbled up her experience:

A woman ends up clinging to a branch thinking a long tumultuous valley lies beneath her. After praying and hearing God’s response “Let go”.

“ Feeling low on faith and high on frustration, she ignores the command and cries and aches until the first rays of dawn. And then, astonishing though it may seem, she looks down and sees the ground…about 12 inches below her feet.”

Gasp, sigh, nod. I’m not sure your reaction, or if you saw it coming, but I ate that sentence up at the time. The cliff explained so much of my own death grip on, well, so many things really.

The poetry of material things is a phrase I love to show the beauty in not only metaphors innate and naturalistic in the world around us, but in the possibility of letting go and unclasping your hands to the wide open air of space. We can try to read the tea leaves or relax and practice trust. Adopt the pace of nature. In other words, stop being a clinger. Let go and let God as they say. Easier said than done, I say.

I thought of this the other day when I noticed my tight jaw and clenched fists. Figuratively, but also a little literally. Although I don’t feel like I’m holding a branch trying to not slip, I sense a teetering on the edge of a cliff that may promise great expanses and easier walking conditions if I’d just simply leap a little bit down. Kind of a risk to jump – maybe, but also threatening to be exhilarating, or at the very least offer a new vista and perspective. So let’s jump a little bit, relax our grip and have faith that maybe God and his grace uses the intricate designs of gravity to help us exhale and let go. To something firm waiting to soften our fall.

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Rethinking Christmas: Traditions that Matter

“It’s always the most conventional things that contain the largest measure of madness.”
-Javier Marías

It’s that time again…for Santa and reindeer, pine trees and trim, egg nog and caroling. Part of me cringes every year at the overblown time/money/mental and emotional investment this season requires. In the midst of Christmas, where’s the sanity? Is it possible to pare down the extras without losing what’s most dear?

I recently met up with friends and neighbors to discuss holiday traditions. I took notes and came away with some new ideas on mixing up Christmas this year. I’m looking forward to a lower-key season by selectively taking a break from the nice but not necessary and filling my time with what means most to me: Christ, family, love and joy.

Here are some suggestions. **Remember: the idea is not to do it all, but to consider what select activities would be the most meaningful and impactful for you. Just do those. Less is truly more, especially this time of year.**

Pre-Christmas preparations:

• Meet up potluck style and decorate tree/house/yard. Many hands make light work!

Christmas eve:

• Play games & make a special dish or order something decadent for take out.

• Open one gift (pajamas, etc).

• Leave out treats for Santa and/or reindeer. (Our kids have sprinkled granola on the front porch as “reindeer food” in past years with much excitement.)

Other celebratory ideas:

•Visit a local nativity scene or create your own.

• Advent calendars: They are so much fun and keep the entire family enthralled until the big day arrives. Consider: Trader Joe’s chocolate advents, handmade felt advents with pockets for 25 days, laminated paper advents for elementary age, etc.

• German Christmas Pyramid: Buy or borrow & light it. They are magical!

• Secret Santa: Secretly gift a neighbor or friend every day: Dec 1-12 for the 12 days of Christmas. (We’ve done this many times and the kids love it!)

• Sibling exchange gifts:

Meal gifts: everyone brings 1 recipe & 1 ingredient from the recipe for each person in the group. Everyone goes home with several new recipes + starter ingredients.
Themed gifts: Some ideas…Star Wars, Chocolate! (every gift has to have chocolate in it), base it on a sport or favorite meme, etc.

• White elephant gift parties

• Christmas movies: movie night with potluck treats. Some ideas: Elf, A Christmas Story, It’s a Wonderful Life, Home Alone, A Charlie Brown Christmas, The Polar Express, Four Christmases, The Nightmare Before Christmas, A Muppet Christmas Carol, Christmas Vacation, The Grinch, Scrooged, etc.

• Night drives: Get into your pj’s, toss on a Christmas CD and drive around your neighborhood to see the Christmas lights. Sipping cocoa and candy canes optional. Google your local newspaper: they usually list the most decorated areas & events.

• Visit your local mall to see Santa. No age limit.

•Luminaries: Get a set of luminary bags and light up your driveway/sidewalk/street! They are beautiful.

• Get crafty: Make homemade Christmas tree decorations and/or batch crafts (eg: soap, lotion, felt ornaments) that make great gifts.

• Make holiday treats: peanut brittle, divinity, fudge, English toffee, sugar cookies, banana bread, zucchini bread, thumbprint cookies, ginger snaps, etc. (My mom used to make them all. She had a few off years where the divinity and English toffee didn’t turn out. We ate it anyways!)

• Gingerbread houses: Make and enjoy or give as a gift.

• Celebrating with music: Attend concerts, bell ringing, impromptu music potluck (everyone brings 1 musical instrument to play), etc.

• Handmade Christmas: Chose a year when all of the gifts you give are handmade.

• Special trip: Plan a special family trip in lieu of gifts.

Merry Christmas!

What are some of your favorite Christmas / holiday traditions?

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GIVING VOICE TO THE VOICELESS: WORDS FALL IN PODCAST – Interview with Heather Harris Bergevin

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Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I’ve been waiting to do this interview for a long time. Heather Harris Bergevin is a raw, insightful, and fearless poet. Her book Lawless Women, has delighted the poetry community. Her book has received 100 percent 5 star-reviews on Amazon. I loved reading them. “Like a box of chocolates Heather B’s collection of poems in Lawless Women is full of delicious nuggets to delight the reader with wit, wisdom, irony. Some poems you will find light and delightsome while others thought-provoking and truth confirming,” or “This book is a delight for any lover of poetry, mythology, the feminine divine, or anyone who craves words with breathtaking beauty and power. These poems evoke/reveal/create mythology past and present, lay a path for the future.”

One of my favorite reviews says exactly why I do these interviews – “The only thing better than to enter this realm of perspective and plot twists by reading is to hear Heather B. share these poems herself outloud. Enter a world familiar, end up somewhere surprising, not where you thought you were, insideout, upsidedown, kittycorner, sideways, lastfirst, everytime.” Today you get to hear Heather share her insights and read her poems outloud. Just click below.

https://segullah.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/heatherbergevin.mp3

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Taking the Challenge

Can I read seven books before the end of the year? Will it be worth the effort if I do, and will I regret if I don’t? Back in January I grabbed a bookmark from a local bookstore with a reading challenge on it. It promises that if I read 36 books this year, one for each of the categories listed, I can earn a gift certificate as a prize. Just to be clear, reading books is not usually a problem for me. I usually read an average of 80 books per year. I don’t need to increase my numbers and I’ve already read quite a few books not in the areas described on the challenge list. However, I have my favorite genres and authors and I’m not always good at reading beyond the areas I’m most familiar with. I thought that trying a reading challenge would be a good way to broaden my horizons and mix up my reading game. So far this has mostly worked and I’ve discovered some delightful books (I also spent a month slowly working my way through a 900-page long historical epic from the 1970s—that may have been a bad choice).

I have a mixed record with accomplishing challenges like this. Last year I decided to join Instagram and set a goal to post a photo a day for a year. I managed to do it, despite sometimes posting rather banal photos of things like my lunch or random cloud patterns I thought were pretty. I found this to be a successful challenge because it encouraged me to notice the world around me more fully and to find something memorable about each day. It also increased my connections with friends and family as I regularly used the app to share bits and pieces of my life. Now I also have a record of a year in my life, from trivial moments to some of the most profound.

Unfortunately, many of my other attempts at goal-setting in the past have fallen flat. My workplace offers a “wellness challenge” every few months that involves setting simple, consistent goals that will earn you cash rewards. No matter how many times I sign up, and no matter what the incentive is, I almost always fall down in my attempts to do simple things like stretch every day for 10 minutes or go to bed at 11 every night. In some areas of my life, attempting to do better at habits actually makes it harder to do them and produces less consistency.

And yet, I do keep trying. For years November has been NaBloPoMo—National Blog Posting Month. Back when blogging was a bigger deal, I successfully completed the challenge a few times by posting something new each day for the entire month on my personal blog. Although I think the challenge has fallen by the wayside as blogging has petered out, this year I decided to try it again as a way of jump-starting my writing. The first time I missed a day I thought about giving up, but decided that perfect was getting in the way of the good. I have not actually posted something every day this month, and much of what I have written is uninspired drivel, but the challenge of trying to sit and write consistently has been good for waking up my creative side and working through the writer’s block I’ve been experiencing lately.

I imagine that my experiences are similar to many other people’s—some challenges are fairly easy for me to perfectly complete, some seem impossible, and others produce mixed results. On my worst days, when all I want to do is eat cookies and watch bad television, there’s still a little something inside me that wants to challenge myself and stretch a little farther. Maybe someday I can figure out how to make physical wellness goals work for me—but for right now I think I’ll just read another book about it. After all, I still need to read seven more in the next five weeks.

How do you feel about challenging yourself? Did you try any reading or fitness (or other) challenges this year? Have you discovered any secrets to setting goals that you can actually accomplish?

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Freedom from Fear

It started getting real a couple of years ago when red, yellow and green dots appeared on every door at my workplace. Red meant, don’t go in there, there was no way out. Yellow meant, this was a middle ground, you could lock the door or there was some form of protection. Green meant this was a door with access out. This was an escape route.

Last year, “Stop the Bleed” posters went up, with graphics and basic first aid steps. I work in a government building full of social services, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility for someone to be very upset with us, or their life, or someone in particular.

A few months ago I was in the Las Vegas airport, down a quiet gateway, late in the evening. Suddenly lights flashed and an alarm sounded. There were 15 to 20 passengers sitting there and we all looked up and then at each other. A voice came over the speaker and said an alarm had been activated, stay calm, they were investigating.

The lights and sound continued blaring, but as I looked around at the other travelers, we were all calm. Tired is probably the better word. Tired from the day of travel, tired from a world of constant alarm. Even the families with children didn’t budge. After about five minutes, sounds and lights turned off and the voice over the speaker gave an “all clear” announcement.

This steady progression culminated last week with active shooter training. Scheduled for Tuesday, I approached it with a cavalier attitude, like really? We are having active shooter training? Then Monday there were two shootings, one in a Chicago hospital and another in downtown Denver. So Tuesday I went, even though it was a short week with the holiday, even though it was the holidays.

Presented by our sheriff’s department, it began with a video of a fellow county employee, haltingly telling how he attended one of the trainings two weeks before attending a Jason Aldean concert last year in Las Vegas. He thanked the off camera training officer, saying the preparation had really helped him. It got my attention.

The training was chilling. Violent crime is way down in America but public, mass shootings are up. I work with traumatized children and traumatized families, and I know what hyper-vigilant looks like. I know what PTSD looks like.

One thing we do immediately is establish a safety plan. We talk through acts of protection and safety to help families calm or change. We know people don’t function well in unpredictability, particularly when that unpredictability means violence, or not enough food, or shelter, or attention, or explosive emotions.

I’ve also been trained to look for safety in my work, have the car pointed out, know where exits are, place myself between a client and the exit, always have someone know where I am. I am trained to de-escalate situations. Now I know the basics to survive an active shooter. Plan A – Run; Plan B – Hide; Plan C – Fight.

I see Norman Rockwell’s four freedom paintings in my mind. The turkey feast, the worshipers, the speaker at the community meeting, and then freedom from fear. Children tucked safely in their beds. Such a tremendous luxury. I pray it for all.

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An Invitation this Thanksgiving

INVITATION

Oh do you have time

to linger

for just a little while

out of your busy

and very important day

for the goldfinches

that have gathered

in a field of thistles

for a musical battle,

to see who can sing

the highest note,

or the lowest,

or the most expressive of mirth,

or the most tender?

Their strong, blunt beaks

drink the air

as they strive

melodiously

not for your sake

and not for mine

and not for the sake of winning

but for sheer delight and gratitude –

believe us, they say,

it is a serious thing

just to be alive

on this fresh morning

in the broken world.

I beg of you,

do not walk by

without pausing

to attend to this

rather ridiculous performance.

It could mean something.

It could mean everything.

It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:

You must change your life.

– Mary Oliver (Devotions, Penguin Press 2017, 107-108)

For many in our world — it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world.

I cannot stop thinking of all the people displaced by wildfires in California. Yesterday, our local firefighters set up their trucks on a major boulevard. From the freeway, we could see Californian and American flags flying from their extended ladders, lights flashing. All to encourage passersby to stop and donate to wildfire victims. So many have lost everything. So many have to start over.

Last night as I fell asleep I was thinking about the stories and faces from this book. They are still living vibrant in my mind and I am wondering, What more can we do? How else can we help? 

Next week my children are performing in my friend Saydi’s Concert for Children to raise money for the Oinofyta Community Center in Greece. This center tries to meet the enormous needs that the government camps aren’t meeting for 600 refugees (more than half of which are children). Oinofyta is the only real resource for medical/emotional/nutritional and legal help for these refugees. Despite the incredible work the Center is doing, it has no sustainable source of funding. If you’d like to donate, please click here.

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Yesterday, I took my five kids down to the Utah Food Bank, where we donned hairnets and gloves and bagged black beans for a couple hours. It was a small service, but we were reminded again of the many starving individuals in our state. 1 in every 5 Utah children goes hungry every day. And that, just disturbs me. We will gather round our dining table this afternoon with our smoked turkey, yams, and homemade rolls, and I will remind my children that we must stop and think of those who won’t find food today, who have no home, who are alone. It breaks my heart. Click here to donate money, or your time.

Most of us are not just alive, but well, and privileged, blessed with over-abundance. It is not enough for us just to be alive and grateful. We must give. It is our duty as Christian disciples. It is our covenant responsibility — our mission as members of The Church of Jesus Christ. To serve. Gather. Minister. Love.  I recently listened to this podcast on BYU Radio where Marcus Smith interviews our very own Melissa Dalton-Bradford. He said,

“The first step to making society better is caring about things that don’t directly affect us.”

When we feast today, may we remember those in our broken world who are without, who need to brought into our circles. Who need nourishment, charity, a warm embrace, a hand up. Then, may we do something about it.

As I ran trail this morning, a cold wind shoved me from behind. As I trudged upwards, suddenly, the sun pealed over the mountain skyline, liquid-like, ethereal. Lighting up the last leaves like tiny light bulbs trembling on sticks.

I thought of that last line in Oliver’s poem.

The goldfinches do mean something. And so did the sunlight that slid over the mountain, setting every withered leaf on fire. It was like a vision unfolding. An annunciation. An invitation. To change my life, as Oliver says. To give more, consume less. Gather where and when it is uncomfortable. Minister as Jesus would.

And that is my invitation for all of us.

Many of you are already leading the way on this path of service. Thank you for your examples.

Happy Thanksgiving dear Segullah friends. You are so blessed. So loved.

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