Segullah's Blog, page 51

Women Are Infinitely Powerful

I’d like to talk about what it means to be a woman. But first, let me tell you about a recent day when autism reared its feral head and flashed its jagged teeth at me, from two different children.

In the morning, Youngest Boy didn’t want to comb his hair or pick up his dirty clothes from the floor. He called me a jerk and said he didn’t like me. He scowled and argued and shouted.

The only way past this monster behavior was right through it. He didn’t want me to brush my teeth and do my hair. He wanted me to get in the car in my undies and drive him to the gas station for a treat. NOW. Which I didn’t do, because we don’t reward this sort of demanding, inflexible behavior.

I ignored his ranting while I got ready and listened to 2nd Nephi. He remained angry at me. When he saw I wasn’t going to relent, he picked up his dirty clothes, combed his hair, and decided to be calm, at which point, I drove him to the gas station.

Autism, 0. Me, 1.

After school, Third Son had a complete and utter meltdown in front of his friends, various other neighbor children, me, and the sibs. It was the sort of epic episode we haven’t seen in some time, with screaming, kicking, running away, and yelling of insults.

I sent the friends and the neighbor kids home (they couldn’t leave fast enough; the awkwardness was palpable). After the shouting relented and the adrenaline ebbed, said child wept in my arms. It was the post-meltdown exhaustion cry.

During both of these episodes, I was internally raging. Why won’t my opinionated little offspring listen to me? Why must they be so rigid in their thinking? Why is autism such a monster at times? 

These sorts of insane motherhood moments have me thinking about what it means to be a woman.

I have, at times, felt anger and bewilderment at the trauma that is part of my life because of menstruation, pregnancy, labor & delivery, postpartum depression, the MANY, MANY, SO FREAKING MANY relentless rigors of mothering, not to mention the sexism and harassment which all women inevitably face at some point in their lives.

The physical and the emotional toll of being female can be high, and really, really maddening.

As I was driving to pick up my mom for some errands a few weeks ago, I was thinking about the parts of my life that are distinctly feminine: mothering, teaching, nurturing, being with, and serving. I thought about how much of my life is spent helping: kids (including kids with disabilities), university students, my mother, and other women (friends/neighbors).

And I recognized that I like it this way.

I like that my life is organized in such a way that I get to be a person who has the distinct opportunity to build up and support people. I really like it.

This doesn’t mean that I’m okay with mansplainers or misogyny.

To paraphrase my nephew, as he recently prayed aloud at bedtime, “We’re grateful for everything in this world, except hippies.” In this scenario and for my purposes, I would swap out “hippies” for “sexist people.” I feel it still works.

Jesus was the greatest champion of women. He was radical in his equal treatment of them for the era and culture in which he lived. He appeared first following his resurrection to a woman. He spoke of his mother’s care as he hung, dying, on the cross. He wept with Martha and Mary when their brother Lazarus died, and then washed away their sorrow when he raised Lazarus from the dead.

I deep down know that Jesus understands what it means to be a woman. I’ve felt his empathy when he has helped me slog through pregnancies, recover from childbirth, grieve at losing my severely disabled son to distant care, and cope with the ongoing trauma of being a special-needs mom.

I have felt, recently, that God gave women the opportunity to care for other people not because we are oppressed, but because we are chosen.

While I don’t know what it is, I feel there is some sort of big, beautiful, not-yet-fully-knowable refining power in caregiving, teaching, and nurturing; I’m glad that my life is full of these things.

My favorite scripture from the account of the nativity has always been this one, from Luke 1:28, about Mary. “And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.”

I have always read this as meaning that yes, Mary was special, but also that by association all women are precious and beloved of God and Jesus Christ. Gabriel’s meaning is obvious to me: Mary was hand-picked for a righteous purpose from a pool of equally-loved and cherished daughters of Heavenly Parents. You are free to read it however you wish, but this is how I see it.

I love what it says to me about being a woman: that it is fraught with unique difficulties, as well as unique gifts.

My life has taught me that my gender is no barrier to feeling a tenderness, connection, and understanding with my Savior. If anything, I believe being a woman sort of opens a conduit between me and heaven. Having a Mother in Heaven is a big, beautiful truth that, to me, says women are infinitely powerful, divine, and expansive in our purpose and abilities.

On this Thanksgiving Eve, I’m feeling especially grateful for Heavenly Parents and a Savior who honor, cherish, and empower women. They see me not for my age/weight/height/appearance, but the real me as they “looketh on the heart.” What an immeasurable gift.

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Long-Distance Parenting

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Photo by Liz West

Parenting long distance involves significant challenges.  My first child to leave home is serving as a full-time missionary in the Nevada Reno Mission. I’m particularly attuned to his absence, given that he’s just coming into his second Thanksgiving and Christmas away from home.  And he’s serving in a very small town in the most cold, remote area of his mission. It this measure aids you in any way, note that Ely is a two-hour drive from the closest Walmart.

Yes, I could be struggling to teach, guide, comfort, and nurture a missionary during an era when weekly emails and semi-annual Skype phone calls were impossible. I could be waiting weeks for letters coming overseas, answering questions I posed months before on issues that may no longer be salient.

Despite these improved lines of communication, I still find it difficult to find ways to parent to my missionary son.  I am particularly anguished when his emails gesture obliquely to challenges of mind, body, and spirit.

I take some comfort knowing that he has a robust support system in place—a companion, missionary leadership at the ward, district, zone, and mission level. Even when I don’t receive an email for one week or two, I figure “no news is good news.”

Even if I receive a surprise photo from a member of my son smiling or read a particularly jaunty email, I also keep in mind Ezra Taft Benson’s observation: “Some of the greatest battles we will face will be fought within the silent chambers of our own soul.”  As he moves from being my little boy to becoming his own man, I have less and less information about how he’s responding to life’s demands.

Even if he were living at home, I would probably be parenting long distance in other ways, given that young adults often put their parents at increased social and emotional distance even if they stay physically present in the family home. His younger sister, a high school senior, now leans more on friends than her parents for support. I can’t just shelf the challenge of long-distance parenting until he comes home next July. I need to recalibrate since parenting adults differs than parenting adolescents.

One of my cousins–who has a nest empty of three children–advised, “In order for our children to become adults, they have to fire their parents to a certain degree. And some are nicer about it than others.” When she said this, I recoiled. Because it has the ring of truth. And I don’t like it.

I am surprised to discover that my children are largely out of my sphere of influence now that my nest is emptying. This happened earlier than I anticipated. That’s a loss that I need to manage. Or maybe focusing on “empty” or “loss” further fuels my anxiety. It’s a transition into uncharted territory.

I can certainly fill up the open spaces with paid work, volunteer work, and personal projects. But I also need to find ways to act, to parent.  It’s not as though they are former roommates. They are still my children. But how do I teach, guide, comfort, and nurture an emerging adult? If I do any of these things directly with my daughter, she bristles. And I am severely limited in how I can interact with my missionary son.  Long-distance parenting in many ways means low-contact parenting. And I don’t like it.

About fourteen years ago, I was distraught about my inability to parent my son when second grade hit him hard with negative feedback in the classroom, the cafeteria, and on the playground. During this time, his father and I met with the teacher a few times to address emerging issues. I was distressed, trying to find a way to support him. After exhausting my resources researching and meeting with experts, I finally turned to prayer.

The Spirit calmed my soul by giving me this guidance: Don’t try to solve all his school problems for him; offer him resources, and let him address problems in the way that works for is personality, his worldview.

I can’t just reapply this divine advice from fourteen years ago, since my ability to deliver resources to either of my children is limited—either by distance or my child’s need for independence.  While parenting children is difficult because it’s a high contact sport, parenting adults is difficult because it’s fundamentally low contact.

The subtext for much of my struggles here has to do with lack of influence. It’s time for me to recognize my powerless in this transforming space.  And I don’t like it.

My mother-in-law, with a long empty nest, does long-distance parenting by making quilts and other items made with fabric. She’s also a good listener and a prayer warrior.  I’m not sure what shape my long-distance parenting will take, since what I see most vividly right now is an empty space where hands-on parenting used to exist.

It’s time for me to seek counsel from women with adult children and time for me to seek diving guidance about how to be a faithful steward of this new, disorienting space of low-contact parenting.

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Home Centered Church– We’ve Got This!

One Sunday, more than a decade ago, my friend Jane shared her struggle with family scripture study with our Relief Society,

We tried a hundred different methods over a dozen years and nothing seemed to stick. We pulled the kids out of bed at 5:30 a.m., we tried bedtime scripture study, dinnertime, breakfast. Sometimes I made little charts or came up with bribes and incentives. But none of our attempts seemed to take and family scripture study was always an effort. I looked at some of the other families in our ward who had a set scripture time for twenty years and I felt distinctly inferior.

One evening I was walking down the hallway saying goodnight to my children. My son was sprawled on the floor reading The Book of Mormon, in the next bedroom my daughter sat under a dim lamp doing the same, in the third bedroom my two youngest daughters lay snuggled in their beds, scriptures covering their cute faces. They looked up at me, called ‘good night’ and went right back to reading.

I realized I hadn’t failed. None of my efforts were in vain. All of my attempts led to my children reading and loving the scriptures. Did our family look like our neighbors? No, but there’s no one right way to teach a family.

Since Home Centered Church was announced in October General Conference, I’ve reflected on Jane’s story many, many times. Because there’s no one right way to teach a family. The new curriculum acknowledges and embraces that truth. Teach your family whenever it works for you– plan around nap times and meals and travel; work schedules and lessons and rehearsals.

I’ve heard some say the new program gives moms one more task. But I’d like to suggest this is easier, not harder. We’ve got this! For years, we’ve been trying to come up with Family Home Evening ideas, prompt meaningful dinner conversations, to keep up with the reading in Relief Society and Sunday School (maybe we can get seminary on the same schedule one day). Now we’re all studying the New Testament together, we have an awesome manual and we have an extra hour every Sunday with our family!

Have you picked up your Come Follow Me- For Individuals and Families 2019 manual yet? I just provided you with a handy-dandy link to the online version. It’s INCREDIBLE. You should probably go admire it right now. Be sure to note the clear introduction, the beautiful language, the lessons laid out neatly and with gorgeous illustrations and idea boxes and resources. And how much do we love the title of the first lesson? We Are Responsible for Our Own Learning

It’s good stuff.

Guys. We can do this. We’re smart and capable and we know our family better than anyone else.

A couple thoughts– I teach 14 year old Sunday School. While I’d like to think that I always prepare a worthwhile lesson, I’ll admit I sometimes just throw it together. But when I only teach twice a month! Wow. You’d better believe I’m going to put more thought and care into those lessons. My students are fantastic at offering comments and sharing what they know; when we only meet every two weeks we’ll have so much to teach each other (but I will miss them on the off weeks and pray for them and maybe deliver cookies to their doorsteps).

Many of us feared (or hoped!) Sunday School would be eliminated in a two-hour schedule, but including Sunday School gives us something of an upgrade. Look! We ARE important. Told ya so. I truly love Sunday School and feel like it’s important to learn about the gospel with boys and girls, men and women. Discussing gospel topics together increases respect and understanding (but that’s a whole nother post).

My teenagers are concerned about their friends who won’t be studying Come Follow Me- For Individuals and Families 2019 at home. Many of their friends are investigators or come from less active families. They’ve determined to create a Sunday afternoon study group for their friends. And I think it’s a fantastic idea. A group of teens at our house every Sunday completely works for us right now. We’re in a unique situation and so are you.

There’s no one right way to teach a family– find a way to make it joyful.

What are your thoughts on home centered church? The new curriculum?

 

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