A Day of Remembrance

Every once in a while, I find that I find myself feeling sort of uneasy in church. The feeling that I know something that nobody else knows and the wall of silence that it seems to build up around me is a bit uncomfortable. Today was one of those days, but today instead of feeling silent I felt so disappointed and in a way let down. Rationally, I know that the disappointment was inevitable, but I felt it all the same.

The build up to the remembrance of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2011 was pretty big this year and rightly so. Whether you knew anyone who died in that attack or not, it was a powerful statement and injury on our consciousness. The understanding, motivations, deaths, heroes, and compassion that almost always arise in force during times of great trial was burned into us and whether we agreed with some of the motivating factors or not, we still thought about them, chewed on them, and swallowed the bitter pain of the waste and irrationality of it all.

So it was not a shock to me that our Sacrament meeting and lessons today focused so much on these horrible attacks. But I will admit that every year I am disappointed that the vast majority of Mormons now spend this day only in remembrance of this event. This date should be imprinted on the soul of every active Mormon member, not for the above mentioned event, but for a massacre perpetuated by our ancestors. This day should be remembered every year for so many reasons, but one of the most important reasons is that to be a member of this church... to embrace the gospel and many parts of our history as a standard and a part of our faith that is positive, strengthening and heroic.... we cannot be true to ourselves as a community if we push our failures under the rug. Take a poll in every ward or branch you attend and you will find the majority of members have heard of the Hauns Mill massacre, but very few have heard of Mountain Meadows. It is one of our community's -and I say 'our' including myself- big embarrassments, an act in itself of terrorism, and an act that no matter how rationalized or justified... is a shame and a sore on the covering of the gospel and the church.

Some people believe that we should not talk of these things and there are many reasonable reasons to not speak. But in our silence, it can cause more difficulty for members and non members alike when they discover the sore for themselves and become part of the festering mass of confusion, anger, shame and betrayal that is found underneath. Some argue that, like reparations for slavery, it is in the past and so it is no longer relevant. For those who say this, may I ask a question? Look deep into your heart and your memory and think of the sins that you have 'quietly' repented of... or the sins that you kept to yourself and have hidden from the light... Do you feel that they are now all better? Do you feel that repentance absolves you of any responsibility to try and fix the harm you have inadvertently caused? In my mind, repentance is much like a u-turn: when you realize that you are going the wrong way, you repent and turn around.... but that doesn't stop you from having to recover the ground you have traveled. True repentance is a journey, not a magic spell that will apparate you back to where you began when you lost your way. (Although living in the world of Harry Potter would make a few things a tiny bit easier- imagine your few second trip from Maine to Paris for a romantic dinner and then home for work the next day. :)

While none of us living have any responsibility for the crimes of the past, I firmly believe that we all have a responsibility to try and continue the process of healing- for the family members, for the ancestors on both sides of the tragedy, and for the continued healing of our present community. I hope that next year, maybe a few more people will remember this date for more than just the attack in New York. I hope that more people will pray and remember Mountain Meadows and that even good, kind and godly people can make a mistake in ignorance, anger and fear. Remember that all of us are capable of horrible things in the grip of many negative emotions such as anger and fear. May we spend the day in remembrance and good works. Today is an important day....

My First Two Earliest Memories - Description and Analysis

This post is quite bold and doesn't paint me in a very good light. I decided to post it here for the few people that read my blog by simply coming to it. I think that the thoughts and analysis are painful but important and I think that hiding them is not useful to my growth as a person. So, here it is and I hope that you will not think too poorly of me from the knowledge....

I do not have a lot of early memories and the few that I have are really not positive ones- I wonder how many other people feel that way? I think that the few that I have do mark key turning points because they are the few that I remember and I seem to remember them and the emotions surrounding them so clearly even today. The very first memory that I have was playing on a beach with a new beach set – a pail, rake, etc… I remember feeling free and busy and finding my first hermit crab. I remember the smell and the delight of this really neat animal and my glee and almost greed to collect as many as my pail could fill to give to my mother. I remember the excitement and the intense focus I gave to my work- to find as many as I could to give to her and they needed to be big and have neat shells and I might have even felt a little bit of greed- I am not sure on that. But I remember filling the pail- it was brimming with this crabs that of course all wanted to get out and I had caught them all without being pinched or harmed and I brought them to my mother… who was revolted and angry and yelled about my foolishness and ordered me to go put them back one by one. I remember the shame and my hurt and when I tried to dump the pail, my mother again emphasized that I needed to individually pick each one up and put it back nicely. And I remember crying and putting my hand into the bucket and finding it impossible either through my tears or impossible in general to pick up a crab without getting pinched. I remember completing the job in silence by simply lowering a finger into the bucket and simply allowing a crab to latch onto my finger and I would bring it up and pry it off onto the sand. I would change fingers as they really started to hurt and even bleed, but I remember my sorrow, my fear, and my rejection… and a little bit of anger and a feeling I recognize now as a feeling of being alone and having no one who actually cared – not sure what word describes that. I can look back on that experience and see that experience as one that I would only repeat again when I was thirteen years old. (I saved my allowance for six months and purchased a ton of different gifts for my parents for their wedding anniversary- My mother hated every single one and pointed out why it was worthless, useless or simple stupid/bizarre. At least with my parents I have not repeated this experience.)

My next earliest memory is slightly fuzzy at the beginning as I think the beginning of the situation must have really been experiences over a longer period of time. I remember standing next to the blue car that my parents drove for years (a blue Chevy Malibu I think) and looking at my cousin in front of me and feeling angry and jealousy so strongly towards her and her smile which wasn’t very nice. I remember her opening the car door and getting a book out of the back that was mine and having her look at me and say that if she wanted it, all she would have to do was ask my mother for it and it would be given to her and I just felt so much anger and hatred and jealousy I think– I don’t know really what I was thinking, but I pushed the car door with all the force that I could muster and slammed the door on her hand. I remember standing there feeling a slight bit of satisfaction as all the adults cooed over her and my mother told me how awful I was and she gave away my book. I look back at that memory over the years and I do feel a little bit ashamed, but I recognize that I think I also knew that I was going to lose a prized possession, so I think I thought I might as well get something for it. Unfortunately that is a lesson that I am trying to unlearn even today. :(

These are my two earliest memories and I am able to see a few turning points in them when I look. The first memory was from when I was around three years old and I think I learned to ‘grasp.’ (When that word came to mind I had an image of Gollum from Lord of the Rings in my head, but as much as that image is horrible, I think in some ways it is an accurate one.) Instead of learning impermanence and that things in life are not guaranteed, I learned that maybe I could hold onto things I cherished harder and to hold anger and frustration when they were unfairly taken away. I learned to only hold a few things cherished, but those things are sacred and the angry and frustrated that I would feel up to a few years ago at their loss was pretty terrible to behold I think. (I have really been trying over the last decade to deal with an anger problem that while not violent didn’t seem to be entirely under my control. I think I have gotten a lot better, but I am not sure if I really have or if I simply believe myself to be better.) The other experience was when I was around five years old or maybe six and I think what I learned was that I couldn’t control anything so I tried to find ways to create control out of fear and also create good reasons for my loss – if I was going to lose something, then I wanted something in return. The idea of striking back is still one that I am struggling with. I think that I have beaten it, but some people who are close to me say that I have not and my husband has told me that he would never have married me if he had known how vindictive I was and still am. The thought that I harm other people still causes me a lot of pain and has caused me to withdraw from almost everyone in my life and I don’t see that changing any time soon – I feel too much fear.

I think that is the story of my life... I feel too much fear. And I think this may have been too honest. I feel like I have picked up a big rock to see the disgusting slime and life underneath and it isn't very nice.

Thoughts on Conversation and Healing...

When I was volunteering yesterday, I was given a blank diary from 2008 with beautiful pictures and quotes on different pages. I liked the pictures so I brought it home to glance through and a quote on one page really caught my eye. It is:

'One of the most valuable things we can do to heal one another is listen to each other's stories' – Rebecca Falls

I had three thoughts as I was reading and pondering this. The first was that it really is healing to be able to talk about what is on your mind- at least it is for me. When I do not talk about things it almost feels like bad thoughts are able to 'fester' and become an infection in my mind. And healing an 'infection' is a lot harder than trying to deal with the original thoughts. I can understand the need for secrets and for not discussing EVERYTHING on your mind, but I also think that many times, problems are more easily ironed out if the feelings and thoughts are discussed quickly. I think that having someone who cares for you and listens is great and does help in the healing process especially in very painful circumstances. I don't even think that they have to actually agree with you... to just be there and to care means so much.

Another thought was that some people do not feel comfortable listening or even being listened to except in rare circumstances. And other individuals have suggested that discussing a hurt can be not only complaining but harmful depending on the complaint. An example that I thought of was a discussion on Facebook where a friend discussed her hurt and anger at the treatment she had received by church members in her ward in Utah. Another person piped in and suggests that she was in the wrong to even suggest something bad happened at church because that makes the church look 'bad'. It was even suggested by someone that saying anything that can be construed as bad is 'anti- Mormon'... and so therefore this person is as well. In this case, an act of potential healing became another painful act which created more hurt, anger, and separation- even feelings of betrayal. Nobody, even the church defenders, were looked at in a positive light by the outsiders of the conversation that I heard from. And that feels fairly sad, because I have no doubt that everyone, including the original speaker, loves the Mormon church. But the conversation itself became another nail that could be used against the church instead of an opportunity for healing. While I agree that some people in some instances and due to our perception may discuss the same hurts more times than we think they should, I can see how that would happen if the individuals never felt listened to or had their feelings validated at any time in any conversation.

The last thing that I thought of was how polarized I feel our society is right now... and it feels like nobody wants to listen to anybody unless the individuals involved already agree on everything. I feel like the world is full of so much blame and anger and there is nothing that I can do. Yes, I can listen and I can pray and I can hope and show patience.... but I am just one. And it doesn't feel like it makes a difference at all. I go to the foodbank every week and I listen to those who are looking for work and have been for so long and have been unsuccessful for reasons they can do nothing about such as poor teeth, chaotic living arrangements, homelessness, disability, mental illness, no transportation, etc... These people are stuck in catch 22's and I cannot help them either. Heck, I didn't get the last job that I applied for and I am still looking. Last year, I joined a program to help my family become more stable, more financially independent and to get the help we need to move forward. The program is over and considered a success, with promises never fulfilled and our family even less together and stable than when we entered the program. We have no team, no help, less financial stability and our family is broken. We are more alone than we have ever been. And so many others are as well. In a world full of people, that doesn't really make sense to me at all. I want to help, but I am starting to think that my hands are not strong enough to even help/support me... let alone anyone else.

I really believe that being able to talk can really heal pain and sorrow (and anger) and can help people move forward. How can we draw a line so that people can talk without so much fear? The fear of judgment and being misunderstood looms large in many... including myself which is why I have learned to hold my tongue on so much. I am not sure that I am served in that regard as well. I do think that my soul is starting to fester which makes it even harder for me to feel comfortable around anyone. What can you do in your life to try and change this? What suggestions do you have to help other's feel comfortable talking with you? What would make it easier to talk to someone else when you need to spill? How would you support yourself if you needed some help for a while from someone outside your family- whether emotional, financial, etc...?

A True Friend - Sarah Drew 1920-2010

Everyone in their lives hopes to find a true friend. Someone to laugh with, cry with, and that they can trust to care for them. A true friend who sometimes puts your feelings before theirs when its important and right and who works to help you in your endeavors… and allows you to help them with their needs.

Finding a friend like that in my life has been difficult (as I assume that it is for so many people.) Now that I am 35, I think that I have found five in my entire life. Two are childhood friends that are now almost acquaintances because we live so far apart and our lives are so crazy…yet I truly believe that one (if not both) of them would come to help me at a moments notice if I really needed it. Heck, some of the people that I know who live within ten minutes would not do the same for my family and I am aware of it. True caring and sacrifice are hard to find. My third gem (Katey) lived near me for a few years, but circumstances in her life have changed for the next few years... and so we live as far apart as possible almost and still claim to be in the same country. Yet she keeps in touch and does everything that she can think of to help me and my family. She is honest and kind and intelligent… so much that I just cannot put into words and really captures her true essence. The fourth mention is a friend that I just lost. Both of us were unable to live up to the ideals that a true friend needs. While a large part of me is sorry and grieves for this friendship still… a small part of me is glad that the friendship cannot ever really be repaired. After all, the betrayal could have gotten much worse and even more painful. I guess it is better to know sooner rather than later. (Am I allowed to wish I had been warned a few years ago…?)

The fifth friend I just lost to death. I cannot pretend that I was not aware that our separation by death was more likely than some friendships as Sarah Barter Drew was over 50 years older than me. We were brought together by a nice trick and her friendship these last seven years has meant the world to me. I feel so many emotions that my grief will probably take a long time to process and to be able to move on with living without feeling constant sorrow for my loss.

I met Sarah through the missionaries. Sarah Drew has a niece who is a member of the LDS church. When Sarah went to visit her niece over seven years ago, her niece took her to the church building with her as she needed to clean the building- the ward she belongs to uses different volunteers every week to keep the church clean and ready to use. Later, Sarah told me that the good feelings and the Spirit that she felt just sitting in the building were so strong and so powerful that she asked to have the missionaries visit her. She lived about four hours away from her niece and so she ended up seeing the missionaries in my area. After a few visits and lessons, Sarah decided to attend church. However, being 83 years old with medical problems, Sarah could not get there herself and due to church rules, the missionaries couldn’t take her to church. Elder Birtenshaw called several members of the ward in our area attempting to get her a ride to church and he was unsuccessful. He prayed and decided that even though I had problems and wasn’t getting the help or support I needed at church, he thought he was supposed to ask me to take her for one Sunday. He called and begged for me to agree to take her for “just that one week, no more” and he would make sure she had a ride next week. So that Sunday, I drove over and met Sarah Drew for the first time. We hit it off almost right away. I felt that I had found a kindred soul and by the time I took her home, I agreed to take her to church any week that I was attending (That was a good thing and a very inspired call by the missionaries because if I did need to find a ride for her when I wasn’t attending church, I was rarely able to find anyone and most often was told it was my responsibility. The elders told me later that they had hoped that the inspiration would ‘convince’ me to do it more then once as they did despair of finding anyone to take her –hence my wording ‘nice trick’.)

The next few years we became closer. She learned more about my family circumstances and was always ready with great advice. She was always ready to give me a hug or just listen to my concerns. When people at church would say rude and slanderous things about me at church in front of her expecting a common ally… they soon discovered to their cost that she was unwilling to hear anything like that without correcting it loudly and bluntly. She always asked over my son Bug and she always remembered him and my family for all holidays. He without fail received valentines, birthday cards, Christmas gifts and even the occasional fresh homemade dinner at her house. She loved to watch Bug tuck himself into her bed and she loved to watch his energy and his joy. She worried over my stress level and her concern over my emotional state and needs. She was a true loyal friend who I could depend on for almost anything. Several times, she bemoaned the fact that she was too old to be able to babysit and help me and my family with things such as babysitting. And she was a wonderful and beautiful grandmother to my son who loved her very, very much.

A few years ago, my husband and I started building a house. I was so excited and was also hopeful that we could get the house completed soon enough to be able to help Sarah. She was living in an apartment, but I knew that she was on borrowed time. Her frailty was becoming more apparent and her eyesight was slowly disappearing… but I guess that it wasn’t meant to be. Our house has slowly struggled or stalled over the last four years. Soon Sarah fell and was hurt enough that she ended up going to a nursing home. Even now, my house is still not finished. Her health continued to deteriorate and in November 2009, she fell and broke her hip. Sarah wasn’t able to recover from that and her death came mercifully on April 5th, 2010.

Sarah is a beautiful and tolerance person who is loyal and loving. She was a hard worker, smart as they come, and a tireless advocate for justice and fair play. She is courageous, determined, and patient. And because of these qualities I didn’t get to see her for the last few weeks of her life. Because I was embarrassed and didn’t want to tell her the family problems that I was having. So instead I avoided her and kept telling myself that she was doing OK. I will always regret that pathetic decision. She was my very best friend, a friend at the time that I was suffering the pain, embarrassment and confusion of losing a different friend. Sarah, I will miss you more than I can ever express and I am sorry for my frailty in your last months. I hope that you will be able to forgive me and I hope to see you again and apologize in person when I too cross the veil. Thank you for everything. Thank you for you!



Here is a link to her obituary - http://fenceviewer.com/site/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=31855:Sarah%20B.%20Drew&catid=969:obituaries&Itemid=142g