Let Your Heart Be Light

Ooh, 3am. I probably shouldn't start a new blog post, but this has been rumbling about in my head all day.

It's the day after Christmas (well, technically the day after the day after, since it is 3am, but I haven't gone to bed yet, so we'll just stick with the day after). And I'm glad Christmas is over.

I have spent so much time and energy into this Christmas that now (finally!) my heart feels lighter. I know I put the pressure on myself. I need to set my limits and not try to do everything I feel like I need to do, but I did accomplish quite a bit. Even so, I feel like this Christmas was a failure.

Damn it, Satan. Get thee hence!

The adversary wants me to feel like I failed. Maybe I did--there were several things that didn't get done, like my gifts for my brother Dave and his family. My plans for them were a bit ambitious, and slightly hinged upon their coming to Utah for Christmas. They didn't, and I just ran out of time to finish my projects and get them shipped (#ChristmasFail). So I sent them an e-gift card: a total cop-out, but the best I could do at the time. I also told them I will send them a package in January, when I do actually finish what I set out to do.

Here's the next fail: I had a goal. I'm not sure where I heard it, but it has been my mantra all year: "Wrapped and done by December 1."

Nope. Guess who was up until 5am on Christmas Eve/Christmas morning wrapping gifts?

Sigh.

I tried SO HARD to get it all done. I did most of my shopping online before December rolled around, and I even did some wrapping (sans bows, since those get crunched if you do them too early), but it still wasn't enough for me.

I did two angel tree gifts. Well, three technically, since one I couldn't tell if it read boots or books, so I got them both. But I didn't donate anything to the food pantry or volunteer at the homeless shelter. 

I got pictures taken and printed and sent out my personally-addressed cards with at least a week for delivery. But my enclosed letter offended my sister, we got in a fight and now she won't speak to me at all.

I put up the tree, lights, decor, everything by myself; though I did it before Thanksgiving, which is offensive to some people, and which I would never have done a few years ago. And I spent too much money on making my tree pretty, not full of fun memories for my child.

I thought I got good gifts for my husband and my mother-in-law and my child. I didn't get my uber-techy husband anything electronic; he asked for a smart watch and I got him clothes. And my child was so obsessed with the first gift he opened that he had a hard time appreciating any of the cool things anyone else got for him.

I did neighbor gifts and actually introduced myself to the people in my cul-de-sac, though I should have done that two years ago when we moved in. I made GORP for them, though that batch wasn't very good, and I hope the addition of orange zest didn't get anyone sick. I made at least four double-batches of GORP (my recipe is here) for neighbors and co-workers, but I didn't get any to my sisters, who love it.

And all of this is on top of working full-time and trying to take care of my family and very busy autistic child, etc., etc., etc. But my mother-in-law does most of the housework anymore, so I really shouldn't be complaining.

Why is it so hard to be proud of our accomplishments? Why is it so easy to let the negative thoughts dissuade us from believing that we have actually done something well?  Is it pride?

Maybe. Probably.

I know I have an issue with pride; I was really offended when my husband went to our bishop to ask for help last year. We didn't really need it at the time, and I felt terribly guilty about receiving help when there are people who actually do need it. What we actually needed was for me to stick to a budget . . . another huge fail.

Even so--I am trying. There are SOOOO many things I could be doing better. I won't list them here, because it would definitely make this post {TLDR}. I wanted to make things nice for my family, even though by the end I was so exhausted that I slept most of Christmas day. I wanted to have a "merry little Christmas," and although I still feel like I failed, I tried.

And now I'm crying.

I really did try, and I just don't feel like anyone noticed. And that's the folly of my pride: I wanted someone to tell me I did a good job. Even if I feel like I didn't. Even if I don't know how to "do Christmas" when it's only the four of us.

Did Jesus notice? I hope so. I didn't focus on Him as much as I should have; I was too busy trying to get everything else done. But I know He sees my heart, and He knows how hard I am trying to do the right thing. Even if I don't know what that is sometimes. I AM trying to be like Him, and to do what He would have me do. I know I'm not even close to having this whole life-thing (let alone Christmas!) figured out, but I know I'm not alone.

He cares. He notices. He wants me to simplify and slow down and take some time to get to know Him again. 

Maybe that was my lesson from the Christmas season: to not let the clutter get in the way of the beauty. He is the Reason, the Light, the Gift. He is Love, pure and simple.

Cards, gifts, projects--they aren't bad things, as long as we remember why we do them. 

I will remember. I will let Him be the Light in my heart. 

Name Them One By One

To add to the list of my rejections, here's another one: many (I dare say most) of my Facebook friends were tagged with a number, and they had to write a status containing that number of things people didn't know about them.  Apparently no one wanted to know anything about me, even though I liked and commented on many people's lists.  It shouldn't bug me, nor should the fact that I'm cutting my Thanksgiving holiday short to cover a shift for someone who is going out of town, but when she covered a few hours for me on Monday, and she found out where I went, my excuse wasn't good enough for her.  Seriously?  What I do with my time is none of your beeswax, missy.  Try requesting the time off before the deadline like the rest of us, and don't expect my help again any time soon with an attitude like that. 

But--it is now early morning on Thanksgiving.  I have not been participating in the 'grateful' game on Facebook (which was going strong in the beginning of November, but has tapered off significantly).  I really do try to be grateful--I try to thank all of the people who help me in the O.R., especially the orderlies who work so hard.  I'm less thankful at home, because Allen and I rarely see each other, and (although I shouldn't) I don't often give thanks because I don't often get thanks.  I have to remind Allen of the things I do to get a thank you out of him, and that gets old.

Okay--enough complaining.  It's time to count my blessings (and maybe you'll learn something about me).  C'mon, Mary.  It's freaking Thanksgiving!  (These are in random order.)

1.  I'm grateful for my car.  It needs repairs, and it drives me crazy when Benji kicks open the center console (which he does CONSTANTLY), but it is pretty reliable, fun to drive, and has an awesome sound system.  Plus, it's pretty cute.

2.  I'm grateful for our house--especially for my craft room/office.  It's MY space--it has so many of my favourite things in it, and it's nice to have a place of my own.

3.  I am grateful for 4-H.  I learned so many life skills (especially cooking!) in those little meetings in Panguitch.  It was a very good thing.

4.  I'm grateful for Doctor Who.  Yes, it's cheesy, and super-nerdy, but I LOVE IT.  I drove to Logan with my friend Lorraine on Saturday to watch "The Day of the Doctor" at Rachael's house, and I saw it again at the Cinemark in Jordan Landing on Monday night.  I love that it brings so many people together, who might not otherwise know each other.  For example, I have worked with Lorraine for years, but I never really got to know her until I found out she was a Whovian.  And she is awesome.  Yes, she is a little crazy, but she's really a great person.

5.  I am grateful for my musical training (thanks, Mom & Dad!).  I spent several years taking piano lessons and cello lessons and bass lessons, and I played in the orchestra all through High School.  I learned how to love and appreciate music, to read it and understand it.  I would like to take singing lessons at some point, since one item on my bucket list is to be in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, but . . . I have other priorities at the moment.  

6.  I am grateful for my family.  We are going through a rough patch right now, but they truly are my favorite people.  I am extremely blessed to have such wonderful people in my tribe.

7.  I am grateful for my happy childhood.  For a long time, I thought my parents were mean, or didn't care about me.  Of course, now that I'm a parent, I'm in awe of how they raised all six of us with what we needed.  I had a lot of freedom, because they knew they could trust me.  I wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn't smothered or shamed--I was encouraged to work hard and that good grades were their own reward.  

8.  I am grateful for my job.  Some things (and some people) drive me nuts, but all in all--I enjoy it.  I like to help patients, to talk with highly educated people on a daily basis, to learn new things, and to get a paycheck.  I wish I didn't have to work full-time, but there are a lot of people out there who wish they could.

9.  I am grateful for my insurance, and that my premiums only went up $3/paycheck.  We have a high-deductible plan ($3,000 deductible/$6,000 out-of-pocket max), and it makes me a little nervous.  It has been okay this past year (no major catastrophes!), so we'll try it again.  Considering how much some people are having to pay for insurance (thanks to Obamacare), I feel very blessed.  I think Scott and Peggy are paying more per month in premiums than I am paying for an entire year, and for basically the same insurance.  Crazy.

10.  I am grateful for my ward.  There are a lot of great people in my neighborhood, and their testimonies help strengthen my own.  Some people see how much we struggle through church, and we have received some lovely notes of encouragement.  I got a call from a neighbor last week, who was just thinking about me.  It's very sweet, and I'm thankful for people who are able to see past my 'brave face.'

11.  I'm thankful for my senses--that I can see beautiful colors and faces, that I can smell the heavenly scents of Thanksgiving, that I can hear the Christmas carols on the radio, that I can touch the soft skin of my little boy, that I can taste all of the lovely dishes we will eat later today.  

12.  I'm thankful for my body, that I am able to walk and move freely, that my mind is able to comprehend the things I read, see and hear, and that I am able to communicate by so many methods. 

13.  I am thankful for my friends and extended family.  I know some truly amazing people. 

I was going to try to get to #28, since today is the 28th of November, but I'm really tired and I need to get up early to drive to Logan in time to get some pigs-in-a-blanket for breakfast.  SAVE ME SOME PIGGIES!

Count your blessings, name them one by one.  

Count your many blessings, see what God has done.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  Make it a good one.

The Truth About Love

I have been wanting to write . . . I'm so frustrated that I haven't had time!  Benji's party just took over my life, and now that it's over, I need to get Allen's party rolling.  Um, it's in less than a week, and I don't have anything beyond a theme and some fuzzy ideas.  I got some pictures printed for the invitations, but I don't love the way they turned out.  Last week, one of my friends here at work, Paul, asked me how things were going, and I said I was in "Party Planning Hell."  He said, "Well, of all the circles of Hell to be in, that one doesn't sound too bad."  This is true; I'm just totally burned out.

I didn't take many pictures of Benji's birthday party; I was busy trying to put everything together at the last minute.  Since I'm at work tonight, and it's currently 3:49am, I'll share the ones I got later.  Instead, I want to write a little bit about Valentine's Day.

Actually, let me back up.  I want to write a little bit about Jane Austen.  "Pride and Prejudice" was published 200 years ago, which is giving many fans an excuse to re-read her wonderful novels.  I think I have read them all {she only had six published novels}.  I have been meaning to read them again, and I probably will this year.  I have always wanted to be the Elizabeth Bennet character {who wouldn't?  Smart, sassy, self-righteous, pretty, and she marries Mr. Darcy in the end!}, but I have recently come to a different conclusion.

I am Charlotte Lucas.

Of all the characters in P&P, I think I am most like Charlotte.  She is quite plain and practical, and she comes from a good family.  She agrees to marry Mr. Collins after not knowing him for very long {um, overnight?}, and ends up living a quiet, comfortable life in a parsonage.

I am not saying that Allen is Mr. Collins; Allen doesn't really fit into any of the characters in P&P.  It's just that the situations resemble each other.  We didn't take much time to get to know each other before we got married, and the ways we live our lives work in similar fashions.

So, back to Valentine's Day.  I used to call it "Valen-Death Day," or "Single Awareness Day {S.A.D.}."  I like what Jennifer Garner's character said in the movie "Valentine's Day," when asked by McDreamy what there is to hate about the holiday.

"Nothing, if you're a handsome, divorced doctor, but for the rest of us single women, it's kind of a giant cosmic b****slap. It's like the universe saying, look, remember when you were fourteen and you had cystic acne and braces and you played the saxophone in the marching band and no one would invite you to the winter formal? Well nothing's changed."

Yep.  I never had a boyfriend on Valentine's, and then in 2006 I had a husband.  And it was pretty sad to learn that he just didn't care.  I cannot remember his doing anything for me for Valentine's Day.  Maybe some flowers from Costco {certainly not delivered}, maybe going out to dinner.   And then, in 2008, I gave birth to my beautiful baby boy, and Valentine's became all about him.  I have hardly had time to think about it, because I'm so consumed with party planning around this time of year.

All that being said, there's always that hope: that pathetic little voice in the back of your head that hopes you will be the one who receives the ginormous bouquet at work; that someone will tell/show the world in some grand, romantic gesture how lucky they are to have you.  The Charlotte Lucas in me knows that will never happen, and while that doesn't really bother me most of the time, it does on Valentine's Day.

My sister Sarah has quit Facebook, because she would compare her relationship to others. It's true: Facebook is a place where many people brag about how great their lives are, how lucky they are, how much they love their S.O.'s, etc.  My friend Katelyn {a former coworker} is waiting for her boyfriend to come home from serving an LDS mission, and everyday she puts up a countdown and another long reason/story of why they belong together.  It's so sweet I almost get cavities just from reading.

I may have written about this analogy before, but there's also the "Johnny Lingo Effect." Johnny Lingo is a short movie produced by the LDS Church back in 1969.  It's pretty cheesy, but it's definitely part of the Mormon Culture, if you will.

{Adapted from Wikipedia} It's basically about a man who is a shrewd Polynesian trader.  Lingo has come to one island to bargain for a wife. Mahana, the young woman he desires, is considered by her neighbors and even her father to be of little value, sullen, ugly and undesirable. As the bargaining is about to begin, women of the island brag to each other of how many cows their husbands had given for each of them, and comment that Mahana's father will be lucky to see one cow as Lingo's offer. The counselor advises Mahana's father to ask for three cows so that finally, Moki (Mahana's father) will at least get one cow.

The bargaining begins and as the counselor suggested that Moki ask Johnny Lingo three cows. Since this is a public event, everyone laughs, then wait for Lingo to make his counter-offer, certain that he will make a devastating bargain.

Lingo, considering, says that three cows are many . . ."But not enough for my Mahana!" He then offers the unheard-of price of eight cows for her hand in marriage. The next day, the villagers gather at the house of Mahana's father to see the completion of the deal. Some of the islanders say that Lingo reconsidered his deal and would not show up. But Lingo brings the cows. He and Mahana then leave the island on a trading trip.

When they come back, the island storekeeper, everyone is astonished to discover that Mahana is a beautiful, happy woman. Even Mahana's father began accusing Johnny Lingo of cheating him by giving only eight cows for a girl truly worth ten cows. Johnny, her proud husband, had proved to her that her true worth had nothing to do with what others saw, but only what she truly was.

He had made the best bargain of all -- a few cows for a life with the woman that he loved.

I think the closest thing we have to this trade, this 'calculation of a woman's worth' is the size of a woman's diamond on her engagement ring.  How much is your man willing to pay for you?  How much does he think you are worth?

Me?  Nothing.  Allen has never bought me a ring.

He has purchased some jewelry for me, though I don't wear them very often {necklaces are too small and look like chokers, earrings are not my style}.  I have bought a couple of different CZ rings, which are pretty, but ever since I started scrubbing, I haven't worn them.  I'll pull them out every once in a while, but I'm very self-conscious and uncomfortable with wearing them.

Most of the time {like the rest of the year}, I don't care.  I have bought Allen a couple of different rings as well, and he doesn't wear his either.  When we decided to get married, all I wanted was to be done with the dating game.  I was tired of waiting for someone who was never going to love me back, and I didn't see any other decent prospects on the horizon.  So I took the leap without a ring.  I don't think Allen had even met my dad before we told him we were getting married, so there was certainly no bargaining or permission-asking or anything traditional like that.

I have always been a strong-minded {read: stubborn} person, and I want to do things my own way.  I wanted to get married, and I didn't care about something as silly as a ring.  Like Charlotte, I have never been a romantic; I'm far too practical.  And I'm grateful for the things I do have, which many people do not: a family, a child, a home, a car, a job, friends, a temple marriage, etc.  All in all, I'm a pretty lucky girl.

So that one day a year, when the retailers of the world want you to celebrate LOVE by spending your hard-earned money on frivolous gifts and cards and flowers, and when your husband buys LED lightbulbs instead of chocolates, it's no big deal, right?  When he takes the day off of work for no real reason, so you get dolled up thinking you'll at least go out to lunch, and instead you end up giving him gas money and he takes off to go to your child's party at school, it doesn't make that much of a difference, right?

Charlotte says it shouldn't.  But it does.