Trudge Beautifully

It was probably one of the top five days of my life because i wasn't expecting it.

Earlier this spring my painterly sister, Cristall Harper, invited me to meet Sister Elaine Dalton. For those not of my faith, Elaine Dalton is the General President of our church's worldwide organization for girls aged 12-18. It is called the Young Women's Organization and is run entirely by volunteers. I have put 6 years into the organization since I was married. Sister Dalton is a grandmother, marathon runner, fellow lover of honeybees and wearer of her signature color, pale yellow. She champions virtue, education, service, self-worth, and integrity to girls all over the planet.

Cristall had set up an artwork delivery with Elaine Dalton's secretary and understood the appointment to be a quick drop-off. I thought it would be worth it for RE to get a possible glimpse of Elaine Dalton so I pulled her out of school. The plan was that we'd all drive downtown together, deliver the painting, and then enjoy a Bruges waffle on 300 South. (Cristall had never partaken of Bruges' famous yeasted waffle topped with strawberries, crème fraîche and melted Belgian dark chocolate.)

Imagine our surprise when we arrived at the Relief Society Building (a few minutes late due to Cristall insisting we park in underground section U2...the furthest spot from the elevators) and were seated in a gorgeous private office complete with a honeybee half bath. We sat admiring the statues and decor and excellent taste in furniture when the door opened and in walked not only Sister Dalton but also Sister Ann Dibb and Sister Mary Cook. The entire General Young Women's Presidency. My oh my.

They sat down next to us, literally next to us, in their polka dots and citron green and skinny belts. Cristall presented them with her framed painting and discussed how much serving in the Young Women's Organization meant to her as a married woman without children. I sat in awe as my protective little sister opened up her wounds and bled freely. She also told them that she loves to paint tulips over any other flower because they hold the light. (There's a post...) All three women shared personal insights and stories with us.

Sister Dalton took RE aside and put a crown on her head and talked with her one on one. My mother heart was overflowing.

For half an hour we discussed religion in relation to handling our specific personal challenges. Their advice was candid, funny, heartfelt and pure. As the conversation wrapped up I lamented, "So life goes on and we just keep trudging forward?" to which Sister Dalton replied,

Yes. And we trudge beautifully.

Her words are forever etched into my soul. We trudge beautifully. I noticed the opposite of TRUDGE is TIPTOE. Trudging, while grueling, certainly takes one farther than mere tiptoeing. Might as well get somewhere if you're making the effort to move...

I was looking into her eyes when she spoke to me and couldn't help but feel that her sentiment was exactly what the Savior would say to me had He been there instead. "There, there. Life can be hard, but it is still intended to be beautiful. Just keep moving forward. Forward progress is all I ask."

It is hard to define, especially in a cynical world, the feeling I had as I sat on that beautiful sofa with respected strangers. I was completely certain that God knows and loves me. A fluttering within that assured me God's son, the Savior Jesus Christ, really did suffer for my sins as well as my infirmities. I love the word infirmities. It sums up self-doubt + self-hate + self-frustration + self-destruction.

To enter the stage a bit weak, a bit worn, a bit defeated, and exit stage left an hour later fixed, resolute and warrior-like.

To see with clarity that while some days are

[sunny-weathered Temple Square visits complete with sugar cookies and penny wishes in fountains]

and other days are

[the emotional version of crawling on one's hands and knees frantically feeling for the path marked FORWARD]

there is surely beauty in it all simply because God is in it all.

Forever changed, we drove home on Cloud Nine and completely forgot about the waffles.

*work in progress by my little sister Cristall Harper, Master of Tulips

Baggage

Dear RE,

Don’t think because I’m giving you this advice that I actually take it myself. Dad is always getting on me about this one. I am warning you because you are a people pleaser, like me.

Sometimes in life you will be stumbling along, feeling good about your actions and the human circle of trust you have created. You will feel happy and safe. And then you will discover that some in the circle are talking about you.

Seldom little in this life weighs me down more than being falsely accused of words I didn’t say or having my character and life choices inaccurately judged. It debilitates me further that there is endless time to be talked about secretly but no time to be confronted personally.

When this tragedy occurs I roll up like a roly-poly, affix my armor and plan on shutting the disingenuous crowd out for life. I nearly paralyze myself with victim sickness.

Sweet daughter, I have an unfortunate warning: as much as you will hate being gossiped about it will not stop you from gossiping about others. You must learn to tighten the reigns of your own voice.

This is where Dad comes in. Dad, in all of his wisdom, has told me from nearly Day One of our marriage that YOU CANNOT CONTROL WHAT OTHERS FEEL AND SAY ABOUT YOU. YOU CAN ONLY CONTROL WHAT YOU FEEL AND SAY ABOUT OTHERS.

This is a tough one. To master your heart as well as your tongue. To let others’ words literally roll off your back without altering the happy cadence you generally skip through life to. To appear soft and forgiving while your skin grows thicker still. To look at the reflection in the mirror and find satisfaction that you and God alone know the intents of your heart. To teach that heavy heart to let the weight of it all go. Just let it go.

You must not accept others’ baggage. And, more importantly, you must not create baggage for others.

All My Love,

Your Imperfect Mother

p.s. It might require more self-mastery than you think yourself capable of but it is possible. It is possible because we have been commanded to forgive even 70x7, which means forever, and the Lord does not ask us to do anything we aren't capable of. Don't forget that.

*Photo of my 78 lb. suitcase the day I flew home from Hawaii in 1996. I packed my hot rollers. For Hawaii. Where it's humid. Those hot rollers were definitely something I should have let go of.

TWO

I just flew home from my baby sister's wedding. Picture it: gorgeous bride with perfect spray tan in stunning haute couture wedding gown against an autumny Missouri forest, handsome bearded groom who mentioned Settlers of Catan in his vows, enough fur stoles to make Cruella de Vil mad with jealousy, ferns, twinkling votives, lots of pretty people.

Somewhere between them entering the event to "Paradise City" and cutting their cake to "Pour Some Sugar on Me" I ate six miniature Monte Cristos while Greg chowed three lobster mac-n-cheeses.

My studly dad and maid-of-honor-sister Suzette toasted the new couple with Grandpa's homemade cider. Here here. There was dancing, there was a photo booth, there were even a few more Monte Cristos. Delightful friends and family. It was the best weekend.  

My favorite party favor? A little wisdom from one Roger Adrian, CPA, father of the groom.

Per custom Roger gave the couple a toast at the rehearsal dinner (which was held in an art gallery and featured butternut squash lasagna sans hazelnuts). Roger announced that he was no orator. That he was just a CPA that loved numbers. He said he kept thinking about the number 2 for Natalie and Ryan.

Roger explained that 2 can obviously mean A PAIR. 1+1=2. 1 Person + 1 Person = Two People.

He also said that 2 can mean SECOND, meaning you are not Number One, you are Number Two.

Roger taught me that the TWO is really important in marriage.

It is important for every pair to remember there can only be one ONE at any given moment, and the other must be a TWO, and that turns are taken being each number.

I found this to be one of the wisest things I've ever heard.

No one wants to marry someone that is a ONE all the time. Those are called bullies and dictators and narcissists. Nobody wants to be a TWO all the time. Those are called doormats. It caused me to reflect on my own marriage, where I'd love to say that I have had equal shares of each number...but the truth is I've probably acted/demanded/controlled like a ONE for most of it.

I'll admit it. I'm a huge control freak. Greg's laissez faire attitude generally forces me to be bossy, I mean direct. I need to calm down. It's not about being in the Alpha in charge. It's about sharing. Sharing spotlights, glory, brainstorming clouds, wishes and attention. It is a rotation.

I suspect the sum of a ONE and a TWO is greater than its parts. I suspect it is BLISS.

*Photo of Russian subway ticket used circa 2004 by Greg, who is a ONE at guacamole making and driving rental cars.

Blueprint

Brace yourself. I'm going straight to C.S. Lewis.

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace."

My life until I was 25: Everything I had ever wanted happened on time as planned. Perfect grades, valedictorian, scholarship to BYU, married my junior year, graduated from the program I loved, bought a house, went off the pill, had a baby a year later. I literally checked everything off my Life Checklist in order and without consequence. I refer to that phase of my life as COTTAGE.

My life since I turned 25: Not what I had planned. In fact, I haven't checked anything off my Life Checklist since I turned 25. What I was hoping for was more children, our next home that would have a library and a dining room table as big as the one Belle and Beast eat on, a trip to Europe and those crazy "soccer mom" years. Instead I got a decline in my once-perfect, previously-unappreciated health, a decade of infertility, owning specialty retail stores during a recession, legal woes and an ongoing internal struggle to find the joy in these journeys. I refer to this phase of life as PALACE.

It can be tempting to sink into despondency. To cry to the heavens, "What did I do to deserve this?" Or worse, to question if God even loves me.

I once heard that every stone in the Salt Lake Temple was numbered. Not a fan of faith-promoting rumors, I read up until I unearthed the documentation to prove that statement. Every stone was indeed numbered, the majority counted by Truman O. Angell, Sr., architect of the now-famous monument that took the Mormon pioneers forty years to build. Each slab was quarried in Little Cottonwood Canyon, pulled by oxen/railroad 18 miles to Temple Square and then shaped by men with imperfect, yet patient, hands. Too much labor to be done incorrectly, hence the need for detailed instructions.

I realized after my study that the architect took great pains to ensure the minimum labor necessary to build such a glorious temple. He only asked the saints to find and cut and place stones essential to the structure. No one was asked to haul heavy bonus rocks and cut them to the wrong dimensions for fun. Every task aimed at glory, not waste. The effort resulted in a perfect fit.

God loves us perfectly and would not require us to experience a moment more of difficulty than is absolutely needed for our personal benefit or for that of those we love.

I take great comfort in the metaphors of remodeling cottages and numbered stones as well as the words of a modern-day apostle. If the God of the universe knows when a sparrow falls, He also knows exactly what his children stand in need of. I love that quote, that we are not given even one extra moment of difficulty that isn't imperative to our progression. No extra stones. (Of course, we also suffer the consequences of our own bad judgement and poor choices, but we bring those upon ourselves.)

I have the utmost faith that life's PALACE PHASES are not meted out by an austere, schoolmaster God that hovers in the wings waiting to punish us, but that they are tests tailored for us as individuals by a loving Father in Heaven that, like any father, spares his children every pain possible while still allowing us to mature as needed. Life's hardships are not senseless, random acts. They are calculated refiner's fires, or numbered stones, bestowed with love. The architect of my spirit, that same Heavenly Father, has rendered a life for me that will surpass the tiny cottage and checklist I designed for myself.

It does not matter that I can't see the blueprint. I trust the architect.

*Quote by Elder Richard G. Scott. Illustration of Salt Lake Temple tower with numbered stones by Truman O. Angell, Jr., November 1887, taken from Salt Lake Temple: A Monument To the People, p. 77.

Lagniappe

  

Sometimes I can't sleep at night.

Months ago I found myself face to face with my monitor at 3 a.m. as I perused seejanework.com. Office supplies have cheered me up since 3rd grade, when I convinced my mother that circular reinforcement stickers were indeed on the supply list. At 3:18 a.m. my finger nearly pushed the mouse to select CHECKOUT and at 3:19 a.m. I had to step back and assess my mental capacity at such an hour. In my cart was a mustard yellow leather dictionary on clearance for only $120. You can see right here that the normal fashion dictionaries are $180. Oh, and they sell patent leather dictionaries, too. Could you die? I emptied my cart and went back to bed, where I probably dreamt about a cheap paperback thesaurus.

I've wanted the Oxford English Dictionary ever since I read The Professor and the Madman, a book that tells how the dictionary was written. The only hiccup is that it's 20 volumes and $1200. (You can see why the mustard yellow clearance version was so tempting.) I love books, especially beautiful hardbound books. Greg does not love books. He thinks they're a waste of trees and space and time. It's okay. We've managed to stay happily married these 15 years despite opposite tastes in everything from music to desserts.

To overcome our differences we date in the middle of the week while the Alpine School District is our free babysitter. On a recent date I had to drop a bag of stuff off at D.I. and inquired if we might pop in to look for pieces of board games for our wall. While I was silently cursing the lowlifes that donate incomplete games to charity Greg found How to Win Friends and Influence People for $1 and decided to buy it. Most likely the exact book I donated a year ago because I didn't realize Greg read books. We were en route to check out when I spotted my mammoth-sized navy blue dream come true. Webster's Unabridged Second Edition 1979 dictionary. Four and a half inches tall, heavier than our dog, no smell of mold or smoke.

Greg: You don't need that. Dictionaries are dumb.

Me: If you read them you'd have a better word than "dumb" to throw at me. I'm getting it.

Greg: Such a waste. Everyone uses the internet.

Me: The internet is not a dictionary.

Greg: Yes it is, even RE looks her words up on it.

Me: I am getting this. I find it ironic that you are purchasing a book about winning friends. Maybe you will win my friendship if you stop ripping on this marvel of mankind.

I love my dictionary. It is the coolest dictionary I've ever seen. The endpapers depict a giant Indo-European tree trunk that organizes languages within its branches. You've got your portrait of Noah Webster, the regular A-Z dictionary, and then....drumroll....THE SUPPLEMENTS! Dictionaries of geography, noted names in fiction, mythology, legends, foreign words and phrases, scripture proper names, common abbreviations, practical business mathematics, weights and measures, signs and symbols, U.S. Presidents, the Declaration of Independence, the U.S. Constitution, the Charter of the United Nations (okay, I'll never read that), air distance between world cities and an outdated atlas. (Remember the U.S.S.R. and Yugoslavia?)

The previous owner pressed leaves in my dictionary. They are still there. I love the giant oak leaf that is nearly 7" tall and still preserved. Thank you, previous owner, for encouraging my romantic sensibilities. My mind will make up many stories about who put the leaf there and why. Maybe I will think about that the next time I can't sleep instead of surfing the net.

Don't forget the 24 full pages of color illustrations showcasing everything from anatomy and state flags to coelenterates and ruminants. (Look them up, I'm not telling you what they mean.) I have learned so much just from the picture pages. Robin egg blue? Forget about it! You want Great Blue Heron egg blue! There are mute swans? St. Basil's is 16th century? A chinchilla is a white, domestic cat? Microciona, you made a HUGE comeback in the 2010s. Everyone wants to decorate with you.

The irony of the whole situation is that Greg just taught me a new word. Yes, Greg taught me a word. A really good one. Lagniappe. [lan yáp] Noun. It's a sales word, which explains how he found it. Greg is the greatest salesman in the world. Lagniappe: a small gift or present added to a purchase by a tradesman as a favor to customers. I like the secondary definition: an unexpected bonus.

Just when I've resolved to read my unappreciated dictionary in solitude and walk the regal road of literacy alone, Greg drops a lagniappe in my path and reminds me why I need him.