Wanted

Friend for life.  Or longer.

No age requirement.  No minimum or maximum.

Religion? Skin? Accent? Educated? Employed? Who cares?

You know I couldn’t care less if you’re divorced or married or somewhere in between.  I don’t care a whit if you’ve had kids, have kids, or never got kids.  At this point in my life, it’s definitely not about the kids.

I’d prefer if you liked dogs.  But not mandatory.  Just makes it easier when you come to visit.

I don’t need a lot of your time.  I honestly prefer to be on my own. I’ve got a husband and kids and a farm.  And a stack of books teetering on my headboard.  And I’m not even a quality time person.  I don’t need girls’ nights out or movie dates. I’d rather spend evenings with my family to be honest; I don’t see them enough.  I don’t love spending money going out to eat.  But now and then is fine.  I prefer quiet lunches in our homes, intimate cozy settings where we can laugh out loud in private and cry our tears in peace.

Please don’t worry about gifts.  I’m not really into things.  I know some of you feel like you need to on my birthday or for Christmas, but truly, not the least bit necessary.  (But just between you and me, I love, love, love an unexpected note in the mail once or twice a year.  A text every few weeks just to check in.  But that’s just frosting on the cake.)

What I’m really looking for is someone who will skip the small talk and just talk.  And listen occasionally.  But mostly just tell me I’m normal as you share your life with me.  Don’t hide the ugly stuff.  I’m good with messes.  Be imperfect.  Let me have to move the laundry so I can sit on my socked feet for an impromptu afternoon visit.  Linger.  And encourage me to skip what I had planned and stay a little longer.

Give me the benefit of the doubt.  Assume I’m doing my best.  And that I would never in a million years do anything to offend or hurt you.  Help me work through our misunderstandings so I can learn.  I want to learn.  Because then I can do better.  But some women just leave without ever telling me where we went wrong.  It breaks my heart and leaves me to wonder for months and even years.  Nothing hurts worse.  Please don’t do that to me.  Be honest.  I can take honest.  If you do it with love.  Just remember if it seems mean, it was never intentional, are you kidding?

Trust me.

To be honest, I just want someone who will let me share this life with her. I spend so much of the days being pleasant and dutiful and tactful and politically correct.  I want a friend I can let my (naturally gray) hair down with.  I want her to open her heart and let me have a peek.  I want her to know mine has been just as bruised.  But that I’m a risk taker.  I’m ok with being vulnerable.  I’m happy to share my thoughts, my feelings, my insecurities, my frailties, my weaknesses, my hopes, my flaws.  And of course I’d expect the same from you.  Sadly, this is too much to ask from most women.  Which is why I wanted to spell it all out. 

So before you reply, think about it.  All I’m promising you is loyalty from here to the end.  And beyond.  Just let me know if you’re in.

Confidential from mom. How to know.

Dating doesn’t mean you’re engaged.  Or even heading that way.  There’s a lot to know about a person.  And it’s the perfect way to learn a little more about yourself.  Dating means you’re taking your time.  You’re not giving up because you’re not sure where it’s headed.  But you’re not committing just because it’s what other people do.

In the meantime, keep an open mind.  But don’t keep waiting, hoping for something better to come out next year.  Girls aren’t iPhones.

You need to be attracted to her, but remember what I’ve always told you.  What if she got burned up in a fire?

Of course you want someone similar to what you’re used to.  But not the same.  Familiar but not family.  You don’t want your wife to be like your mother or sister.  You want her to to be your girlfriend.  What do you want in a wife?  Make a list.  Not just for now but as a wife and mom.  But not just as a mom but as a girlfriend.

You need to feel a spark.  But not necessarily fireworks.  Don’t settle if you’re just not feeling it.  But don’t give it all away because it’s not like the movies.  She should feel like your best friend.  That you want to kiss.

You should have a few interests in common.  But not really.  You can like snowboarding and hunting; she doesn’t have to.  But think about how you’d like to spend your time as a family down the road.  Camping and hiking might top the list.  Do you want to have a dog? Does she?  Definitely up there with the Do you want to have kids conversation you’ll eventually want to have.

Consider deal-breakers.  There are probably only a couple if you really really think about it.

Don’t rush it.  But don’t be afraid if it’s right.  Give it time.  But get on it when you know.

You might both be young.  Maybe too young for something this serious.  You still have so much school.  But what better way to get through school than with a wife?

Don’t stress so much.  Enjoy your time together.  But don’t just hang out and go to dinners and movies.  Do hard things.  Don’t be afraid when things go wrong.  It’s a great chance to see what you’re both made of.

Does she make you want to be better?  In a mom way?  Or because she inspires you?

Are you with her because you’re comfortable or because it’s easy?  Because she’s available or because you can’t get enough of her?

Are you not dating other people because that would be too scary or because you just really like the one you’re with?

Does she make you laugh? In a silly or annoying way?  Or in the perfect way?

Are you proud to be with her?  Or embarrassed that it looks so serious?  And that she’s so young?  Do you really want to base something like this (or anything for that matter) on what anyone else thinks?

Is she strong but not overbearing?  Righteous but not self-righteous?  Will she insist on doing things her way?  You want a wife who can stand on her own but who considers you both equals.  She should be self-sufficient but need you.

Does she need fancy?  Is she high maintenance?  Beware.  But do you really want granola? 

Is she orderly but not uptight? Organized but not ocd? Will she make a beautiful home?  On a dime?  And can she settle for an apartment with cinder block walls for now?

Speaking of dimes, she should be money-conscious but not a tightwad, generous but not a spendthrift.  It’s ok to use coupons.  But maybe not obsess about them.  There’s nothing wrong with a woman who knows the value of a dollar and how to work.  I’m thinking that’s what you want.

Not exciting? Maybe she doesn’t have much baggage.  Not adventurous?  You can’t tell when it’s simply a lack of exposure.  Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have to show her the ropes.  And slopes.  And trails.

See?  Clearly, it’s not that hard.  Just a few simple questions, a little self-reflection.  You’ll do fine.  But if you have to ask, it’s probably not right.  Not that it’s not the right person, just maybe not the right time.  So take your time.  But not all the time in the world.  Ask God to help you know.  But don’t expect him to tell you. Listen to your heart. He knows you’ve got this.

My conversion story

(This was a talk given in church. I'm just filing it here for safe-keeping, probably not of general interest. Sorry!)

Intro:

It was a fall just like this back in 1990.  Todd and I met in family home evening as freshmen at BYU, a group that ate lunch and dinner together everyday in the Morris Center.  We all studied together and hung out with each other on the weekends. Todd and I somehow gravitated toward each other and became inseparable friends.  I had a 7 a.m. Spanish class and he would eat breakfast with me at 6:15 even though he didn’t have a class till 8, we spent nearly all our time together.  But before we knew it, Christmas came, and I broke up with my boyfriend back in San Diego.  Second semester flew by and we had to leave each other for the summer.  We made no promises to each other about the future, we just knew we felt completely at ease with each other, calm, happy, and peaceful when we were together.  He left on his mission that fall and I was distraught as I came home from seeing him off at the airport and had to take finals that very day.  By this point I knew I loved him, but I didn’t know if things would work out.  Dozens of letters, packages, and cassette tapes flew between Provo and Norway weekly for the next two years.  During this time I was preparing to go on a mission of my own, I had all my clothes, luggage, and papers in.  But as it was, I didn’t end up going, and I felt complete peace about it, which surprised me because I’d planned on it for as long as I could remember.  Fast forward… Todd’s parents flew me out to see him that Christmas break after he’d returned.  This might surprise you, but we still weren’t 100% sure.  I just couldn’t tell if this was enough to base a marriage on.  Wasn’t it supposed to be more electrifying or dramatic or obvious?  I was jealous of my friends who had real love stories, who saw each other across a crowded room and who fell madly and intoxicatingly in love.  We weren’t anything like that. We were best friends, but where was my love story?

I’ve often wondered the same thing about my conversion story.  When I think about conversion, I think about my mom.  She and her sister met the missionaries in Scotland and joined the church when she was 15.  The church became their life and nearly all their free time was spent related to it.  But she knew she wasn’t likely to find a husband in the church in Scotland, and so at 21 she came alone to America to become a nanny.  She eventually met and married my dad in San Diego.  We were maybe a typical family of the 80s.  We definitely weren’t highly religious, but my mom and dad were consistent home and visiting teachers.  We almost always went to church even though we sometimes went out for dinner or ice cream or the park later on.  We went to seminary, occasionally had family home evening, we somewhere along the line started family prayer, and we even invited the neighbors to watch Man’s Search for Happiness on our wall.  But was I converted?  To some things, yes.  But when Matt asked me to share my conversion story, my initial reaction was I don’t have one.

But as I’ve thought about it, I’ve realized my conversion story is a lot like my love story.  I hardly know where it began.  The gospel has been as comfortable and natural to me as Todd has always been.  There are highlights, memories that stand out in both stories though.  I remember our initial date, hiking to the Y that first September.  It wasn’t anything we can articulate even all these years later, but we both felt some inkling that we would end up sharing our life together.  There were no fireworks and certainly no kissing, but it is a night we both remember.  One that we always go back to, like one of my favorite scriptures, “Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?”  Looking back on our first date, Todd and I agree those feelings were from God.  

One of my first experiences with becoming converted was when I got my Patriarchal Blessing.  I hadn’t realized how much God loves us individually until that afternoon as the Patriarch told me very specific things that only God could know.  It was eye-opening for me and I felt a deep connection to my Heavenly Father at that point. 

But over the years, both my conversion and love stories have continued to unfold gradually, line upon line, just as I’m sure yours have. 

So as I share a little more of my conversion, I want to talk about three things:

—What does it mean to be converted?

—How can we become converted?

—How can being converted help when trials come?

1.  What does it mean to be converted?

Succinctly, I think it means that we truly love God with our whole heart, more than anything else, and we want to follow his Son’s example.  It doesn’t mean we’ve reached some level of expertise in our discipleship, it just means we are facing Christ, that we have a desire to “give away all [our] sins to know” God and Christ.  

We need to remember what Elder Hallstrom taught though, “We do not strive for conversion to the Church but to Christ and His gospel, a conversion that is facilitated by the Church” (“Converted to His Gospel through His Church”).

President Romney:

“Conversion is a spiritual and moral change. Converted implies not merely mental acceptance of Jesus and his teachings but also a motivating faith in him and his gospel. In one who is really wholly converted, desire for things contrary to the gospel of Jesus Christ has actually died. And substituted therefore is a love of God, with a fixed and controlling determination to keep his commandments.”

Think about some scriptures that talk about conversion to God. 

—Nephi’s people for 200 years after Christ came, “there was no contention in the land, because of the love of God which did dwell in the hearts of the people.” (4 Ne 1:15)

—Enoch’s people: “And the Lord called his people Zion, because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness.” (Moses 7:18)

—King Benjamin’s people: “…the Spirit of the Lord… has wrought a mighty change in us, or our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually” (Mosiah 5:2)

That’s true conversion, when our Godlike desires trump the natural man, when we want to follow Christ more than anything else.  But, Elder Christofferson reminds us, “It is important to recognize that God’s ultimate purpose is our progress. His desire is that we continue “from grace to grace, until [we receive] a fulness” of all He can give.” (“Why the Church”)

And Elder Bednar reiterates this idea:

“For many of us, conversion is an ongoing process and not a onetime event that results from a powerful or dramatic experience. Line upon line and precept upon precept, gradually and almost imperceptibly, our motives, our thoughts, our words, and our deeds become aligned with the will of God. Conversion unto the Lord requires both persistence and patience” (“Converted Unto the Lord”).

And we all remember Elder Robbins’ thought-provoking question, “Which way do you face?” God cares about our desires and orientation, not our performance.

Elder  Oaks gave us a good way way to measure our progress: 1) are we losing our desire to do evil? and 2) are we starting to see things as Heavenly Father and Jesus do?  (Nov. 2000 Ensign), both good indicators to assess how we’re doing.

As I’ve thought about my own conversion process, it’s hard to pinpoint a time when I all of a sudden knew it was true or when I became converted.  It’s been as Elder Bednar described, “the gradual increase of light radiating from the rising sun. Most frequently,” he said, “revelation (I’d add conversion) comes in small increments over time and is granted according to our desire, worthiness, and preparation.”

Both my love story and conversion story are the same in this regard.

All the time we were dating, I never thought to ask Heavenly Father if Todd was the right one.  I suppose we prayed throughout our dating to help us know if he thought it was a good idea to keep dating, but I honestly can’t remember if I did, we just knew it felt calm, good, peaceful, and comfortable to be together.  That was good enough for us, and as we decided to get married, we felt confident and content and completely at peace.

It’s the same with my testimony.  I don’t think I’ve ever prayed to know if any of it is true. Todd and Andrew both did as they were getting ready for their missions.  Todd read the Book of Mormon for the first time as a freshman, and his answer was clear.  Andrew was in the MTC in Mexico, 5 weeks into his mission, and even though he’d been asking, he became desperate to know.  His answer was, “You already know it’s true.  Why are you asking me?”  I’ve always wanted a defining moment, but like Andrew, I already know it’s all true, I’ve always known it. 

2.  How can we become more converted?

Two ideas:

a.  The common theme in everything I’ve learned throughout my life and as I’ve studied, is stick with it.  Keep living what you hope is true.  The scriptures and modern apostles continue to teach us this.

—“If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself” (John 7:17)

—“Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Malachi 3:10)

—“Experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith” (Alma 32:27)

—“Stay in the boat and hold on!” (Elder Ballard)

—“Choose to Believe” (Elder Clayton)

—“Latter-day Saints Keep on Trying” (Elder Renlund)

—“Anchor your faith in the plain and simple truths of the gospel” (Bishop Causse)

—“You must consider, ponder, [and] fearlessly strive to believe” (President Uchdorf)

—“Make the exercise of your faith your first priority” (Elder Scott)

So many of their talks lately admonish us to just hang on, endure to the end.

b. The second suggestion is from Elder Scott: “To receive the blessings promised from true conversion, make the changes that you know are needed in your life now. The Savior said: “Will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you.”  Elder Lawrence gave us similar advice in his memorable talk, “What Lack I Yet?”  They both encouraged us to pray specifically about our weak areas and to ask God to help us improve.  As we work through our weaknesses and even begin to conquer them, we will be converted to those principles of the gospel.  “And now, behold is your knowledge perfect? Yea, your knowledge is perfect in that thing, and your faith is dormant” (Alma 32:34).  We take it step by step, one weakness, one question at a time, and line upon line, little by little, we become converted.

By the way, both of these suggestions, to stick with it and to work on your weaknesses, are helpful as you write your love story.

3.  And lastly, how do our efforts to become converted help us during hard times?

Both my testimony and my relationship with Todd have been tested over the years.  Like most of you, I’ve had ups and downs with both.

One of the biggest trials with Todd was when we returned to BYU after his mission.  We had just spent an incredible week together over Christmas with his family in Chicago, our first week together in over two years. But all of a sudden when we got back to school, I started questioning everything about us.  It was the worst week we’d ever had. 

Another hard time was when we lived in Illinois during vet school.  A lot of you know what a graduate student’s schedule feels like.  But a couple years into this, I checked out a little.  Not that I questioned our marriage or wanted to not be married, but I was kind of just going through the motions, I became a little detached emotionally, a little apathetic, which scared me.

My beliefs were tested a few years back when my dad died. And just a few months later when I got cancer and we had no idea what the outcome would be.

And then my testimony was tested again about a year or so ago.  I emptied my pockets and put everything I thought I knew for sure on the table.  I wanted to start fresh and really look at what I was believed.  I wondered if I’d been duped and brain washed all these years.  I wondered if I was just blindly following persuasions and a dream I hoped was real.

You all have examples from your own lives, but in each case I had to ask myself what I believed and knew, I had to find out how converted I was.  So here’s the the rest of the story:

Todd and I didn’t talk much that first week back at BYU until he called Friday to ask to borrow money to rent clothes for the temple.  With his voice in my head and knowing where he was, l took the opportunity to assess what I felt.  I called my aunt and we talked.  Through that conversation, I felt so strongly that I wanted to be with him.  I couldn’t wait to talk to him, I had to tell him how I felt.  I just knew in my heart our relationship was right.  I’ve never questioned that decision.  Looking back, we both felt that satan didn’t want us to start a life together, but we’re so glad we listened to the Spirit as it confirmed we should move forward.

During our off-time in vet school, I just hung in there.  I think a lot of us have done this with church.  We go through the motions, but our heart is distant, we’re not on fire like we’ve been in the past, we’re maybe a little apathetic.  But, like the scriptures and our prophets and apostles promise us, we just need to hang on, keep doing what we’ve been taught, endure to the end, the light will come.  I don’t even remember what changed, but I think it’s our covenants that keep us going, they are more powerful than we know.  So we as we simply keep our covenants, even during times when we’re not really feeling it, we are blessed. Elder Christofferson taught this in conference, “They produce the faith necessary to persevere and to do all things that are expedient in the Lord…. Come what may, we can face life with hope and equanimity, knowing that we will succeed in the end because we have God’s promise to us individually, by name, and we know He cannot lie” (“The Power of Covenants”).

When my dad died suddenly, I had to ask myself, is he really where we’ve taught our kids he is? Is it all real?  And why am I not sad?  How is this so easy? And with our cancer news, I cried really hard the night we found out, but then I had to ask myself, “Do I trust His plan?  Do I trust Him?”  I surprised myself by how strongly I did.  Absolutely.  And if he thought it was a good idea for me to work on the other side of things for awhile, I’d agree to it.  If he thought this was best for our family, I knew it would make us stronger, we would still be together later on.  

Throughout all these experiences, I knew for sure that God was real.  And that he would help us.  That he knows what he’s doing, that his way is the best, and that he only wants us to be happy. I discovered I knew this deeply.  Unexpectedly, these and other heartaches have been amazing stepping stones.  After that week without Todd, when I wasn’t sure if I’d lost everything with him, after that period of wondering what I really believed, after contemplating the possible change cancer would have on our family, I was amazed at the light that followed.  I had never felt more love for Todd or God or a stronger witness until after these trials of faith.

Elder Scott taught: “True conversion yields the fruit of enduring happiness that can be enjoyed even when the world is in turmoil and most are anything but happy. Of a group of individuals in difficulty, the Book of Mormon teaches: “They did fast and pray oft, and did wax stronger and stronger in their humility, and firmer and firmer in the faith of Christ, unto the filling their souls with joy and consolation, yea, even to the purifying and the sanctification of their hearts, which sanctification cometh because of their yielding their hearts unto God.  President Hinckley has declared that it is true conversion that makes the difference.” I love that the Bible Dictionary says, “Complete conversion comes after many trials and much testing.”  To be honest, I haven’t had many trials or much testing, but I know that with each hiccup in life, we’re given a choice.  Are we going to turn away from God or toward God?  Are we going to rely on the arm of flesh to help us or our perfectly loving Father?  It’s fascinating to read verses in the scriptures of different people experiencing the same thing like in Alma, “But behold, because of the exceeding length of the war… many became hardened,… and many were softened because of their afflictions, insomuch that they did humble themselves before God, even in the depth of humility.”  Our trials, our questions, our ups and downs, all of it can help us become more converted as we learn to trust God even when life doesn’t make sense.

Closing:

In closing, I challenge you to think about your own conversion story.  I’d even encourage you to write it down.  What if you don’t think you have one or you wonder if you even have a testimony?  President Packer addressed this years ago, “It is not unusual to have [someone] say, “How can I bear testimony until I get one? How can I testify that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, and that the gospel is true? If I do not have such a testimony, would that not be dishonest?”  Oh, if I could teach you this one principle. A testimony is to be found in the bearing of it!” 

I’ve spent the past week thinking about how I’ve been converted over the years, what I believe, and how I feel about it all.  It’s been a thought-provoking exercise, and I can tell you that I know God and his Son are real.  They love us.  They have a plan for our lives.  They’ve given us this gospel and the organization of the church and prophets and scriptures and families to help us become strengthened and converted to them.  I feel it stronger today than I’ve ever felt it. So I encourage you to take some time, maybe even this afternoon, to think about and even write down your feelings about your conversion story.  And while you’re at it, take a minute to write your love story too.

I never wanted to be an expert

Are you ever befuddled by all the choices and responsibilities of our modern world?  Think back to the 50s… or even the 80s, back when I was growing up.  We had people who pumped our gas, checked the oil, arranged our vacations, helped us with our banking, and even measured our feet for us.  We trusted our doctors, teachers, and to some extent the news reports.

But these days I feel like I need to be a Jill of All Trades.  Not that I'm against self-sufficiency, you know where we stand on that.  But it's a little overwhelming these days.  Just a few recent examples come to mind.

I finally remembered to stop by the Verizon kiosk at Costco to ask a couple questions about my phone. And then I remembered why I’d been putting it off.  As always, I walked away feeling like an idiot. He was maybe the age of my sons.  He’d never lived in a world without these phones,  whereas I can’t even to wonder what else it can do.  But I felt deflated and like a moron for asking my obviously very basic questions.  I feel like I’ve come a long way though.  I wanted to remind him I was typing papers in high school on a typewriter, years before he was even a thought.  We had phones with cords and cheaper long distance rates on the weekends.  Do you have any idea of how steep a learning curve I’m on?  And I’m relatively young compared to a lot of his customers.

I felt the same way, like a little kid who was getting reprimanded by my teacher, when I took my computer in the other day.  She laid out some of my misdeeds:  I’d taken my Apple computer to Best Buy (where I bought it); didn’t I know they aren’t certified to work on Apples? Then she noticed we’d somehow set our screen saver to change too frequently slowing it way down, we were using Spotify in the wrong mode, and I can’t remember what else.  Good grief.  I felt chastened and old and ignorant.  And like taking notes.

It’s not just technology.  Well, I guess my van counts since it’s all computerized with these lights that show up, but I never know what’s urgent, serious, or just a good idea when a new one comes on.  I feel like that same little kid when I go to get my oil changed.  I have no idea if the air filter needs to be switched out; use your discretion.  It looks dirty to me, but is that dirty enough to warrant buying a new one or are you just taking me? And wipers?  It’s been seven months since we last changed them.  But it doesn’t rain much here.  But it did snow a lot this winter.  I have no idea if I need new ones.  Can’t you just figure out what kind of oil I need for the season and let me eat my ice cream sandwich and read my waiting room literature in peace?  I’m paying upwards of $50 for a 10 minute job; can’t I leave something as simple as my oil change up to you professionals?

I wonder the same thing when I go for a haircut.  Can’t you look at the texture and amount of hair on my head, the roundness of my face, and just figure it out?  You tell me what would look good.  In my little Pintrest squares, the girls all look fabulous. But I suspect they’d look great no matter what hair style you gave them.  How do I translate that to me?  I have no idea if the haircut I think I like is the one I should have. You’ve gone to school for this.  You do this everyday.  You should be able to do more for me than agree with me, I’m paying you $40 to help me for an hour.  I know it’s not that big of a deal, it’s just hair; but you certainly know more about it than I do.  Just work with me.  Or for me.

But no.  Choices abound.  Responsibility for nearly every facet of our lives sits squarely on our shoulders.  Even when it’s way more serious than a phone or a computer.  My friend went to have her leg checked.  The doctor asked her if she’d like an x-ray or MRI.  She asked what he thought.  It was up to her.  As for a treatment plan, that was also up to her.  I get that.  Todd’s always asking his clients what route they want to go with their pets.  But there’s a lot more leeway with pets; you’re allowed to put them down simply because you can’t afford their care or they’re not really doing it for you anymore.  So it’s more about money in the veterinary world; do they really want to spend that much on a back surgery or chemo for their 12 year old mutt?  The human world is a little different; we’re hopefully looking for the best option, not necessarily the cheapest.  There is so much to know about; I wish I could defer to my doctors.

But I don’t feel I can.  In the beginning I did. I took my babies in for their well-baby checks and simply agreed when they told me it was time for their MMRs or Hep B vaccinations.  I assumed they—who had spent a decade longer in school than I had and who had specifically studied the human body—knew what the best course of action was for our kids.  But now I hear moms all the time who are telling their doctors what to do.  One told me baby cereal had too much sugar when we got to talking about feeding her baby solids.  I felt—once again—like an idiot mom.  I fed all my kids that stuff.  I just went off the sheet that told us what and when to feed them.  Now I’m trying to decide which vaccinations to go ahead with and which ones to waffle on with my older kids when I wish I could just have my doctor (who I just paid $267 for an office visit and one shot) tell me what to do.  But there’s no consensus.  Apparently, it’s up to me to tally the votes and make a decision.

I feel like I need to spend my free time as a research assistant. I can’t tell you how much time I’ve wasted reading reviews on everything from coolers to white button down shirts.  Last Christmas I wanted to buy decent thermos-containers for the kids for their lunches, but after days of scrolling through reviews I gave up, more confused than when I began. I’m supposed to know where my jeans are made and under what kinds of labor conditions as well as if the companies are environmentally responsible, best deals on vacation rentals, all the tricks to doing Disneyland, which charitable organizations really use my donations credibly, days and times of the week to book discounted flights and time of year to buy sheets, as well as keep up with the latest in low-carb, high protein diet recipes.  I’m supposed to be informed.  I just feel tired.

And frustrated. Maybe I would like to be an expert.  At something.  Not everything.  Isn’t that why we pay people to represent us, to study and report back to us, to sell us a good product?  I wish it were that way.  But to be honest, I don’t have a clue who to trust.  Not in politics.  Not in medicine.  Certainly not with diets. Or exercise plans. Or skin care. Because the minute I form an opinion, I’m barraged with a million from the other side.

But who has time to become an expert?  Because in the time I’m not researching the best deal on bike repair kits on the computer, I’m supposed to be digesting all those little booklets that come with my phone, the cars, the sewing machine, the blender, the chickens, the lawn mower, the trimmer, and the bees.

But my husband does.  He simply doesn’t care what other people think and doesn’t waste time getting the very best deal.  He also happens to be very intuitive and well-rounded, so he can apply one area of expertise very easily to another situation. In his free time, since he’s not spending it researching couches, he’s become a proficient woodworker, for instance.  He’s done all our trim work and carves spoons, made our craftman-style bed and our tv chest while going through vet school.  He takes his time, learns and then gets to work.  He’s done this with gardening, bees, cows, and fencing lately.  I can’t tell you how much I admire him.  I have so much to learn.

So here’s my three-fold strategy.

I do want to learn.  And so instead of an all-or-none approach (an expert or an ignoramus), I'll up my reading by just a tad.  I'll continue to educate myself, I will. It's not that I'm opposed to knowing more about my phone or computer's capabilities, it's just that I get going and never think to look back and really find out what more they can do. I can do a little better.

I also ask people I trust for their opinions (i.e. my friends) and then I ask the experts what they would do in my situation.  I did this just recently during an oral-surgery visit to decide about a newly erupted wisdom tooth.  He was a friend—as well as the expert, and so I asked what he would do if it was his wife.  He wouldn’t mess with it.  Easy as that, right?  I wish.  But so many times the experts are on both sides of the proverbial fence, leaving me to deal with all the studies on my own.  Super frustrating.

However, my go-to expert is God, and I include him in most of my major decisions (even as I wade through the health-maze, car purchases, new houses, and especially as we raise our family). He always comes through, I’m just not the best at getting the message.  Another area of my life I’m working on becoming more expert with, by the way.

But then I make a decision confidently, and try not to look back.  We went to  Hawaii as a family years ago.  I know we spent too much (I heard all about it when we got back) and did it wrong.  But I’ve decided to put on my blinders to what everyone else spends or did or gets for their money and I just try to be content and at peace with how we did it.  No, we didn’t spend enough time researching used vans from the 90s when we were looking for our first, but I loved having that old green van, it was such a blessing to our family.  Yes, we just bought suits and pants for our missionary at the missionary store.  And spent way too much.  We had no idea how to do it or what he really needed, and we only had a day.  So yes, we paid too much, but we learned for next time.  And had enough time left over for In and Out.  Yes, I went to the jumping place without a coupon.  I know.  I know.  I make these kinds of mistakes all the time.  Somehow people manage to do Hawaii and Florida for like $300, but we’re never going to be that kind of people.  We just aren’t willing to spend that much time; we have so many other things we’re trying to do.  But I just try to enjoy the situation anyway.  (By the way, this is super, super hard for me.)

And then I can put any extra energy into what I really want to become an expert about.  But who are we kidding?  I’m so pooped by the time I get to that point in my day, I’m not sure I want to be an expert on anything.  You?

How are you?

I hate fake, so when a friend asks, I take stock in a nanosecond.  How am I? I can see why we all resort to our familiar fine or good.  It’s too much work to take my temp and assess how I’m feeling, and it’s too complicated to calculate how much she’s really interested in hearing and how much of my heart I can really share.  And really, who has time to chit chat?  I’m as guilty as anyone and, besides, most of the time I’m sincere when I answer patly, “Great!”

Because, compared to most of the world, I’m doing better than great.  I’m at the prime of my life and totally healthy, I have all my limbs and most of my teeth.  No auto immune diseases or even allergies to work around.  My home hasn’t been washed away or burned up (although at times I wonder if that would be easier).  I’ve got lots of family—related and otherwise—and everything I could ever want or need.  So when someone asks, what else can I say?

But if that friend would pause for just a second longer, and if I sensed she was really legit, I would probably start to cry.  Not because anything is wrong, but maybe just because it feels so good when someone really asks.

Because there’s always more behind our smiley eyes.  Even when we have every reason in the world to be happy.

If a friend really wanted to know, I’d say sometimes I feel heavy.  The news of the world worries me.  I’m like you, I want to be informed, but it saps my energy and optimism sometimes.  And then of course I feel like I’m not doing enough to combat all the craziness.   This weighs on me. Because I’m tentative.  Cautious. Private.  I wonder what my part to play is, is there a small role left for me?  So even on a beautiful sunny fall day, I can feel cloudy.

If she asked, I’d say I’m a sort of a mess. I run all day and still it feels like nothing stays done.  The garage is a piece of work.  I have projects all around me and I feel overwhelmed.  I just want to read the books in my pile.  I want to learn.  I try. I run around most days. I don’t know that my efforts look like much on the outside.  But if I had to be honest, I’d tell her inside I feel like I’m mostly hitting the really important stuff, and I’m actually ok with messes.

If she demanded real, I’d confess that I wonder how God thinks I’m doing.  Do you? I try so hard to dismiss what people may think, but I do occasionally ask what He thinks.  Do I waste too much time? Am I off-balance? Is he ok with my choices or is he waiting for me to finally figure out what he needs me to do?  I wonder about it all sometimes.

If she prodded further, I’d tell her it’s not fair.  That I have a life that is so easy when so many others struggle.  And then I’d really start to cry.  Because this weighs on me more than anything else in the world.

And if she pushed, I’d confide in her.  I have my lonely days.  Not always, but every now and then.  Especially in the winter. I spend too much time by myself.  I wonder if I’m the only one who feels this way. 

I’d admit, if pressed, that sometimes I want to move to a cave where life would be easier and safer.  Not everyday, but I could be tempted.  Because my heart is tender.  And stretched. I’m sad about the friendships that are now only memories.  I long for closure, an explanation to help me understand where I can do better next time.  My heart wants to be protected.  A cave sounds good some days.

As much as I love the freedom of this phase of life, I’ll admit I’m wistful.  Maybe grieving.  For my young mom life.  For my littles.  I love this stage so much with big kids, but I miss the way things used to be.  My heart almost aches for my babies and toddlers and elementary school kids.  I miss that they used to need me so much more.  That they were here.

I know I say I’m good, but at the same time I’m thinking about those big kids.  They’re kind of always in the back of my mind.  I ponder on what they’ve told me.  I think about what they think about.  I straddle two worlds, I sit on my hands, I hold back.  It’s hard for me to know how to be a parent to older kids.  I long to tell them of all my mistakes, stories I know could help them.  But they don’t seem to care or want any of that.  And so I feel like I’m on my big blue yoga ball, trying to keep my core engaged, not leaning too much into their lives, but just enough so they know I totally love them.  I wonder if this is a good time, if I should even mention it, if I should stay out, if they know how much we care.

But then I’d have to tell her how, more than anything else, I’m so grateful.  For all I’ve learned, for all I’ve been given, for incredible friends and family, for the immense peace I feel despite the news and my delicate heart.  I’d tell her how much love I feel.  From God.  From true and loyal friends.  From my family who never fails me.  For God’s creations.  For his children.  I’d tell her I’m so glad I don’t live in a cave.  I’m glad I can call a friend who will go walking or to lunch with me.  I’m thankful for productive work, projects, a needy house, and an overgrown yard.  I’m so in love with my life.  And my people.  I’m hopeful, I see so much good in the world. I’m excited to wake up every morning.  I’m content.

So I guess I’m not really lying when I say I’m great.  I just wish she’d give me a minute to explain.

Choosing badminton

I remember back to 1988 when I was a sophomore in high school.  Kelly green shorts and matching white t-shirt with green ribbing.  All through jr. high and our freshman year of high school we dressed out for p.e. in these little uniforms.  But for our second year of p.e. we could wear any comfortable clothes we wanted and we got to choose what we wanted to do for our physical education for the year.  I’m not sure what the other choices were, but I recall two.  Everyone I knew chose the local fitness center/gym option.  But in my heart I really wanted to take racquet sports.  I just really wanted to learn how to play tennis, and I’d never played badminton or racquetball so I thought it'd be fun.  The choice was simple, I don’t recall ever really debating it. And I’m so grateful I listened to my own mind, all these years later.  I loved playing tennis and racquetball and badminton that year, I actually looked forward to p.e. for the first time ever.  I met a guy (a senior) that I ended up dating and having a great time with.  I played tennis with the high school team and for fun with friends.  I even ended up taking tennis in college and enjoyed playing many summer nights with other BYU students.  I played racquetball with my future husband on dates.  I've introduced and played badminton with my kids.  I'm still really bad at all of them, but to this day I love racquet sports!  I loved the thrill of learning a new and lifelong skill and the rules of the game, as well as the new friends I acquired.  Obviously, this simple decision impacted my life in more ways than being able to avoid the gym for a year.  But I draw on it to illustrate how good it felt to make a choice based on what I wanted rather than other variables.  Both were fine options, but I’m glad I decided to go with the one that felt  like me.

But, if we’re honest, how often do we really do that? Do we know our own minds, who we are, what we truly like?  And how likely are we to go with that?

I’m not talking about how as moms and dads we make sacrifices to not read or play golf all day  everyday so we can spend time with our kids or how we kind of rein in our eating out to save on family expenses.  I’m talking about the other stuff, maybe the fluffier stuff, the details that create our personality.

Most little kids are good at this.  I have two boys whose favorite colors were pink and purple when they were younger, although they both do still choose to wear pink.  I have a daughter who was obsessed with Match Box cars.  You’ve seen preschoolers who dress themselves; they know what they like, what colors and clothes they feel good in, and how they like to do their hair.

The few years of junior high and high school are perhaps the hardest to be completely honest in this regard.  I remember buying the white record of the Beatles.  A friend liked it, my Scottish mom grew up on them, I just figured with a little exposure I’d learn to like them.  I listened to their music dutifully for probably years until I finally confessed to myself that their music really kind of grated on me.  I got rid of it and felt relieved. 

I took a class in high school for no other reason than it totally appealed to me, Male-Female Roles.  Again, no one I knew was in the class; I just loved the discussions and learning. In college I couldn’t get enough of my family science classes, they were so interesting to me that I would’ve continued taking them just for fun.  I took other classes that resonated with me, environmental science, history of dance, ballroom dance, ballet (did you know I have a secret passion for dancing!?), tennis, and sewing.  These classes all called out to me, they were so me! (Except sewing, our relationship is still strained.)

But I remember growing out my hair beginning back in 6th grade after a lifetime of Dorothy Hamill types, curling my stick-straight strands and puffing up my bangs all through the 80s, you did it too.  Back in high school I already knew guys liked long hair (which is the dumbest reason in the universe to do anything), and every girl I knew had long hair.  But I look like a witch with long hair.  I suit a short bob and I always go back to it even after I’ve grown my hair out for awhile (which I’ve done several times over the years, it’s a mess), it’s what feels like me.  But how long does it take to figure stuff like this out?  About 30 years is all, I’ve had short hair for the past 15.

Some of us are like this with clothes too.  I’m always getting hand-me-downs and shopping in second-hand stores.  But it wasn’t until a couple years back that I really started thinking about what I like and would like to dress like if I could just choose.  My sister who sends me her old clothes is super sporty and so all her clothes are athletic and casual.  They fit her personality perfectly; but I always felt like I was playing dress-up, pretending I could pass for athletic, but never feeling myself at all.  So I took some time, and after looking online and getting really honest with myself, I discovered what I like.  But I rarely dress in the clothes I actually like because 1) her hand-me-downs are still in good shape and I’m too cheap to buy new clothes unnecessarily; they’re fine for now, and 2) nearly every day is just a work-get-dirty sort of day or a day I’ll go or need comfortable clothes and shoes to work at the library or go walking with a friend, and so I just wear jeans and a t-shirt most everyday of my life.  The only day I wear an “outfit” is to church on Sunday for a few hours. I can’t be bothered dressing in clothes that I have to be careful with, and jewels and scarfs would totally get in my way even though they look darling on other people.  I know no one in the world would guess that I actually love an edgy (but classy) look.  I love my black leather jacket, buckled boots, dark gray graphic t-shirts, big metal earrings, skinny olive green or black or gray ankle pants, black strapless heels, pencil skirts, edgy prints.  So when I’m out shopping (at my second-hand stores of course) I really try to be mindful of this.  I know how much better I feel when I’m wearing clothes I’ve picked out that fit this style.  I know all of us unconsciously feel better in some pieces than others, but I don’t know if we’ve ever taken time to really assess it.  These days there are online shopping services (and books of course) that try to direct us to our personal feel-good style.  If we have the choice when we go out, better to get something that feels completely like us rather than going off what’s only trendy for a moment.

Thank goodness we come full-circle as we age.  Hallelujah!!! The older I get, the more I grant myself permission to bow out of things I don’t like (impromptu backyard volleyball games, wearing a bathing suit if I don’t have to) and I unabashedly admit that I’m happiest in my pajamas with a book or a puzzle with country music or a podcast on.  I’ll also readily confess I really don’t love vegetables all that much and I’m kind of sick of salads (one of a few things I still do even though I’d prefer not to).  But I love how it changes nothing.  People who want to be my friend still are, stating my preferences doesn’t change that.  In fact, I’m drawn to people who know their own mind, who are confident in what they like and don’t care for.  We tease each other in book group, they know I’ll skip the fantasy reads and another can’t stand the historical fiction ones some of the rest of us like, it’s all good.  We’re like sisters and it doesn’t bother us, it’s actually so great to have such diverse perspective.

I've been thinking about going back to work or at least volunteering a little more.  But when I look around at what my friends are doing, it makes me crazy, anxious, nervous.  I don't want to sub in school.  I don't want to be a court advocate.  Or be in charge of a huge social cause. Those ideas terrify me.  And so I've had to ask myself what I can do, what interests me, where my strengths lie.  I like reading.  And encouraging others to read.  I like quiet situations.  But I like to work in busy places.  And so I've been thinking about all the things that feel like me and I settled right down; somewhere in this community there's got to be a place I can use my abilities and interests.  I'm no closer to finding a volunteer or employment solution, but I feel encouraged simply because I'm not trying to do what everyone else is doing, I'm trying to find something that feels right to me.

And life can be so enriching as we’re true to what feels real to us.  My daughter has twice, when we’ve gone out to breakfast, chosen fish, love it!  I’ll get a hot fudge malt any time we’re somewhere they make them, but if banana cream pie is an option I’ll get that instead, hands down my favorite even though it’s not for many.  I like old slow country love songs that aren’t really “in” right now.  I read weird books that I’m almost embarrassed to tell people about.  I watch documentaries and have no idea what all these series are my friends are talking about.  No, I’ll likely never join a gym even though that seems to be what women my age do, it’s just not my style.  And no, I don’t want to diet or watch a scary movie. My sister loves the desert and hot sun, I love the mountains and seasons; in fact, all four of us choose to have to live apart from each other because our surroundings fit us so well.  Our 14 year old son chose cross country this year even though most of his friends were doing football again, and our daughter chose not to do volleyball even though most of her friends signed up.  Another son made knives as a teenager, not the most mainstream job for someone his age; it just felt like him.  And another daughter sews, something she calls a grandma hobby and laughs about.  They still dress like all their friends (don’t all teenagers?), but I love some of the unique outfits our one daughter comes up with, not caring what others will think, she just knows it feels good.  I have learned so much from her and her unwavering confidence.  In fact, all my kids teach me this as they choose their bedroom decorations (our 14 year old son has black and white photos and maps; another daughter has a record player and handcrafted yarn hanging plant holder) and what they decide to read and do for entertainment (that same 14 year old is enamored with everything farming and his favorite computer game is Farming Simulator, not necessarily what all his friends are into).  For some reason, they’re pretty comfortable about doing things that feel like them.

Think how empowering this would be if our kids could learn early on to be true to themselves.  If they can make up their minds about the smallest details, admitting they like a certain song or book or style when no one else around them does, think how that little bit of confidence can help them out on the next level.  How much easier it will be to say No, I don’t want to watch that (inappropriate) movie, or No, I’m not into drinking.  Confidence builds as we start them young, as we allow them to make simple decisions for themselves when the consequences are small.  And every decision they make that is authentic boosts their strength and adds to their genuinely-them personality.

Keep in mind that I don’t mean for us to become impertinent, not at all.  Obviously.  It goes without saying that we take turns choosing the restaurant, the movie, the flowers for the pots this year.  Not everything needs to be our choice.  I’m just saying, instead of going with the flow, instead of looking at what’s trending, instead of remaining in a rut, instead of doing what’s become habit, stop and think if this is really me and is this what I’d honestly keep doing if I had a choice.  And then when you do, make it a conscious one.

Just something to think about when you (or your kids) have a decision to make.  Instead of going with what you’ve always done, maybe start to encourage yourself (and them) to be more mindful.  Because our choices make up who we become.  I know you have a million other more important things to do in your days, and I realize that asking yourself what hobby you’ve always wanted to take up or getting rid of the (expensive) jeans you’ve always felt frumpy in isn’t a top priority, but maybe who you authentically are and who you decide to become is one of those more important things.  With all the look-alikes, copycats, facades, and phony veneers these days, I think we can all appreciate how refreshing it is to have friends who are real, who we can count on to be genuine, who are confident in who they are in even the little things.  And so maybe it’s not a bad idea to think about some of these minor, everyday alternatives a little more and become that kind of person and friend ourselves.

Old-school parenting

Because we’re now in our mid-40s, we obviously grew up with 70s and 80s parenting.  I doubt—seriously doubt—our moms talked about any of this with their other mom friends.  When I went visiting other women with my mom, how to parent never came up.  Even when they thought I wasn’t listening.  The last thing in the world our moms would’ve done is analyze their performance as a mom or read books about it.  My mom was too busy reading The Thorn Birds and other thick romance novels, and Todd’s mom barely had a second to herself with all those kids.  They were just living their lives, doing what came naturally (or whatever came to mind).  And that’s probably where Todd and I get it. I’ve read quite a bit about what makes people tick, and I wholeheartedly subscribe to the natural consequences philosophy (as in Parenting with Love and Logic), but I really believe we can rely on our intuition a great deal more than we do.  So no, I don’t usually have parenting books on my nightstand, but yes, I’m also a product of 90s parenting and so I’ve read my share.

Growing up, our parents’ job was to go to work to earn money to support the household (or stay home and take care of the work in the home).  Our job as kids was to go to school and get an education; our parents never talked about this with us when we were kids, it was just the way it was back then.  We're kind of the same, as long as things are ticking along, we’re all good.  Just as I don’t try to tell Todd how to run his vet practice, I assume my kids know more about what goes on in school than I do and I trust them with their stewardship.  However, when Todd has an issue at work he’ll need a sounding board for, I’m happy to hear what’s up and talk through it with him; and, likewise, we always want to hear from the kids when something’s amiss or unusual at school.  Of course we’ll help with homework on occasion or hear about an altercation among classmates, but basically they handle things on their own.  

Just as we did.  Because I know they can deal with it.  The minute I take ownership of a problem, I’m telling them they can’t handle it.  I’m also taking responsibility away from them and making more work for myself.  I’ve already done 6th grade; it’s their turn.  We had to figure out hard teachers, Dodge ball, strained relationships, embarrassing situations, and consequences of procrastination.  We failed tests, got B’s, braved our share of injuries and illnesses, and endured braces, glasses, and jr. high p.e.  We simply don’t believe in padding the way for our kids or shielding them from real life.  It’s their job to bring their planners and papers to us to sign; as a younger mom I wasn’t going to dig through five backpacks every afternoon to figure out what was going on.  No, I don’t know how many more AR points they need, and I have no idea if they’ve practiced; that’s all between them and their teachers.  We of course like to know how they’re doing and are always interested in their progress reports.  But we’ve never signed in online to see what their grades are, in elementary school or high school; that’s just not us.  In our mind, they need to know we truly trust them to take care of their school affairs themselves,  just as they leave the mortgage and car repairs to us. 

We have encouraged them to take the harder route whenever it’s an option like with honors and AP classes; we discuss the merits and added responsibilities but then allow them to decide.  One son opted (against the advice of his teachers) to take two honors science classes at one time as a sophomore, and we supported that decision without reservation.  A daughter felt like forgoing honors math classes, so we listened to her reasoning and supported her decision as well.  We encourage them to take the ACT multiple times, to try a variety of activities, and to sign up for classes that interest them (rather than sticking with what they’re friends are taking).  But we completely let them choose.  I suppose if they were taking all art and cooking classes and library aid on the side then we’d have an issue, but basically we talk a lot about future goals and how to get there; they realize quickly that the lifestyle they want to have someday depends a great deal on what they do right now.  And then we let them figure it out.

It’s not that we’re trying to take the easy way out.  Any parent knows it’s a million times easier to do it yourself.  Anything.  Dishes, feeding the dogs, scholarship forms, packing lunches, making beds, scouts.  But I guess we just always go back to our overarching goal for our kids.  We are doing everything we can to help them gain skills, to teach them responsibility and self sufficiency and to take care of themselves so that they can confidently and successfully do it all on their own someday.  What better environment to learn about how clothes shrink or why the cookies spread out too much or why you can’t drive on a flat tire or how to assure the sheets stay tucked in or why it’s important to refrain from gossiping than with a mom or dad right beside you to explain it all?  We love the chance to talk about failures and disappointments and what we can do next or better.  That’s just good learning.  We have our own stories from when we were kids and even in our current everyday adult lives to share with them as well.

But to the observer, it might look like we don’t care.  It’s not that at all.  We try in every way possible to help our kids avoid heartache and discomfort, we really do.  But we believe in allowing disappointment for the greater good of teaching a lifelong lesson.  So we talk about what to bring on a camping trip for scouts when they’re 11, and Todd will check their bags at first.  But there’s no way we’re doing that more than a couple of times.  We’ll make suggestions, You might want a hat and maybe an extra blanket, do you think that will be enough food, what if they don’t have a fire? and we do require basics like a coat and real shoes.   But beyond that, they will learn much better if they have to experience a cold or hungry night of sleep than if we pack everything for them.  They won’t die from one night without a pillow or gloves, but that memory will be indelibly printed in their minds, a hard-learned but valuable life lesson.  Same with packing for vacations and overnighters and school.  You wouldn’t believe how young they can start doing things for themselves.  So it's not that we don't care.  Ask Todd, I always worry that my boys are warm enough when they're camping in the snow and we have no idea if they packed everything.  I worry what they'll eat when they refused to take extra food for a long after-school activity.  But we advise.  And we let it go.

Basically I think we—like our parents—figure our kids have what they need to handle age-appropriate responsibilities.  Todd’s mom started them on laundry by age 8.  Kids these days can program all sorts of electronics; they can certainly run a washing machine and dish washer.  They can make their own lunches, do dishes, mow, clean bathrooms, trim, whatever.  My nephew’s had a lawn mowing business since he was 9 or 10.  And my sister’s three boys have been doing their own laundry since they could reach and read the dials.   They only know what they can do from our cues.  If we tell them they can, they think they can.  No, the execution’s not perfect, but it improves over time.  In our minds, this is where true confidence comes from: developing real life skills and knowing who they are.

I loved reading Randy Pausch’s thoughts in The Last Lecture before he died, and I remember how much his parenting philosophy resonated with me.  He expected his kids to do anything they were capable of; he even encouraged his babies to hold their own bottles as soon as they could. I felt so validated, that maybe I wasn’t being mean, but maybe I was teaching. I’m a little inconsistent sometimes and help them out every now and then.  I remember zipping up one of our kindergartner’s coats one cold morning and Todd asked what I was doing, as if I had breeched a contract!  It’s not very often, but we sometimes make up a bed with warm sheets from the dryer or help with a lunch if it’s been a crazy morning. It’s not like we aren’t concerned for our kids’ well-being, not at all.  But we know they will be better off knowing how to solve problems for themselves.  They will eventually make the connection (even though we give them hints all the time) that zipping their coats will keep the warmth in. They understand that if they need a uniform or special pair of jeans for tomorrow—and they want it to be clean—there’s only one way to make that happen (of course they can throw in something with ours on occasion).  I knew growing up in an apartment that laundry would only be done Tuesday and Friday mornings, so I had to plan accordingly.  My mom and dad both worked full-time and we had to leave early to get to school; there was no way in this universe she was going to do the laundry at 5:30 in the morning at the laundromat around the corner, get herself ready and have time to make us breakfast or pack lunches for three girls, just not happening, I can’t even imagine it. I can’t fathom them walking me through college admissions or federal aid or scholarship forms; they didn’t even know what classes I was taking in high school and neither one went to college.  But did it faze us or make us feel like they didn’t care for or love us?  It was so matter of fact that we never questioned it.  And that’s probably why we’re the same with our kids.  We want them to know how to run their lives, to figure out how to feed themselves if they’re hungry, to look online to figure what’s wrong with the trimmer or to learn about installing the new dishwasher or brake light, to know how to get a job.  My parents made us call people on the phone, visit strangers, and entertain ourselves.  I think they intuitively knew this would all strengthen us.

And so Todd and I carried this feeling of independence with us to college.  His parents dropped him off at the airport in Chicago to go to college in Utah.  He had two suitcases.  And he did great.  I was a little less prepared, I got homesick after a month or so, I needed help once for rent, I’d never had a real job (I just had my own cleaning business), and I had no idea how to cook.  But it never crossed my mind to ask my parents for help doing my taxes.  Or for a car.  Or to call a professor who’d been mean or who gave out too much homework.  Sounds simply laughable, but you know the reality these days.

Kids feel secure knowing their parents have covered the basics.  Likewise, just because kids are younger than us doesn’t mean they can’t handle much of their own care, decisions, and even stresses.  Just as I don’t expect them to worry about if I’ve read my scriptures for the day or made dinner, I let them take care of their worksheets they need to finish up and pace themselves in the novel they’ve been assigned to finish for English.

We of course talk about all this.  Just as they’ll ask how their dad’s day was and what surgeries he had, we’ll ask how that chemistry test went or how that project’s coming along or how he feels about band.  The kids might ask how much we pay for the house or car insurance out of curiosity, but it’s not keeping them awake at night.  And we don’t stress if they need to work things out with a friend or grade.  We don’t go through each class with them every night and assess what homework they have or where they are with every acquaintance.  We do follow up with concerns they’ve expressed, we offer insight and advice, we answer questions, we share our experiences, and we really do try to pay attention to overall feelings we have about each of the kids.  But basically, our philosophy mirrors a wise man's, “I teach them correct principles, and they govern themselves.”

A caveat.  It’s not anywhere near perfect.  We could never be on a talk-show for raising incredible kids.  Even if I wanted to, I’d hesitate to practice as a family counselor until we see how it how pans out.  Only two of our five kids play an instrument, and they’re still just in the learning stages.  They’ve all done cross country, but no one’s ever come in first.  No one’s on track to be a valedictorian.  We’re not the family of class presidents or Most Popular or Most Likely to Succeed.  They’ve just had regular jobs.  No, they haven’t paid their own way for everything (that’s a whole other blog).  They’ve had their issues and my heart’s been broken, deeply severed.  We’ve missed a lot.  We have regrets.  Definitely.  And we’re not sure how it’s even going to all turn out.  We’re not guaranteeing anything.

All we know is that this feels right to us regardless of how flawed we seem and how messy it looks on the outside.  When I wonder about how to manage something in life, I look to God.  He gives us commandments (expectations), he sends us mentors (parents, church leaders, teachers), he gives us agency (choices), and he allows consequences (natural results of decisions) to teach us.  As young parents, we had no idea how to do any of it.  But it seemed natural to raise our kids the way we saw him parenting us.

So maybe we appear detached.  Lazy.  Lackadaisical.  Like we’re out to lunch.  Like we don’t care.  Distracted, clueless, naive.  And I can see that.  But don’t we sometimes accuse God of the same things?  It may seem like he’s far away, like he doesn’t care, like he’s not involved.  But by this point in our lives we all recognize how much God does love us. So much that he trusts us to learn from our failures, to develop empathy through disappointment, to feel the thrill of handing a tough situation.  We know he is always, always there, anxious to help us if we need him for anything at all.  That’s how we want to be for our kids.  But we have confidence in their abilities, we know they are capable of so much.  Most kids are eager to be independent.  In a world where we need strong, creative, confident problem solvers, citizens, parents, and friends, we encourage our kids to get on it.  They’ve got a lot to learn, may as well start young.