Today is the BYU-Utah rivalry football game. I didn't realize that until I went to Costco and a good 75% of the people were decked out in either red or blue. The reason I didn't realize it is because I just plain old don't care. And as so many people were posting on Facebook about the rivalry, I had to put in my little bit to go on the record that I just didn't care. James likes to tell everyone that I'm a Cougar fan. Or that he's still working on me and I'm gonna convert and become a Ute fan. So I wanted to go on the record that I'm not a Cougar fan, even though I went there, and I'm not a Ute fan. I'm just a "Not a Fan". But since I'm feeling kind of reflective and contemplative tonight, I thought I'd explain why.
I used to be a fan. I did, after all, spend a good 5 years of my life (if you count my year-long internship before I graduated) as a BYU student. But then I married James, who comes from a big family of big Utah fans. For the first couple Christmases, I would get Utah crap for Christmas. And lovingly harassed constantly for going to "that school down south."And since I wasn't that much of a Super Fan in the first place (I can only remember going to a few football games in those 5 years), I slowly let go of being a "fan" until James started to think I was "converting." But I wasn't converting, per se. Its more a matter of protecting myself - if I don't care, the teasing and harassment don't get to me. I don't really handle that kind of stuff all that well. I mean, I handle it fine. But, I don't particularly like it. So if I don't care, it doesn't matter.
And then you can add in the fact that as I have spent more time married to a Utah fan than I spent as a BYU one, I have stared to see little qualities about former and current BYU fans that I am definitely not a fan of. Of course, since I'm still not a Utah fan, I won't make generalizations and say that all BYU fans/students are a certain way. But I started to see enough of them that it really did make me less of a BYU fan. Things like the BYU fan at the airport (in Arizona) commenting to perfect strangers that they just don't wear red in their house. And when, upon finding out that we were from Utah, tried incessantly to get us to divulge where our allegiances lied - and then throwing in a little underhanded insult about my son the Ute fan. (Although, upon writing this, I realize that those Utah fans I've been around for the past 8 years have done that to me constantly, so I can't fault this guy specifically for that. I think I just didn't like him in general.) But more to the point, I've seen the people who think they are someone more choice and special because they have gone to BYU. The ones who think their children would probably pick up less bad habits at church if they were going to a special church filled with only BYU students and their kids. I can't think of any more examples, but I've definitely seen enough "Cougars" who honestly think and act like they are a breed above the rest, more righteous and holy, because they go to BYU.
So, on top of getting tired of all the harassment, I've slowly become less of a BYU fan. But, after all, I did go to school there. I spent a good 5 years there. And they were good years. I had good friends and fun times and good memories. Granted, I don't really see or talk to my BYU friends much, in part due to the fact that they are all spread all over the country, back to wherever they all came from, and in part due to the other fact that I suck at keeping in contact with people and staying friends with people. But they were good friends, and it was good times. And it was my life long goal to go there - I didn't even apply to go to college anywhere else, I just wanted to go there. So to actually "convert" and become a Utah fan, I would feel like I was a traitor. A traitor to my old self who wanted to go there, went there, and had a good few years there. And a traitor to my good friends from there, who are good people and not self righteous idiots. So, since I'm no longer such a BYU fan, and since I refuse to become a Utah fan (and really, I have never been given any good reason to become one), I've just decided to be Not a Fan.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
What do people think?
What do people think when they see/hear a toddler having a screaming tantrum? Are they judgemental, and think, like I sometimes used to do, "What is wrong with that mom? Can't she control her child? If she just had better discipline, that child wouldn't behave like that. There is no way a child of mine will ever do that to me." HA HA. How wrong I was. Especially since it was my child throwing that screaming tantrum in church today. Throwing a relatively mild tantrum so that I had to drag him out, baby in arms, during the sacrament hymn. And then screaming so loudly that his dad (and the entire ward) could hear him screaming from the front of the room where he was blessing the sacrament. He SCREAMED so loudly that they could still hear him through multiple closed doors and I had to take him clear to the other end of the building so that he couldn't be heard. And strangers came to offer to take my baby off my hands so that I could better handle him. He screamed at, and punched me, continually for a good 15 minutes or so.
So I wonder, what do people think? I'm only slightly wondering what people think of me. Since I know at that moment, at least, I was being a good parent. He was throwing his fit because I wouldn't cave in and give him what he was throwing the tantrum for. And as much as I usually want to, I didn't even feel like hitting him back this time. I was unusually patient this time around. And today, at least, I wasn't overly tired or burned out, and I just stood there quietly while he screamed so loudly. So I'm not overly concerned about what people thought of me today. Those with less parental experience or more judgemental attitudes, like my former naive self, may have wondered what was wrong with me as the parent. Others, like the loving sister in the foyer who said, "I've been there," or the brother who took my baby and walked around with her while I dealt with my son, or the stranger who wanted to offer to take the baby for me but didn't know me - but showed her love just by teling me that she had wanted to help - those others may have looked at me with kindness, and empathy, and service.
But what I wonder, and what makes me sad, is what they think of my son. Is he earning himself a label as being a difficult child? Especially since I've taken him out for plenty of tantrums before. And since he's the only new three year old sunbeam who can't make it through class without a melt down. And he's one of the boys who they primary presidency had to separate into two classes because they were both a little clingy and "needed some extra attention." Do they realize that those two boys are the ones who have had their moms with them in nursery for the last year and haven't had the opportunity of learning to stay in class on their own because their moms had been their teachers? Do they remember that my little sunbeam who has weekly melt downs just barely turned three in December, and all of the other kids in the class are at least 6 months older and have had at least 6 months more of nursery (without their moms) - do they know he's just a little baby still? And what no one could know is that today, at least, the extremity of his tantrum has been partially caused by the steroids he has been on to help clear out his lungs. And that he's been feeling pretty yucky and not breathing well for weeks, and is still so tired, and just starting to feel better. So I wonder, what do people think of him? Do they see what a funny, intelligent, sweet kid he can be? Or do they see a little monster?
I don't want my son to be that kid. The one that teachers cringe at when they find him on their roll. The ones that cousins and friends don't want to play with because he is mean. The one that is always in trouble, out in the hall cause he can't make it in class. Yes, he can be difficult. So I wonder too, will he grow out of it? Will he turn into the cute, polite, well behaved kid I know he can be? Will I handle him right, and teach him right, so that he turns out all right in the end? Will his behaviors now earn him labels that he doesn't deserve, but can't get rid of, in the future? Will he have friends, will people want to be around him?
And as I think of these things about my own son, it makes me wonder again about judgements, and why we ever make them in the first place. I still do it, and I hate it. I hate that I once looked at another kid, having a tantrum in the hall, and thought of how difficult he was. I wish I could have offered more love and service to him, and his mom. I hate that I once looked at a mother who's child was less than well behaved and thought, "well if only she was a better parent." I hate that I still can't look at everyone around me with more Christ-like love, seeing them as children of God. I hate that I still make judgements, without even thinking about it. Even wondering what people think about me, I feel like I'm making judgements about people, expecting them to be as critical as I am.
If I'm going to make judgments and assumptions, why can't I just assume that people around me are filled with love and kindness. Why can't I assume that people think, "Man, that kid (or that mom) must be having a hard day, I hope they feel better soon."
My baby woke up, so my quite blog-writing peace, and my train of thought, has been interrupted. But someday, I hope I can be the person who never wonders,"What do people think?" And more importantly, I want to be the person who no body ever has to worry about what I think of them, because I make no judgements and always assume the best. Someday, when people wonder, "what do people think?" they won't have to wonder about me.
So I wonder, what do people think? I'm only slightly wondering what people think of me. Since I know at that moment, at least, I was being a good parent. He was throwing his fit because I wouldn't cave in and give him what he was throwing the tantrum for. And as much as I usually want to, I didn't even feel like hitting him back this time. I was unusually patient this time around. And today, at least, I wasn't overly tired or burned out, and I just stood there quietly while he screamed so loudly. So I'm not overly concerned about what people thought of me today. Those with less parental experience or more judgemental attitudes, like my former naive self, may have wondered what was wrong with me as the parent. Others, like the loving sister in the foyer who said, "I've been there," or the brother who took my baby and walked around with her while I dealt with my son, or the stranger who wanted to offer to take the baby for me but didn't know me - but showed her love just by teling me that she had wanted to help - those others may have looked at me with kindness, and empathy, and service.
But what I wonder, and what makes me sad, is what they think of my son. Is he earning himself a label as being a difficult child? Especially since I've taken him out for plenty of tantrums before. And since he's the only new three year old sunbeam who can't make it through class without a melt down. And he's one of the boys who they primary presidency had to separate into two classes because they were both a little clingy and "needed some extra attention." Do they realize that those two boys are the ones who have had their moms with them in nursery for the last year and haven't had the opportunity of learning to stay in class on their own because their moms had been their teachers? Do they remember that my little sunbeam who has weekly melt downs just barely turned three in December, and all of the other kids in the class are at least 6 months older and have had at least 6 months more of nursery (without their moms) - do they know he's just a little baby still? And what no one could know is that today, at least, the extremity of his tantrum has been partially caused by the steroids he has been on to help clear out his lungs. And that he's been feeling pretty yucky and not breathing well for weeks, and is still so tired, and just starting to feel better. So I wonder, what do people think of him? Do they see what a funny, intelligent, sweet kid he can be? Or do they see a little monster?
I don't want my son to be that kid. The one that teachers cringe at when they find him on their roll. The ones that cousins and friends don't want to play with because he is mean. The one that is always in trouble, out in the hall cause he can't make it in class. Yes, he can be difficult. So I wonder too, will he grow out of it? Will he turn into the cute, polite, well behaved kid I know he can be? Will I handle him right, and teach him right, so that he turns out all right in the end? Will his behaviors now earn him labels that he doesn't deserve, but can't get rid of, in the future? Will he have friends, will people want to be around him?
And as I think of these things about my own son, it makes me wonder again about judgements, and why we ever make them in the first place. I still do it, and I hate it. I hate that I once looked at another kid, having a tantrum in the hall, and thought of how difficult he was. I wish I could have offered more love and service to him, and his mom. I hate that I once looked at a mother who's child was less than well behaved and thought, "well if only she was a better parent." I hate that I still can't look at everyone around me with more Christ-like love, seeing them as children of God. I hate that I still make judgements, without even thinking about it. Even wondering what people think about me, I feel like I'm making judgements about people, expecting them to be as critical as I am.
If I'm going to make judgments and assumptions, why can't I just assume that people around me are filled with love and kindness. Why can't I assume that people think, "Man, that kid (or that mom) must be having a hard day, I hope they feel better soon."
My baby woke up, so my quite blog-writing peace, and my train of thought, has been interrupted. But someday, I hope I can be the person who never wonders,"What do people think?" And more importantly, I want to be the person who no body ever has to worry about what I think of them, because I make no judgements and always assume the best. Someday, when people wonder, "what do people think?" they won't have to wonder about me.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Imperfections
So I started this blog because lately I have been realizing just how imperfect I am. I often get overwhelmed with everything I don't do right, or don't do well enough, or do just plain wrong. Especially in the area of being a mom. Lately, I mostly have felt that I just can't do it all, and I'm just not enough. And I often want to complain, or vent, or just plain talk about how I feel - but I don't really read or hear anyone expressing that they feel like I do. I really want to think that I'm not the only one who just can't get their act together and get on top of life - but maybe no one else wants to be the complainer either, or no one wants everyone else to know exactly how they just don't make the cut. But sometimes I think we'd all feel a lot better if we knew we weren't alone in our imperfections.
I read a blog post somewhere about wearing signs, and how we might treat people differently if we knew what was really going on in their lives. I recently had an experience where I was pretty judgmental. I work as the nursery coordinator in my ward at church, making sure that all of the nurseries have enough teachers and supplies, as well as singing songs with the kids in each nursery. There was a teacher who would frequently not show up to church and wouldn't get a substitute, so I would rush around last minute trying to find someone to fill in for her. I thought to myself something like this, "Dang it, why can't you just be responsible and call a substitute. Or at least call me and let me know you aren't going to be there?" And that thought was accompanied by a heavy dose of judgement and criticism. And of course pride, because I, of course, was better than that and would never just skip out on a responsibility like that. But one week she called and told me she had a migraine and wouldn't make it, and she was trying to find a substitute. And a week or two later I found out that she has very recently gone through a divorce, and was raising her 3 kids by herself. I realized, No wonder she's not being responsible, and not getting a substitute. She's overwhelmed with life, getting migraine headaches, and probably going through a lot of hurt and heartache. I thought, that I too, would drop the ball on quite a few of my own responsibilities if I was going through what she was going through. (And let's face it, I drop the ball on my own fair share of things and I'm not going through such difficulties.) I wished that she had been wearing a sign so that I might have known before hand what she was going through, and I could have been more loving in my thoughts towards her.
Another moment recently I looked at some of these little children that I get to work with in nursery and I wished that I knew each of them individually. Some of them have a difficult time coming to nursery, and I wish I knew them well enough to know what would comfort them and make them feel better. I wish that each of them were wearing signs about who they really were.
Unfortunately in life, we don'g get to go around wearing signs about what's really going on in our life and who we really are. I'm sure some people like it that way, keeping their imperfections to themselves. But I like to talk about mine, in the hopes that someone out there will make me feel like I'm not alone - but also because there are lots of people out there better than me - people who might be able to help me through my imperfections. So I think I will start this blog, and share it. This blog is my sign, everything out there for everyone to see. But I share it not just so that someone can help me, but in hopes that someone else might be feeling the way I do, and that in reading about all of my imperfections, they can feel better in knowing that they aren't alone in theirs.
In the last several weeks I have had many moments of inspiration like the ones I shared above - moments where I have realized just how much God loves each one of us. Moments where I watched a young man passing the sacrament in church. This boy, on the outside, looks like just another boy his age. But if you watch closely enough, you can see that he has a learning disability of some kind. And just walking up and down the aisles, passing out bread and water, is difficult for him. He needed constant reminders from the other boys about where to go, what to do, where to stand when he's done. As I watched the other young men patiently helping this boy, directing him week after week on what to do, I was touched at their love and patience for him. And I hoped they were really feeling that love and patience for him in their hearts, because when I see this boy, I think of how he is someone's baby boy, another mother's child, and he is the world to her, just like my children are to me. And he is our Father in Heaven's child, and God sees him, with all of his imperfections, and loves him more than we can imagine.
I had another moment yesterday when I attended church in another language so I could watch a friend's baby get blessed. I was filled with gratitude to be there, where I couldn't understand what was being said, because I knew my Heavenly Father loved each of these people as much as he loved me. I was so grateful that they could go to church in their own language, even though they lived in a country where their language was not the one primarily spoken.. I was also grateful that they had a translator and headphones, so I could hear the words spoken in my own language. I was able to attend two different sacrament services yesterday, to see two different babies be blessed. Since it was the first Sunday of the month, church members get to go up and speak, and share their testimonies and feelings if they choose to. And with several babies being blessed, more than one person spoke about how precious these little babies are, both to us and Heavenly Father. And I had another small moment where I realized that each of us, every single person on earth, was once a small baby, so precious to their parents and others around them. And still, no matter what we say or do, no matter what someone else looks like or the choices they make, each and every person on earth is still that small, precious little baby, only bigger. Everyone is still a child of God, and each and every person is as precious to him as a little tiny baby is to us. If you have children you know that each of your own children will always be that precious baby to you, no matter what they grow into and become.
I was talking to my husband, James, last night about not knowing why I was having these small moments - because each of them has made me think about how much God loves every one of us. And this morning, writing this, I've come up with two reasons. One is that we may not have signs around our necks about what each of us is going through, but no matter what, everyone is going through something. It may be something small, like me, going through nothing more than daily life struggles. It may be something bigger like the woman going through a painful divorce. But everyone has something, and we probably don't know what it is. But God sees the "signs" that we can't see. He knows each and every person intimately, and he loves them. And what I've come to realize, and I hope I can remember more regularly, is that I want to love each person as God does, and not judge them for their imperfections that I can see (or think that I see.)
The second reason I think I might have been having these moments is for myself. This post may be all happy, full of spiritual insight, but most of the time, I feel like I just can't do it. And what I will probably write about a lot is what I just plain suck at. So perhaps what I need to realize is that I, too, am a child of God, and He loves me more than I can imagine. With all of my faults and imperfections, I am so infinitely precious to Him. And just as I should and want to love every other person around me as God does, I should also love myself as He does - despite All My Imperfection.
I read a blog post somewhere about wearing signs, and how we might treat people differently if we knew what was really going on in their lives. I recently had an experience where I was pretty judgmental. I work as the nursery coordinator in my ward at church, making sure that all of the nurseries have enough teachers and supplies, as well as singing songs with the kids in each nursery. There was a teacher who would frequently not show up to church and wouldn't get a substitute, so I would rush around last minute trying to find someone to fill in for her. I thought to myself something like this, "Dang it, why can't you just be responsible and call a substitute. Or at least call me and let me know you aren't going to be there?" And that thought was accompanied by a heavy dose of judgement and criticism. And of course pride, because I, of course, was better than that and would never just skip out on a responsibility like that. But one week she called and told me she had a migraine and wouldn't make it, and she was trying to find a substitute. And a week or two later I found out that she has very recently gone through a divorce, and was raising her 3 kids by herself. I realized, No wonder she's not being responsible, and not getting a substitute. She's overwhelmed with life, getting migraine headaches, and probably going through a lot of hurt and heartache. I thought, that I too, would drop the ball on quite a few of my own responsibilities if I was going through what she was going through. (And let's face it, I drop the ball on my own fair share of things and I'm not going through such difficulties.) I wished that she had been wearing a sign so that I might have known before hand what she was going through, and I could have been more loving in my thoughts towards her.
Another moment recently I looked at some of these little children that I get to work with in nursery and I wished that I knew each of them individually. Some of them have a difficult time coming to nursery, and I wish I knew them well enough to know what would comfort them and make them feel better. I wish that each of them were wearing signs about who they really were.
Unfortunately in life, we don'g get to go around wearing signs about what's really going on in our life and who we really are. I'm sure some people like it that way, keeping their imperfections to themselves. But I like to talk about mine, in the hopes that someone out there will make me feel like I'm not alone - but also because there are lots of people out there better than me - people who might be able to help me through my imperfections. So I think I will start this blog, and share it. This blog is my sign, everything out there for everyone to see. But I share it not just so that someone can help me, but in hopes that someone else might be feeling the way I do, and that in reading about all of my imperfections, they can feel better in knowing that they aren't alone in theirs.
In the last several weeks I have had many moments of inspiration like the ones I shared above - moments where I have realized just how much God loves each one of us. Moments where I watched a young man passing the sacrament in church. This boy, on the outside, looks like just another boy his age. But if you watch closely enough, you can see that he has a learning disability of some kind. And just walking up and down the aisles, passing out bread and water, is difficult for him. He needed constant reminders from the other boys about where to go, what to do, where to stand when he's done. As I watched the other young men patiently helping this boy, directing him week after week on what to do, I was touched at their love and patience for him. And I hoped they were really feeling that love and patience for him in their hearts, because when I see this boy, I think of how he is someone's baby boy, another mother's child, and he is the world to her, just like my children are to me. And he is our Father in Heaven's child, and God sees him, with all of his imperfections, and loves him more than we can imagine.
I had another moment yesterday when I attended church in another language so I could watch a friend's baby get blessed. I was filled with gratitude to be there, where I couldn't understand what was being said, because I knew my Heavenly Father loved each of these people as much as he loved me. I was so grateful that they could go to church in their own language, even though they lived in a country where their language was not the one primarily spoken.. I was also grateful that they had a translator and headphones, so I could hear the words spoken in my own language. I was able to attend two different sacrament services yesterday, to see two different babies be blessed. Since it was the first Sunday of the month, church members get to go up and speak, and share their testimonies and feelings if they choose to. And with several babies being blessed, more than one person spoke about how precious these little babies are, both to us and Heavenly Father. And I had another small moment where I realized that each of us, every single person on earth, was once a small baby, so precious to their parents and others around them. And still, no matter what we say or do, no matter what someone else looks like or the choices they make, each and every person on earth is still that small, precious little baby, only bigger. Everyone is still a child of God, and each and every person is as precious to him as a little tiny baby is to us. If you have children you know that each of your own children will always be that precious baby to you, no matter what they grow into and become.
I was talking to my husband, James, last night about not knowing why I was having these small moments - because each of them has made me think about how much God loves every one of us. And this morning, writing this, I've come up with two reasons. One is that we may not have signs around our necks about what each of us is going through, but no matter what, everyone is going through something. It may be something small, like me, going through nothing more than daily life struggles. It may be something bigger like the woman going through a painful divorce. But everyone has something, and we probably don't know what it is. But God sees the "signs" that we can't see. He knows each and every person intimately, and he loves them. And what I've come to realize, and I hope I can remember more regularly, is that I want to love each person as God does, and not judge them for their imperfections that I can see (or think that I see.)
The second reason I think I might have been having these moments is for myself. This post may be all happy, full of spiritual insight, but most of the time, I feel like I just can't do it. And what I will probably write about a lot is what I just plain suck at. So perhaps what I need to realize is that I, too, am a child of God, and He loves me more than I can imagine. With all of my faults and imperfections, I am so infinitely precious to Him. And just as I should and want to love every other person around me as God does, I should also love myself as He does - despite All My Imperfection.
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